#been picking away at this for the past few days
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A/N: another kofi commission!
Your naga lover was in rut, and you had been avoiding his den for the past few days per his request. He was hesitant to allow you in, since nagas had the tendency to squeeze their lovers tightly during passionate mating, and he really didn’t want to hurt you!
But 4 days in while you delivered food, you heard his whimpers and cries from deeper in the cave. It hurt your heart to know he was suffering all on his own.
You carried the basket full of eggs and meat, your footsteps echoing lightly along the cave walls. You didn’t really like visiting your lover here and much preferred when he came to your home instead, but right now he couldn’t leave his den.
While in rut, nagas were vulnerable to predators and could be killed due to how sensitive and weak they were at the time. It worried you, how could he even think you’d be able to stay away when your precious lover was in possible danger and pain!?
“B-baby, I’m coming!”
The sound of distressed whines and whimpers increased as you made your way further into the cave. A trail of a white, slimy substance led you to your poor, exhausted lover.
“I told you… not to come…”
His two cocks were poked out of his slit, his fist moving up and down the lengths as he panted and moaned. Precum gathered at the tip, his face flushed with embarrassment and need.
“How could I stay away when you’re suffering like this? Please… let me help you.”
You approached slowly, and he made no moves to stop you. Picking up your scent seemed to only worsen his current state. His cock twitched, and he was quick to pull you onto his lap.
“Fuck… you smell so good…”
His hands roamed your body, soft kisses being left along your neck and chest. Never before had he been so needy and affectionate.
Fangs brushed up against your skin with each lick and kiss. Every touch was gentle, he needed your body but he was also desperate for comfort and affection.
“It’s alright… I’m here for you, no more going through this alone…”
You guided his cocks towards your wet cunt, letting him rub his lengths between your fat pussy lips before sinking inside of you.
He had been inside of you many times before, but today it felt… different. His thrusts were quick and each movement of his hips caused him to cry out in bliss. It took very little to make your lover cum, and it was adorable to you.
“My sweetheart…” you murmured, your tongue dancing with his. Just a simple French kiss made him groan into your mouth, his hands gripping the fat of your hips.
“I l-love you…” he blubbered, crying tears of pleasure. Your chubby tummy was slightly bloated with his cum, and he couldn’t help but hold his hand over it as if hoping you’d become pregnant.
“I love you too…”
All through his rut, you were by his side. Every time he started to get needy, you’d sit on his cock and let him use you to get off.
It wasn’t all about sex, though. Sometimes all he wanted was for you to kiss his face and massage his lower half. His snake tail was in the middle of a shed, and your gentle hands helped his sensitive body feel less sore and sensitive.
You laid on a nest of furs, his head buried in your chest. His entire lower half was wrapped around you, using your body to keep himself warm as you sat on his cocks.
“Sorry… you must be tired. I’ve never taken on a mate… this is my first time going through a rut with someone who wanted to help.”
A giggle left your lips, and you played with his hair lazily. “Don’t worry about me, if I was tired I’d be sleeping. This is nice… I get to snuggle with you all I want.”
When his rut ended, your naga lover followed you home. In all honesty, he had gotten embarrassingly used to your presence and couldn’t sleep when he was all alone now.
As you got ready for bed, he soaked himself in your tub, watching you do your nighttime routine. “You humans do so much before you go to bed… can you hurry? I want to hold you…”
After brushing your teeth, you made your bed after being gone for an entire week. With a glance at your phone, you knew you’d be spending the next day or two returning missed call from worried loved ones.
“Alright, alright. Let’s get to bed.”
He cooked around you, his head nuzzling into your neck as you rubbed his back. After such an intense week, you were both ready to sleep without needing to wake up every hour so he could bury his cock inside of you.
The two of you snuggled up together, letting out content sounds in your sleep.
———————
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#naga husband#naga x reader#naga x human#naga boyfriend#naga smut#monster fucker#monster lover#monster fudger#monster boyfriend#monster fucking#snake monster#monster x you#monster x reader#monster x human#monster fic#teraphilia#terato#chubby!reader#teratophillia#terat0philliac#fat reader#monster imagine#chubby reader#exophelia#x reader#monster smut#female reader#fem reader#monster boy oc#plus size reader
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(Poly 141 x fem reader)
You had always been their sweetheart.
Soft, tender, and gentle- the heart of their home. The warmth in the spaces between them, the one they curled around after long days of violence, soothed by your touch and your voice, the way you cared for them without hesitation. No matter how much blood stained their hands, no matter what nightmares haunted their sleep, you were there. Unshaken. Unyielding in your love, hands gentle and soft as you cradled them close and warm.
So they had never needed to know about the things you kept buried.
The past you refused to unearth. The things you could do, the person you had been before them- before you had a home to call your own, before you had people who held you just as carefully as you held them.
They didn’t need to know, and you didn’t need to think about it.
Until they went missing.
You first learned something was wrong when John’s daily check-in didn’t come.
It had always been a habit of his, something he did without fail, no matter how far away he was. Just to let you know I’m breathing, love. That was what he had said, years ago, the first time he had explained it to you. You had teased him for it- What, you don’t trust me to not burn the house down?- but he had only smiled, voice steady and sure when he told you, I like knowing you’re safe.
It had never failed. Not once. Even when he himself could not text you, Lasswell herself assured you they were fine and merely had to be careful.
But now came the silence.
No messages. No calls. No updates.
You tried not to panic. They were on a mission, after all. Maybe something had gone wrong with their comms, or maybe they had been forced to go dark, and Lasswell was busy. It had happened before, and they had always come back to you, whole and alive, pressing their faces into your neck, murmuring apologies and reassurances.
But then a full week passed.
Then two.
And no one would tell you a thing and Lasswell wasn’t picking up, either.
You had tried- had called, had knocked on doors, had pushed until you were met with polite deflections and stone-cold refusals.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that information is classified.”
“There’s nothing we can share at this time.”
“We appreciate your patience.”
Patience.
As if you would sit here, helpless, and just wait. Hopeless, and helpless, and unable to do a single thing to help then.
No. No, you had done that before. You had waited before. And it had cost you everything.
You weren’t that girl anymore. You weren’t a victim of circumstance, hoping for scraps of kindness, praying for someone to do right by you.
If no one would help, you would do it yourself; because they were yours, and they were the best thing that have ever happened to you, and you weren’t going to lose them.
Tracking them down was easier than you expected.
You had spent years curating the image of someone soft and harmless, someone not worth keeping secrets from. And people loved to talk. Especially when they thought you were just a grieving, desperate woman trying to find a lost fiancé and his friends.
All it had taken was a few well-placed words, a few tearful looks, and doors had opened.
It had taken only days to pinpoint their last known location, then. After you’d hunted down Laswell, and had her help you. Though you were glad to see that she was working to find out where they were, as well, and merely lacked the manpower because of some general named Shepherd.
You filed the name away for later thoughts.
A warlord with connections to arms smuggling in Eastern Europe. An old base, abandoned by one regime and taken over by another. And your men had been sent in to dismantle it.
But they hadn’t come back. MIA, the reports said.
You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t care for those three letters. You moved.
You gathered supplies, mapped out your route, planned your approach with the precision of someone who had done it before. You emptied old caches, dusted off weapons you hadn’t touched in years, and set off.
The infiltration was clean; a single shadow among many, slipping between patrols, cutting down obstacles with silent, brutal efficiency. Years it may have been, you hadn’t gotten as rusty as you’d feared you’d be.
You had never been squeamish. You had learned long ago that softness had no place in survival- but it could thrive and bloom in the aftermath, a stubborn weed that eventually makes way for a full bouquet.
But this was different.
This was fury burning in your blood as you carved a path forward, every movement precise- you couldn’t afford any less.
You didn’t stop, no matter what.
Not until you found them at last, and your heart ached something fierce abd sharp in your chest.
Caged. Beaten. Bound but not broken- and drugged.
I should have been more rough, you mourn for a split second. An easy death was more mercy than what was deserved.
John’s head lifted first, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Love-?”
Then Simon, bloodied but breathing, his body sluggish with whatever chemicals they had pumped into him. Every part of him was covered in blood and cuts.
Johnny’s voice, then, hoarse and raw, full of disbelief and worry. “No. No, you’re not- this insnae real-“
And Kyle, whose breath hitched as you knelt beside him, gentle fingers brushing against his bruised face.
They thought they were dreaming; they thought you weren’t real.
And maybe that was a… mercy.
Because if they had been clear-headed, if they had seen what you had done to get here, if they had watched the way you had cut down anyone in your path with merciless efficiency-
They would have looked at you differently.
And you couldn’t bear that. To have their illusion of your gentleness shattered like that…
So you played along.
Whispered reassurances, pressed kisses to sweat-damp foreheads, untied their bindings with careful hands. You coaxed them to move, guided them through the corridors you’d emptied, wiped away the blood that dripped from their skinz
And when they sagged against you, too dazed to fight, too lost in the haze of their drugged delirium, you held them-
Kept them safe, and brought them home.
Later, they woke in a hospital, clean and stitched and safe.
You were already there, fussing over them, your voice soft and sweet, your fingers gentle as you pressed cool cloths to fever-warm skin, brushed stray curls from foreheads, adjusted pillows and blankets with quiet determination. Dressed in something white and pink, the colors of innocence, nails cleaned of blood even if your hands will never be truly clean.
You looked the same as ever.
Pretty and delicate, their lovely girl, their tender-hearted sweetheart.
And for all that had happened, all that they had suffered, all that you had done-
They never suspected a single thing, and you didn’t tell them; didn’t tell them that there had been no extraction team. That there had been no grand military rescue- not even from the the same military that had abandoned them.
(His name was General Shepherd. You will not forget it- you’d need to carve his name on the bullet you’ll save just for him, after all.)
That it had been you.
Only you.
Only Laswell knew the truth, and she would keep your secret because she understood what it meant to protect the people you loved.
And if you had to carry this weight alone to keep them from ever looking at you like you were something other-
So be it.
You sat beside John, pressing a kiss to his temple as his fingers curled weakly around yours.
You smiled at Simon when his hand brushed against your knee, seeking reassurance, seeking you, his eyes tired.
You let Johnny hold you, his arms tight around your waist as he mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder, still half-lost in the remnants of the drugs.
And when Kyle murmured: “At leas’ you’re safe, pretty.” His voice thick with sleep-
You just smiled and ran your fingers carefully through his hair, and held them the way you always had.
And pretended that everything was exactly the same.
#noona.writes#noona.posts#tags coming later bc this is very corny and self indulgent i need to gathet coursge for it#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#john price x reader#poly!141 x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#soap x reader#ghost x you#gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#kyle gaz garrick x you#poly!141#soap x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader
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BIRTHDAY GIRL ♡
pairing: clark kent x fem!reader
summary: your boyfriend forgot your birthday :( how ever will he make it up to you...
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (f receiving)
a/n: happy birthday to @fearcvlt!!! one of my sweet friends who i love so so much. i hope you're having a great day bb <3 alsooo just fyi to everyone, there will be no part 2 to this.
From the moment Clark woke up today he’d been busy, busy, busy.
Given that it was a Saturday, he hadn’t expected the influx of tasks thrown at him. However he’d never been one to complain, so instead of moaning and groaning, he handled each thing as it came.
In the morning, he had to go into town to pick up a few things for his mom. On the way back, he had to stop by the Talon to discuss some details of a recent wall-of-weird incident with Lana. At some point later on, Lex was then calling him up and asking for his assistance on something.
He felt like he spent more time behind the wheel of his truck that day than on his own two feet with how much he was having to go back and forth across the familiar streets.
Really, every moment of Clark’s schedule over the past week had gone something like this. Packed full from dawn till dusk. He had tests to study for and essays to write. His regular responsibilities on the farm never let up as did his small circle of friends asking to do something or the other. And recently, there’d been a strange string of accidents that he felt compelled to investigate.
Last night specifically, he’d been occupied with Chloe and Pete. What was supposed to be a couple hours of research stretched into a few laps through the woods looking for a variant type of meteor rock and then a car ride to Granville and back. Once he finally got home, he passed out for a couple hours and then scraped himself out of bed to get through all of today.
Now in the evening, he finally had a moment of quiet. He sat by himself on the Torch’s computer, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as he looked into connections between all the components they’d found over the last several days. His eyes flicked across the tiny words glowing on the computer screen. Most of the time Chloe handled the research aspect of their investigations, but he felt so close to having this resolved. With a few more details, he could have this thing cracked in an hour.
The sound of footsteps approaching the door pulled his attention away from the article in front of him. He knew from the quick rhythm of them, they belonged to Chloe. His eyes flitted to the entryway as she appeared. She greeted him without any words, her usual smile and slight wave serving as enough for the two of them as she came in and set her stuff down at her desk.
“You must be really invested in this whole thing if it has you working late all alone,” she teased while shrugging off her coat.
“Something like that,” he responded as his gaze drifted back to the screen, “I’m glad you showed up. I think I really have something on this guy.”
“Oh that’s good,” she said, looking much more interested at the prospect of new information. Coming up behind him at the desk, she skimmed the article over his shoulder. “You know, I thought you’d be with your girlfriend tonight, Clark,” she added as she reached for the mouse to scroll down.
His brows furrowed at the mention of you. While he could talk about you for hours and hours, he didn’t understand the point in her bringing you up now. It felt like a joke going over his head. She’d said it with the normal dose of teasing she used towards him, but the statement as a whole sounded earnest.
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I just thought you guys might do something for her birthday. I know she’s not having a party, but I guess I assumed she’d still want to hang out with you,” she answered. The way she said it was so casual. It wasn’t meant to mock or come off as a gotcha. That was what it felt like though because in that moment Clark realized something.
He forgot his girlfriend’s birthday.
Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He hadn’t completely spaced the event. Last weekend, he’d planned this all out in his head. He called in a reservation at your favorite restaurant, stashed away a few small things to give you, even made a note of where he was gonna buy you a cupcake from. It was just that over the past week, he’d gotten so busy and distracted that those plans faded to the back of his mind. Today, he hadn’t even looked at the date, hadn’t even put together that today was your special day.
But none of the excuses mattered. No matter how he put it, when it actually counted, he forgot your fucking birthday. And maybe he could have played it off like everything was a surprise, that he’d only been pretending to be so oblivious and inconsiderate, if not for the fact that his truck should have been in front of your house an hour ago because he told you he’d pick you up for dinner.
He shot up out of his chair so fast that it fell backwards and smacked against the floor. His hands ran through his hair as he frantically tried to think of what to do. Such a strong wave of panic washed over him that he almost burst into super-sprint right in front of Chloe.
“Clark, you didn’t,” she said, looking back at him. He didn’t even have to say the words for her to surmise the reason for his reaction, “That’s bad, even for you.”
“I know,” he agreed, blue eyes still wide and full of worry, “How could I forget? God, I thought about this. I had all of it figured out. This was the one thing I wasn’t gonna miss.”
“Well the day isn't over yet…” Chloe offered with a slanted look.
He rubbed at his brow for a second before nodding. Of course he was gonna try to make it up to you. His mind just didn’t work as fast as his body. He still had to figure out how on Earth he was going to explain this, let alone justify his absence to you. But he could do that on the way to your house. He really didn’t have any more time to waste.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll have to go try to make the most of how ever many hours are left,” he mumbled.
She nodded in support. “I’ll take over here. You go save the day,” she said.
As soon as Clark was out of her line of sight, he bolted. He zipped into a blur, ditching his truck in the parking lot in favor of his own speed. Later he could come back to drive it home. He didn’t have seconds to spare at red lights or finding parking as he collected the things he needed.
It took him around five minutes to pull everything together. He grabbed the pale blue gift bag from his house, picked up a cupcake from the store (the last one they had), and snatched a bouquet of flowers on his way out.
Every step of the way to you, words of apology ran through his mind, ranging from I’m so so sorry, I’m such an idiot to I swear the truck just broke down, I couldn’t get service, but I’m here now. He tried to think of something that would make this salvageable, but truly, this was his worst screw up with you so far. He’d been late to dates before. He’d forgotten important things. But standing you up on your birthday? That might be the fatal blow to your relationship.
He slid to a stop in front of your porch steps. All the windows in your house were dark. He knew your house would be empty with your parents out of town, but he couldn’t even see the glow of your small tv shining up in your room. Dread bubbled inside him as he realized you could have still gone out without him. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t deserve it, but the possibility didn’t sting any less.
Steeling himself for the possibility of no response, he walked up the wooden steps and across the floor panels to your front door. He took a moment to run his fingers through his windblown hair. With one more deep breath, he shifted the flowers to the crux of his arm and knocked on the door. The gift bag hung off of his other wrist while that hand held the small box with your cake in it.
Five seconds passed and then another several moments of silence too. He resisted the urge to knock again. You could just be taking your time.
But after another bout of quiet went by, he tapped his knuckles against the door again three times. If you didn’t answer this time after another minute, he’d have to regroup, he told himself.
That minute went by the same as the last though, and he still didn’t want to leave. He considered saying something or calling for you through the door; though, at this point in time, he wasn’t sure if his voice would be a strong selling point.
He waited another handful of seconds before raising his fist. Third time’s a charm, right? But before his fingers could make contact, he heard the lock unlatch and the knob twist in that clunky way it always did. Relief fizzled all through his body before he even saw your face.
The door cracked open. From what he could see, the interior of your house was as dark as the windows led him to believe. The nearest streetlight doused the small sliver of space in a faint glow. He could see your leg covered in fuzzy pajama pants and the side of your upper half adorned in an old oversized t-shirt. Your face appeared seconds later. At first, your expression looked neutral. Well you looked sad, but you didn’t look angry, which was what he had been afraid of.
Then your eyes lifted to look at his face, and once they registered the sight of the person before you, that fire lit up in an instant.
Immediately, you tried shutting the door, but he was quick. He stuck his foot forward, jamming his boot in the entryway to stop it from closing. The pressure didn’t really hurt, but he still winced for show.
“Baby, wait,” he pleaded, “I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. I deserve it-”
“Save it, Clark,” you gritted through your clenched jaw.
You threw your entire body weight against the door in an attempt to shut him out. He could hear your feet scraping against the floor along with your soft grunts as you tried forcing it closed. It would probably be cute if he didn’t feel so guilty.
“Just hear me out,” he tried again, “I’m sorry for being late. I’m really sorry. There’s no excuse that would make it ok, so I won’t even try to give you one. But please, sweetheart. I brought you some stuff, and it’s still your birthday-”
“You’re more than late! Late is fifteen minutes! Late is when thirty minutes pass so you call and explain you’re stuck in traffic! Late doesn’t mean an hour goes by and you finally show up because you realize you don’t have anything better to do, so you might as well!” you cut him off.
You couldn’t have said anything worse to Clark in that moment. He never wanted you thinking this was intentional, that he chose to be anywhere else that wasn’t with you. Now he pushed back a little. He leaned into the door, using his strength to scooch you further into the house and allow himself room to slip inside. As he did, he let some grunts slip out and even took a few seconds to give the illusion that you had a fighting chance.
“I swear this wasn’t on purpose. I’d never choose to make you wait or make you think that I don’t care or something,” he continued. A hint of desperation laced his words now. “I didn’t even forget. I’ve been planning this, and I had it all laid out in my head. I just… I just lost track of time. And it’s my fault, but I can make it up to you if you let me.”
You had turned away from him once he actually made his way into the house. Your body stood stiff as a board. He couldn’t even see your face to get some kind of read on how his words were coming across. And even worse, you weren’t saying anything back. He hesitated, mentally debating whether he should proceed with his pleas or give you a second. But ultimately, the former won. Logic and Clark didn’t mix well when it came to getting in your good graces again. He would do anything to make that happen.
“Honey, I know I missed the first part of the night, but I’m here now. And you’re here, and you look beautiful like you always do. And it’s still your birthday and I have some stuff for you,” he added.
“It’s not about the stuff, Clark. It’s not about what day it is or whatever,”you responded. You turned around to face him again. In the darkness, he couldn’t really make out your features, but your voice cracked. He didn’t need any light to know how your eyes were watering right now. How your lip was wobbling in that timid pout.
He hated that he was so familiar with your disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, though this time they came out much weaker, like the sound of a dying soldier.
You took in a shuddery breath, either in preparation to yell at him or to maintain what you had left of composure. Neither happened right away. That almost felt worse, leaving him to burn under the heat of anticipation.
“I just… I don’t understand you. You can be so sweet. So caring. You make me feel like you really love me, but then you do stuff like this,” you finally said. Your voice cracked again, but this time it nearly stopped your words from coming out. You were losing a battle of your own against your tears.
“I do really love you,” he replied without a second thought. He dropped the flowers onto the nearby end table, shoving the gift bag and small box on after it. His arms opened for you as he took a step forward. He only hoped you wouldn’t push him away.
But you didn’t. You took the same step with your own feet and let him embrace you. The warmth of his body engulfed you all at once as his big arms looped around your frame. One of his hands found your head, cradling it against his chest.
“I do love you, baby. Always. I never want you to think I don’t,” he said softly.
You sniffled and squished your face against his chest. He held you tighter against himself. It didn’t feel tight enough. It never did for Clark. He always wanted you closer, held more securely, but he had to hold back if he didn’t want to shatter your bones.
“Hey, hey. Don’t cry,” he cooed, planting a few kisses on the top of your head, “Don’t cry, babe. Please. I’m not worth it, alright? I don’t want you so sad over my stupid mistakes.”
While you weren’t saying anything, the weight of your emotions filled the air all around you. They were practically tangible to Clark - the disappointment and betrayal. The insecurity he caused. The pain he inflicted. He was almost glad you usually stayed silent while crying because he didn’t think his Kryptonian DNA would save him from being crushed by your words. At the same time, you didn’t have to speak them for him to understand the potential sentiment. He could tell from the muted nature of your sadness right now. You had gotten your hopes up. You believed that because tonight was special, it would be different. He would show up, and it wouldn’t be like countless other dates and occasions.
He stood there with you in the hall, rubbing your back and rocking back and forth with you a little. After a few minutes, he nudged your head back with the tip of his nose. “Let me see those pretty eyes, baby,” he whispered.
His own vision had adjusted to the dark by now. When you tilted your head upwards, he could see the small spheres all glossy, your lashes wet with the recent tears. He leaned in and kissed the shiny streaks running down your cheeks. The right one first, then the left. His hand cupped your face with all the care in the world.
“There’s my girl,” he murmured as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours.
You gazed back into his bright blue eyes. God, you knew you should make this harder for him. He deserved to work for your forgiveness, but nothing made you weak like Clark. One glimpse of his eyes all wide, looking at you like a scolded puppy, and any anger towards him melted away like ice left out in the summer.
He laid a few more kisses along your face, moving his lips from one feature to the next. “You’re too sweet to be crying like this on your special day,” he said.
His thumbs swiped away remaining tears while your eyes began to dry up. Warmth filled your body again, blooming up in the hollow cold left by your prior loneliness. Looking at his face pushed the sadness away. Maybe today hadn’t been totally ruined.
“I won’t let this happen again, alright?” he told you in a hushed tone despite no one else being in the house. He made sure not to promise though. “I’ll get a calendar or something. I’ll write notes for myself. I’ll write ‘em all over my body like in that movie we watched last summer.”
“The movie that you left halfway through,” you said, your voice gently teasing now.
He exhaled sharply, and a smile spread across his lips. His eyes held a degree of shame still. It felt wrong to laugh about something like that when it was a piece of the issue at hand. But he could tell you were trying to lighten the mood, and he wouldn’t make you feel bad about that.
“I still got the idea,” he defended and ducked in, giving you another long kiss.
His arms pulled you tighter against his body while his hands swept down onto your back. One stayed between your shoulder blades as the other ventured South. His fingers glided over the small of your back, coasting over the top of your ass.
“Let me make it up to you,” he said.
You bit your lip at the sensation of his roaming hands. Allowing him a few more smooches, you finally pulled back to catch your breath for a moment.
“How do you wanna do that?” you asked.
He grinned, those sharp canines peeking out near the corners of his mouth. “I have something in mind, but any way you want is fine, baby,” he murmured.
“You can try your way…” you agreed. You had an idea of what he was picturing, and it wasn’t something you felt the urge to interfere with.
“Try,” he repeated playfully before pulling you into another series of kisses.
The two of you stumbled away from the front door and your gifts left on the end table. His feet followed yours down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom. Your back bumped into the wall a few times before you both slipped through the entrance of your room and found your ways to the bed.
The backs of your thighs hit your soft mattress first. Your smooth skin rubbed against the floral sheets spread over your bed. You let yourself fall back, and Clark’s body went with yours.
You shifted around, scooting up so that your head was on one of the plush pillows near the top of the mattress. He ended up with his frame hovering above your own. Only a few seconds passed before he pressed his lips to your again. Sometimes it felt as though Clark could kiss you all night. He paid so much attention to your lips, put so much dedication into every flick of his tongue and teasing pull with his teeth.
Your hands tried to return the same amount of reverence with their touches. You rubbed them up over his broad shoulders and along the nape of his neck. Your fingertips twisted the ends of his dark hair before sliding between the strands and scratching his scalp.
A groan rumbled up from his chest. You responded with a softer moan of your own. To go with the sound, your legs rose up against his sides and pressed into his hips. You pulled him closer, subtly urged him to tend to you where you wanted him most.
He finally pulled his mouth off you a minute later. His breaths now came out in harsh pants. The warm air fanned over your face while you stared up at your boyfriend. A cute shade of pink filled his cheeks while his pupils dilated with lust for you. His lips shimmered with your saliva under the faint light of the moon beaming through the window.
“My perfect, pretty girl,” he mumbled before dropping his head to your neck.
His attention focused there now. He kissed all over the column of your throat, moving without much strategy. Most of the time, Clark was very eager for you. He explored your body based on pure desire and nothing else. It always ended up feeling good for you though. Seeing his passion was half the pleasure.
While his lips worked above, his hands groped at you below. His large palms massaged your hips and smoothed up and down your sides. His fingers kneaded your soft flesh. The feel of it alone had him starting to fill out in his jeans.
“You deserve so much, baby. So much more than I give you. Gonna try to make you feel how much you deserve,” he muttered against your skin, lust-fueled thoughts escaping without resistance.
At your waist, his fingers hooked over the hem of your pajama bottoms and gave the fabric a shove. “Lift your hips for me, honey,” he directed.
You did so without a question, allowing him to pull the garment the rest of the way off. It was so frustrating for Clark sometimes. He had the ability to literally tear your clothes to shreds. If he wanted to, those pants could have been gone faster than you could have asked him not to rip them. But for now, he still had to play the game by normal rules.
He moved his way over to your collarbone and placed a few kisses along the neckline of your shirt before migrating South. His hands fell from your hips to your thighs. He gave them the same treatment, squeezing and grabbing. But he wasted no time in parting them.
With one palm on each, he spread you open for himself and settled between your open legs. The sight of your panties greeted him. The dainty cloth covered the precious part of you he was aching to see. He stared at the material for a moment. It wasn’t wet yet, but it was tight against your folds. He could see so much of you without really seeing anything at all.
Leaning in, he kissed your pussy over the fabric. It was chaste. Something less sinful than anything he’d done to your mouth. His thumb came next. He ran the thick digit from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit. He kept the pace nice and slow, teasing enough that a shudder came over you as you fought the urge to squirm.
His eyes flitted up to your face. He couldn’t get enough of how cute you were. The desperation was written all over your face.
“I’m not gonna tease, sweetheart. Not on your birthday. Not when I already made you wait too long,” he cooed.
His long index finger hooked around the seat of your panties and gave them a good tug. He worked the small scrap off of you and tossed it to the floor. They landed near the mirror. He only noticed because beside it was a dress, slung over the back of a chair. It was lacy and layered and cute. Probably the one you had on earlier. He could only imagine how sad you looked while taking it off and swapping it out for the more comfortable clothes you had on now.
He had to make this good for you.
Returning his focus to the junction of your thighs, his eyes fixating on your cunt in front of him. Your folds gleamed with the beginnings of arousal. His teasing had been just enough to get the fire started inside of you.
He looked back up at your face and brought his own that much closer. “You don’t know how lucky I feel to call this mine,” he said before kissing your clit.
A broken whine crackled out into the air. The touch was so gentle, so soft. It didn’t really feel like much. But the sight of him, the sound of his voice, his mere existence had your body reacting like a live wire right now.
Clark stuck out his tongue and dragged it up the wet expanse of your pussy. The first couple licks were exploratory, but after a few more, they became greedy. He lapped at your cunt. The tip of his tongue swirled over your entrance and danced across your sensitive bundle of nerves. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you.
Meanwhile, more sweet noises poured from your lips. You whined and moan, a few times only managing to choke out a breathy mewl. One of your hands clutched at his hair while the other alternated between clawing at the blankets and covering your face. It flipped back and forth between the two, trying to find the one that would bring some stability.
Nothing you do could fight off the feeling of him though. His lips spread and closed, making out with your pussy. He got louder down there. Wet noises echoed between your thighs. None of them bothered him. He was wrapped up in the task of pleasing you. Nothing else mattered.
Clark didn’t get embarrassed in moments like these. Sometimes while on top of you he could get flustered, but with your pussy like this, he couldn’t string together the thoughts that would cause actual embarrassment. All he could fathom was a craving for more of you.
In these moments, you surrounded him completely. Your thighs wrapped around his head, pressing your skin against him. Your taste flooded his mouth. Your scent filled his nose. All he could hear were your needy cries. It was heaven, absolute paradise.
Grabbing your legs tighter, he held you in place more. You hadn’t started squirming yet, but by the time you felt the urge to, you’d be pinned in place. Somehow he put more effort into this now. He boosted your hips a bit before devouring you.
His mouth worked with desperation you’d never seen from him before. You called out his name before choking out another moan and letting your head fall back. He ground his hips into the mattress below him, chasing whatever physical pleasure he could find to match the bliss he felt inside.
While on top of you, Clark could run his mouth. Endless babbles of praise and cooed praises would fall from his lips. But right now, he was fixated on using his mouth for something more important. He could feel your muscles flexing against his tongue, clenching around nothing. You were getting close.
“That’s it, baby. Feels good?” he asked when he finally pulled himself back for some air. His fingers took over his mouth's duty, rubbing your clit fast and with good pressure.
Your hips bucked as a yelp flew out of you. Despite that, you still nodded as fast as you could. “Mhm. Gonna cum,” you whimpered, as if he needed the warning.
“Go ahead, birthday girl. You can cum whenever you're ready,” he said. He smacked a kiss on your thigh before diving back in and nuzzling into your cunt. His tongue swirled with fervent admiration before lashing over your little bud.
The rapid motion flicks you right over the edge. You gasped before whining. Your hips squirmed while you closed your fingers into a fist around Clark’s hair. You grabbed the soft tresses so tightly you might have pulled a few out. He didn’t complain about any of it though. How could he? It felt like everything in the world was perfect when he had you like this.
He rolled his own hips against the mattress a few more times. You were so caught up in your own release that you didn’t hear the whimpers coming from him. You didn’t catch the vibrations from his moans reverberating against your skin. His own pleasure did nothing but spur him on to keep working you through yours.
As you started to come down, he was still going. His movements were a bit sloppier, but he didn’t have any plans of stopping. It was when you whimpered and pushed at his head that he backed off.
He looked up at you. Despite the smirk on his face, his voice came out gentle. “No more? You too sensitive?”
You nodded. “If you can stay, we have the whole night,” you offered.
His smirk broke into a full smile, and he crawled up the mattress to peck your lips. “I can stay. It’s still your birthday after all. We got some more celebrating to do.”
“Mhm,” you agreed. You kissed him again, tasting yourself as your lips met. Your hand trailed down his body to the waistline of his jeans. Before you could even ask, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and guided your limb back up.
“I’m fine, baby,” he said with a sheepish smile, “Plus it’s your birthday. It’s supposed to be all about you.”
“Oh my god, you’re really pushing the birthday thing,” you teased.
“I’m gonna keep pushing it until midnight because it’s true,” he said back. His hands cupped your face while he looked down at you.
After the two of you messed around a little more, Clark remembered the things he had left out by the front door. Pushing himself off the bed, he headed for the door. He was quick about getting your things, but he paused on the way back.
Instead of going straight to you, he walked into your kitchen. Rummaging through some of the drawers crammed full of spare parts and random coupons, he found a half-used pack of birthday candles and a lighter.
After opening the box that held your cake, he put it on a plate and jammed a pink-striped candle into the icing of your cupcake. With a click of the lighter, he topped it off with a small flame.
He headed back to your room, walking slowly so as to not have a surprise-ruining mishap on the way. Once he appeared in the doorway, you glanced at him. Your eyes caught on the lit up cupcake, and your whole face brightened. He chuckled and walked further into the room. Seeing that made the beginning of the evening sting less.
“You’re not singing,” you teased as you sat up on your bed and watched.
“That’s because I want you to have a nice birthday,” he replied.
The words brought actual laughter out of you, but you sat there patiently waiting as he walked over with the plate. He sat down beside you and held the plate before you. The whole time he remained careful, conscious of not getting the flame too close to any part of you.
“You gotta make your wish now,” he said and kissed your cheek.
Smiling at him, you thought for a second before turning towards the small flicker of fire. You stared at it for a moment, and then blew a small stream of air. It danced under the breeze before dissolving into thin smoke. He reached over and popped the stick of wax out for you, so you could eat your treat without impediment.
“What’d you wish for?” he asked as he brought the frosting-coated end to his lips.
“You know the rules. If I tell you, it’ll never come true,” you answered and took a bite.
He rolled his eyes, giving you a little poke to the side. “What about last year? That one come true yet or is it still a secret?”
“Still a secret,” you affirmed. You extended the bitten cupcake out to him. “Want some?”
“No, I’m alright. Already had my dessert,” he teased as he got up to throw away the candle. The words earned him a whine and a smack from you along with some grumbling about him being corny. But you had a smile on your face now, and that’s all he could want.
#clark kent x reader#clark kent smut#clark kent x you#clark kent imagine#smallville x reader#ch: clark kent 💌
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i cannot stress enough that prompt #15 on the first list is SOOOO smother coded, imagine on a hot summer night joel and blossom are up late and just yapping and looking up at the stars (blossom would def make a joke about how one of the constellations reminds her of joel) and then one thing after another he's fucking her raw and deep into the ground, when they're done blossom has grass stains on her dress or something (ALSO JULIE CONGRATS ON 5K YOU FUCKING DESERVE ILY)
thank you so much for sending this in and the kind words bby! beyond appreciate your patience from sending this in months ago 🤧 sorry for the delay! i had so so much fun writing this one though hehe because it really was very smother coded and it felt so natural for them. stargazing really does feel like something they'd do together often, especially after the way it goes for them here!
sea of stars — joel x f!reader
request: "stargazing that turns into sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! could be read as a standalone daddy joel if you really wanted to but it is rather smother-y and written with them in mind 😋
wc: 2.9k
warnings: dry (wet?) humping, piv, dirty talk, ddlg / daddy dom!joel + sub!reader
Sticky, thick air clings close to your skin, your hopes of beating the late night heat of summer by opening all the windows dashed as the house remains a stuffy, sweltering prison. You wished for air flow more than anything, a fan, and Joel promised he would do his best to find a working one for the two of you someday. You knew it was unlikely to ever materialize, but Joel would do his damndest to never give up on something that you’d so sweetly asked for.
“Can’t sleep, daddy,” you murmur, rubbing your burning, tired eyes and rolling over to face him. Despite the heat, your naked body gravitates towards him, your longing for him unable to be quelled by it and the layer of sweat that seems to permanently live on your skin. His arms find you, bringing you close, clammy limbs tangling together but neither of you caring, lethargic in your movements.
“I know, sweetheart. ‘M sorry,” he replies, stroking your hair soothingly. “It’s jus’ a heatwave, darlin’, these usually only last a few days. Should be out of it soon.”
You nod, still feeling pitiful, sighing and rolling onto your back as Joel’s arms retract, the both of you trying to cool off again. After a few silent beats, Joel sits up in bed, watching you blink listlessly at the ceiling.
“Alright, up. I’ve got an idea,” he says.
You clamber off the mattress half in a daze and he hands you a ball of thin fabric - your nightgown that had been discarded before you got in bed. Sheer and lovely and see through, you pull it over your head, the material thankfully feather light on your skin. Joel feels better knowing you’re covered up for what he has planned. It’s odd, how deep the possession runs, knowing that nobody else is within miles of this place, but still feeling that pull to keep you as only his to see. It didn’t hurt that you always looked almost too alluring in the clothing he picked out for you.
After tugging on a pair of briefs, Joel leads you outside, snatching a throw from the back of the couch as you pass. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you step past the threshold, the cooler air sweeter than anything as it caresses your skin.
“Few degrees makes all the difference, don’t it?” Joel says, and you quickly agree with a happy little hum. His hand on the small of your back, he guides you away from the cabin, stopping where a clearing of trees reveals the night sky to you, the moon only a tiny sliver shimmering in the distance, hardly providing any light. You strain your eyes slightly, comforted by the warmth radiating off of Joel reminding you he’s right there.
“Lay down,” he tells you, and you pause, wondering if he can see your face scrunched up in confusion as both of your eyes still adjust to the darkness. “Jus’ trust me,” he adds on at your hesitation, kissing the side of your head.
You lay down on your back, the cool grass beneath you making you smile as goosebumps briefly prickle your skin. You’d started to lose hope that it was possible to find relief in heat like this. Folding your hands over your stomach, you see Joel kneeling down next to you, hear him groan quietly as his knees crack on the way.
“Now tell me what you see, honey,” Joel says, settling next to you.
The obvious answer is right above you, twinkling dots littering the black sky. Their serene beauty transfixes you as you simply mutter, “Stars.”
“Mhm,” Joel confirms, propped up on his elbow to face you. “Pretty, ain’t they?” His fingers tease along your scalp, brushing backwards in rhythmic, soothing strokes. Lulled by his touch, you simply nod, letting the sea of stars swim in front of your eyes.
“You know any constellations?” he asks, laying onto his back to gaze at the sky with you.
“Mm, not really. Can you teach me?”
“Don’t know very many myself.” He pauses, scanning the sky for a few quiet moments. “Well I know that one there. ‘S the big dipper, but everyone knows it. Y’see the handle? An’ the big spoon part too?”
Joel’s hand envelops yours, guiding it to point towards the constellation. You squint, focusing your eyes to try and see it, but shake your head, making a contemplative little noise. “Kind of,” you say, twisting your lips to the side. “Wait… yeah, I see it, daddy! Right there…” You move your hand with his in a line, showing that you see the handle.
“You got it, princess.”
Both of your hands fall to the side, staying interlinked as you quietly observe the beauty floating above you, suspended in the clear sky. You’ve completely forgotten about the heat, the restlessness that had plagued you these last few hours. The air stays cool enough to take the edge off, your skin finally free from that grimy layer of sweat it seemed to carry at all hours during this heat wave.
“What’s that one?” you ask, finger pointing high into the night sky.
“I- I don’t know if that is one, darlin’,” Joel replies amusedly, trying to follow your eyeline. “We’ll get you a book on it, maybe, you’ll be a pro in no time.”
You give a bright smile at his offer while trying to make out more shapes in the twinkling expanse above. “What about that one?” you ask impatiently, pointing again. “It kind of looks like a face, maybe. Maybe it’s you,” you turn your head, giving him a cheeky grin as you laugh.
“Silly girl,” Joel chides you with a chuckle, reaching over to pinch your cheek for the teasing. “You know that daddy doesn’t know everything, right? Despite what it may seem.”
You giggle quietly, shaking your head. “You do know everything, daddy. Isn’t that one of the rules?”
“Knowin’ best f’you and knowin’ everything are very different, blossom,” he says playfully. “An’ especially when it comes to this… constellation stuff, I ain’t ever thought to learn them before, really. Sometimes it’s nice to just… look at ‘em. Thas’ been my philosophy, at least.”
“It is nice…” you mutter dazedly, feeling lulled by the serenity of the sky, the quiet noises of the forest surrounding you, the rustle of a soft but gladly received breeze blowing by.
“Feelin’ better?” Joel asks, rubbing his thumb over your hand.
“Mhm. Much better,” you reply, sounding more subdued. The heat had made it harder to keep your composure throughout the last few days, leaving you on edge and worried you would inadvertently snap at Joel, resulting in a punishment. It had been a while since he’d had to dole one out, but the memories of them alone makes your body feel flush with need.
You did hate getting them, yet craved the heated attention from him that came with it. You curl a little closer to him at the thought, rubbing your thighs together.
“I can cuddle you again, daddy,” you tell him, making Joel’s chest vibrate with a tiny chuckle.
“You didn’t want to cuddle your old man before?” You can practically hear the daring raise of his brows in his voice.
“Too hot,” you insist innocently, tucking your face near Joel’s armpit and poking him in the side. He makes a noise of agreement as he playfully swats you away. You’d noticed the same from him during this heatwave - the way his body wanted to gravitate towards yours as usual, but even your insatiable Joel had found it too stiflingly hot to give you what you both desired as often as normal.
Now, however…
His energy shifts, hand slithering down your back, making goosebumps crop up as you shiver. Even less than a few days without his touch has your nerves frazzled the second his hands are on you again, greedily making their way down to your ass, squeezing hard at the plush skin there.
A needy growl pulls up from Joel’s throat, leaning forward to press his lips to your ear, wrapping them around your ear lobe and suckling. Another wave of goosebumps trails over your entire body, a helpless cry whimpered out.
“Ain’t had enough of you these last few days…” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, raspy and heated. Your breath catches and you clench between your legs, your core moving towards his without thought, throwing a leg over his. His hand tightens on your ass, yanking you closer until you can feel the hard shape of his cock press into you. The thin fabric of both of your clothing does little to hinder either of you, and you start rolling your hips against him, whining.
“Poor baby is needy without her daddy filling her up constantly, isn’t she?” Joel taunts, his other arm slipping underneath you to grab your other ass cheek, now starting a steady, faster rhythm against him.
“Daddy…” you manage to whine breathlessly, your mind only focused on the feeling between the two of you, brain going fuzzy with need. He seems to grow harder, his cock desperate to break the confines of his clothing, to wear down the fabric of your dress with the way he’s moving you in earnest now. You gush between your legs, built up tension from the last few days that hadn’t been sated well enough coming back in full force.
The fabric of your dress pressed further between your legs starts to grow damp, catching on your poor clit and sending little waves of pleasure buzzing through you. You moan quietly, only forlorn little breaths that Joel eats up, fueling him to keep forcing you to rut into him.
“I w-want -” you try to speak, but the bulge in Joel’s briefs reaches deeper between your thighs, your entire body twitching.
His lips find your earlobe again, biting gently before turning to your neck and nibbling there. “What does my blossom need, hm? Use your words…”
You whine in response, thrusting inward at the same time Joel urges your hips forward, moaning louder. You pant, angling yourself to get off even easier on him, feeling an obscene amount of moisture seeping onto your dress, soft squelches filling the air as it leaks onto Joel’s briefs, too.
“Christ, baby, my little girl is a needy fuckin’ thing isn’t she,” Joel punches out in disbelief, losing control, his hips twitching harder into yours, chasing his pleasure.
“I-Inside…” you manage to choke out.
Joel tsks. “Not ‘till you give me one,” he demands. You immediately double down on the rocking of your hips, letting yourself get lost in it until your body is burning, so close to reaching that bliss. His cock leaks for you, adding to the wetness sticking to the clothing between you, sweat forming on your brow and neck and everywhere else now, too.
The climax hits you in a hurried burst, leaving just as quickly, not the release you’d been hoping for. You groan in frustration as you come down, clinging to Joel’s sweaty chest.
“Pl-please, daddy. I’ll do anything…” You beg him, your skin prickling and hot with frustration, the heat slowly making you irritable again.
“Anythin’? Ain’t no different from any other day, princess.” He teases, mocking you with that drip of condescension he does so well. It only riles you up further, and you move to untangle yourself from him to move into the position you know will give you the relief you need from him. Before you can get on your hands and knees, Joel grabs you by the waist, pulling you into where he still lays, your body fumbling into his solid chest as it clunks back to the ground. His lips press to your ear, your body tight to his as one arm holds you by the torso, the other near your neck. “Nuh-uh. You know you don’t get to decide how I take you. That ain’t how this works,” he grits out, ruthless.
Whimpering, that odd mixture of excitement and fear coursing through your veins, you smirk, struggling slightly in his hold to egg him on, your ass wriggling into his crotch. Joel clocks it immediately, moving to reach between you and tug down his briefs and tear your dress off where it already barely covers your ass.
“Gonna make me crazy, bein’ a little brat like that, baby. We both know that ain’t you. She’s a good girl. Right?” He presses his cock between your thighs, forcing it through to your entrance, teasing you when you remain silent. “Right?! Say it, sweetheart. Tell daddy you aren’t a brat.”
“I-I’m not…” Just the tip of his cock presses inward and you grit your teeth, holding back the pathetic, desperate begging you really want to spit out. “I’m not a brat, daddy, I promise. I just -”
“You need daddy’s cock, I know.” He interrupts you with a press inward of his hips at his words, sinking the thick length of himself inside of you. You squeal, the noise turning to a moan of relief as he slides in easily, your slickness already coating everything, including the way it’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.
“What are you then, if you ain’t a brat?” Joel sits perfectly still, his well practiced restraint palpable between the two of you. You want him to move, you need him to move, to fill that void you’d been missing for the last few days.
“I’m a g-good girl. I am… I am… I-I’m good, see?” You keep perfectly still with Joel for a long beat, letting him make the final call on whether or not you’ve been good enough. One of your hands grasps tightly into the grass to pour out your pent up frustration, nails digging into the earth.
Joel cranes his neck to kiss the side of your head. “That’s right. Thank you, blossom. Good girls get a reward from their daddy, too.”
You nod eagerly, and in a flash Joel’s body is on top of yours, forcing his cock to plunge deeper inside of you as you lay belly down. He yanks on your hips, bringing them upwards and begins to thrust steadily and surely into you. Your g-spot immediately feels the change in angle as he starts to press on it, your pussy pulsing around him, still sensitive from the last climax.
“Y-yes, yes…” you groan out, the top half of your torso still pressed into the ground going deeper into the grass with each bounce of your body on Joel’s thrusts. He smacks your ass and you yelp happily, heat radiating from there into pleasure at your core when he does it again.
“S-shit… baby, come for me. Want to hear you, want to feel you. Daddy a-ain’t gonna last…”
Something about his desperation pulls your insides taut, makes you clench harder around him. His hand reaches to your clit, rubbing urgently as he pounds into you. “Come, f-fuck, come, blossom. Now.”
His command, always your bidding, follows that same pattern now, sending you toppling over the edge. You come hard, your legs trembling, sinking lower to the ground so that you’re almost flat, your knees unable to hold you up. The pure abyss of pleasure rocks through you for those few, perfect moments as Joel pants above you as he pistons his hips faster. He suddenly yanks himself out of you, leaving you empty and trembling. You hear the squelch of your slickness in his hand, pumping his cock a few times before the hot splattering of his cum hits your back, soaking through your dress.
Joel sighs, collapsing next to you on his back, tucking himself back inside his briefs. “S-sorry, baby. I needed that too, I guess,” he says, sounding more sheepish than usual.
“I liked it,” you tease him, genuine in your words. You roll to your side, sitting up slightly and glancing down at your dress with a frown. Through the dark, your eyes more well adjusted now, you can see the stain smeared across the front of it. It isn’t the first time that grass stains have invaded your wardrobe from a passionate moment like this, but you like your dresses pristine for Joel, always worried about him getting it out for you. “My dress…” you lament.
Joel’s lips pull up into a smirk. “Afraid the back ain’t any better.”
You giggle, flustered and still shy after all this time at the thought of what you and Joel do together after the moment passes. “You made a mess this time, daddy.”
His lips find yours, pressing a deep kiss to them. “Can’t help that it looks good on you. You want to go change?”
“Too tired now. Want to sleep.” You shake your head, blinking at the night sky again, studying the stars with heavier lids now. The cooler outside air, despite your recent activities making you sweat all over again, starts to dry it quickly, leaving you pleasantly comfortable and sated. Joel’s plan seemed to work wonders, this setup much better than it had been trying to fight for sleep inside the stuffy house. Your limbs feel lazy and heavy, body still humming from your climax, every part of you comforted when Joel moves to hold you.
He smiles softly, placated to see you so at ease now. Joel reaches for the throw blanket, unraveling it and setting it at the ready for when you inevitably start to get chilly in your sleep.
“You sleep then, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”
#julie's 5k celebration#julie's 5k celebration fic#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#x reader#fic: smother
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valentine's day with the boys
shoto, denki, katsuki, shinsou, shiggy, kiri, izuku, tamaki, tenya, touya, hanta x fem!reader⋆。°✩ — fluff, college au, 2.7k words
a/n: happy valentine's day!! sloppy kisses for all of you mwah. i have over 200 followers now which is actually insane. thank you so much for all of your support! i hope this feeds you well.
comment your fav! i don't think i can pick. maybe shiggy or shinso or touya
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todoroki shoto
⭑.ᐟ he has been eyeing you for a few months now and makes an effort to speak to you most days, even though you do most of the talking.
for valentine's day, he gets you an expensive perfume and lipstick he thinks compliments you so well (pays with his dad’s card ofc).
the day before valentine’s, he catches up with you after class and asks you to take a walk with him. he leads you to one of the quiet gardens and presents you with the gifts he bought for you.
“can i be your valentine?” he says quietly. he's blushing a little as he stares at you. you nod, thanking him and reassuring him that you’d love for him to be your valentine.
on your valentine’s date, you wear the perfume and lipstick he got you (they suit you so well!). he surprises you with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and takes you to his favourite noodle place. he gets their signature yakisoba (duh) and makes recs for you. you try his soba and moan in delight, stunning the poor boy who’s so nervous rn that he’s actually going out with you. he listens to you yap with stars in his eyes, more than content to get drunk on your voice
the night ends with a tender hug and a promise to go out again sometime.
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kaminari denki
⭑.ᐟ he has been stuck in the friend zone for the past year. literally trying to rizz you up every chance he gets but is rejected every time (he cries laughs it off).
the day before valentine’s, you enlist denki’s help to make some goodies for your uni’s bake sale tomorrow.
he confesses his love to you via a heart-shaped jam cookie, telling you how he’s been in love with you since you met and that all those times he asked you out weren’t jokes. his feelings just spill over as he holds the warm cookie in his hands, gazing at it with rosy cheeks.
“i just-fuck-i really like you y/n and i want to be your valentine. can i—” you pick up the cookie from his palm and take a bite. your eyes widen because it tastes good. you bring the other side up to his half-open mouth and shove it in. he chews on the delicious cookie but, almost chokes on it as you giggle and tell him that you like him too, that you’d love for him to be yours.
on valentine’s day, you two help out with the bake sale. afterwards, you two walk around campus, handing out the leftover goodies to anyone in sight. you then book it back to your place for the night and make dinner together (as if he cooks).
after dinner, you two cuddle up on the couch and watch a rom-com.
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bakugou katsuki
⭑.ᐟ he’s been tolerating you for a while. it’s only when hanta suggests asking you to be his valentine that bakugou realises how much he wants you.
the day before valentine’s, he waves you over during hockey practice (arf arf arf for hockey player bakugou omfg yummy yum bark bark rawr rattling my cage). you point to yourself, mouthing “me”. he just smirks and saunters up to you.
once you’re within reach, he tugs you close and smashes his lips on yours. you meet his rough kiss with wide eyes before softening and melting into his warm embrace.
when he pulls away, he demands that you be his valentine, “this shit is for losers but, you’re my valentine, alright?” he grunts. you blink at him, unable to think straight. seeing that dumb look on your face, he tugs you back into another passionate kiss. when he pulls back this time, you nod and whisper that you’ll be his.
on valentines day, you two go to a museum together (because you think history is cool or whatever) and have lunch afterwards.
the date ends with a sweet kiss as you have a new bf now hehe.
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shinsou hitoshi
⭑.ᐟ he’s been working on a new song for valentine’s day (inspired by you ofc). he asks you to come over to his place a few days before valentine’s so he can show it to you. toshi knows how much you love hearing him play.
he’s peeking out his bedroom window, watching for any sight of you at least ten minutes before you agreed to meet him. when you show up, he rushes down the stairs and orders everyone not to open the door.
he invites you inside while running his hands through his hair and leads you to the garage. you sit down on the chewed-out sofa and watch him excitedly as he plays his latest song on his guitar, singing with a delicious rasp. he keeps his eyes on you the entire time. when he’s finished, you ask him what inspired him.
“you did, kitten. i want you to be my valentine… n’ maybe something more. how does that sound?” he says, smirking. you’re stunned by the fact that he feels this way about you. you giggle and stutter nervously about how much you would like that.
on valentines day, you spend the day in toshi's garage. he teaches you how to play the guitar on one of his older ones. he ends up tickling you and lying on top of you on his sofa, peppering you with kisses and whispering sweet-nothings.
congratulations, you have acquired a hot lead guitarist bf.
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shigaraki tomura
⭑.ᐟ holy moly has this man been pining for you for far too long. he’s been overthinking asking you to be his valentine since the start of the year.
a week before valentine's day, you offhandedly mention that you like snake/spider bites when chatting with toga on the way to class. shiggy – being the loser that he is – was trailing behind you two, eavesdropping.
after class, he finds touya and asks to take him to a good piercer. that afternoon, he’s gritting his teeth as he gets his lip pierced with touya standing in the corner, filming (like the little shit he is).
the next day, you block shiggy from entering class. you stand in front of him, rocking to the side when he tries to get past you. he hides beneath his cap but you grab his chin and tilt his gaze toward you, taking in his new piercings with a creased brow.
you tell him that you saw touya’s instagram post and needed to know for sure if he got it done. shiggy grumbles and tells you to go away but you grab his wrist and tug him to a nearby bench. plopping down on it, you ask if he’s okay, and he mutters that he’s fine. avoiding your gaze, he asks if you like them, if you like him.
“you like these, right? cause… i-i got them f’you. cause i like you… or whatever.” you give him the biggest cuddle and reassure him that you love them and that you really like him.
you two spend valentine's day at shiggy’s apartment playing video games. you gently kiss his face after he smashes through so many levels, careful to avoid his fresh piercing.
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kirishima eijiro
⭑.ᐟ he's liked you for a few months now; he’s enraptured with your presence and personality, your beauty, your everything.
eiji buys you a gorgeous bouquet of your favourite flowers and surprises you with them at your place. he tells you straight out that he likes you and that he wants you to be his valentine.
“i’ve liked you for a while now and i want you to be my valentine. maybe even my girlfriend if you’ll consider it," he says, gazing at you intensely. you tell him that you’ll start with being his valentine and kiss him on the cheek, taking the bouquet from his arms.you’re blushing hard as you ask him how he knew what your favourite flowers were (he asked your friends).
on valentines day, he’s got a boxing match. he gets you a front-row seat, and you cheer so loud for him the entire time he fights. emerging victorious, you stand up and clap, causing the people around you to do the same.
you meet him out the back and pepper his face with sweet kisses before catching his lips in a tender one. you two go out for dinner that night (his treat ofc).
over ice cream, you talk about your greatest fears and biggest ambitions.
he drops you back at your place that night and kisses you goodbye, promising you that he’ll become a man who’s worthy of dating you.
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midoriya izuku
⭑.ᐟ he's probably pining for you since middle school or something. he writes you a four-page love letter detailing his love and admiration for you.
izu slips it in your bag during a study session a week before valentine's day. he gets really nervous the next day when you see each other but is immediately disheartened when you don’t say anything about it.
it’s only the day before valentines you find the letter (it slipped out of your bag as you were searching for a hair tie). you read it with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat.
after calming down, you head to his place. opening the door, izuku is met with you clutching his now tear-stained love letter in your hands. you throw yourself in his awaiting arms and apologise profusely for not finding it sooner. he shushes you and reassures you that it’s okay.
“don’t be sorry. i should have just told you that i liked you. d-do you-um feel that way too, y/n?” you nod enthusiastically and kiss him with shaky lips, his freckled cheeks cupped in your wet hands
izu takes you on a picnic for valentines day near the river. over sandwiches and cheesecake, you laugh about how long you’ve both been crushing on each other.
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tamaki amajiki
⭑.ᐟ he's been crushing on you for years. he tries three times in the lead-up to valentine's day to ask you to be his.
the first time, you find him sitting in a corner at the library. you whisper to a very quiet tama about the upcoming assignment for one of your courses. when you finish speaking, he opens his mouth to ask you to be his valentine but, the librarian shoots you two a dangerous look and tells everyone to be quiet.
the second time, you’re walking out of class with nejire yapping away when he catches sight of you. neijire knows how much he likes you and tells you that he needs to talk to you about something. you hum and go up to tama, asking him if everything is okay. he starts mumbling that he likes you when mirio shows up out of nowhere and pulls you two into his burly frame, asking if you’re excited about the game tonight.
the third time, you’re catching the train home together after choir practice. you sit next to each other, you yapping away and tama listening nervously (he can’t stop staring down as he picks at a loose thread on his pants). as the train draws nearer to your stop, he starts panicking.
he looks up with wide eyes and quietly confesses to you, "s-sorry y/n i-i l-like you. a lot. please be—consider— being m-my valentine.” he scrunches his eyes shut, afraid of your reaction. you press the softest kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear that you’d love to be before getting up and waving goodbye.
on valentines day, you go to a food market and spend the day sampling all of the different foods (the grilled octopus is your favourite).
your date ends with you giving him a warm hug and telling him to text you when he gets home. after texting you, he collapses on his bed, overthinking everything that just happened.
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iida tenya
⭑.ᐟ who is the top student in every single one of his courses, and who has no time for dating outside of his busy study, extracurriculars, and work schedule. but then he meets you during a tutorial, and boy is he smitten.
it’s the day before valentine’s when you two sit with each other in the library for your weekly study session. the librarian kicks you out at 9pm and tenya walks you to the train station.
you’re about to head off to your platform when he catches your hand. it’s silent except for the distant whirring of cars and the trembling of train tracks. no one else is around to witness how gently he holds your hand, his finger intertwining with yours. you ask him what’s wrong but he shakes his head.
he clears his throat and pushes up his glasses before asking you, “would you like to be my valentine?” you chuckle and nod, drawing closer to him and grabbing his other hand. you kiss his jaw tenderly and skip off to your platform before you miss your train.
on valentines day, tenya takes you to the ballet. by the end, you’re in tears, clutching his hand. you’re one of the last to leave the theatre, tenya wiping your eyes and rubbing your back.
that night, he promises you he’ll make time for you in his busy schedule and gives you a big cuddle before parting ways.
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todoroki touya
⭑.ᐟ he's actually been obsessed with you since you were kids and plotting to make you his since the moment you accidentally threw a building block at his head on the first day of kindergarten (he still has a little scar near his hairline from your attack).
this is finally the year that he’s gonna do it (he tells himself).
as part of his therapy, he does recreational candle-making. he knows how much you love candles since you’re always adding a new one to your collection, texting him pictures of them and claiming that this one is “different”.
he chuckles as he pours different oils into the boiling wax, thinking about how he’ll give you something you’ve never seen before.
a few days before valentine’s, he’s got your candle all wrapped and tied with a pretty bow (fuyumi’s work). he's standing near the garden on your route to your favourite coffee shop (he knows that you'll be getting hungry around now). as soon as he sees you, he's suddenly the same five-year-old boy who’s giddy from the blood rushing to his head and the apologetic mumbles from your mouth as you sobbed.
you notice him and wave as you walk over to him. you're grinning as asking him how he is. he tries to act cool (as per usual), but his heart rate is off the charts. he’s breaking out into a sweat, about to start panting from his nervousness.
those icy blue eyes widen as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, claiming he has a fever. he shakes his head; a moment of clarity.
he thrusts the candle into your hands as he blurts out, “willyoubemyvalentine?” you accept and throw your arms around him, reassuring him that you’d like nothing more.
that night, you blow up his phone with how much you love your new candle.
on valentine’s day, you two make it your mission to try every flavour of slurpee from your local seven eleven. with belly aches and rainbow tongues, you two lie on your couch and confess your long-held feelings for one another.
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sero hanta
⭑.ᐟ he’s been crushing on you for a few months now.
at eijiro’s house party, he gets dared by the bakusquad to ask you out for valentine’s day. with shaky hands and an even shakier resolve, he comes over to you and asks if he can take you outside.
the cool breeze provides the reprieve you two need from the heap of sweaty bodies, scent of alcohol, and endless making out inside. you ask him if everything’s okay, but he shakes his head.
stuffing his hands in his pockets and avoiding your gaze, he mumbles, “y/n, I really like you, okay? do you wanna be my valentine?” you playfully shove his shoulder, telling him that, obviously, you do.
you two spend the rest of the night sitting in hammocks and drunkenly chatting over your feelings and the latest gossip at uni
on valentine’s day, hanta teaches you how to skateboard at your local skate park. it’s embarrassing wearing all of these pads to protect your joints, but oh-so-necessary with the number of times you fall over. he holds your hands and laughs at you when you rock side-to-side, but he always encourages you to keep going.
afterwards, you two grab some ice cream and sit at the back of the parlour. like all cute couples, you feed each other your different flavours and hold hands as you walk home.
you ask a red-faced hanta if he wants to be your boyfriend, and he says yes.
#★’s works#mha x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#denki x reader#izuku x reader#fem!reader#kirishima x reader#shinsou x y/n#tamaki x reader#shoto x reader#shigaraki x reader#valentines day
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used to, not to
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spencer thinks of all the ways he's gotten used to you when you're away from him.
spencer reid x reader words: 1.7k genre: fluff a/n: pulled this outta me for valentine's day bc i have fomo
Seven steps until he finds you again, or at least the memory of you in the smell of the same old bakery on his path to the office, familiar as he hears your voice,
“Okay, just one donut.” reverberating through his head, one hand subconsciously holding the satchel closer to him.
The doors of the office open on their own, and he repeats the daily routine of tight-lipped smiles to almost strangers, people he sees everyday but knows nothing about. Penelope pinches his cheeks just for a brief moment, along with her chipper “Good morning!” when he passes her.
He woke up in an empty bed today, an unhappy reminder of your departure last night. The flight had flown well into midnight because of the weather, and he was glad, at least he could talk to you before you went up into the sky, unreachable to him.
You'd laughed at him when he said it to you,
“Baby, it's only 5 hours, you'll have me available right after you wake up.”
“I’m so glad you think I get 5 hours of sleep every night.”
He had laughed along with you, but truth to be told he was afraid. He'd gotten too used to being around you whenever he was home, you had a much agreeable schedule.
So now he's in his bed, resting his back on the bed frame behind him, laptop resting on his legs, right after you cut the call.
The screen was already black, he'd been too busy talking to you to pay attention to anything. His phone screen lit up again, a last text with your name on it,
“Bye baby, don't miss me too much. Get some sleep. I love you.”
How cruel of you to send it when you won't even be able to see his answer for the next few hours.
A few more minutes spent in silence and staring at his reflection over the blank screen when he shakes his head to come into his senses, and busies himself in anything other than thoughts of you.
Morning.
Hurried hands and squinted eyes, scrolling through the only notifications he cares to read on his phone.
Two missed calls and seven texts.
The texts are timed several minutes apart, updates on when you landed up until you reached your hotel and fell asleep.
“I'm glad you actually went to sleep. See you in my dreams.”
The text read like you, sweet and teasing till he smiles with an ache in his heart, of course this was the day Hotch didn't decide to call everyone 3 hours earlier than usual.
The day goes as it always does, mundane and routine. JJ states a case, Hotch tells everyone what to do and they get to the jet to discuss further details.
He spends his time inside offices and police stations, looking through files and clues that are informed to him over the phone, connecting pasts to present, turning his phone on and off for anything new, as if that would automatically generate a text from you.
Evening comes in, hues of orange red and blue as he walks home, the same donut shop, haunting him as he leaves it behind.
He thinks of calling you again, but he remembers you telling him to text you more, you can't always pick up his calls. He knows he shouldn’t, but it's a selfish wish to hear from you again.
So instead he takes a picture of the shop, and tells you he's thinking of you, and puts his phone back into his satchel.
The door is locked, another thing he was out of routine, he had gotten used to you being home before him. He'd gotten used to seeing you in your pyjamas, cozying up in your blanket watching your shows, or blasting music as you pretend the spatula is your mic.
You'd both laughed a lot that day.
A bittersweet feeling envelops him again as enters through the door, and switches on the light, feeling heavy in the absence of your presence, an oxymoron, he thinks.
He goes into his bathroom to take a shower after a long day to be met with cold water. He yelps as the water makes contact with his skin when he realises that you always made sure the shower was ready whenever he came in, or you tried most days. He doesn't remember asking you to do this, only remembers thanking you the first time you did.
He's glad you're not there to see the smile on his face, lovesick and pathetic whenever he thinks of you when you're not there.
He wonders if others notice it, but realises the stupidity of his question. He remembers the initial days of them dating, how Emily would shake her head whenever he jumped to take your call, how Penelope gushed about his adoration towards you, and the usual remarks of Derek teasing.
The coffee machine just finished pouring his beverage into his cup when he hears his phone ring. He knows who it is, so he answers like it's meant for you,
“Hi, I missed you.”
“It's only been 3 days, Spence.”
The clock hands have moved past two hours because neither of you had put down the call. He had read his book and you had done your work in silence, light typing sounds in the background.
He was glad he'd been away from home for a few days, it gave him space not to th ink of you inhabiting the space beside him, to not think of the absence of your arms around him, to not have another reason to make coffee in the morning.
The leftover beverage stared at him whenever he moved his head, daring him to go pour himself another cup. He'd made too much, he was too a creature of habit, not used to you being gone.
Nights had a weird way of going by slowly when he didn't have you to talk to. Another bad habit of his, he realises, your voice.
He wouldn't dare tell you, or anyone if he's being honest, that he'd played your voice note more times than he'd admit.
Pathetic, with that stupid grin on his face as you told him about your day.
Hopeless, he thinks.
He doesn't mind being hopeless, especially if it's you.
Spencer doesn't dream often. He's glad, he has enough running thoughts every second he's awake. But he's also glad to have this dream, where your fingers are sliding down the slope of his nose, tracing the bones of his cheek, running through his hair.
He doesn't open his eyes, he wouldn't dare put a stop to any of it. The voice that chuckles sounds eerily like you, but he does open his eyes when he hears it say,
“Never seen you smile in your dreams.”
He's never woken up this fast, his heartbeat immediately higher than it should be this early in the morning, but he deems it a natural reaction to being around you. His eyes are desperate and searching, confused and the image makes you chuckle. He looks adorable like this, you think.
His voice is a near whisper, adapted to the quietness around him as he wakes up,
“What are you doing here? Weren't you coming tomorrow?”
You laugh again and it's like honey to him, “Got off early, thought I'd surprise you.”
He doesn't have much to say, too many different thoughts running through his brain so he buries his face at the crook of your neck. You smell like you, he’s missed that too and he has to stop himself from saying it out loud.
“I think I've gotten too used to your coffee, nothing else seems good anymore.”
“Everyone else says it's mediocre,” He chuckles, his breath warm on your skin, “You're the only person who likes it.”
“Well, it's… you, I guess. I like it because I like you.”
This is the only thing about you he's never gotten used to. He doesn't know how to respond when you talk to him like this, words too sweet, too saccharine, words only meant as a declaration, as a compliment.
He has answers to most if not all questions you could ask him, he'd list facts about any topic you talk to him about, he'd tell you how amazing you are every day, because he's used to it.
He gives away parts for him to his job, to his friends, to his mother, but he's never had much practice receiving it. It's second nature, to let the person in front of him know that “Yes, I care about you.” in crystal clear words so that he never has to bear the hurt of the sentence that follows, “Please, stay.”
He'd asked Penelope once, what to do with compliments. She had told him, after many minutes of teasing, to thank them, or tell them you love them. He’s not sure how other people think, but the idea of just a thank you didn’t sit right with him.
Neither of those options sounded good to him, but he had thanked her and left, not very satisfied with the answer. Instead, he does what he's gotten used to doing, telling you the new things he's learned when you haven't been around.
“I think I've gotten too used to listening to your voice before sleep. I played the voice note you sent me atleast 7 times.”
Pause.
“7 times?” He could hear the amusement in your voice.
“You should make a morning alarm, just for me. Then I could wake up to your voice.”
You're not quite sure how to respond to that. It's a common occurrence, your perplexity at his compliments.
Who says that anyway?
You're used to responding to the usual compliments, you know what to say when someone tells you you're pretty, or that you look good in your outfit.
How does one ever say anything in response that could ever live up to whatever he just asked of you?
So you don't. You find his hands and squeeze them to let him know you heard him, and say the first thing that you could think of to answer him, to calm your racing heart,
“You don’t need one. I'll be here myself, promise.”
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x gn!reader
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Would it be ok to request another valentine's one shot (can be spicy or fluff)? I dumped a guy a few weeks ago and I'd love to read more about mechs and valentines day 🫶🫶 Maybe ES/Prime Bumblebee or Jazz? Or any mech that's more into human culture could be cute.
Sure!
Valentines Oneshot
Earthspark Bumblebee x Reader
• “And I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ve got this,” Bumblebee says, smiling to take the sting out of the rejection as he holds up his hands. Besides, he remembers the Malto family’s attempt to help Megatron plan an outing with his human and Robbie’s date. “Um, Dot, please don’t tell Alex.” Because the last thing he needs is her spouse deciding to help him. And the woman just arches her brows at him, shaking her head. Would really love for her to say the words. To make it clear she’s not going to let slip his plans to her husband, but she’s heading into the house leaving him standing there.
• Head lifting at the sound of your car pulling into the driveway, it’s stupid to resent your car. But he still does. Has thought more than once about something destroying it or if it mysteriously gets stolen. He could drive you anywhere you needed to go. Keep you tucked safe inside him instead of in that death trap. Because, really, if that car just disappeared he’d be doing you a favor, right? Spark warming when you park and slide out, you offer him a little smile and he lifts a hand.
• “Someone’s all shiny today,” you tease as you walk over and his smile becomes sheepish. Wait, did he wax his paint just for you? Unsure what that might mean, you self consciously tuck your hair behind an ear as he kneels and offers his hands. Not grabbing you, but giving you the option to let him pick you up. And there’s no hesitation, stepping closer and putting yourself into his care. Those warm servos cradling you as he stands with you and holds you tucked against his chassis then walks out past the barn and into the woods.
• “This okay? Just us?” He asks as you lay a warm palm against him, head tipping back as the sun through the leaves dapples you and you look half unreal. “Anywhere you want to go?” Carrying you to the stream he’d found out in the woods feels so inadequate suddenly. It’d been so pretty when he’d found it, had immediately thought of sharing it with you, but maybe he should have let Dot help him. Give him advice on courting humans. Because he’s sure he’s messing up. Boring you.
• Inhaling as he breaks through the trees, you hear the water before you see it glittering in the sun. And it’s idyllic here, birds singing hidden in the branches. Quiet away from the noise and chaos of the Malto kids even though you adore them. “It’s beautiful out here,” you breathe, patting your hand urgently on him when you see some deer. ‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘Beautiful.’ And you realize when you look up that’s he’s just staring at you. Saying you’re beautiful as everything shifts between you, and you’re warming at the feel of those blue optics watching you. Aware of him in a way you’d never been before.
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Elvis caught reading readers smut books and getting all flustered and embarrassed because he likes them
A/N: Okay so this was also really fun, I made it a sequel to talk dirty to me. Everyone loves blushy Elvis, so here he is in all his glory.
This is the story
Pairing: Elvis x reader
Word count: 1.9K
TWs: Dirty talk, panty abuse (lol), smut.
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Whenever he wants to get away from his life, Elvis runs away to your apartment. The guys know where he is, sometimes they even drop him off there and pick him up again, but it still seems like an escape. He loves the way you’ve decorated the place - it’s so different from anything he would do but somehow he still feels at home there. It’s cosy and warm and covered in throws and cushions and rugs, and the walls are lined with row upon row of books. More often than not, he arrives at your apartment before you’re home from work and curls up on the sofa with something from one of your shelves. He’s even learned to make his own hot chocolate, and this November he’s spent many evenings reading and drinking cocoa, a blanket around him and soft music playing on the turntable. This must be how it feels to live a normal life, he thinks.
Today is the third day in a row he’s gone through this little ritual, and he sighs contentedly as he settles into his favourite armchair with a big mug of hot chocolate and a John Wyndam novel. There’s not as much of it left as he thought though, and it comes to an end before he’s got even half way through his drink. Kicking off the blanket, he gets up and pads over to where he thinks he’d got it from, trying to make space on the shelf. There’s a gap, but it’s not quite big enough. He tries jamming the book in, but that doesn’t work, so he moves along the shelf, pulling books out and then looking for gaps on other shelves. Eventually he ends up on a shelf he’s never even looked at before, and as he fiddles and pushes, something catches his eye.
Jane’s initiation is the title on the spine. He pulls the book out and almost drops it on the floor, catching it at the last minute. The cover has a woman kneeling in her underwear next to a completely naked man. Elvis blushes right up to his ears. Obviously he’s seen skin flicks and magazines, and he’s fucked plenty of girls. But something about this… novel… in his girlfriend’s apartment… well it makes him feel like a naughty little boy finding something he shouldn’t. He thinks about putting it back, but the urge to know what’s inside is stronger than the fear of being found. I’ll just read a few pages, he thinks, taking it back to the armchair. He sits down and opens it, taking a sip of his drink.
***
Idly wondering if Elvis will be in your apartment when you open the door, you fish about in your handbag for your keys. It’s been nice having him here for the past few days, it’s like you’re in a real relationship with a normal man for a change. Well, he’s not normal. But it’s not like dating Elvis Presley, that’s for sure. And you like someone being home when you get there, someone to kiss you hello and ask how your day was. Pushing the key into the lock, you turn it and make your way inside. Still thinking about how much you like having him here, it doesn’t occur to you to call out as you kick off your shoes and walk almost silently through to the living room. He looks completely absorbed in whatever he’s reading, and you smile at him looking so domesticated with his own mug and everything.
“Hi El,” you say, sweetly.
Elvis actually jumps out of his skin, throwing the book in the air before clumsily catching it and trying to put it face down on the table next to him. That’s when he realises the back looks even worse than the front, so he pulls another book from the shelf behind him and puts that on top, pulling so hard he dislodges another three onto the floor.
“Ah! Shit. Sorry, honey.” He gets up, tangled in his blanket for a moment and looking perilously like he’s about to fall, before righting himself and scooping you up into his arms. “Hi there,” he says, trying to pretend that nothing had just happened, as he kisses you tenderly.
You giggle at the whole situation, wondering what exactly he’d been reading that had got him in such a state. “You okay?”
He hums and nods. “Better now you’re here.”
That makes you really smile, and for a few minutes you forget all about whatever he was reading and concentrate on getting to know the inside of his mouth intimately with your tongue. Pulling back with a satisfied sigh, you catch sight of the books on the floor and remember again.
“What’ve you been reading?”
You try to move past him to look, but he keeps hold of you. “N-nothin’.”
“Nothing? You were so into whatever it was you didn’t even hear me come in!”
You try to wriggle out of his grasp to get to it but he holds you in place. “Ah… uh… that. Yeah. Jus’ a book about football.”
“Elvis, I don’t own any books about football.”
“I, uh, brought it with me.”
You fix him with a determined look. “Stop making things up. Let me see what it is.”
“No.”
“No?”
“N-no.” He looks like a little boy now, shameful, his cheeks aflame as he looks away from you.
“Come on,” you say, gently, stroking his face. “They’re all my books. It can’t be that bad.”
It doesn’t dawn on you what it could be until he finally gives up, letting you go, and you walk over to the table. You move the book stacked on top and see what’s underneath.
“Elvis!” You squeak, a little embarrassed. Then you turn to look at him and realise he’s in an even worse state.
“I-I-I jus’ f-found it an’...an’... I-I-I…”
Your eyes go wide. “Did you like it? You liked it!”
“N-no. Honey… no… I uh… no…”
Giggling, you move in front of him, holding the book, and wave it at him. “Yeah you did. How far did you get? Which bit did you like the best? Did you…” you look down, suddenly thinking of something. “Are you…?”
His hands go over his crotch and he staggers backwards, shaking his head. “No, honey. I’m not…” the backs of his legs collide with the armchair and send him flying into it, stopping his sentence in its tracks. You jump onto his lap, straddling him, not caring that your skirt has ridden up so far your panties are visible.
“Yes you are,” you tease, pressing your forehead against his. “It’s all those dirty words. They’ve got you hot and bothered.”
His hands go to your hips as you grind against him, making him cry out. Okay, so he had got pretty hard reading that book. Pictures in magazines were one thing, but the words were what really got his motor running.
“Alright. Ya got me bang to rights. I read it an’ I liked it.” He still won’t meet your eye, but at least he’s not stuttering now. And there’s no way he could really get that much redder.
You bite your lip. “Oooh. You wanna read some more? Should we read it together?”
He shakes his head, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. “You read it to me.”
You giggle. “How about I just make it up?” Without waiting for a response, you reach between your bodies to undo his pants. “She unzipped his pants and pulled out his giant, twitching member.” You burst into peals of laughter, so infectious that Elvis is laughing too, holding on to you for dear life as his chest heaves with amusement.
“It’s uh, big, honey, but it’s not giant. That jus’ sounds unnatural.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be serious,” you tell him, gently easing his dick out of his pants and starting to stroke it. “Reading that book got you all excited, didn’t it?” You press him against the outside of your panties and he groans.
“Yeah honey, it did.”
“It made me excited too,” you tell him, your voice low and quiet. “I used to read it and touch myself.”
“Mmm, yes honey,” he mumbles, nibbling your earlobe. “Love it when ya talk ta me like this.”
“Reading it got me all wet, I’d pull up my skirt and my panties would be see-through.”
The nibbling turns to a bite as he growls at your words, and you yelp in pain. “Ow! Elvis!”
He looks at you sheepishly. “Sorry, honey. But ya gotta know the effect yer havin’ on me…”
You’re still stroking him against your panties, they’re getting pretty see-through right now too, and you’re getting pretty excited.
“I can see the effect I’m having…” you tell him, cheekily squeezing him, “and feel it too. No need to bite my ear off.”
He nuzzles your neck and starts to kiss you there and then on your ear, mumbling his apologies as he urges you to keep going. You pant at the feeling, and the growing pleasure between your legs.
“Don’t think I can, El…”
He catches your meaning after a few seconds and starts to rub your clit himself through your panties with his fingers. Holding onto his shoulder for balance, you moan softly as he brings you to your peak, sighing against him as he gently coaxes you through it. His lips find your ear again and he asks you to take your panties off. When you do and hold them out to him he wraps his hand around yours and then puts it back around his dick. Your eyes go wide for a moment, as you slide the panties up and down against him.
“You like the feeling of my panties on your dick?”
He nods silently, eyes not quite meeting yours as he flushes a deep red again. The glow of your orgasm makes you even more full of love for him than usual, and you start to pepper his face with kisses as you carry on stroking him.
“God I love touching you,” you find yourself saying, because it’s true. You love pleasuring him and kissing him and holding him. Right now, you couldn’t be happier, sitting in his lap getting him off.
He whines. “I love it too. An’... love touchin’ ya honey. Love the feel of ya.”
You start to kiss him passionately as your hand speeds up, tongues tangling as you both moan. He pulls away and his head flops back against the chair, so close to release but not quite there yet.
“You gonna cum all over my panties, Daddy?”
It’s like over the past few weeks you’ve been collecting all of the things you can say that are most likely to drive him crazy, because that sentence makes him groan so loudly you’re sure the neighbours will complain again. They’ve complained a few times lately, and you’re starting to wonder if you need to get him to pay for soundproofing, or buy a gag.
“Yes… fuck… ohmygod.”
You keep stroking him as he cums, hard and long and all over your hand and the panties.
“Shit. Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling you against him so he can press his forehead to yours again. “Nasty mouth on ya,” he mumbles, kissing you.
“The kind of nasty mouth you want though, right?”
“God yes. Never stop.”
***
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The Beginning of Us Part 4
babydaddy!rafe x sweetheart!reader
masterlist
warnings: mentions of child abuse
summary: You and Rafe were high school sweethearts that continued into college however Rafe went down the wrong path and you found out you were pregnant. 4 years later finds you and Rafe trying to navigate co-parenting your 3 year old son while overcoming life’s obstacles and past experiences.
word count: 2.5k
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You sent a tired smile in your son’s direction as you watched Asher play with his tractors on the kitchen table. He had refused to eat dinner unless he could bring his tractors with him. You had said no at first because the kitchen table wasn’t a place to play, especially when you and Rafe were eating dinner but Asher had been grumpy all day, fighting you on everything you asked him to do so you gave in. Had Rafe been there when it happened, he would have taken your side and Asher would be frowning in the seat he currently sat in. But Rafe wasn’t there. Because you two didn’t live together.
One of the cons of co-parenting, you thought bitterly. He had only shown up 30 minutes ago for dinner. Some meeting he had ran later than he expected. As usual. But he had promised Asher he would come for dinner and if that man makes a promise to his son, he always kept it. It was something that made your eyes tear up if you thought too much about it because you knew Rafe could be a cold hearted, stern, unforgiving man until his son was involved. Then he would bend over backwards, reschedule or even leave meetings just to make sure Asher was taken care of. Nothing was keeping him away from his son.
“You gotta eat your dinner buddy. Put the tractors down. You can play after you’ve eaten a few bites,” Rafe sent a look Asher’s way. He was using his dad voice and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. His deep voice sending shivers down your arms, settling somewhere deep in your chest close to where your heart was. When Rafe took that tone, Asher always listened.
“Okay daddy.”
Asher clumsily picked up his fork and started scooping his mac and cheese. He was making a mess and proceeded to get it all over his mouth but he was eating his dinner, finally. You’d take a win where you could. He would take a bath after dinner anyways.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Rafe cleared his throat, looking up from his plate to glance at you across the table.
“What’s that?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Rafe was shuffling in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed nervous which was out of character for him which in turn made you start overthinking. He only got like this when he was about to bring up a topic you wouldn’t like.
Rafe looked to his left, making sure Asher was somewhat preoccupied with his dinner and tractors before looking back at you, “There’s this charity ball our company is throwing next month. Suppose to be a big event, raise money for a charity of our choosing, that kind of thing,” Rafe stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued, “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”
You were bringing the fork to your mouth for another bite as the words left his mouth and the shock of what he said made you unconsciously drop your fork. It landed with a loud clattering sound against the table before bouncing off and hitting the ground. The sound got your son’s attention and he looked your way with a wide eyed expression.
“Mommy, you made a mess!”
You felt stuck. You couldn’t move, couldn’t acknowledge your son speaking to you, couldn’t look Rafe in the eyes, couldn’t do anything but think about what he said.
He wanted you to go with him to this charity ball his work was throwing which meant dressing up and showing face in front of everyone he worked with. Or rather, that worked for him. He was the CEO after all.
But you weren’t together. You just co-parented with him which worked for you and you got no complaints from him about it. It wasn’t perfect by any means but it was what worked for your family. You got along great after Rafe cleaned up his act once Asher was born but you never got back together. It was too difficult to think about a relationship when Asher was a newborn and Rafe was dealing with sobriety. Instead, you both settled into this routine of taking care of Asher and raising him. That’s all your life revolved around anymore.
“You have to clean up your mess, Mommy. I’ll sing the clean up song for you!” Asher was unaware of the silent crisis you were having as you tried to get your brain to catch up to the current moment and do something.
You were vaguely aware of Asher signing ‘clean up, clean up’ over and over as he attempted to clean up the mess on the floor but you felt frozen. Going to a charity ball with Rafe would certainly give everyone the impression that you were back together and you didn’t know if you were ready for that life. It was also an event that didn’t extend the invite to little children. That thought alone broke you out of your trance.
“No one would be able to watch Asher,” You finally made eye contact with Rafe.
Rafe visibly let out a breath, like he was expecting a different response from you, “I already asked Sarah. She said she wouldn’t mind staying the night with him just in case we came back late.”
“Aunt Sarah?!” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Asher stop cleaning and his singing stopped abruptly.
You winced. He loved his Aunt Sarah and it had been awhile since he spent time with her. You just don’t know if you could leave him alone after what he went through.
“Yeah buddy, how’s a sleepover with Sarah sound?”
“Wait a second, Rafe. I didn’t say I would go,” You frowned. He was assuming you would go and in turn getting your son excited for no reason. You weren’t sure you wanted to go to a charity ball with Rafe and you damn sure weren’t thrilled about having Asher out of your sight.
“Why wouldn’t you? We’ve got someone to watch Asher. It’ll be fun,” Rafe said, smiling gently at you.
You had no doubt it would be fun. His company was known for throwing big parties and supporting a lot of the local charities. They always went above and beyond. The parties were extravagant and the talk of the town. All the food and wine was imported. Everyone who was someone attended.
“There’s just a lot to think about. It’s not as simple as you make it seem,” You stood from your seat at the table and squatted beside your son to wipe down the floor.
“How is it not simple?” Rafe scoffed. He was shaking his head as he pushed his food around on his plate with his fork. He was getting frustrated by your lack of giving in so easily.
“You know why. Going to a party like that is a big deal. People will talk,” You send him a look over Asher’s head.
“Mommy I talk!” Asher poked your arm as he grinned at you.
Despite the rising tension in the kitchen, you smiled at him, “Yes baby, you do. Why don’t you go play with your tractors in your room before bath time?”
“Okay!” He quickly grabbed his toys off the table and zoomed down the hallway to his room.
With Asher out of the room, you stood and grabbed the plates from the table, dinner long abandoned. You walked over to the sink to set the dirty dishes down gently before turning back to Rafe. You leant against the countertops and crossed your arms against your chest.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you.”
“But why? Give me one good reason.” Rafe stood from the table now, walking closer to you. He stopped a couple feet in front of you, not wanting to overcrowd you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked annoyed.
“For starters, Asher will be left alone-“
“He won’t be left alone, Sarah is going to watch him.” Rafe cut you off, raising both of his eyebrows as he looked pointedly at you.
He was right. You knew Asher wouldn’t truly be alone but in your mind, if you or Rafe weren’t with him he might as well be.
It had been 6 months since Asher was physically abused by the person who use to watch him during the day while you went to work. He was doing so much better since it happened but you found yourself frozen in time and unwilling to move on. It was hard to when all you could picture was Asher in the hospital. You still had nightmares about it. You just wanted to protect him at every waking moment and you couldn’t do that if he wasn’t right beside you.
“Rafe, I just think it’s best if I stayed with-“
Rafe groaned cutting you off once again. He drug his hands over his face and leaned his head back to face the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. He stayed that way for a couple of seconds until he tilted his head forward to look at you again. His face softened as he saw your wide, teary eyes and he knew this ran deeper than just going to some stupid charity ball with him. He knew that wasn’t the main concern.
Rafe took a calculated deep breath and started walking to you, speaking softly, “I know you have a hard time leaving him with someone else since it happened but he’s better now. His therapist even said he’s making good progress,” Rafe raised one of his hands towards the hallway, pointing to Asher’s room, “You can’t keep hovering over him waiting for something bad to happen. You need to live your life too. I want what’s best for both of you. You know I would never put him in harms way and leave him with someone I don’t trust. Sarah loves him and she would do anything to make sure he was taken care of,” He was speaking so quietly now, like he was scared to run you off.
You squeezed your eyes closed. You were trying not to let the tears fall. You knew he was right, you needed to live your life but Asher was your life. He represented everything that was good in your life. Your heart clenched at the thought of leaving him alone for more than a second.
As you started to breath heavier and faster, you felt Rafe’s hands hovering over your shoulders. You could sense his hesitation until you opened your eyes and found him standing right in front of you.
His hands finally made contact with your shoulders and he gave them a gentle squeeze before letting them trail down your arms. The faint touch of his fingertips as he drifted down to your hands had you relaxing into his touch. You didn’t even realize how tensed up you had been.
Rafe’s fingers threaded through yours and you felt a light blush rising on your cheeks. It had been a long time since you were so close to him. It was an unspoken rule that you weren’t intimate in any way with each other, scared it would lead to something else but you allowed yourself this one moment with him.
You would be lying if you said you weren’t losing yourself in his comfort.
“Come with me baby,” Rafe softly whispered. He was so close you could feel his breath on your cheeks.
At the mention of the nickname you hadn’t heard in years, you let out a soft breath of surprise. He was making you feel emotions you had pushed deep down for years. He was your first kiss, first love, first everything. He was the father of your child. He was in your life daily and when he was holding your hands while calling you baby and pleading with you to go with him to some party for work it was hard to say no.
You found yourself nodding, unable to speak. You were so entranced by him and his warmth. The simple gesture of him being so close to you was calming you down and making you lean into him. Your forehead gently rested against his chest where you could hear his heart beat. It was beating at a faster rate than what you considered normal which had you smiling softly.
You glanced up at him and saw his face was already angled down in your direction. Your nose briefly brushed against his and warning bells were going off in your head to back away before this went too far but you couldn’t care to listen to them.
His blue eyes were staring right into your own, holding your captive. You held your breath, physically holding yourself back from leaning up and closing the distance. Rafe seemed to be debating with himself as he searched your eyes. It felt like time stopped as he finally came to a decision. Just as you thought you saw him start to lean down, you heard a gasp from the hallway.
You both untangled yourself from the other quickly, Rafe dropping your hands as you stepped back from his chest and put some distance between the two of you. Your eyes found your son standing in the hallway with his Spider-Man toy in one hand and his favorite tractor in the other.
“Are mommy and daddy kissing?!”
“No!” You and Rafe said simultaneously. You started shaking your head while Rafe cleared his throat.
Asher looked very confused as he looked between his mother and father.
“It’s getting closer to bed baby. Let’s go get ready for bath time,” You stepped forward, trying to change the topic and get out of the kitchen where the atmosphere still felt charged from the earlier interaction.
Asher instantly groaned and let out a whine, stomping his little foot against the ground, “I don’t wanna go to bed.”
Before you could say anything to tame his oncoming temper tantrum, you heard Rafe speak behind you.
“Don’t give your mom an attitude. You know better. Now listen to what she said and go get ready for your bath.”
Asher’s head instantly dropped to his chest as he turned and slowly walked toward the bathroom across from his room. It was disheartening to see him so upset but you were grateful Rafe stepped in. You found yourself growing tired with each passing second and weren’t sure if you could handle one of Asher’s temper tantrums right now.
You turned toward Rafe and mouthed a ‘thank you’ as you followed Asher down the hallway. Rafe nodded in your direction and you saw him busy himself with cleaning the rest of the table off as you stepped into the bathroom.
As you turned the faucet on to get the water warm enough for your son, the realization of what you agreed to finally hit you.
You would be attending the most anticipated party of the year as Rafe’s date. It would also be the first time in years you and Rafe did something together without Asher tagging along.
You swallowed thickly. You could do this.
Right?
taglist: @bee-43 @lillell467 @marleymarleymarleymarley
#divider credit: @/strangergraphics#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fan fiction#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#obx fanfiction#outer banks fanfiction#obx fic#obx#rafe cameron#outer banks#jj maybank#cleo anderson#john b routledge#pope heyward#kiara carrera#sarah cameron#rafe#rafe outer banks#babydaddy rafe#babydaddy!rafe#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe obx#rafe x you
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Summer was in shades of cool.. (JJ Maybank X shy! kook! reader) Chapter 5
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A/n: Hey loves! fifth chapter, which somehow ended up also being angst! I'm so sad this story is almost coming to an end>︿<(that's if i don't decide to write more chapters.) But what i have rn, is roughly 3 chapters left. So yeah.. I'm working on a JJ x mermaid! reader, and the here comes the sun fic (part 2) though, you gotta check them out when i post them!
Summary: You know JJ isn't mean, he just likes to spend his time in shades of cool. You prove him wealth and a cushioned life doesn't necessarily mean happiness and that the two of you weren't as different as he thought.
For someone so shy and timid you sure were brave to skate around the town at night. It was your way of unwinding. You liked how free you felt, all alone with your earbuds in, and just skating around in endless circles. Especially when you didn't feel like dealing with your mother's nagging or your father's disappointed sighs and looks.
The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you glide over the smooth pavement, the soft hum of your skateboard the only sound in the quiet, sleeping town. Streetlights cast long shadows, their orange glow flickering softly as you pass beneath them. The streets are empty, save for the occasional parked car or the distant silhouette of a house with lights still on inside. You skate past closed storefronts, their dark windows reflecting the faint moonlight, and the faint clatter of your wheels echoes down the empty alleyways.
Everything feels still, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting. Your breath comes in clouds, visible in the chill of the night, and the cold wind sweeps through your hair as you push off harder, picking up speed. The town feels different at night—more yours, like a secret you’re keeping from everyone else. You weave through the streets, the familiar paths taking on a dreamlike quality in the quiet darkness, the only witness to your midnight ride.
As you round a corner, something makes you slow down—a figure, standing under one of the streetlights ahead. At first, you think it's just a shadow or a trick of the light, but then he shifts slightly, hands shoved into his pockets, and your heart skips.
It’s him. JJ. You haven't seen him for a few days, almost a week, since your last conversation when you gave him the picture of you, and you kept the one of him. He hasn’t noticed you yet now, lost in his own thoughts as he stands there, bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight. You feel your pulse quicken, the smooth rhythm of your skating disrupted as your thoughts scatter. For a moment, you consider turning around, slipping away before he sees you, but your legs don’t move. The street is so still, and it feels like the space between you has suddenly shrunk, the distance closing with each heartbeat. You skate closer, slower now, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.
JJ had been lost in thought, standing under the streetlight and staring absently at the ground in front of him. His mind was a mess, a tangled web of conflicting thoughts and feelings that he couldn't seem to untangle. He'd been avoiding you ever since you'd both given each other the pictures - that moment with you had felt so personal, so intimate, that he didn't know how to act around you now.
Not to mention the absolute shitshow of a night he managed to have.
He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of wheels rolling over the pavement. He looked up, and his heart stopped as he saw you skating closer.
As you came close to him, you eased your skateboard to a gentle stop by pressing your foot against the pavement. The familiar hum of wheels on concrete faded into a hushed silence as your heart began to quicken, the twilight deepening around you both. In the dim light, his features had been nothing more than vague silhouettes, but now—standing side by side—each detail was painfully clear.
Before you could even manage a soft greeting, your eyes were drawn to the silent story etched across his face. There were bruises scattered like dark constellations on his skin, his lip was painfully split, and a swollen bruise cradled his eye in a halo of sorrow, a small trail of blood drying up just above his lip from his nose. In that moment, your heart clenched with a mix of shock and tender concern. The raw evidence of his pain stirred something deep within you—a profound empathy that made you wish you could reach out and soothe the silent anguish behind those eyes.
Time seemed to slow as you absorbed every detail, the cool night air mingling with the warmth of your worry. In his vulnerable state, you saw more than just physical marks; you saw the same little boy you remembered from 3rd grade staring back at you. And as the night pressed in around you, you felt an overwhelming urge to offer comfort, even as a subtle fear held you back—fear of drawing him further into a world of pain he might not want to share or revisit.
JJ felt your gaze on his face, taking in the bruises and cuts. He immediately looked away, hating the way you were probably looking at him. He felt exposed, like a raw nerve.
He tried to play it tough, forcing a casual tone. ''Don't look at me like that. It's nothing. Just a little scuffle, that's all."
Your brows furrowed into a small frown as you continued studying the injuries on his face. Each bruise and the split on his lip whispered stories of pain, stories you’d only heard in hushed conversations around town. You knew about his turbulent relationship with his dad, the kind of abuse that left scars both seen and unseen. Not from JJ directly, of course.
This wasn’t just the aftermath of a random scuffle. The marks on his face spoke of deliberate cruelty, as if someone had set out to hurt him, to silence his ability to fight back. The thought that he might have been too shocked or too restrained to defend himself filled you with a cold dread. It was as though each injury was a small echo of a larger, unspoken terror—a terror that clutched at your heart and made you fear for his well-being.
JJ noticed the way your frown only seemed to deepen the more you took in his injuries. He could see the concern in your eyes, and it both touched and frustrated him. Part of him appreciated that you seemed to care, but another part just wanted you to stop looking at him like he was some helpless victim. He shifted awkwardly, trying to find the words to downplay the situation.
"Seriously, it's nothing. My old man was just being his usual charming self, that's all."
Now your brows shot up in surprise. Not because you didn't know about his dad and his tendencies. But because he was telling you this so directly. So bluntly.
"This was your dad?" you asked quietly, stepping off the skateboard fully now.
JJ nodded reluctantly and reached up brush a finger over the dried up trail of blood trickled from his nose, his eyes darting away as if he could escape the truth by simply not meeting your gaze. He despised that he had let his guard down enough to admit that his dad was the one who had marred his face. "Yeah. My old man had a little too much to drink tonight. Things got outta hand. It happens," he said, his voice attempting a casual indifference that barely masked the underlying anguish.
He tried to make it sound like just another night in the Maybank household—a familiar script of abuse and neglect, spun so often that it almost felt routine. But behind his nonchalant tone lay a truth he couldn’t hide: each incident was a step deeper into a spiral of escalating abuse, unrelenting drinking, and seething anger. In that moment, every word he uttered carried the weight of a painful reality he wished he could forget, yet it clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake off.
"...Why are you on the street then?" you asked once again, although your voice was quiet, you weren't as flustered as you usually were when you spoke to JJ.
JJ finally looked at you, surprised by the directness of your question. He wasn't used to anyone asking him such things so bluntly.
"What do you mean, 'why am I on the street'? Where else am I supposed to be?" He tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice. He wasn't used to revealing so much about himself like this, especially to a kook.
You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. You didn't realize how weird the question sounded. You should've just asked him if he had anywhere to sleep. But the words died in your throat. "No i mean.. I'm sorry.. i mean why aren't you at your friends' house..? Why are you out here?"
JJ huffed again, still feeling on edge. He couldn't tell you the real reason why he wasn't at one of his friend's houses right now - he didn't want to burden anyone else with his personal problems. So he just lied, keeping his voice casual and indifferent.
"I don't know, I just didn't feel like crashing at anyone's place, alright? I like being alone. I get more freedom when I'm sleeping on the street than if I were at someone's house."
"You're gonna freeze. Plus, sleeping on a bench really sucks," you stated simply, your tone laced with a soft, almost tender exasperation. Your expression soured in a way that was both peculiar and genuine, hinting at the concern beneath the blunt words.
JJ felt a pang of irritation at your statement. Yeah, he knew that sleeping on a bench sucked, trust him, he was well aware of it. But he didn't need you reminding him of that.
"Yeah, well, what choice do I have, genius? I can't exactly afford a hotel room. Not all of us are rich kooks, you know."
"…I was gonna say you can crash at mine—you don't have to sleep out here," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words slipped out after a few long moments of silence, following his sharp snap at you. There was a tender vulnerability in your tone, as if each syllable was a small promise of safety amid the chaos. You hoped that by offering your place, you could shield him, even just a little, from the cold and harshness of the night.
JJ's jaw dropped at your unexpected offer, his irritation immediately forgotten. He looked at you, eyes wide, trying to tell if you were being serious. The idea of crashing at your place seemed too good to be true. No way you actually wanted him to stay over at your house. "Wait, you're joking, right? You want me to...stay at your place?"
"Yeah... i mean i don't mind. If it's not weird for you of course... given you barely know me." you mumbled awkwardly, scrathing the back of your neck.
The idea of staying at your house was definitely weird for JJ. It would be his first time ever stepping foot inside a kook's home, for one. But more than anything, it was the thought of being in a private space with you that made him feel anxious and excited at the same time. He took a moment to collect himself before responding.
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything..."
You bit your lip, torn between respecting his pride and prejudice that you knew he had towards kooks, and wanting to help him. "No... I uh... I have my own room. It's not gonna be a problem. You can eat and take a bath if you want and I can help you with your uh... bruises."
You tried to force a smile, bending down to grab your skateboard and holding it under your armpit. The tension hung in the air, thick and unspoken.
JJ's chest tightened at your offer to help take care of his injuries. No one had ever really cared about him in that way before, and the thought of you treating his wounds made his heart thump against his ribcage. He tried to keep his voice casual and nonchalant, but he couldn't hide the hint of vulnerability in his tone. "Yeah? You're gonna play nurse for me?"
You wouldn't forgive yourself if you would've just skated away back home alone. You cared for JJ, more than you would admit to anyone. 8 years of being in love with him secretly would do that to you.
You nodded, your smile turning genuine and sheepish, your free hand reaching up to adjust your glasses.
JJ felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your genuine smile, his throat constricting at the thought that he was the cause of it. He took a small step closer to you, feeling the tension building between you both.
"Well, I ain't gonna turn down an offer like that." He gave you a small, crooked smile in return, the first genuine smile he'd given since you spotted him under the street light.
The two of you began walking, your skateboard still tucked under your arm. JJ kept sneaking glances at you, still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be staying the night at your house. It was a strange and unexpected turn of events, one that he had never thought possible just a few days ago.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, JJ spoke up, his tone curious and a little playful. "So, is it just you at your place? Or do you have, like, parents and siblings and stuff?"
"Yes... I have a sister and, uh... well, parents." you said, furrowing your brows slightly but smiling as you walked down the street. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. The streetlights cast a warm, golden glow over the pavement, and the sound of distant laughter and music from nearby homes added a comforting backdrop to your walk.
The journey to your place wasn't long, just about 15 minutes at most, giving you both enough time to enjoy the quiet company and the gentle rhythm of your steps. As you walked, you couldn't help but glance over at JJ, hoping the darkness concealed the concern in your eyes.
JJ nodded, not really surprised that you had a normal and functional family. He had always suspected it, even before you gave him the picture of you. There was something about you that screamed 'normal suburban girl', probably the fact that you were a kook after all.
As you walked, JJ studied the neighborhood surroundings, taking in the big, fancy houses that littered the street. It was a stark contrast to his own home and his neighborhood, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and bitterness. The tall imposing windows, the perfectly manicured lawns and massive pools with houses perfectly painted, all of them were the complete opposite to the trailer park scenery he had the ill-fated chance of waking up to.
"Must be nice, having functional parents and a nice house."
He tried to make his voice nonchalant and joking, but he couldn't quite hide the hint of bitterness in his tone. He knew it wasn't right to take his own issues out on you, especially since you had been nothing but kind to him so far. But old patterns were hard to break.
"The nice house is... good, although it doesn’t make up for the angry man living in it. All i wanna say is that i know how weird dads can get." you looked down, your voice shy and hesitant.
JJ's heart twinged in pain at the mention of angry dads. He could relate to that all too well. He'd lived with an angry dad for as long as he can remember, and the memories were not pleasant.
He was surprised that you would admit something like that to him. He'd always figured you were some rich girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. But clearly, there was more to you than he thought.
He glanced over at you, studying your face as you continued walking. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you, to comfort and reassure you in some way - as if he didn't have a busted lip and bruised face of his own. Instead, he just cleared his throat and spoke as casually and jokingly as he could. "Yeah, angry dicks seem to be pretty universal, huh?"
"Yeah... I don't want my kids to have an angry father," you chuckled dryly, the laugh more a reflex than genuine amusement. The situation wasn't funny at all, but the awkwardness bubbled up in your chest, spilling out in the form of an uncomfortable giggle.
JJ's heart skipped another beat at your unexpected mention of kids. The thought of you having a family of your own - a future husband and children - made him feel more bothered than he cared to admit. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest and responded in his typical sarcastic tone. "Oh, so you already got some future hubby picked out?"
"No. I don't even speak to guys... you know how shy and timid i get..." you frowned with a smile on your face, shaking your head.
JJ couldn't help but chuckle softly at your response. He knew all too well about your shyness and how you seemed to freeze up around people, especially guys. It was just one of the many quirks about you that he had picked up on over the years, despite never actually talking to you. "Yeah, I've noticed. You get all tongue-tied and red in the face. It's kind of cute, actually."
The second he said it, JJ mentally cursed himself. He had meant it as a lighthearted tease, but the word 'cute' had just slipped out before he could stop it. He quickly tried to cover up his blunder with a nonchalant, sarcastic tone.
"I mean, in a dorky kind of way obviously."
You let out a huff of laughter, turning your head to look forward as you walked, nearing your house. You felt yourself blush at his words, despite the fact that he covered them up with a teasing comment.
JJ watched as your face turned a light pink, the rosy color spreading across your cheeks. He felt a weird sense of satisfaction at the realization that he had caused that reaction in you. But he quickly pushed that thought aside, reminding himself that he was just here for a place to crash, nothing more.
As you continued walking, JJ glanced around the posh, quiet neighborhood.
"You know, you live in a pretty fancy area. I feel like I'm in some snobby billionaire's vacation home or something."
"All of these people living here are assholes." you stated bluntly, glancing around too.
JJ couldn't help but bark out a surprised laugh at your unexpected bluntness. He had never expected such language to come out of your mouth. "Ouch. Don't hold back, tell us how you really feel."
He smirked, still chuckling as he glanced around at the immaculate, expensive-looking homes surrounding them.
As you neared your house, JJ couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. He tried to play it cool, but he couldn't ignore the thrill of the idea that he was about to step inside a kook's home for the first time in his life, aside from the house parties.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant as he spoke. "This your place, huh?"
"Mhm.." you nodded, humming as you approached the big gates of your house. You walked towards the security booth, asking the man inside to let you in, explaining to him that JJ was your friend and that your parents should just not hear about this, not wanting to have the talk with you mom yet.
JJ followed you silently, trying to appear unfazed and nonchalant. But deep down, he was still feeling a little awkward and uncomfortable being in this wealthy neighborhood.
He watched as you spoke to the man in the booth, explaining that he was your friend and that your parents shouldn't know about his presence. JJ could only grimace at the thought of your parents finding out that you were bringing a Pogue - and a bruised and beaten up one at that - into their pristine kook house.
As the gates clicked open and you both walked through the opening, JJ glanced around the expansive grounds of your property. It was a far cry from the small, run-down house and yard he lived in. This place looked more like a luxurious resort than a home.
He let out a low whistle of appreciation, looking at you with a mix of awe and envy. "Damn. You really weren't kidding about your place being fancy."
You gave a small, shy smile, feeling a bit self-conscious as you led him up the stone path. The meticulously manicured lawn stretched out on either side, dotted with vibrant flowerbeds and neatly trimmed hedges. The soft glow of landscape lighting illuminated the walkway, adding an air of sophistication to the already impressive scene.
"Yeah, it's... something," you said, your voice hesitant. "But like I said earlier, a nice house doesn't make up for everything."
JJ nodded, his gaze sweeping over the expansive grounds before settling back on you. "I get that," he replied, his tone sincere. "Still, it's pretty amazing. I've never seen anything like this up close."
"It's just a house.." you laughed awkwardly. You neared your big front doors, digging through the pocket of your jeans to retrieve your keys.
JJ rolled his eyes at your nonchalant response. "Yeah, right. A house that looks like it could fit my entire house inside of it."
He watched as you took out your keys, realizing with a pang of panic that he was about to enter your house. He quickly pushed down the feeling of nervousness building in his chest and tried to make a joke instead. "You sure your parents aren't gonna see me and freak out?"
"I don't even think they're home.. and if they are, they're asleep already." you stated after unlocking your front door, grabbing your board and stepping inside. Opening the door, you ushered him inside, the warmth of the house enveloping you both. The foyer was elegantly decorated, with a grand staircase leading up to the second floor and tasteful artwork adorning the walls. JJ looked around, taking in the high ceilings and polished wood floors.
JJ followed you inside, his combat boots squeaking uncomfortably against the smooth, hardwood floors. The inside of your house looked just as impressive as the outside, with elegant furniture and expensive-looking decorations that could probably serve as a down-payment for his shitty house. JJ couldn't help but feel a little out of place, like a stray among the perfect, polished furniture.
He tried to act casual, but he couldn't help but glance around nervously, waiting for your parents to appear and throw him out on his ass.
JJ was surprised by the fact that your house was completely silent and dark, as if nobody was in. He had been half-expecting a posh version of his own home with angry, yelling adults and slamming doors. "Your parents are seriously asleep already? Don't they care that you're out this late?"
You shook your head. Your parents really didn't care that much. You had learned to take care of yourself when they weren't home. Which was usually all the time. Instant meals and take out became your best friend once you passed the age of 14. It was like you parents just- assumed you'll hold your own. And you did. Mostly thanks to Maisy. You urged him towards the stairs walking up the steps quietly.
JJ followed you up the stairs, still feeling out of place and on edge in the immaculate surroundings. He knew he was probably going to look like a total mess once he saw himself in the mirror, but he didn't dare ask to take a shower yet.
He glanced around as he walked, trying to mentally note the layout of your house in case he ever needed to escape quickly.
As you reached the top of the stairs, JJ looked around, expecting to see more of the posh and flawless décor. But to his surprise, the hallway upstairs was dimly lit and all the doors had been closed.
He followed you down the hallway towards your room, feeling a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He had never been in a kook girl's room before, and he couldn't help but wonder what yours would look like.
As you both finally reach your door you can't help but feel a bit nervous knowing your room was the only one in this house which was this messy. Once you stepped inside a warm, golden glow wraps around you, coming from the fairy lights strung across the walls like constellations. The soft light bounced off the pale pink walls, casting delicate shadows on the worn wood floors.
Photographs covered nearly every surface—polaroids tacked to the walls along with various movie and bad posters, black-and-white prints clipped to twine that stretches above your bed like a gallery of memories. Each picture seemed to hold a story: some of you skating down streets at sunset, others of eerie, abandoned places that seem pulled from a horror film, their dark windows and empty halls almost breathing, Maisy appearing in some of your shots.
The bed is a mess of mismatched blankets and soft pillows, inviting in a way that feels casual and lived-in, like you'd spent countless late nights curled up there, editing photos or watching horror movies that make the shadows in the room seem to move. On the floor, there’s a skateboard deck leaning against a stack of books, some dog-eared horror novels with spines cracked from use. The air smells faintly of vanilla and something else, maybe the remnants of a candle long burned out to mask the cigarette smell lingering.
JJ was stunned into silence as he stepped into your room, taking in the warm, golden glow of the fairy lights and the photos that covered every surface, the posters scattered over the light pink walls. He was surprised to have seen some of the movies himself, most of them horror flicks. It was unlike anything he had seen before - a stark contrast to his own bare, messy room with its old, fading wallpaper and worn flooring.
He looked at the mess of blankets, pillows and plushies on your bed, feeling a sudden urge to flop down on them, as if they would somehow soothe the tension in his chest. But he knew better than to do that, so he just stood there awkwardly, taking in his new surroundings.
"I'm sorry for the mess.. I'm usually a clean person... for 1 week after i clean. And then it goes back to this.." you mumbled awkwardly, dropping your board on the floor next to your door.
JJ chuckled softly, his usual smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at the pile of clothes and books piled up in one corner of the room. "Nah don't worry about it, it's not that bad. Definitely cleaner than my room at least."
He gestured towards the mess. He didn't say it, but he actually found your room endearing. It reminded him of himself. He leaned up against the wall by your door, trying to appear casual and nonchalant as his eyes roamed over the photos on your wall. He recognized a few of the places you had captured on camera – old, abandoned barns and forgotten warehouses that he had explored with John B and Pope before.
"You like taking pictures, huh?" he asked, his voice a little gentler than usual.
"Wasn't that obvious already?" You asked gently a soft chuckle following your question, watching him closely as he studied your room. You felt a bit anxious and nervous given the state your room was in at the moment. And maybe the fact that the boy you were in love with since you were nine was currently in it. It felt almost unreal. He looked more beautiful under the soft glow of your fairy lights, his eyes sparkling like a little kid's despite the injuries scattered across his pretty face. That reminded you, you were gonna help him out with them.
JJ chuckled softly as your response, his gaze lingering on the photos on the wall for a moment before switching back to you. He couldn't help but notice the way you were watching him, with a hint of nervousness and anxiety.
He tried to act nonchalant, as if he didn't care that he was standing in the middle of a kook girl's room, surrounded by evidence of how little the two of you had in common. "Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious, huh?
He felt a strange fluttering in his chest as your eyes met, the soft glow of the fairy lights making your face look almost angelic. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment before dropping to the ground, trying to push down the feeling of butterflies in his stomach.
Trying to distract himself, he spoke up again.
"So you like horror movies, huh? Explains why you're not scared of me even when I'm beat up like this."
"You don't look scary..." you spoke softly, shifting on your feet nervously your gaze also dropping to the ground nervously.
JJ chuckled dryly, running a hand through his messy hair. He was well aware of how he must look like right now, a mess of injuries and bruises, his face battered and swollen. Yet you still seemed unfazed by his appearance, your words completely honest and sincere.
He found himself unable to meet your gaze, feeling another flutter in his chest at your unexpected softness. He cleared his throat awkwardly, not used to being spoken to so kindly.
"Yeah, well I can assure you most people find me pretty scary."
"It's okay.." you reassured him, although you didn't know what for. He seemed tense, but you would be too if your father would treat you like that. And then you would have to wander the streets alone all beat up.
JJ felt a pang of something in his chest at your words. He wasn't used to being reassured like this, especially not by someone like you. Most people either avoided him or thought he was some kind of criminal.
He tried to force a smirk, but it came out weak and unconvincing. He felt a strange sense of vulnerability, standing in your cozy, feminine room while he was covered in bruises. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to sit down, to rest for once.
JJ glanced around the room, wondering if it would be rude to just sit down on your bed. Finally, he gave in to the urge, his legs aching and tired from everything that had happened. He gingerly lowered himself down onto your bed, wincing slightly as he felt the soft mattress sink beneath his weight.
You stepped forward nervously, as if you were in his room and not the other the way around, stopping in front of him. You studied his injuries, trying to gauge the severity of them and to know what to do to treat them. You wanted to give him a hug before that, he looked like he needed it, but you weren't sure if he would be okay with that.
You had always wondered what it would be like to hug JJ. He was tall, taller than you, and well... very fit for a 17 year old. You imagined he'd give good hugs if given the chance. But he didn't seem like the guy who would just hug someone, or like physical touch like that. Especially in the state he was in at the moment.
JJ felt your gaze on him as he sat on the edge of your bed, his muscles tensing up involuntarily. He tried to act relaxed, but he couldn't help the feeling of being scrutinized, your eyes roaming over his body and taking in his injuries. He had to fight the urge to snap at you, to tell you that he was fine and didn't need your help.
But there was something in your eyes that made him hold his tongue. It was a look of concern, almost affection, and he wasn't used to seeing it from anyone, especially not a kook.
He shifted awkwardly as you stood in front of him, feeling a flutter in his chest as you looked at him with such concern in your eyes. He could see the wheels turning in your head, trying to figure out how to help him.
"I didn't come here for a pity party, you know." he muttered, trying to maintain his usual tough persona, but his voice sounded almost vulnerable in the soft glow of the room.
Your brows shot up in embarrassment and awkwardness, you didn't want him to think you were pitying him. Just merely concerned from a place of love. But he didn't know that of course. "I'm sorry... I'm just..- worried. I never had to treat injuries this bad."
JJ felt a pang of guilt as he saw the look on your face, realizing that he had sounded harsh and defensive. He gritted his teeth, feeling a strange mixture of vulnerability and frustration. He was used to hiding his pain and brushing off his injuries as if they were nothing. It made him feel weak and vulnerable to admit that he needed help. Like admitting that would make whatever he was going through more real. Reason why he didn't like to burden his best friends with it too much.
He let out a slow breath, trying to soften his tone.
"It's not like it's the first time I got beat up. I can handle it."
"Were you seriously just gonna wonder around until the morning..?" you asked in an almost sad and concerned tone, still standing in front of him awkwardly, your fingers reaching up to adjust your glasses.
JJ glanced up at you, taking in your sad and concerned expression. He had been planning on just wandering around, or crashing on the beach until morning. But in the moment, he couldn't bring himself to admit that. He shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he accidentally jostled one of his bruised ribs. He avoided your gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don't really have anywhere else to go, do I?"
He tried to sound nonchalant and tough, as usual, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. He was used to spending nights alone on the beach, but the thought of spending another night out there, battered and bruised, suddenly felt very cold and lonely.
"That's gotta feel lonely at some point." you stated simply as if reading his thoughts, stepping a little closer shyly, still studying his face intently.
JJ tensed up as you stepped closer, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. He wasn't used to people being this close to him, especially not in such a vulnerable state. But there was something about the genuine concern on your face that made him feel a strange mixture of comfort and frustration.
He tried to brush off your words, as usual. "I'm used to being alone. I don't need anyone's help, especially not a kooks."
"Why is it always about kooks and pogues?" you asked, your brows furrowing in curiosity and something like a hesitant irritation.
JJ couldn't help but roll his eyes at your question.
"Oh come on, don't act like you don't know. It's always been that way. Kooks think they're better than pogues, looking down on us like we're nothing. We're two completely different worlds."
"I never looked down on anyone. If anything it had always been the other way around." you spoke softly, your expression going back to its normalcy, the concern still etched between your features gently.
JJ was taken aback by your words, his tough facade faltering for a moment as he heard the genuine hurt in your voice.
He wasn't used to people speaking to him like this, like they actually cared.
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his usual confidence wavering slightly. "Maybe not you, but most kooks are the same. They think they're better than us, just because they have money and power."
"Yeah well... you're in my room. Not someone else's. " you mumbled, shifting on your feet awkwardly.
JJ looked up at you, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in your expression. There was no trace of judgement or anything like that, only genuine concern and a hint of something else that he couldn't quite identify.
He suddenly realized how close you were standing to him, so close that he could see the way your eyelashes curved downwards as you looked at him. He suddenly felt a flutter in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation that he tried to ignore.
He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he spoke.
"Yeah, well, this doesn't change anything. You're still a kook."
His voice came out harsher than he intended, a defensive response to the strange feeling he was experiencing.
Your brows scrunched up almost imperceptibly at his harsh tone, a pang of sadness shooting through you. Your eyes darted across his face nervously, regretting the decision to bring him here, given he seemed to think you pitied him and just wanted to flaunt your rich and snobbish life style. You suddenly felt frozen and like you made things awkward, for no apparent reason, going silent.
JJ watched as your expression changed, and he realized he had messed up. He hadn't meant to hurt your feelings, but his defensive instincts had taken over. He didn't understand why it bothered him so much. You were a kook and he was a pogue. That was just the way things were. There was no room for feelings or anything like that.
But there was something about the way you looked at him that made him feel guilty for being so rude. He tried to backtrack.
"Look... I didn't mean it like that. It's just-"
He cut himself off, realizing that he had no idea what to say. He wasn't used to dealing with his feelings, especially not when it came to a kook girl with the softest eyes he'd ever seen.
He shifted on the bed, feeling more vulnerable and uncomfortable than ever, his bruised ribs protesting at the movement.
You took a small step back, thinking it would be better at the moment. You didn't want to cross any boundaries or make him more hostile than he already was. You were supposed to help him out, not make things worse for him. But somehow now it felt weird, tense. You didn't wan that.
You expression stayed the same, but you tried to push down the feeling of sadness and awkwardness in your stomach, fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie nervously as you tried to mutter a word or something, but the words were stuck in your throat.
JJ noticed your step back, feeling a pang of something in his chest at the distance between you two. He didn't like it, for some reason. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pull you closer, to close the gap between you. He watched as you fidgeted with your hoodie strings, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He could tell that he had hurt your feelings, and it made him feel like a jerk.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the strange, unfamiliar emotions swirling inside him. He rubbed a hand over his face, wincing as it brushed against a particularly painful bruise. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just not used to people being so..."
He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He wasn't used to people being so... what? Caring? Nice? Kind?
He looked up at you, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment before he quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.
You wanted to step close again, reach in your nightstand drawer and help him with his injuries but you were frozen for some reason. You didn't know what to do, your eyes meeting for a moment, before you both looked away, an awkward and gnawing feeling settling in your chest.
JJ shifted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't hurt. Every inch of his body seemed to ache, and his head was spinning from exhaustion. He looked up at you, still standing awkwardly a few steps away from him. He could tell that you wanted to do something, perhaps help him with his injuries, but you were holding back.
The urge to reach out and grab your hand, to pull you closer and make the aching in his chest go away, grew stronger by the second. He felt the silence in the room like a heavy weight, the only sound being his own pained breathing. He couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to break the tension, to ease the atmosphere.
His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke."Hey... come here."
You were surprised by his gentle tone, and the hint of vulnerability in his voice. It was strange, hearing JJ being so soft and... well, not tough for a change.
You hesitated for a moment, still feeling unsure and awkward from before. But then you heard the slight pleading in his voice, and any resistance you had crumbled like a house of cards. You slowly stepped closer, closer until you were standing right in front of him again.
JJ tilted his head back, looking up at you as you stood in front of him. He could feel the warmth radiating off your body, and a hint of your scent - strawberries and vanilla - filled his nostrils.
He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he couldn't quite hide the hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He felt strangely exposed and vulnerable, sitting on the edge of your bed while you stood right next to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to. And he did, so badly.
He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pull you into his lap, to bury his face in your neck and forget about everything else for a moment. But he held back, knowing that it would probably scare you away.
He cleared his throat, trying to control the strange, unfamiliar emotions surging through him.
"I... uhm... you were gonna help me with my injuries, weren't you?"
"Yes..." you muttered weakly, widening your eyes as you realized you were just standing there like a dumbass. You dropped to your knees to rummage through your bottom drawer, looking for your first aid kit and a bottle of painkillers, anxiously.
JJ watched as you knelt down in front of him, feeling yet another flutter in his chest. He wasn't used to people putting in so much effort to help him, especially not a kook.
He couldn't help but notice how pretty you looked on your knees, rummaging through the drawer, your brow furrowed in concentration.
He wanted to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers through your hair, to tilt your chin up and make you look at him. But he knew he shouldn't. He had already messed up enough.
He tried to distract himself from his thoughts by looking around your room, taking in the feminine decorations and makeup scattered on your vanity; your soft colored curtains.
He couldn't help but feel even more out of place, more like a dark spot in the middle of a pristine, beautiful room. He was dirty and battered, and you were soft and sweet, like a porcelain doll.
He suddenly realized how ridiculous it was, him sitting on the edge of your bed, beaten up and bruised, while you knelt on the ground, diligently searching for supplies to treat his injuries.
He felt a new surge of guilt wash over him. He shouldn't be here, in your personal space, in your room and on your bed. He should be out on the street, alone and miserable, like he always was.
He suddenly wanted to leave, to spare you the troubles of dealing with a pogue like him, but he couldn't move. The pain in his ribs and the exhaustion were keeping him there, stuck in this moment of unfamiliar vulnerability and softness.
You had finally found the goddamned aid kit, after looking for it anxiously, grabbing a half empty pain killer bottle that you used regularly and standing up and holding it awkwardly, "you think there's any internal injuries we should worry about?" you broke the silence softly, sitting down on your bed next to him, your brows furrowing as though you were trying to see through him for the injuries for yourself.
JJ tensed up briefly as you sat down next to him, the sudden proximity making his heart race. He tried to ignore the way he felt and focus on your question.
He gingerly prodded his ribs with his fingers, wincing a little as he touched a particularly tender spot. "I don't think so. Just a bunch of bruised ribs, nothing serious."
"Bruised ribs are still bad." you stated with a determined look on your face, "what about your chest? does it hurt?" you asked softly, looking up to meet his eyes.
JJ's heart skipped a beat as he met your gaze, the seriousness and concern in your eyes making his chest ache in a different way than before.
He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart, and nodded slightly.
"A little. Mostly my ribs, though. It hurts to breathe and move."
Your brows scrunched up a bit in concern and panic at his words. For all you could know, his ribs could be cracked or even broken and he could be downplaying it, "oh my god.. they could be cracked you know? i dunno what to do about that..." you muttered the last part to yourself, your panic growing.
At the sound of your panic, JJ's tough demeanor slipped just a fraction. He could see the worry and concern etched in every line of your face, and strangely, it made his heart feel warm.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, his voice softer than usual. "It's not that bad. I've had worse. I'm tough, remember?" He forced a cocky smile, trying to reassure you, even though his ribs were protesting with every breath he took.
You shook your head in dismissal, pursing your lips together as your concern and panic started to grow. You were a 17 year old with no medical experience aside from treating a couple of injuries from skating. You didn't even know how to figure out if his ribs were fine and the thought scared you, "listen.. you need to press gently and see if you can feel anything weird aside from the pain.." you spoke, your brows furrowed as you tried to keep your voice steady, to conceal just how scared you were. Scaring him wasn't exactly the way to go about it. Nurses didn't do that. What the fuck were you saying? you were no nurse..
JJ's smile faded as he recognized the genuine worry in your eyes. He felt a pang of guilt for downplaying his injuries, knowing full well that it was making you even more anxious.
He sighed and nodded, lifting up his shirt to gently press his hands against his bruised ribs. He winced at the pain, his stomach muscles tensing up as he carefully felt around. "It hurts, but... I don't think anything's broken."
You grimace as his breathing hitched, your eyes studying the big bruise on his rib under his arm. It looked gnarly, truly like something done with malice, "are you sure? broken ribs can affect your lungs... you need to tell me if they're broken."
JJ let out a soft grunt as he prodded his bruised ribs. He could feel your eyes on him, studying the bruise with a mixture of concern and fascination.
He winced again as he applied slightly more pressure, feeling a sharp pain shooting through his chest. "I don't know... It hurts like hell, but I don't think it's broken. I've had broken ribs before, and it doesn't feel the same."
Your expression soured when he told you that he had broken ribs before. The thought saddened you, in a way you've never been before. Your eyes met, leaving the dark purple and blue ish bruise, a hint of the sadness and care seeping through, "..okay. I'll give you pain killers and you can take a warm shower after I'm done, okay?
JJ was taken aback by your sadness and concern. It was an emotion he wasn't used to seeing directed at him, especially from a kook. He tried to push down the unfamiliar feeling that welled up inside him, the feeling that he didn't want to see you sad.
He nodded slowly, still feeling vulnerable and exposed under your gaze. The thought of a warm shower sounded heavenly after the long, exhausting day he had just had. "Okay. That sounds good."
You fidgeted with the first aid kit contents, your fingers trembling slightly as you grabbed a clean cloth. You gently dabbed at the cut on JJ's cheek, your concentration evident in the furrow of your brows. As you applied the antiseptic, you winced in sympathy, knowing the sting it must be causing him. The look of discomfort on his face mirrored your own, and your concentrated expression melted into a grimace, as if you were the one in pain.
JJ couldn't help but watch you as you cleaned and treated his wounds. Your gentle touch and focused expression somehow made his heart skip a beat, even though he was in pain. He winced as the antiseptic stung his cuts, biting his lip to suppress a hiss of pain.
"Damn, that stings..." he muttered through clenched teeth.
You locked eyes, mumbling softly, "sorry.. i don't want the cuts to get infected.." you scooted a little closer to inspect the injuries more closely.
He had an even more gnarly bruise on his cheek bone than the one on his ribs if that was possible. It looked like he had been slapped pretty hard across the face, or punched with some sort of ring on the attacker's knuckle. The thought made your stomach churn, the cut on his lip was probably the force of the slap splitting the soft flesh of his lips.
JJ shifted slightly, feeling a little self-conscious under your scrutiny. He knew he was bruised and battered, and the way you were looking at him made him feel more exposed and vulnerable than he ever had before.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. But the memories of the fight, and the feeling of your soft, warm skin so close to his, were making it difficult to focus. He couldn't help but notice the concern etched on your face, the way your eyes darkened as you looked at his bruised cheek. He suddenly longed to reach out and take your hand, to pull you closer and feel the comfort of your touch.
But he didn't. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was invading your space, that he was bringing his pain and trouble into your perfect world. He didn't belong in your bright, beautiful room, with its soft colors and warm vibes. He was a dark stain, a reminder of the ugly world outside your door.
He tried to maintain his composure, to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "It looks worse than it feels."
"I doubt that." you responded simply, stashing the antiseptic and cloths back in the first aid kit, adjusting your glasses gently. You looked back at him your gaze softening as you grabbed a band-aid. You placed it carefully over the cut on his cheekbone, puling back slightly to inspect it. "you know, i didn't bring you here to try and shame you or anything... i genuinely wanted to help."
JJ felt a pang of something in his chest at your words and at the surprising softness which you used to place the band-aid over his cut, a soft flutter that he wasn't used to feeling. He tried to hide it with sarcasm, his usual shield against vulnerability.
"Oh really? I thought you just brought me here because you had some sort of kink for battered and bruised guys."
He instantly regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, realizing how crude and harsh they sounded. He was used to using humor and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, but somehow, with you, it didn't feel right.
He looked up at you, wincing internally as he waited for your reaction.
Your brows furrowed at his slightly sharp and crude words, pursing your lips together as you folded your hands in your lap, "you're funny... usually."
JJ mentally berated himself for his sarcastic comment. He hadn't meant to sound rude; it had just come out, a reflex born of years of hiding behind humor.
He saw the subtle frown on your face and felt a pang of guilt. He didn't want to upset you, especially not after you had been so kind and caring. He felt a strange urge to wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a smile. "I'm sorry. That was a poor attempt at humor. I didn't mean to be rude," he said, his voice softer and laced with a hint of genuine apology.
"It's okay." you mumbled, your expression softening. You knew how on edge he probably was, given the day he probably had. "It was kind of funny anyway.." you smiled slightly, letting out a huff of laughter.
JJ felt a small surge of relief at the sound of your laughter. It was a soft, gentle sound, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds. He found himself yearning to hear it again, to make you laugh more often. As he found himself when talking to you. It was a reaction his brain had once he heard you laugh and saw the smile on your face.
He felt his heart flutter in his chest as he looked at you, his usual tough demeanor softened by the moment between you two.
He managed a small smile in return, his voice quieter than usual. "Thanks for laughing at my crappy jokes."
This would be the moment in movies where the girl would kiss or hug the boy and they would stare at each other with looks full of love. He was so beautiful, even battered and bruised, that he deserved the look anyway. You wondered internally how something so pretty and angelic got such a shitty deal in life. It was unfair. "well i love shitty humor." you mumbled gently, looking down and then back at him with a small amused smile.
JJ chuckled softly at your words, his heart thudding in his chest. He hadn't expected you to banter back, and he certainly hadn't expected you to say you love shitty humor. No one had ever said that to him before. He tried to tamp down the fluttering feeling in his stomach, the one that seemed to be getting stronger every time he looked at you.
"Guess I'm your guy then," he replied with a smirk, trying to keep it cool on the outside, while on the inside, he was anything but.
'You really are.' you chuckled internally, your expression softening even more as you let out another quiet laugh at his self deprecating comment.
JJ was mesmerized by the sound of your laughter. It was like a soothing balm for his battered soul. He could listen to it all day long. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction at the fact that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one bringing a smile to your face.
He smiled at your soft expression, trying to ignore the way it made his heart flutter in his chest. He wanted to keep seeing that smile, to keep making you laugh, to keep spending time with you, in this small slice of heaven in your bedroom.
He shifted slightly on your bed, wincing as the movement caused his ribs to flare up in pain again. He tried to hide it, not wanting to show any more weakness in front of you.
He looked down at his battered, bruised hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. He had caused you so much trouble already. He didn't deserve to be in your pristine room, on your soft bed, in your presence.
He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Thanks again, for... you know, taking care of me."
You looked down at his bruised knuckles and small cuts on his hands, your expression softening yet again, this time a little more sad. Before you could stop yourself, your finger reached up to trace the injuries gently, like you were giving him a palm reading, "you don't have to thank me."
JJ's breath hitched as your soft, delicate finger traced his bruised knuckles. He could feel a jolt of electricity with your touch, a strange sensation he had never experienced before. It was both painful and soothing at the same time.
He tried to control his heart, which was suddenly racing in his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing on the feeling of your gentle touch, the way your skin felt against his rough and battered knuckles.
He swallowed hard, then opened his eyes again, looking up at you. He wanted to say something witty or sarcastic, his usual defense mechanism, but he found that he couldn't speak. He could only look at you, his eyes locked with yours, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, the strange feeling in his stomach, the way your gentle touch was sending sparks through his entire body.
He tried to find his voice, managed to rasp out a quiet, "Why not?"
"You don't thank someone for giving you something you deserve, do you?" you asked with a small smile.
JJ blinked at your question, surprised by the simple yet profound logic. No one had ever spoken to him like this before, with such a gentle honesty and compassion.
He looked up at you, the harsh bravado and sarcasm nowhere in sight. He felt strangely vulnerable under your caring gaze, like you were seeing a side of him that he had never shown anyone before. He tried to reply, but found his words stuck in his throat. He simply shook his head in response, his heart fluttering again at the warmth in your eyes.
He looked down at his bruised hands, at your soft, gentle touch tracing over the injuries. He felt a wave of unfamiliar emotions wash over him, a mix of guilt, gratitude, vulnerability, and something else he couldn't quite name. Something he didn't dare to acknowledge, even with your picture sitting snugly in his old wallet everywhere he went.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew he should say something, but he didn't know how to express the strange mixture of feelings churning through him.
Finally, he managed to speak, his voice softer than usual. "I'm not sure what I deserve..."
His words broke your heart even more than it already was. JJ deserved the world and even more. He deserved to wake up in a nice bed and eat the pancakes you sometimes were too picky on eating every morning, or to walk around his own house without fearing the ghost roaming its halls. To not be afraid that he might get a glass or plate thrown at his head, with the intent to blind him or cut into his flesh maliciously. JJ Maybank deserved at least the small sliver of love your parents showed from time to time when they spoke to you. Scratch that, you both could probably do a better job at being each other's parents than the adults in your lives.
You opened your arms shyly, raising your brows in expectancy. The hug would probably be awkward given how you were standing next to each other but you knew he needed it. You knew the look very well.
JJ felt his chest clench at the sight of your open arms, his heart thudding in his chest. He had never been one to show weakness, but the sight of your gentle gesture made him feel strangely open and vulnerable.
He hesitated for a moment, his pride telling him to resist, to maintain his usual tough facade. But the urge to hold you, to feel the comfort of your embrace, was stronger than his pride. He let out a shaky breath, then leaned in, slowly folding himself into the awkward hug.
The moment his body touched yours, JJ felt a strange mixture of sensations. There was the sting of pain from his bruised ribs, the sharp twinge of the cuts on his cheek and lip, but there was also a soft, comforting warmth that spread through his chest, a soothing balm for his weary heart.
He found himself leaning into the embrace, his head tucking naturally into the crook of your neck. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed your touch to hold himself together.
You could tell you were in fact right, from the way he hugged you. Like he had been waiting for you to hug him. Your arms wrapped around his neck gingerly, careful not to hurt him. It was the first time you probably initiated a hug, you were always one to shy away from gestures like these but this was JJ, your JJ. You could not, not give him the hug. Not with the way he looked or spoke, like he was 2 seconds away from breaking down.
JJ closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he held you closer, his arms tightening around your waist. The feeling of your arms around his neck, the gentleness and care in your embrace, was making his heart race, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering furiously.
He felt a strange sensation in his chest, a strange wave of emotions he couldn't quite identify. It was a mix of something new, something fragile and beautiful.
He found himself burying his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.
He was overwhelmed by the mix of sensations coursing through him. He was used to feeling strong, independent, in control. But here he was, in your soft embrace, feeling vulnerable and fragile, his defences crumbling down with every breath he took of your scent, every gentle touch of your hands on his back, every beat of your heart against his chest.
He knew he should pull away, but he found himself holding onto you even tighter, his body molded against yours, as if he couldn't get close enough,as if he needed your touch to breathe.
You rested your chin on top of his head, letting him pull away when he wanted to. You didn't wanna pull away anyway. It was nice, actually enjoying a hug and not having to worry if it was awkward or if you were too tense or weird. The hug just was.
JJ's breath hitched at the way you rested your chin on his head, his eyes closed as he tried to process the strange feelings swirling through him. He never thought a hug could feel so intimate, so vulnerable, and so... right.
He could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing, the softness of your skin against his cheek, the way your body melded against his. It was a strange, yet soothing sensation, and he found himself not wanting to let go, as if he was afraid to lose this feeling.
He shifted slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost as if he was trying to merge into you, to become one with you.
He knew he was probably being too clingy, too needy, but he couldn't help it. The feeling of your body against his, the comfort and safety of your embrace, was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent fill his senses, his heart thudding in his chest.
He found himself mumbling something against your neck, the words coming out as a soft, almost slurred whisper. "Don't let go... please don't let go..."
He knew he probably sounded pathetic, like a wounded puppy seeking comfort from its master. But he couldn't help the desperate plea that escaped his lips. He needed your touch, your warmth, like a drowning man needing air to breathe.
You swallowed a lump that formed in your throat at his words, pulling him a little closer, shifting on the bed gently to move closer, still kneeling next to him on your bed. The thought of JJ sleeping on the beach all lonely and cold could have easily brought you to tears. If you weren't focused on the way he was holding you. A small part of your brain was still struggling to grasp that he was here, in your room, willingly hugging you. You wished he'd sleep at your place often. You could definitely use the company in this scary, imposing house.
JJ could feel the shift in your position on the bed, and it felt strangely intimate to have you so close to him, your body pressed against his. He knew he was probably crossing a boundary, being too needy and vulnerable, but the feeling of your warmth and comfort was too strong to resist.
He breathed in your scent again, his heart rate picking up as the distance between you shrank. His grip on you tightened, his hands gripping your waist as if he was afraid you would disappear into air if he let go.
He was suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of emotions he had never experienced before. He had always prided himself on being tough, on being in control, on never letting anyone see his softness and vulnerability. He hated when things got too real.
But there he was, wrapped in your arms, holding onto you like a man drowning, like a wounded animal seeking safety and comfort.
His breathing was ragged, his heart was thudding so hard he was sure you could hear it. But he couldn't let go, he couldn't move away. He needed you, he needed your touch, your presence, like a moth to a flame. And suddenly, JJ didn't feel like shying away from the real stuff. He embraced it, at least for tonight, just like he was embracing you.
Your arms wrapped around his head holding him close to you, one of you hands tracing up and down on the length of his spine comfortingly, trying to make the tension in his body go away, you never had to comfort someone before, doing whatever felt right; whatever you saw in movies or read in books.
JJ felt a shiver run down his spine as your fingers traced the length of his back, tracing soothing patterns that were both gentle and firm. He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing involuntarily, the tension slowly melting away under your soothing touch.
He felt his muscles unclench, his breaths becoming slightly more steady, the rapid thump of his heart steadying to a slower tempo. He felt his eyelids flutter, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He buried his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.
His grip on you loosened slightly, as he felt the exhaustion taking over him. He was so tired, both physically and emotionally. The day had been a roller coaster of events, and the adrenaline and tension were finally wearing off, leaving him to feel like a wrung-out rag doll in your arms.
He let out a soft, barely audible mumble against your neck, the words slurring together.
"I'm... so tired..."
"Come on.. you can sleep of you want. That is, if you don't want to shower." you mumbled, a small sad frown tugging at your face, and you were glad he couldn't see it given you were hugging him.
JJ felt a pang in his chest at your words. He knew he should take a shower, he was sweaty and grimey and he probably reeked. But the idea of moving, of pulling away from your embrace, was unbearable right now.
He shook his head slightly, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice was soft against your skin.
"No shower... just... just let me hold you...please..."
You hummed, nodding against his head. You moved slightly, tugging him further on the bed so he could lay down and sleep. That way he ended up being the small spoon, his face still pressed into your chest, into the soft fabric of your hoodie. You took off your glasses setting on one of the many pillows next to you bringing him closer.
JJ felt a surge of gratefulness as you moved him to the bed, gently tugging him until he was lying on his side, his head pillowed on your chest. The feeling of you pulling him closer, your soft hoodie against his cheek, sent a wave of comfort through him.
He closed his eyes, burying his face into the fabric of your hoodie, inhaling the scent of you. He could feel your steady breaths beneath him, the slow, soothing rhythm of your heartbeat. It was the most soothing feeling he had ever experienced.
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he mumbled something too incoherent for you to make out the first time.
"Hm?" you hummed gently, not quite making out what he said.
JJ felt your hum vibrate through your chest, the sound soothing and comforting. He cleared his throat slightly, repeating his soft, slurred words a bit louder this time.
"You... smell good..."
JJ inhaled deeply against your chest, his face still buried in your hoodie. He took a moment to savor your scent, letting it fill his nostrils and his heart, before answering.
"Like... perfume... and... and something... sweet and... comforting...?"
He paused, trying to put his muddled thoughts into words.
"Not like... like... those really strong scents that give you a headache... Yours smell... soft... and... nice..."
"Well... i didn't have time to shower so that's nice." you were in slight disbelief. Here you were, your childhood crush in your bed, in your arms and about to fall asleep. It was nice, even though you weren't dating or anything. You could probably get used to having JJ sleepily telling you, you smell good.
JJ chuckled softly, his voice still slightly slurred with exhaustion. He could feel the tiredness weighing down his body, his eyelids heavy, his mind sluggish. But he didn't want to sleep yet. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the moment, in the feeling of being in your arms, of you holding him so gently, so intimately. Like how he'd imagine it would feel if his mom held him in her arms. Maybe she did, and JJ just didn't remember it.
He shifted slightly, nuzzling into your chest, his arms tightening around your waist.
"You smell fine to me," he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. His body was pressed up against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the rhythm of your breathing steady and soothing.
He felt a strange mix of contentment and vulnerability, wrapped in your arms like this. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.
He was suddenly struck by a thought, and he mumbled against your chest. "Do you think... I stink... or something...?"
"No. You smell really nice actually. Like salt water and weed, and obviously male cologne and sun-screen.." you chuckled weakly, threading your fingers through his hair gently.
JJ's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It was a gentle, soothing gesture, and he found himself leaning into the touch, like a cat seeking affection.
He chuckled softly, his voice still slurred with exhaustion.
"Salt water and weed, huh? Sounds like a nice summer fragrance." He shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into your chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of your perfume and skin and fabric softener of your hoodie mingled together, creating a strangely comforting smell that he could not get enough of.
His body felt heavy, like his bones were made of lead. The exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up to him.
He mumbled against your chest, the words barely audible. "God, I'm tired..."
"Go to sleep JJ.." you mumbled comfortingly, your fingers still moving through his hair.
JJ felt himself nodding against your chest, his body relaxed and heavy. The soothing feel of your fingers moving through his hair, your warm body against his, the sound of your voice in his ear... it was all like a warmth surrounding him. Like sunlight on his skin when he was surfing and he was truly happy.
He mumbled something, his words slurred with sleepiness. "Stay with me...?"
The soft statement surprised you a little but you found the courage to hum in agreement. You knew he was probably just too sleepy, and that didn't mean anything but it still made you feel giddy and like a school girl with a crush, holding him tighter to your chest so he could fall asleep. You'd stay with him forever if he actually asked you.
JJ felt a wave of relief and comfort wash over him at your agreement. The idea of you staying with him, holding him as he slept, was like a soothing balm to his tired weary heart.
He nuzzled into your chest, his eyes closed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He mumbled something against your chest, but it was too soft and slurred to understand.
Slowly, gradually, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, safe and warm in your arms.
The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of your breathing and JJ's soft, sleepy sighs as he slept on your chest.
He looked younger like this, his features relaxed, his mouth slightly open, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He looked so vulnerable and soft, not like the tough, sarcastic, bad boy he portrayed in public, especially asleep on your girly bedding and surrounded by dozens of your plushies.
His body was heavy and limp, his arms and legs sprawled out awkwardly, as if he had simply given up on trying to keep himself upright and just succumbed to the exhaustion.
Every now and then, he would mumble something incoherent in his sleep, a soft, almost inaudible utterance. He would shift slightly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, seeking your warmth even in his unconscious state. His breaths were steady and slow, falling into a peaceful, regular rhythm. It was a far cry from the chaotic energy he exuded when awake, the constant movement and joking that seemed to define him.
He seemed so peaceful, so vulnerable, as if all the walls he built up when he was awake had fallen down in his sleep and left him exposed, unguarded.
Despite his usual bravado and swagger, there was something childlike about him in his sleep. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips every now and then, as if he was having a pleasant dream.
He let out a soft mumbling sound, and his arms tightened slightly around you, as if he was afraid to let go, even in his sleep.
You stirred awake, the sunlight teasing you through the dusty pink curtains of your room. It took you almost a minute to realize the weight on your chest and in your arms was JJ. He had actually fell asleep in your arms and in your bed. It wasn't a dream. You propped your self on your elbow gently, gazing down at his sleeping form. He looked so soft and... not tense. His hair was messy and although his face was still battered and bruised he was still angelic looking. He glowed in the soft sunlight.
You were hesitant at first but you leaned in gently and carefully, pressing a small kiss on his forehead. You didn't want him to wake up. That would be weird, you were barely friends as it was, he would probably find it strange if he woke up and found you kissing his forehead while he slept.
JJ stirred slightly as you shifted, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. He felt groggy and disoriented at first, unsure of where he was and why were his nostrils assaulted by a very feminine smell.
As his eyes focused, he realized he was still in your bed, his body pressed against yours, your face just inches away from his. He felt a mix of surprise and embarrassment at the situation. How the hell did he end up falling asleep in your bed? With you? Cuddled up like some damn puppy.
He mumbled something, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes fixed on yours.
He could feel the warmth of your body against his, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He was too groggy from sleep to fully process the situation, his brain still catching up to the moment.
He noticed the look in your eyes, the soft expression on your face, and he felt a sudden jolt of curiosity and... something else he couldn't quite name. He licked his dry lips, his voice still thick and raspy.
"Did... did I fall asleep on you?..."
"Kind of, yeah.." you mumbled, your voice a little gravelly with the remnants of sleep, your brain holding onto his every word in his sleepy voice. It was slightly deeper and gravelly (which probably would have made you giddy if you weren't half asleep still) like yours and he looked a little messy and confused. So pretty.
JJ felt a mixture of embarrassment and confusion at the revelation that he had fallen asleep on you. He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but judging by the sunlight coming through the curtains, it had been awhile.
He sat up slowly, rolling his neck and running his hand through his tousled hair, trying to get his bearings. He glanced at you, taking in your sleepy expression and messy hair, and he felt that strange flutter in his chest again. You looked... nice like that. Soft and warm and... pretty.
He cleared his throat, fighting back the strange fluttering in his stomach. he was not some damn lovestruck idiot.
He spoke, his voice still raspy with sleep, trying to sound casual. "How long was I out for?..."
You propped your self fully on your elbows gazing at him slightly unfocused from sleep and the lack of your glasses, shrugging shyly. God, his voice sounded so good in the morning. "i was also asleep.."
JJ chuckled weakly at your response. Of course, you were asleep too. It was such a stupid question.
He took a moment to study your face, still so close to his, noting the way your hair was messy and tousled from sleep, sticking out in different directions. He fought back the urge to reach out and run his fingers through that wild hair, maybe even tug on a strand a little... just because.
He cleared his throat again, tearing his gaze away from your messy hair and back to your eyes, a hint of amused confusion in his voice.
"So, I guess we passed out together, huh? In your bed... together..."
He paused for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in, and he felt that familiar sense of embarrassment and confusion stirring within him. He mumbled under his breath, only half-joking, his southern drawl more obvious since he had just woken up. "This is a bit... awkward, ain't it?"
"I did bring you here to sleep after all..." you mumbled, your words shy and gentle, still laced with sleep as you gazed at him timidly.
JJ chuckled softly at your words, his voice still rough and raspy. "Yeah, you did... but I didn't expect we'd end up cuddling all night... in your bed..."
He tried to sound casual, tried to ignore the weird fluttering of butterflies in his stomach and the way his heart had started to beat a little faster as he looked into your eyes.
He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to distract himself from the situation, but his gaze kept returning to your face, to your messy hair and sleepy eyes... "I can't believe we slept like this... I must have been exhausted..."
He paused for a moment, his voice getting even quieter.
"Did I... did I talk in my sleep? Or... do anything weird...?"
"I wouldn't know... i was also passed out." you mentioned once again, your hand trying to casually smooth over your hair knowing how messy it got when you slept.
JJ watched as you attempted to tame your wild, tousled hair, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He couldn't deny that he found the whole situation... endearing, in a chaotic, messy kind of way. You looked so different from your usual, reserved self, disheveled and groggy from sleep. He kind of liked it, though, found himself wishing to wake up next to you more often although he'd never admit that out loud.
He shifted a little, the blankets rustling as he adjusted his position, sitting closer to you, his body still warm from sleep.
He found himself wanting to reach out to you, to run his fingers through that messy hair, to smooth it back, to feel the softness of your strands against his skin...
He kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap, though, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He mumbled softly instead, his voice a low, groggy rumble. "You look... different when you just wake up. Cuter, I guess..."
You gave up trying to tame your hair, putting it in a loose bun and searching for your glasses and placing them on your face. This was actually insane. JJ Maybank had slept in your bed, holding you nonetheless and now he was acting all casual about it. Like he didn't spend the night in a girl's bedroom, one he barely knew.
JJ watched as you pulled your hair back into a loose bun and put on your glasses. The whole scene was strangely domestic, and he felt weirdly comfortable. It was all very strange and... nice?
He kept his eyes on you, studying your movements, noting the way your hair still stuck out in some wild directions, despite your attempts to tame it. He found it endearing, somehow.
He leaned back against the headboard, resting his arms on his knees, his voice still low and sleepy.
"So, what... what now?"
"I.. dunno.. " you mumbled, stretching a little and letting out an involuntary squeal as you did, looking back at him and shrugging.
JJ couldn't help but chuckle at the little squeal you let out as you stretched. It was so unexpected, so unlike your usual, reserved self. He found himself liking this... softer, sleepier side of you.
He leaned forward a little, his eyes still on you, amused. "You squeak like a mouse when you stretch?"
"I'm living up to the nickname 'mouse' i guess.." you laughed softly referring to the nickname he called you usually.
JJ chuckled at your comment, a smirk playing on his lips as he remembered the nickname he'd given you. "Ah, right. Mouse. Guess it fits you. Small, skittish, squeaking when you stretch..."
He teased gently, his tone playful but not unkind. He leaned back against the headboard again, studying you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your tousled hair and sleepy expression.
He still couldn't believe he'd woken up cuddled up to you, his arms around you, your body pressed against his. It was all so surreal. And... not unpleasant, he had to admit.
He decided to test the waters a bit, his voice still low and raspy. "So, does this happen a lot? You letting guys sleep in your bed?"
Your brows furrowed at his question, letting out a yawn covering your mouth as you did so, "no...?" what a weird question.
JJ chuckled softly at your confused expression and sleepy yawn. He didn't know why he'd asked that question. It was a stupid question, really. "No? So... this doesn't happen often, then? Letting a guy sleep in your bed... cuddling with him all night..."
He didn't know why he was prodding you, but he liked seeing you slightly flustered and disoriented from sleep. It was... cute, in a way.
"Technically you asked me to hold you..." you spoke shyly, shrugging.
JJ chuckled again, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He had asked for you to hold him, hadn't he. He just didn't think you'd actually do it, and definitely didn't expect he'd end up falling asleep in your arms.
He paused for a moment, his tone a bit sheepish.
"Yeah, I guess I did. And you actually agreed..." He ran his hand through his hair again, his expression becoming a little more serious.
"Are you... are you always this nice to strangers? You don't even really know me, mouse. And yet... you let me into your bed, slept with me in it, even held me and everything..."
He knew he was digging for answers, asking questions that bordered on personal. But he couldn't help himself. He was suddenly itching to know more about you, the mysterious, shy girl who had captured his curiosity after they spent 20 minutes locked up in a closet at a house party.
'Oh i know you alright.' You thought, "well.. we're friends right?" you asked hesitantly, furrowing your brows. Despite the whole picture thing, which you were curious about. Did he still have the picture of you from that day in the marsh?
Despite that, you had barely talked before all this, before getting stuck in the closet together that night at the party. He wasn't teasing you but, he wasn't talking to you either, barely knew of your existence. And now he was in your bed, probably carrying a picture of you everywhere. Weird.
JJ thought for a moment, considering your simple question.
"Friends? I... I guess so, sort of." He considered whether to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, but decided to go ahead with it, curiosity getting the better of him.
"I have a question."
"Yeah?" you raised your brows, prodding him to continue with his question.
JJ fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, his eyes flickering between your face and the bedsheet, suddenly feeling a bit... shy.
"That day in the marsh... That picture you took of me. Do you still have it?"
"Oh yeah..." you reached for your wallet on your nightstand, fishing the picture from it and holding it out to him shyly.
JJ took the picture from you, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He felt his heart skip a beat at the brief touch.
He brought the picture closer to his face, studying his own face in the photo. He remembered that moment, how annoyed and pissed off he felt that day before noticing you crouched down between the reeds in the marsh, how you'd caught him in that vulnerable moment in the marsh with your camera.
He turned to you, a hint of embarrassed annoyance in his voice. "You... you really keep this in your wallet?"
"Well i gave you the picture you took of me that day... i thought it was only right to keep it. That's if you didn't keep that picture of me.." you chuckled nervously, adjusting your glasses and shifting on your bed.
JJ smirked at your response, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Of course I still have the picture of you. I carry it around all the time. In my wallet, with me everywhere."
JJ chuckled softly, a smug smirk on his face as he replied to your nervous comment. "I would never throw away a picture of you, mouse. That picture of you... that day in the marsh. I have it with me all the time. In my wallet. Everywhere I go."
JJ watched as you studied the picture, his expression soft. He had been teasing you by taking the photo that day, but seeing you now, seeing your face so close, your smile that he'd captured in that moment... he felt his heart flutter unexpectedly.
"I guess we... we both keep each other's pictures around, huh?"
You nodded mutely, handing the picture of you back to him. The situation was genuinely something so... strange. He was carrying the picture of you like you were a couple, sleeping in your arms and at your place like it was normal. You wondered if he did this usually, sleep over at girl's places and carried pictures of them.
You shifted your attention to glancing around your room, the soft sunlight seeping through the dusty pink curtains, the mess on the floor and the fact that you were still in your hoodie and jeans after having falling asleep with JJ. The first aid kit was still sprawled out on the foot of the bed, reminder that JJ didn't come here on his own. You had invited him over to let him sleep here after a fight with his old man. "what now?" you asked, turning to him, your voice still holding the remnants of sleep.
JJ took the picture from you, his fingers brushing against yours yet again, the touch like electricity on his skin. He placed the picture back in his wallet, his thoughts consumed with the idea that you carried around a picture of him... as he did of you.
He stretched, yawning softly and glancing around the room. This whole situation was so bizarre, but he couldn't deny the strange kind of comfort he felt, being here, in your room...
His eyes landed on the first aid kit, lying on the foot of the bed, and he remembered the reason he was here in the first place.
He looked back at you, his expression turning a little more serious. "Well, I guess I should probably get going... need to head back to the Chateau before the guys start wondering where I am."
He started to get up from the bed, but something in him was reluctant to leave. He didn't want this... strange, comfortable moment to end, this rare moment of quiet and intimacy with you.
He stood up, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to look composed as he glanced down at you on the bed. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in your sleep-tousled hair and sleepy expression. He couldn't help but find it adorable, in a way.
He cleared his throat, his voice a bit rough as he spoke again. "Thanks for... letting me sleep here, mouse. And... for all the bandages and stuff."
You looked down at your lap before standing up off the bed too, now on the opposite side of your bed, nodding hesitantly, "yeah... yeah, no problem." you scanned his form, his face still littered with the bruises and battered, black eye glaring at you in a dark purple.
You liked how he looked in your room, like he was supposed to be here. But that was just your years long crush talking. Being biased wasn't good for the heart, you learned throughout the years of liking JJ. You wondered if his bruised rib was doing any better, or if he liked sleeping with you, in your arms. But you were too shy to ask of course. And he was on the cusp of leaving anyway.
JJ couldn't help but notice the way you were looking at him, your gaze taking in his bruised and battered face. He felt a flicker of embarrassment, hating that you had to see him like this, all beaten up and wounded.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling a bit awkward now that the strange, intimate atmosphere of the night seemed to be fading with the impending departure of the morning.
He glanced around the room, taking in the soft pink curtains, the messy floor, the small touches that made this place unmistakably yours. It was a stark contrast to the Chateau, to his chaotic and messy existence. He found himself wondering what it would be like, to be a part of this orderly, peaceful space.
His eyes fell on a framed picture on your dresser with you and your parents. He couldn't help but feel a pang of... what was that? Jealousy?
He took a step closer, studying the picture. You looked so happy in it, surrounded by your family, the picture filled with genuine joy. It was a stark contrast to his own family, or the lack thereof. He felt a pang of something painful in his chest, a mix of envy and longing for a life he'd never known.
He tore his eyes away from the picture, his gaze landing on you again. His voice was unusually quiet, almost fragile.
"This your family?"
You walked around the bed, stopping next to him awkwardly nodding. The picture was of you, your sister and your parents, on a vacation 4 years ago. The picture looked like you were all happy, the shot taken by another passer by tourist that your parents had asked. You weren't that thrilled to go with them that summer, but that was the only way 13 year old could spend time with emotional distant parents. And it wasn't like they were gonna leave you at home all alone at 13. How things changed, you thought. They're barely home with you now as you near the age of 18.
"yeah.."
JJ nodded slowly, studying the picture with a mix of jealousy and curiosity. It seemed so... normal, so perfect. A happy family on a vacation, smiling for a photo.
He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, to have parents who cared enough to take him on vacations, to have a family that didn't fall apart at the seams.
He looked back at you, his eyes soft but his voice laced with a hint of bitterness.
"Must be nice."
He turned away from the picture, leaning against the dresser, his gaze flickering around the room once more. He felt a little out of place, like a wild animal that had somehow stumbled into a pristine, well-kept sanctuary. He was used to chaos, the Chateau, the constant fights and drama, the lack of stability and safety. This room, with its neatness and quiet peace, felt like a different world. A world he was just a visitor in, passing through on his way to something else.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumped slightly.
He glanced back at you, taking in your shy, awkward stance next to him. There was something vulnerable about you right now, something that tugged at his heartstrings in a way he wasn't used to. He felt an unfamiliar urge to protect you, to shield you from the cruelty of the world. But he also knew he was the last person who should be doing any protecting. He was a Pogue, a mess, a lost cause. What could he offer you? A shitty life in the trailer park? Hell no. He knew what happened to that one dude from Greek mythology when he flew too close to the sun. And he was feeling like he was nearing that point by extending his stay here, with your warm presence that seemed to be melting his wax wings slowly.
He couldn't allow himself to free-fall.
He cleared his throat, his voice gruff as he tried to act nonchalantly, to cover up the vulnerability he was feeling.
"I guess I better get going, then. The guys are probably starting to wonder where I am. They're probably wondering why I was out all night, instead of crashing on the couch at the Chateau."
You drew in a sharp breath, nodding once again. You knew your parents weren't home, so him leaving through the front door wasn't a problem. "I'll walk you out.." you mumbled, gesturing towards the door of your room vaguely.
JJ nodded and made his way towards the door, followed closely by you. His mind was filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions, ranging from gratitude to uncertainty, lingering thoughts of the night before, the strange comfort he found in your presence, in your bed, in your embrace. As he reached the front door, he turned to you one last time, his gaze meeting yours. "Thanks... for everything, mouse."
He flashed you a small, lopsided smile, his usually cheeky smirk replaced by a surprisingly genuine one. For a moment, he looked younger, less hardened by his life on the Cut.
Then, with a final nod, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool, crisp morning air. JJ wasn't gonna let his wings melt and free-fall. He didn't have the luxury to..
—♡‧
A/N: Not them cuddling all night and carrying pictures of each other, like... King and queen of (was it casual?) They'd eat that tik tok trend up. Idk how this ended up also kinda angsty. Anyway, do not fret because next chapter we're finally getting action! It was about DAMN time. What did you guys think? love you all sm and don't hesitate to comment and send asks my fav part of this is interacting with y'all.
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#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj#obx#outer banks#outerbanks#jj fic#jj maybank fic#jj x reader fic#jj maybank x reader fic#jj x innocent!reader#jj maybank concept#jj concept#jj maybank blurb#jj blurb#jj maybank one shot#jj one shot#jj x reader one shot#jj maybank x reader one shot#jj x reader concept#jj maybank x reader concept#obx fic#outer banks fic#outerbanks fic#outer banks preference#obx preference#outerbanks preference#outerbanks jj#slow burn
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the world (it burns through me)
Chapter 18: Angel
Ao3 | 3.2k Words | Angel's POV
Angel hasn't been home in three months. Asher thinks everything is fucked. Angel and Quinn have a nice little coffee date. David brandishes an ax.
TW: Threats, use of weapons, mentions of past abuse and assault.
It had been nearly three months since you’d been inside your own house and you were starting to think that you were going certifiably insane. The 10-19 was nice, apparently much nicer than it had been before Davey got his perfectionist hands on it. The bed in the bunkroom that you and Davey had claimed was comfortable. The kitchen had all of the same snacks Davey kept at home. You could see him in between calls when he was on duty. No more sleepless nights when he picked up a graveyard shift.
No sleepless nights except for when he picked up Milo’s shift after a full day because somebody had carved up your friend like a Thanksgiving fucking turkey.
You started working from ‘home,’ a spare office next to Davey’s with none of the string lights and knick knacks and picture frames from your desk at work. You ordered groceries direct to the firehouse. Bean Me Up had burned down, so you had nowhere to go to get coffee. You didn’t dare to ask Davey to take you dancing. He didn’t really have the energy for that anymore.
You knew that his nightmares were getting bad again. Usually, they ramped up in the lead up to September, around his dad’s birthday too. But this was something else entirely.
He would wake with a start, arms locking down around you so hard it was almost painful, his breath ragged and uneven as he pulled you impossibly closer to his chest. You thought that he probably thought you were sleeping, and you didn’t dissuade him of that belief. You didn’t want him to worry, but you hadn’t been doing a lot of that recently.
You wanted to go home. You wanted to crawl back into your bed and sleep for a month. At this point, you didn’t particularly care if there was a monster hiding in your closet.
Davey had told you about that eventually. You had felt Quinn’s heavy breathing at the back of your neck for days, a perpetual shiver running up and down your spine, a feedback loop of creeped the fuck out. It had kept you very grateful to not be in that house for a good few weeks, grateful to be surrounded by big, strong, sexy firefighters day and night.
Those big, strong, sexy firefighters had their appeal. Just not twenty-four hours a day for three months straight.
You were horny. That was the real problem. There was very little privacy in a firehouse that ran twenty-four hours a day. Davey had closed his office door for the first time since he’d made Captain so you could take up a very short residence under his desk a month in. He’d been called away before you could get your fill. Besides a few shared showers in the only private stall in the locker room and wandering hands under the covers at night when a call went out and Davey wasn’t on call, you had been perpetually unsatisfied.
Before your home was invaded, you and Davey had fucked like bunnies. Most of your exes had liked your sex drive during the honeymoon phase, but once that passed had a hard time keeping up with you. Not Davey, though. He was worse than you were. You were pretty certain that he could get it going anywhere anytime that you gave him any indication you were at all interested.
You were in sync, had been since you’d met each other. So you knew how stressed out he was, and you knew that he was without an outlet for it.
So his dreams got bad. He barely slept. You found yourself going to bed alone and waking up alone, only the barest, hazy memories of his arms wrapping around you sometime in the dead of the night. He was a firefighter. He needed to be alert on the job. He was going to get himself killed at this rate.
You woke up in your bed in the bunk room alone. You shuffled into your slippers. You made a cappuccino in the fancy machine in the kitchen. There was no breakfast in the kitchen, which meant Davey had gone straight from his shift to the hospital. You thought about meeting him there. But you were sure at this point that Quinn knew what your car looked like. You weren’t completely incapable of defending yourself, but Quinn gave Trouble… well, trouble. You certainly weren’t going to put up much of a challenge for him.
So you waited instead. Asher made his way into the kitchen shortly after seven, frown firmly set across his features. The world just didn’t feel right when Asher wasn’t smiling.
“Hey, girl,” you said softly, none of the usual jovial tone in your voice.
“Hey, girl,” he replied, “they’re okay.” You sighed, shoulders sagging.
“Davey hasn’t texted me.” You flashed your phone to him, a picture from the wedding covered up by notifications from TikTok and Instagram and random promotional emails that you would never open. But nothing in response to your many texts to Davey.
“Yeah, I had to get my intel from Marie.” Asher said. You expected him to sneak a joke in, but he didn’t, just sat heavily on one of the barstools, laying his cheek flat on the cool marble countertop, staring out at the empty kitchen. “It’s really bad.”
“The injury? Marie wouldn’t tell me what it was. She said that she didn’t-”
“No.” Asher sighed, closing his eyes. You stepped forward, brushing his curls out of his eyes, gently scratching your fingers over his scalp. “Well, yeah, it’s gonna take several surgeries to fully take care of, but they’re alive. I mostly mean this. All of this. Everything about this whole fucking situation is fucked.” You hummed, sitting on the stool next to him so you could rub your hand over his back, up and down his spine in slow, deliberate movements.
“We are gonna be okay.” You said, decisive, certain. “This guy isn’t invincible. He will slip up. He will get caught.”
“But who is he gonna hurt in the meantime?”
“Who?”
You spun around, Asher jerking up from his seat and on to his feet. Trouble was standing in the open doorway that led out to the bunk room, patch covered jacket tossed over their shoulder, still in their plain clothes. They worked the early morning shift, you remembered, cringing back from your poor timing. A lie was ready on your tongue, some balm to ease the suspicion that hung around them like a storm cloud.
“Quinn.” Asher answered before you could spit it out. “There was a run in.”
You watched Trouble’s face drop, go pale, their free hand grip into a tight fist at their side.
“Ash!” You whacked him in the chest, but he didn’t pull his eyes away from Trouble.
“You deserve to know.” Ash said decisively, refused to break eye contact, as though their shared look alone could keep them rooted in place where it was safe. “I know David likes to keep some information close to the chest. It’s for the right reasons. He wants to protect you. But you deserve to know what’s going on.”
Trouble shifted on their feet, one booted foot sliding back, as though they were about to pivot and run. Asher stepped forward in turn.
“But if you try to run I’ll tackle your ass in the hallway.” He said it with a smile, but you knew he was serious. “Come on.” He jerked his head, relaxing his posture purposefully. “Let’s commandeer David’s office. I’ll tell you everything.”
Trouble’s sharp eyes flicked over his face, searching and searching for a gap in his certainty. Asher was many things, but when people needed him, he was first and foremost steady.
You watched the two of them leave, Asher’s arms wrapped around Trouble’s shoulders in a casual swoop. Asher was one of your best friends. You knew that, when it came to the people he loved, he never did anything casual. He was keeping them close, tucked against his side, where he could guard them from any danger, even themself. He had a tendency to do the same thing with you.
You sighed, rubbed a hand over your face, and plucked your phone from the counter. Your jacket was hanging on the rack next to the firefighters’, comically small compared to theirs. The cold hadn’t let up, the days seeming to grow shorter and shorter even though you knew it was the opposite. This winter just wouldn’t let go of you.
You could have driven, but you chose to walk. Geordi was still working on getting his insurance money sorted out, so Bean Me Up wasn’t an option. You still refused to go to Starbucks. Dunkin’ Donuts it was.
The sun was high and the sky was clear, and you reveled in being outside of that fucking firehouse as your breath puffed up into the air around you. You closed your eyes to the light filtering in from between the buildings, listened to the sounds of the city around you.
You’d always been a people person, but you hadn’t realized how much you missed being on your own, in your own head, on your own time. You soaked up all you could in the three blocks it would take you to get to the cafe, knowing that you probably wouldn’t work up the nerve to do this again anytime soon.
You ordered your coffee, more sugar than anything. You got a stale donut and inhaled it. You sat in the window of the cafe, staring out as people bustled by on the sidewalk. You breathed in the bitter scent of espresso as the morning passed you by.
You didn’t notice when he entered the cafe, but you certainly did when a lidless cup of coffee plopped down on your table and splashed across your hands. You jerked back, hissing, and shook your hands out, spitting out a quick insult before the man plopped down in the seat across from you.
When you were fifteen, the meager money you made at your fast food job wasn’t nearly enough to both feed Guy and pay for his Honor’s Society dues. A second job wasn’t an easy swing, but your fake ID got you a spot on the graveyard shift stocking the shelves at the grocery store. You could get to school in the mornings by eight, stay long enough that you wouldn’t trip the truancy alarms and get yourself arrested, and then make it to your shift at McDonald’s.
It left absolutely no time to sleep or do homework, but you weren’t doing too much of those either way.
He was your manager, a forty-something named Trevor with a receding hairline, a wife he loved to bitch about, three kids, and hungry eyes.
The furthest he got was pressing you against the warehouse doors and feeling you up over your clothes. You punched him square in the jaw and were fired the next day. You knew from the whispers around the building that Trevor worked that particular shift because he ran out of people to assault on the day shift. As far as you knew, he kept his job because he was the victim of your brutal attack.
The man who sat in front of you at the table in the Dunkin’ Donuts looked nothing like Trevor. He was lithe and tall, clad in an immaculate leather jacket, perfect, dishwater blonde hair swept over his forehead. He was handsome in a distant, plastic way, like a Ken Doll was. Angry, purple bruises had blossomed on his chin and under his right eye. His teeth were perfect and straight and framed by thin, red lips. You would probably find him cute if it weren’t for his eyes.
His eyes were hungry, just like Trevor’s, just like your line up of shitty exes, just like every man who had ever made your skin crawl with a glance. You froze like a prey animal, eyes flashing to the worker behind the counter who was staring right back at you, his eyes wide as he took in the dynamic shift. Fuck. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen. You didn’t need to drag him into whatever the fuck this was.
“It’s good to put a face to all of those pretty noises you make.” The stranger said, those hungry eyes flicking over your form.
Ah. The accent, the threat swimming just below the surface of his sultry tone. This was Trouble’s ghost, the man who haunted them.
“From what I heard,” you managed, voice steady even as you felt your hands shake, “you’re plenty familiar with my face.” You crossed your legs casually, leaning back against your uncomfortable cafe chair. Quinn smiled, teeth too sharp.
“That’s true.” He laughed. “So peaceful when you sleep. Do you want to see the pictures?”
“I’m good.” You said, smiling gently. “So what, you just happened to be stalking me today? I get graced with a conversation?”
“I saw an opportunity.” He shrugged. “I dealt quite the blow yesterday. Wouldn’t it be nice to make it a killing one today?”
“Killing is an interesting choice of words.” You took a long, purposeful sip of your coffee. “What do you want?”
“They know.” Quinn said. He swirled his coffee in his cup, black and untouched, dangerously close to the rim. “I’ve told them. I want them. And if I can’t have them, I’ll take you.”
“Or stab our friends.” You shot back. You hadn’t dropped your pleasant smile and neither had he. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you were terrified he could hear it. “That’s not exactly how you negotiate, you know.”
“Oh, Darling,” Quinn laughed loud, tossed his head back, “this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a hostage situation.”
“Gonna kidnap me?” You quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll scream. I’ll scratch your eyes out. Make a big scene.”
“Don’t be so literal.” He rolled his eyes.
“Oh, a metaphorical hostage situation, gotcha.”
“I’m showing them, bit by bit, what I’m willing to do to the people they love.” Quinn had gone serious, his face dropping into something scarily neutral, barely human. “If they keep pushing me, they’ll simply run out.”
You let that bit of information hang in the air. You swallowed, hands falling away from your drink. You’d lost your appetite for it.
“The firehouse is three blocks away.” You said, offering him information he already had. “Walk me back.” You stood, pushing your chair in politely. Quinn followed, leaving his cup, untouched, on the cafe table. You would have barked about how rude that was if you weren’t currently terrified for your life.
Quinn offered you his arm and you took it, linking them together as you walked out of the front doors of the cafe. You shot one last look to the kid behind the counter and hoped that he would remember your face and Quinn’s, just in case.
Quinn’s pace was languid and slow, pulling your short walk to an agonizing speed. You did your best to keep your cool, maintain your tenuous, causal attitude.
“If you touch me.” You said as Quinn’s fingers stroked along your hand. “My husband will beat the shit out of you.” Quinn laughed, low and sharp.
“He can try.”
“I just mean,” you said, “that it doesn’t matter what you do to me or anybody else. David won’t let you hurt them.”
“David isn’t here, is he?” Quinn drawled.
As you came up to the parking lot outside of the 10-19, you had never been so relieved to see David’s ugly, giant truck. That stupid thing was the least comfortable vehicle on planet earth and you wanted to cry at the sight of it.
You barely made it halfway across the lot before David was walking out, still in his uniform from the day before, a fire-ax held firmly in his hand. You pulled your arm from Quinn’s and he let you- let you, he was strong enough to hold you wherever he wanted- and stopped where he was, boots clicking against the asphalt.
“Captain Shaw.” He grinned, slipping his hands into his pocket. “Glad to put a name-”
Before you could comment that he had already used that particular threatening line, David was on top of him, pushing him bodily back, away from you and the building, that wicked sharp ax flushed with Quinn’s slender throat. Quinn laughed, his adam’s apple flicking past the blade, blood sliding down his throat, dark against his pale skin.
“Don’t talk.” David snarled, more growl than voice. His chest heaved like an animal, towering over Quinn like a predator over his prey. “Shut up. Do you remember what I told you that night?”
Quinn’s sharp, hungry eyes turned on David.
“I do.” He said, his mouth curling around the words like it was a vow. “Do you remember how I replied?”
David sneered, flashed his teeth like he was threatening to bite.
“Get the fuck away from here.” David snapped. “I won’t give you another warning.”
David let Quinn go with a shove. He stumbled back, throat smeared with blood, and caught himself against David’s truck. He turned back as he retreated, flashing his eyes up at the building. Something caught his gaze in the window, and he stopped to wave. You spun around just in time to see Trouble standing in the window, the look of abject horror on their face before it morphed to rage. Their fists pounded against the window, a wordless shout leaving them as Quinn turned and sauntered away. You were afraid they would shatter the glass and come tumbling out.
An arm wrapped around their waist, Asher pulling them away from the window. You watched them fight for a moment before Ash pulled them back into the darkness of David’s office. A breath shuddered out of you with your strength, your resolve. The ax in David’s hands clattered to the ground.
“Angel,” he breathed, big hands coming up to frame your face. His dark eyes scanned over you, thumbs tracing over your cheekbones to soothe the shake that had overtaken you. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” You shook your head in his hold, movement restrained. One trailed down your neck, your chest, your side, patting you down for injury. “David, I’m fine. He didn’t… he just talked.”
When you looked back up to Davey’s eyes, they were full of tears. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d seen Davey cry. On the anniversary of his father’s death. The day he had pulled a child’s charred corpse from a structure fire. On your wedding day.
A tear slipped past Davey’s unfairly full lashes. You reached up, hands shaking, to wipe it away.
“I just wanted…” your throat was tight all of a sudden. You thought you might cry. “Just needed to get out of this place for a little bit.” Davey’s face crumbled, and his body went with it. He curled over you, pressed his face into your neck, breathed in your scent.
“Don’t do that, please.” He breathed, a gentle order, but an order nonetheless. You liked to play at being a brat, but you couldn’t deny him anything when he asked you like that. “Please don’t scare me like that.”
“I’m sorry.” You said. You tangled your fingers in his hair, held him against you as close as you could. “I’m sorry, Davey. I won’t.”
He stood there for a moment, breathing you in, sniffling against your skin as he got himself back under control. Eventually, he emerged, face stony and exhausted.
“What did you tell him?” You asked, voice wavering. Davey bent to grab the ax, his grip flexing against it uncertainly. Davey pressed his lips together, his jaw clicking as he snapped it shut. He met your eye when you stepped back into his space, his lashes still wet.
He bent to press a kiss to the top of your head and didn’t answer.
#redacted asmr#my redacted content#redacted audio#firefighter story#redacted david#redacted darlin#redacted asher#redacted angel#redacted quinn
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complexities,perplexities or some thoughts I had at 2am about kento & hiromi
idk im just ramblin' here - u been warned
When i first fell for nanami kento, i thought it was because of his commitment to his principles, the steadfastness in that regard.
i definitely find a parallel of that in Higuruma, even though it was less tempered idealism than "lost (his) temper" idealism - Yet if anything, that tragic outburst of murderous passion is testament of his obsession and zeal. It's his temporary denial and anguish that underscores years of enduring such bitterness and frustration, the decades long slog proving the strength of his willpower, that accumulates into one terrible moment of weakness; a process that simultaneously corroborates and yet is corrosive to his convictions. And now his conscience will have to suffer that slip-up forever.
Something has died in him; if it wasn't already dying for a long time. What survives, subsequently? Or what is rebirthed? I don't regard his psychotic break as fragility. After all, can we recognise someone's strength only after they've been pushed to a breaking point? And it takes a different sort of strength of will to rebuild, to live past who you thought you were, to accept becoming someone you thought you'd never be. Maybe it even takes an admission of weakness, and gentleness...
Higuruma ultimately finds his North Star again, remembers why he became an attorney, it's a return to his original beliefs; There's a definite through line despite the ramification of his actions, the kind of consistency and commitment which I find so compelling, that's a quality he shares with Nanami.
But Nanami's lapse is far less ruinous, his escapist delusion leads him to play a salaryman for a few years, compared to Higuruma becoming a damning executioner in a day. When Nanami rediscovered his purpose, he just shrugged off the corporate schtick and becomes a jujutsu sorceror again, in a sense accepting what he knew he was destined for from an early age. He accepts the truth and returns to a reality already familiar, albeit unpleasantly familiar, to him.
For Higuruma there's so such going back. That "reality" has vanished. No old job or routine he can simply pick up again.
Higuruma's "getting lost" has much bigger consequences - he can no longer be a lawyer, what was once his calling are now mere echoes of the past, reminders of the things that made him him.
The years of effort molding his identity have been entirely stripped away, by his own hands. Imagine all that pain and confusion on top of how hard it is for him to navigate through his guilt - fighting Sukuna was meant to be an act of, if not absolution then penance, hell, probably even capital punishment. But he didn't die so now what? it's just...purgatory for him?
Adding to that, he's supposed to be the 'next' Gojo Satoru? Perceived that way for his power alone? Admired or even looked up to, in some respects? How laughable. How cruel.
Pressured to live up to that mantle, when he already has such a hollowed out sense of self, I suspect being valorised that way is a further type of torturous erosion. But I also know Higuruma isn't the type to permit himself to wallow in such self-pity for long; ironically in a way that makes him resemble Satoru, he won't let reputation define who he is. So, I don't think that bothers him as much.
The real challenge is finding out how to operate in a new system, above or outside the laws he once upheld, in a way that's aligned to his fundamental values, to preserve some version of his old self. Now he's in a job where he can make the call to kill curse users, at his own discretion? Who's going to question his judgement, besides himself? What's the line between vigilante justice and divine retribution?
So, I honestly don't know if Higuruma can even adhere to those same strict ethical codes he had before, how much his basic sense of right and wrong has shifted or will shift due to the nature of his new work.
Which is all to say, I wonder now if maybe the appeal I see in Higuruma isn't exactly steadfastness at all, but flux instead; that is, the seemingly contradictory responsibility and impetus of self-determination, through the construct and malleability of moral choices. If there is anything consistent, any proof which makes him an unquestionably principled character, perhaps it would be the very questioning and interrogation of which of his actions are right and fair, a thorough self-examination. If I love Nanami for his stalwart certainty, strangely I'm equally drawn to Higuruma for his rigourous scrutiny, his so-called "uncertainties", how he holds space for...not doubt, but other perspectives and possibilities. And how he finds his way through that maze of multiplicities, whether he's stumbling or striding, I want to accompany him on that journey. Goodness, restraint, mercy...none of these are foregone conclusions with him; that's what makes him so enticing to me.
also yall seen that nose of his? sheesh
anw obvsly can't stop yapping about them my inbox is open if anyone wants to yak about how they will fold you in half are so unique
#higuruma hiromi#nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen#also thinking about how Jujutsu society appears to have a lack of infrastructure for criminal reforms#could Higuruma pioneer institutions/systems for rehabilitation (himself being a beneficiary of them?) like a lab rat#right now it's just some gang monopoly type shit where they hire you if they can't stop you??#idk interesting stuff to sandbox in fics...#sandsorghum
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Sabrina Carpenter's Sweet Treat Dependency
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fea230c0b99e1608873acc05c8ac7c63/aa98b636496e05a7-b8/s540x810/7e5ef18b5494049df7e447abfef0e5a28de20586.jpg)
Pop sensation Sabrina Carpenter has had nothing but pure success in this past year. From catchy top charting pop music singles, multiple award show wins, and a shower of praise from fans and critics alike, is there anything this blonde bombshell can’t do? Her fame has even gotten to the point that she has accumulated all kinds of sponsorship deals. One of which being from the Dunkin’ Donut chain, who has released a new brown sugar cold espresso drink to promote her aptly titled summer hit “Espresso”.
Of course like any ad deal she’s had in the past, promotion was key. She appeared on late night talk shows alongside her fellow pop star peers and bragged about the sponsorship, even mentioning how Dunkin’ agreed to let her have as many donuts and cold espresso drinks as she can enjoy. As the talk show went on, Ms. Carpenter did have a small secret that she didn’t reveal.
The truth was that she had been taking advantage of the free food a little too much, with the popstar gaining about 10 pounds in the short span that the deal had been up. Nobody had noticed this though as she hid her newly gained gut with the use of a waist trainer every time she was out, but the issue still stood. Maybe her peers were right. Maybe she is getting a little addicted to all that fattening sugar.
Her inner thoughts had suddenly been broken as the host asked if she had anything else to say before the end of the show. She paused for a moment and threw out a scripted response with a wide grin. As she smiled to the audience's applause and waved goodbye, the real questions were being asked in her head. Will she be able to manage her appetite or is she going to throw away her beautiful body and successful career just for a few sugary donuts? Her stomach suddenly groans in hunger and she remembers that there’s a Dunkin’ not too far from the studio she’s been filming in. Seems like she’ll start that diet tomorrow…
An Ungodly Amount of Free Sugary Espressos and Sweet Pastries Later...
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b7d5d1424a1cab9d931d8971200c2701/aa98b636496e05a7-f3/s540x810/69b7a38d888083e8f7bef55a84874036850632bb.jpg)
Looks like time has not been kind to poor Sabrina Carpenter and her waistline. Turns out Ms. Carpenter never got around to losing those few odd pounds, instead ballooning into a massive butterball. It appears her metabolism just couldn’t handle all those sessions of gorging on nothing but addictive, fattening, sweet treats. With each bite she grew bigger, with her fans and the media quickly picking up on her weight gain. She had tried to lose the weight many times but never succeeded, each attempt just ended in an even bigger failure than the last. The once popular pop star fell hard from grace, with the general public losing interest and moving on to find other, more physically fit pop stars. Most of her sponsorships also cut ties with her now that there was no money coming in. The final nail in the coffin was when her record label dropped her once she couldn’t perform on stage anymore due to not being able to stand for more than ten minutes.
Within a span of a few months, Ms. Carpenter had lost everything she had, with the expectation of one thing; Her sponsorship deal with Dunkin’. While it may have caused her downfall, she just couldn’t stop eating those fattening pastries and sugary drinks. So like every day that had come before, Ms. Carpenter waddled her way to her nearest Dunkin’ to collect her free treats. She would of course have preferred to have driven but truthfully, no car could fit her girth. Even though she didn’t fit into any of her old clothes, she still tried to wear them whenever she went out as she was still too ashamed to admit that she just might be too fat for clothing.
Today was no expectation as she had squeezed into a way too small black lace jumpsuit with a pair of tall, platform heels to match. Upon arriving, she noticed that two young women were in line at the usually empty quiet donut shop. Before she could give it any more thought, she spotted her order sitting on the counter. As she reached for it, the store manager stopped her and let her know a horrible truth. Dunkin’ had decided that starting today, they were canceling the sponsorship deal and would no longer honor her free food deal, with this order being her last one. As the shock hit her and she felt her world crashing down, she waddled over to the only bench that could fit her wide ass, already stuffing her face with donuts and sat down. As she sat, her tight jumpsuit just couldn’t take it anymore and ripped loudly. Ms. Carpenter’s large gut and fat tits flopped out with immense force, freed from the constraining fabric. Her thick back rolls and cellulite covered ass had also torn straight though the ill-fitting jumpsuit with a great force.
Before Ms. Carpenter could even realize what had happened, the two young women turned around and approached. Turns out they were her old pop star friends! As they looked on in disgust and shame, Ms. Carpenter felt tears begin to quickly fall down her chubby face and could do nothing as they commented on her disgusting fat body. She had really lost everything all because of her sweet tooth.
The future does seems quite grim for poor Ms. Carpenter. No more top charting pop music, award show wins, or sponsorship deals. Nope, all she had to look forward to was nothing but struggle, as her weight had proven to become a serious problem now. Maybe if she had been smart enough to put down the donuts and do some ab crunches, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She would be conquering the pop music scene! Instead, she has to enjoy her sad, pathetic life as a washed up fat ass with no future. Quite the change from her past but alas, that’s what you get for being a greedy piggy…
ALTS:
Clean:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc6aa54a2cfc056c99c05889c1b3e9bd/aa98b636496e05a7-d3/s540x810/c420dfc1242a7e22c63de41342a38dea72976e2f.jpg)
Clean and Tears:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8cd2e0c8b42b3addc85ce366b3a97e6b/aa98b636496e05a7-c1/s540x810/8a9489c9ae767fa6eda18fbaa184edba8d47b890.jpg)
Sweat:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e86600ad2b2d7a5b649849c1e9dc6e0d/aa98b636496e05a7-fa/s540x810/f2611139db663b775351e57dcbee5b26a5995dd8.jpg)
Sweat and Tears:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4d6f9d125c60d65e7cae456fbd2fc4d6/aa98b636496e05a7-6f/s540x810/adacd724b4699befdbaf2bc98a016e6b1eb12233.jpg)
Slob and No Tears:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/985d3f5599943820e81b4b37aab133a6/aa98b636496e05a7-12/s540x810/11c3847ed6673d639ec9fb7361c9cb718469c3eb.jpg)
Slob and Gassy:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5257ffb0a5b9b3dbb63021fa06c1e866/aa98b636496e05a7-86/s540x810/1e5836f5569fa9c6d43f9bb4d15cbd73355983d6.jpg)
Slob, Gassy, and Tears:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/91f90e8edb5a4395b13f3b20e89d3c98/aa98b636496e05a7-31/s540x810/d9c5541175cc74519db3cceec5c9e50c66758d09.jpg)
#fat#fat belly#photo manipulation#fat humiliation#obese piggy#slob#slobbification#gaining weight on purpose
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Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.
18+ Minors DNI
Chapter 4
TW: Please be aware that this chapter delves into complex themes surrounding abuse, exploring the impact it has on individuals and relationships.
“I feel like a proud mother!” Elise exclaimed with a teasing smile, her eyes sparkling joyfully as she playfully nudged Camille. The warmth of their friendship filled the room, and a lighthearted laugh escaped Camille’s lips, echoing the excitement that buzzed in the air. They both leaned in, sorting through stacks of neatly folded clothes and carefully arranged travel essentials, helping Giselle prepare for her upcoming trip to Switzerland with Kylian.
“You have to bring this!” Camille encouraged, holding up a pink lace bodice-styled one-piece. It was sexy and definitely, the type of lingerie one would bring on a trip with the man they were currently fucking.
“Kylian would probably just rip it off,” Giselle mumbled absentmindedly, freezing when she realized what she'd so carelessly allowed to spill from her mouth.
Elise’s jaw dropped as Camille let out an excited squeal until not Giselle had been tight-lipped about what she got up to with Kylian.
Giselle felt the heat rush to her cheeks, realizing she had unwittingly opened the floodgates to their curiosity. But instead of recoiling, she found herself strangely empowered by their reactions. Elise leaned in closer, her eyes wide with intrigue, while Camille’s laughter danced in the air with an infectious thrill.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Elise exclaimed, her hands animated as she gestured toward Giselle. “It makes perfect sense that he's bringing you to Switzerland.”
“He’s ripping lingerie and sending you on shopping sprees; whatever you're doing, you are doing right,” Camille added, a knowing smirk on her face as she neatly folded the delicate bodice, putting it into Giselle’s suitcase.
“Could you please lower your voice?” Giselle whispered with a playful urgency, her eyes darting towards the closed door of the guest room where she had been staying at Elise’s parent's house for the past few days. “I’d rather not have anyone outside of this bedroom knowing my business,” she added, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she leaned closer, her tone a mix of mirth and caution.
The winter sun had set over Paris a few hours prior, and Kylian had let Giselle know he'd pick her up a little later in the evening to make their private night flight over to Switzerland.
The anticipation of that night made the air around Giselle electric, creating a flutter of excitement and anxiety in her chest. She glanced at the clock, noting that time was slipping away, and she wanted to savor every moment with her friends before embarking on the next phase of her life with Kylian.
“Okay, okay,” Giselle relented, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But seriously, it’s just fun. We’re just enjoying each other’s company, you know? It’s nothing serious,” she added.
Elise and Camille shared a knowing glance, the sparkle in their eyes unwavering.
“Just fun, huh?” Elise teased, her expression light-hearted but filled with a sense of yearning for Giselle. “The last man I let rip off my underwear put a ring on it.”
They knew her plight and her need to avoid love at all costs, but the fact that she'd allowed Kylian to be so close in such a short amount of time was very telling to her friends.
“Well, thank God I'm not you,” Giselle replied with a playful huff, tossing the pink lace bodice into her suitcase as if it were an object of triviality. But beneath her lighthearted demeanor was a flicker of uncertainty. “I have a firm grip on my independence, thank you very much.”
Elise chuckled, dramatically placing a hand over her heart as if she were appalled. “Independence is great! But so is having a man!”
Giselle rolled her eyes, closed her suitcase, and zipped it when she was satisfied with its contents.
“Having great sex and then continuing on with your life as if nothing happened is also great.” Giselle pointed out matter-of-factly.
“I enjoy that there are no emotional attachments. Sure, Kylian is a great guy, but neither of us is looking for anything serious,” she continued.
Camille raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips as she leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed. “You say that now, but trust me, if there was nothing there besides sex, he could’ve taken anyone with him to Switzerland.”
“Okay, I'm ready,” Giselle sighed, ignoring Camille as she stood up from her place on the floor and rolled her suitcase over to the door.
Elise squealed as Giselle’s phone began to ring in her lap. Kylian’s name flashed across the screen, and her ringtone filled the room.
Without thinking twice, Elise answered the phone to Kylian with a wide smile as she greeted him in their native tongue.
“Bonjour, mon frère,” she said in a sing-song tone before tossing the phone to Giselle.
“Hi, Kylian,” she blushed, putting the phone up to his ear. She suddenly felt the warmth of anticipation course through her. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m just about ready,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual, but the nervousness betrayed her excitement.
“Perfect timing,” Kylian replied, his voice smooth and deep, a hint of playfulness creeping in. “I’m outside and can’t wait to see you.”
Giselle’s heart raced. “I’ll be right down,” she said, glancing at her friends, who were both shooting her wide-eyed grins, their enthusiasm palpable and infectious.
“Make sure to show him that pink lace,” Elise said, a teasing wink accompanying her words. Giselle gave her a mock glare, followed by laughter, but deep down; she had already envisioned the trip ahead—the thrill of being with Kylian, the new experiences they might share in a beautiful foreign land.
She hung up, took a deep breath, and began to gather herself. “Okay, it's time to go,” she breathed out, trying to mask her excitement as she turned towards the mirror, making sure she looked cute yet comfortable.
Camille and Elise accompanied Giselle to the door to meet Kylian, teasing her as they went before finally letting her step outside. The chill of the Parisian night air greeted Giselle, but the heat radiating from within her made her feel almost invincible.
Kylian leaned casually against his sleek black car, a charming smile lighting up his features as he caught sight of Giselle. His dark hair framed his face just so, accentuating the piercing intensity of his gaze. She felt a rush of warmth wash over her at the sight of him, a pleasant surprise enveloping her as she approached.
“Ready for an adventure?” he asked, his voice a rumble that sent an excited shiver through her.
“More than ready,” she replied, feeling a flutter in the pit of her stomach as she took in the way he looked at her, as if she were the only one that mattered at that moment.
“Good,” he said, opening the car door for her like a true gentleman. “Because this is just the beginning.”
As Giselle slid into the plush leather seat, she caught Elise and Camille watching her with twinkling eyes from the doorway, their playful expressions urging her on. They were her cheerleaders, and she felt their support wrap around her like a warm blanket. With a final wave, she turned back to Kylian, who had gotten in on the driver’s side, the engine purring to life beneath them.
The ride was filled with easy banter, laughter bubbling between them as they navigated the familiar streets of Paris, illuminated by street lamps and the ethereal glow of shop windows. Giselle tried to keep her nerves in check, but each smile Kylian sent her way made her heart race just a little faster.
“Switzerland is going to be incredible,” Kylian said, glancing at her as he drove. “I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you.”
Giselle bit her lip, excitement and nervous anticipation mingling within her. “Yeah, me too,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “I’ve never been before—what’s it like?”
“Just wait and see,” he responded a playful glint in his eye, making her stomach flutter with curiosity. “I think you’re going to love it.”
The conversation flowed naturally, a seamless blend of playful teasing and shared aspirations. Giselle felt the barriers she had carefully constructed around her heart begin to soften, the atmosphere between them crackling with chemistry. It was intoxicating.
When they arrived at the private airport, Kylian helped Giselle from the car onto the plane as the staff moved around them, loading the jet with their belongings.
As they boarded, the private jet's interior greeted them with an air of luxury; plush leather seats awaited their presence, and soft lighting cast a warm glow over the cabin. Giselle felt a rush of excitement pulse through her, the sense of adventure so palpable it almost buzzed in the air.
Kylian settled into his seat beside her, and as the engines began their hum, he turned to her, his gaze intense and inviting. “Thank you for coming,” he murmured, sinking further into his seat as Giselle rested her head on his shoulder.
Thank you for having me,” Giselle smiled against his bicep, leaning into his warmth.
“Outside of work, it's just us—just you and me, no distractions,” he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone that made her heart race.
Giselle smiled, feeling a sense of thrill at his words. “I like the sound of that,” she replied, her voice lighter than she felt.
“When is your photoshoot taking place?” Giselle asked curiously.
“The day after tomorrow,” Kylian murmured, leaning in a little closer as the plane began its ascent. “My manager and my publicist will be joining us then.”
As they prepared to take off into the Parisian night, Giselle felt the thrill of the moment enveloping her. The gentle hum of the engines and the slight vibration of the jet created an intimate cocoon around them, shutting out the rest of the world. She tilted her head back to look at Kylian, taking in the way the dim cabin lights accentuated the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Do you enjoy spoiling women?” Giselle smirked knowingly as she gazed up at Kylian.
“Only beautiful ones,” he said, the confidence in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation through her.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Giselle replied, unable to suppress her smile as she nudged him playfully. The chemistry between them was palpable, an electric undercurrent that sent heat coursing through her veins.
As the plane soared into the night, she couldn't help but sneak glances at him, drinking in every detail.
The flight from Paris to Zurich wasn't long at all, and the darkness of the night made it difficult to see their snowy surroundings as they were chauffeured to their home in the Swiss Alps for the next few nights.
Despite being unable to see as they drove, Giselle fell utterly in love with the luxurious, sprawling lodge as soon as she set foot over the threshold.
“Kylian, this is beautiful!” she gushed as she turned to look at him, completely in awe with the chalet.
“Would you like to look around?” he smirked, holding out his hand for her to take before leading her further into the beautiful house.
Their tour of the place came to an end in the master bedroom, the air between them had been charged with electricity from the moment he'd picked her up earlier that evening.
Kylian's eyes darkened with desire as he took in Giselle's reaction to the bedroom. The large, plush bed dominated the space, covered in soft, luxurious linens that begged to be touched. A fireplace crackled invitingly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room.
He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "What do you think?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.
Giselle's breath hitched as she felt the heat of his touch. She turned her head slightly, her lips brushing against his fingertips. "It's perfect," she whispered, her eyes locked with his.
Kylian's gaze intensified, the air between them thick with tension. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Not as perfect as you," he breathed.
“Arms up,” Kylian instructed, taking hold of Giselle’s sweater so he could pull it over her head to reveal her round, perky breasts before reaching for the waistband of her Alo leggings, drawing them down her legs until they pooled at her feet.
“Unless instructed otherwise, I want you naked,” Kylian explained, his gaze both warm and intense as he looked into Giselle’s eyes. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” Giselle said, her voice barely above a whisper and her cheeks flushing as she held Kylian’s gaze, her nipples pebbling as his hands found her hips, pulling her petite frame against him.
“Your body is so beautiful,” he drawled, the soft cotton of his t-shirt ghosting against her sensitive chest as she breathed him in.
Giselle's dainty hands reached for the hem of Kylian’s shirt, lifting it over his muscular torso, revealing the chiseled lines of his abdomen and the soft sprinkle of hair leading down to his waist. Her fingertips traced over the defined muscles, a shiver of anticipation coursing through her as she admired his physique.
Pulling the shirt over his head, Giselle tossed it to the floor to join her clothes before tugging at the waistband of his Nike sweats.
“Off,” she pouted, her free hand dropping to cup him through the thick cotton.
Kylian's breath hitched as Giselle's hand cupped him, feeling his growing hardness through the fabric. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he helped her push his sweats down, his thick erection springing free, the tip already glistening with precum.
"Fuck, Giselle," he growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly.
He captured her mouth in a feverish kiss, his tongue delving deep as he backed her towards the bed. The back of her knees hit the mattress, and he gently pushed her down onto the plush comforter.
Kylian crawled over her, settling between her spread thighs as he trailed kisses down her neck and chest. He paused to suck a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud before moving to the other breast.
Kylian's lips moved to Giselle’s taut stomach, peppering wet kisses against her soft skin as his hands tucked behind her knees, pinning her legs back as he sank onto his knees at the foot of the bed.
Giselle's heart raced as Kylian settled between her legs, his warm breath ghosting over her most intimate area. She bit her lip, her hips lifting slightly off the bed as he admired her.
"So pink and perfect," he murmured, his thumbs parting her folds to reveal her entrance. Kylian leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her clit, eliciting a gasp from Giselle's lips.
He licked a slow stripe up her center, his tongue trailing up to the warm flesh below her navel, her heavy, lust-filled eyes meeting his.
Kylian's eyes darkened with desire as he took in Giselle's flushed, wanton expression. He loved seeing her like this, bare, vulnerable, and entirely at his mercy. It fueled his dominant side and made him want to claim every inch of her.
"Turn over," he murmured against her skin, sitting up so he could flip her onto her stomach.
Kylian's strong hands gripped Giselle's hips, pulling her up onto her knees as he positioned himself behind her. He ran his hands appreciatively over the curve of her ass, giving it a firm squeeze before parting her cheeks.
"You have the most perfect ass," he groaned, leaning down to press a kiss to one cheek before trailing his tongue along the cleft.
Giselle shuddered, her face pressed into the mattress as Kylian's mouth explored her. She felt his fingers trace her entrance, teasing her before pushing inside.
"So tight," he murmured, pumping his fingers in and out of her slowly as his thumb circled her clit.
Kylian's other hand reached around to palm her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers as he continued to finger her from behind. He could feel her getting wetter by the second, her hips rocking back against his hand.
Replacing his finger with his mouth, Kylian groaned as Giselle rolled her hips against his tongue, the arch in her back deepening as her knees slipped further apart.
A shiny bead of arousal dripped down the inside of Giselle’s thigh as Kylian feasted on her from behind, eyes closed, lips and chin glistening with her essence as he lost himself in her.
Placing one knee just ahead of the other, Giselle subtly attempted to ease away from Kylian’s mouth.
Kylian's hands gripped Giselle's hips tightly, holding her in place as he continued his relentless assault on her senses. He could feel her body trembling beneath his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he drove her closer and closer to the edge.
"Not yet," he murmured against her skin, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you cumon my cock."
With a final, lingering kiss to her clit, Kylian sat back on his heels, admiring the sight of Giselle spread out before him, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. He ran a hand up her spine, feeling the slight tremble of her muscles beneath his fingertips.
Tangling his fingers in Giselle’s hair, he raised her body from the bed so he could pull her into his arms, bearing the brunt of her weight as her lust-drunk body melted against him.
“Shower?” Kylian drawled against the crease of her warm neck, his hands cupping her breasts as he led her to the bathroom from behind.
Giselle could only nod in response, her hands reaching up to cover his as he rolled her nipples between his fingertips.
Kylian's heavy length pressed against the small of her back, held firmly between them as he showered her neck with kisses and gentle bites.
When they first arrived, upon a tour of the house, Kylian noticed a ledge in the shower. The second he saw it, he planned to take Giselle on it.
Kylian started the shower, the warm water cascading down onto Giselle's flushed skin as he guided her under the spray. The steam enveloped them, making the air heavy and hazy as Kylian's hands roamed her body, caressing every curve and dip.
Turning Giselle to face him, Kylian leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into her mouth as he explored every inch. He could taste herself on her lips, sweet and intoxicating, and it only served to heighten his desire.
Breaking the kiss, Kylian trailed his lips down Giselle's neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin as his hands gripped her ass, pulling her flush against him. He could feel her hardened nipples pressing into his chest, her soft curves molding perfectly to his harder planes.
"You're so beautiful," Kylian's lips curved into a wicked grin against Giselle's skin as he murmured, "Turn around and place your hands on the ledge."
His commanding tone sent a shiver down Giselle's spine, and she quickly complied, turning to face the wall and gripping the cool marble ledge. The water cascaded over her back, washing away the sweat and arousal from their earlier encounters.
Kylian stepped up behind her, his strong hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. He teased her with the tip of his cock, rubbing it up and down her slit and coating himself in her wetness.
"Tell me what you want, Giselle," he growled, his voice low and husky with desire. "Tell me how badly you need my cock."
Giselle's breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the ledge as she pushed her hips back, trying to encourage him to enter her. "Please, Kylian,"
Giselle's voice was barely above a whisper, her body trembling with anticipation. "Please, I need you inside me."
Her words seemed to ignite something primal within Kylian, and with a low growl, he slammed his hips forward, burying himself deep inside her with one powerful thrust. Giselle cried out, her fingers digging into the marble as Kylian filled her.
"Baise, your pussy is so tight," Kylian groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he began to move. Drawing out his thrusts so they were long and incredibly deep, the depth creating a sensation in Giselle's stomach.
The sound of running water echoed off the shower walls, mingling with Giselle's moans and Kylian's grunts of pleasure.
Standing on her tiptoes and deepening the arch in her back, Giselle let out a cry of pleasure as she felt the bulbous tip of his cock press unapologetically against her cervix.
Kylian's hand tangled in Giselle's wet hair, gently tugging her head to the side so their eyes met over her shoulder. He could feel her walls clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper, and it only spurred him on.
"That's it, ma chérie," he murmured, pressing g his forehead against hers, his free hand reaching around to rub tight circles on her clit. "Take every inch of my cock."
Giselle's eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of ecstasy as Kylian hit that spot deep inside her over and over again.
"Oh fuck, Kylian," Giselle whimpered, her legs beginning to tremble as she teetered on the edge. "I can feel you in my stomach."
“Open your mouth,” Kylian instructed.
Giselle obeyed, parting her lips as Kylian guided his thumb inside. He pressed down on her tongue, encouraging her to suck, and she did so eagerly, her cheeks hollowing as she tasted herself on his skin.
"That's it, just like that," Kylian praised before replacing his thumb with his tongue as he kissed her feverishly.
Giselle whimpered at the loss of contact as Kyliam pulled out of her, turning her around so he could lift her onto the marble ledge.
Their sex was incredible no matter the position, but there was something about looking into Giselle's hazel eyes as he fucked her that drove him wild.
Kylian positioned Giselle's legs over his shoulders, her ankles resting against his back as he gripped her hips tightly. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as he slowly pushed back inside her, his thick length stretching her walls.
Giselle gasped into the kiss, her fingers digging into Kylian's shoulders as he filled her. She could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he began to move, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm that had her seeing stars.
"Yes, fuck yes," Giselle moaned, her head falling back against the shower wall as Kylian hit that sweet spot inside her over and over again. The combination of his thick length and the water cascading over her sensitive flesh had her teetering on the edge of oblivion.
Kylian's lips trailed down Giselle's neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin as he continued his relentless pace.
Her right leg fell from his shoulder, and her toes curled as Kylian rolled his hips, pinning her to the ledge. His grip on her thigh tightened as he leaned into her, bottoming out.
Giselle clung to Kylian, her nails dragging across his muscular back as he pressed his forehead against hers, their eyes locked as he began giving her slow, shallow thrusts that had her moaning wildly.
Kylian's eyes darkened with desire as he felt Giselle's nails digging into his back, her body trembling beneath him. He loved seeing her like this, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving her.
"That's it, ma chérie," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me. I want to feel you cum on my cock."
His words seemed to be the final push Giselle needed, and with a cry of his name, she shattered, her walls clamping down around him like a vice as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Kylian groaned, his hips stuttering as Giselle's orgasm triggered his own. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his release pulsing hot and heavy as he filled her with his seed.
Kylian's body shuddered as he emptied himself inside Giselle, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her close. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply as he tried to catch his breath.
"That was..." Giselle trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intense pleasure she had just experienced. Her body felt limp and sated, completely drained from the force of her orgasm.
Kylian lifted his head, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he gazed down at Giselle. "Incredible," he finished for her, kissing her forehead softly. "You're incredible."
He gently lifted Giselle off the ledge, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her as her legs threatened to give out. Together, they stepped back under the warm spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the evidence of their passion.
Kylian's strong arms wrapped around Giselle, pulling her flush against his chest as the warm water cascaded over their intertwined bodies. He rested his chin on top of her head, savoring the feeling of her soft curves pressed against him.
"You okay?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Giselle shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she twisted her body, her eyes zeroing in on the red, slightly raised handprint he'd left on her backside.
Giselle's eyes met Kylian's, a playful spark in their depths as she reached back to trace the mark on her skin gently. "You left a souvenir," she said, her voice soft but playful, a slight blush on her cheeks.
Lifting Giselle into his arms, Kylian brought her tired body under the shower spray to soothe her tender muscles. She melted against him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, and she tucked her face into his neck.
The jets of the shower sprayed a warm, comforting rain upon their intertwined bodies, slowly washing away the sweat and traces of their lovemaking. Kylian held Giselle close, savoring the feeling of her petite frame fitting perfectly against his muscular one.
"You're perfect," he murmured against her wet hair, his lips brushing her temple as he spoke.
Giselle's heart fluttered at Kylian's words before she quickly cast them to the back of her mind, trying not to get caught up in how they made her feel. She nuzzled deeper into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent.
"I'm not," she whispered, pressing soft kisses to the strong column of his throat.
He leaned back slightly, tilting her chin up with his fingers so he could look into her eyes. The hazel orbs gazed back at him, filled with a mix of emotions he couldn't quite decipher. It made his heart ache in a way he wasn't used to, a feeling he both welcomed and feared.
Kylian's thumb brushed over her lower lip, tracing the soft curve as he searched her face before reaching for the shower's control panel to turn it off.
Pushing open the shower door, Kylian held Giselle tighter. He felt her body shiver from the sudden change in temperature as they stepped into the cool air of the bathroom. Droplets of water clung to their skin, creating a glistening sheen that accentuated every curve and contour.
"Let me grab a towel," Kylian said, his voice still thick with desire as he reluctantly set Giselle down. He moved towards the linen closet, his eyes never leaving her as she stood there, water cascading down her body, the remnants of their passion evident in the blush that colored her cheeks.
Giselle watched him, her heart fluttering at the sight of his toned physique, still glistening from the shower. She felt a rush of affection for him, a warmth that spread through her chest as he wrapped a towel around her and pulled her close again, guiding her back into the bedroom from behind.
Grabbing her toiletry bag from its place on the dresser, Giselle pulled her lotion out, squeezing the creamy substance into her palm before rubbing her hands together and applying it to her damp skin. Kylian watched, captivated by the way her fingers glided over her curves, his gae lingering on the way her body glistened under the soft light of the room.
“Here,” he said, stepping closer to her. He took the lotion from her hand and poured a bit into his own palm, warming it up before moving behind her.
“Let me help you,” Kylian offered, his voice low and smooth as he began to massage the lotion into her skin. His hands glided over her arms, down her back, and across her shoulders, kneading the tension away.
Giselle leaned back into him, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the sensation of his touch. “That feels amazing,” she murmured, a soft sigh escaping her lips as he continued to work the lotion into her skin.
Kylian's hands moved lower, tracing the curves of her waist and hips, his fingers dancing over her thighs. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and it only fueled the desire that still simmered beneath the surface.
“Turn around,” he instructed his voice a mixture of tenderness and authority. Giselle obeyed, facing him with a shy smile. Kylian took his time, spreading the lotion over her chest and arms, ensuring every inch of her skin was covered.
As he worked, their eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken tension. Kylian could see the warmth in her hazel eyes, the way she bit her lip in anticipation. He felt a surge of protectiveness mixed with a primal urge to claim her even more.
Once he finished, Kylian stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “You’re stunning,” he breathed, his gaze roaming over her body, appreciating how the lotion accentuated her natural beauty.
Giselle blushed under his scrutiny, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Thank you,” she replied, feeling both exposed and cherished under his gaze. “Can I do you?” she asked, closing the distance between them.
Kylian smirked, his eyes darkening with desire as Giselle stepped closer. "I thought you'd never ask," he murmured, handing her the lotion bottle.
Giselle poured a generous amount into her palms, warming it between her hands before placing them on Kylian's chest. She started at his shoulders, massaging the lotion into his muscles with slow, deliberate strokes.
Her fingers traced the contours of his pecs, feeling the firmness beneath her touch. She could see the way his muscles flexed and relaxed under her hands, and it sent a thrill through her.
Kylian's breath hitched as Giselle's hands moved lower, her fingers dancing over his abs. He could feel the heat of her touch, even through the lotion, and it ignited a fire within him. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as she continued her exploration.
When she was done, Kylian laid Giselle on the bed before joining her, his body hovering over hers as he admired her. The light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow on her skin, emphasizing the aftermath of their evening together.
“Can I ask you a question?” Kylian asked, his voice low and serious as he settled beside.
Giselle looked at him, her heart beating a little faster at the shift in his demeanor. “Of course,” she replied, her curiosity piqued.
Kylian hesitated for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “Why are you so afraid of love?” he asked softly, his hand smoothing leisurely up and down Giselle's back.
Despite their lack of clothing, there was nothing sexual about the moment. The intimacy between them was raw; it wasn't about sex right now; it was about learning one another's minds.
“I’m not afraid; I just can't allow my heart to be ripped out again, not by anyone.” Giselle turned her face away, her eyes staring blankly at the wall opposite them. Kylian sensed the weight of her words, the vulnerability beneath the surface. He paused, letting his hand continue its soothing rhythm, hoping to comfort her.
“Can I ask what happened?” he asked gently, his tone soft and inviting. He wanted her to feel safe, to trust him enough to share.
Giselle took a moment, her breath hitching as memories flooded her mind. “There was someone I loved deeply; I’d loved him since I was a teenager,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We were planning our life together, and then one day, everything changed,” Giselle said, clearing her throat as she felt a lump forming.
“My career started to grow, and his wasn't where he wanted it to be; frustration turned into arguments, and those arguments transpired into him accusing me of cheating because I thought I deserved more than him until one day, I was getting ready to go to an event and he attacked me,” she revealed to Kylian who listened intently, his heart aching for her. He could hear the pain entwined in her voice, the anger and the sorrow blending like a dark palette. Kylian’s grip on her back tightened slightly, a silent promise that he was there for her, even if only for the moment.
“I never saw it coming,” she continued, her voice shivering as she fought back tears. “One minute, we were planning our future, and the next, I was hiding bruises he gave me from my friends, family and the rest of the world.” Giselle stopped, the weight of her confession pressing heavily between them. Kylian's heart raced with sorrow and outrage, his protective instinct flaring to life.
“How could he do that to you?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
Giselle wiped her eyes with her fingertips, the remnants of tears shining with the spark of unresolved hurt. “I thought love was supposed to lift you up, to make you stronger,” she said, her voice faltering. “But instead, it made me feel trapped... like I was walking on eggshells, always afraid of his mood.”
Kylian shifted slightly closer, his warmth enveloping her in a cocoon of safety. “Giselle,” he said softly, “not all love is like that. Not all men will hurt you. You deserve to be cherished, not broken.”
She turned to look at him, her expression a mixture of hurt and fear. “But how can I trust that? How do I let myself trust anyone but myself to keep me safe?”
Kylian didn't have a response, not because he found himself at a loss for words but because it was evident that Giselle was hurting.
Instead, he pulled her body into his, hugging her as if he could shield her from the pain that haunted her. The warmth of his embrace was a gentle balm, grounding her in the moment, away from the shadows of her past. As she nestled into his chest, her heartbeat began to sync with his—a rhythm of comfort and safety.
“Just take it one day at a time,” he murmured into her hair, feeling her tense shoulders slowly relax against him. “You don’t have to rush into anything with anyone.”
Giselle inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of his words wash over her. “I’ve spent so long guarding myself,” she admitted, her voice muffled against him.
“That’s okay,” Kylian soothed.
“Part of me knows it isn't,” Giselle admitted. “Part of me knows that I'll be lonely if I don't get over myself and I'm scared I can't.”
“I understand, but as I told you when we first met; not all love is the same,” he said softly. "And you shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to protect yourself.”
Neither of them was looking for romantic love or a relationship, not with each other or anyone else, but there was an undeniable pull between Giselle and Kylian, a mutual understanding.
In the quiet aftermath of their shared intimacy, both sensed the weight of their words, as uncharted territory unfolded before them. Kylian’s fingers continued to stroke Giselle’s back soothingly, a comfort in the midst of vulnerability.
She took a deep breath, the warmth of his body igniting a flicker of hope within her. “I want to feel safe,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.
Kylian drew back just enough to take her chin gently between his fingers, lifting her gaze to meet his. “You are safe with me, Giselle. There is no pressure here, no judgment, you are safe with me.”
Despite knowing their connection was only a fleeting holiday fling, there was a depth to their moment that felt undeniably significant. Giselle's heart swelled with both trepidation and excitement, caught between the thrill of the present and the fear of allowing herself to feel too deeply.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “That means a lot to me.”
Kylian smiled softly, his thumb brushing over her cheek, grounding her with his touch. “Just promise me you’ll be honest with yourself and with me. If this becomes too much, you say the word, and we stop.”
Giselle nodded, grateful for his understanding. The comfort of his words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She took a moment, collecting her thoughts, feeling the remnants of their passions swirl together with the sincerity of his offer.
“Thank you for understanding me,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “People usually don't care to see beyond the surface.”
Kylian's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of his own emotions. "Understanding you is easy, Giselle. You're not just beautiful; you're strong, resilient," he said, his tone unwavering. "And I want you to know that I see that in you."
Feeling a warm blush creep back into her cheeks, Giselle found solace in his words. It was a refreshing change after the darkness she'd encountered in her past. They had opened up to each other in a way that felt profound, each word woven into the tapestry of trust and vulnerability they shared.
As they settled into a comfortable silence, the air between them was charged yet soothing, the echoes of their earlier passion still lingering. Kylian shifted slightly, his body brushing against hers, and Giselle felt the heat radiating off him, intensifying the current that flowed between them.
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hii!! i was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a young inho x reader, something fluffy, maybe like a university!au where the reader and inho are both training for police, and they go from meet ugly to lovers?? nothing too long, just a short little au!!
all up to you if you'd like to pick this up!! love ur current series btw
my kind of distraction (hwang in-ho x reader)
Tags: university!au, inho x reader, enemies to lovers, young in-ho, fluff
Summary: You first meet In-ho at a convenience store, unbeknownst to you that he was also party of the police academy you were training for. On your first day of training, you meet In-ho again and think of him as someone who's arrogant during trainings, as he would criticize you whenever you were partnered with him. Over time, you found yourself looking forward to your trainings together. And when you successfully anticipated his next move, for the first time in a while, he smiled.
A/N: I know I used a Mr. Sunshine GIF for this AU, but it's the perfect scenario of what I pictured in my head. I'm sorry this took awhile as I am still grieving over my father, but here it is! 🫡
----
The fluorescent light cast a stark, sterile glow over neatly stacked shelves, the faint beep of the cashier scanning items, and the quiet hum of refrigerators lined with colorful drinks. As you entered the convenience, the smell of instant noodles, cheap coffee, and something fried from the food warmer near the counter reached your nose.
The ground beneath your feet was steady, yet it felt as if you’re walking on air, one breath away from something bigger than your grasp. You took a big step out of your comfort zone, entering the police academy with no connections - just pure luck. For the past few days, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you made a great choice, that it was enough. Enough to prove the fear doesn’t get to hold you back. That growth isn’t meant to be comfortable.
You sighed as you grabbed an instant ramen on the shelf, with a soda in a can at hand. You had to eat something, at least. The nervousness in taking it all by yourself, taking control of your life, was starting to get to you. At least, in this way, you felt normal.
You didn’t notice him at first. Not until you round the corner of an aisle, trying to get to the cashier, and see him standing by the refrigerated section.
Tall. Composed. Effortlessly self-assured in a way that feels almost deliberate.
He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate in his movements. His fingers graze over a row of canned coffee, seeing it labeled as Americano as he plucked one off the shelf with a kind of precision that suggests he does this often. There’s an air of distance about him, something cold and untouchable, like he exists in a space just slightly apart from everyone else.
Even as another customer brushes past him, murmuring a quiet sorry, he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He simply steps back as if it’s expected, as if the world should move around him rather than the other way around. The cool blue light of the fridge highlights the sharp angles of his face. You shook your head, an attempt to shake him away from your thoughts as you noticed yourself staring. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Or maybe he has, and he just doesn’t care.
And then, as if sensing your stare, he lifts his gaze and meets yours.“You see something you like?” He said, voice low and edged with a quiet arrogance.
You snapped away from your thoughts immediately as you felt your throat tighten, caught between embarrassment and irritation.
You open your mouth, ready with a sharp retort, but then he turned away. He walked past you without a glance, the scent of coffee and something clean lingering in the air as he passed. It should be unremarkable, just another fleeting moment in a late-night store.
But something about him stays with you. You don’t know why yet.
Not yet, anyway.
But one thing’s for sure - that annoyed you more than anything else.
——
The universe had other plans. The kind of plan that didn’t think of you, that didn’t care for your feelings.
“Hwang In-ho.”
You snapped your head up just in time to see him forward as you stood in formation on your first day of training at the police academy, listening to the instructor call out partner assignments. You nearly feel your stomach drop as you see him, the man you met at the convenience store.
He was composed as ever, his expression still unreadable.
“And you,” the instructor continues, turning toward you. “You’ll be working with him.”
Your gaze stayed still, trying not to show any emotion from what you felt from your first encounter with Hwang In-ho. You avoided his faze as he walks over to stand beside you; something flickers across his face. A moment of quiet recognition.
His eyes drag over you as if to assess you, tilting his head a bit. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle.
“You again,” he murmured, just low enough that only you can hear.
You straighten your shoulders, trying not to let his arrogance under your skin. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”
In-ho smirked, his gaze lingering longer before he looked ahead again, completely at ease. “Try to keep up.”
For the past few months, you trained with In-ho. As much as you wanted to think of him as your equal, you can’t help but feel the rivalry between you two. Beside you, In-ho was already prepared, his stance immaculate, and his confidence radiated like an invisible force.
The sound of boots scraped against the floor echoed in the small, sparse room. You and In-ho stood in the center. The air was thick with anticipation, and despite the calm exterior, you could feel the adrenaline humming through your veins. Today’s training was all about speed and precision - drawing the weapon fast enough to stop a threat before it had a chance to react.
In-ho had already settled into his stance, the gun at his side, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the space like he could already predict what would happen next. His usual cocky smirk was there, though this time, it had a sharper edge to it.
“You ready to keep up?” In-ho asked, his voice almost mocking.
“Just don’t slow me down,” you replied. You tried to ignore the way his words grated against you. You knew he was trying to test you. Drawing the weapon wasn’t just about speed - it was about control, about making every move count without wasting time.
In-ho turned his head, his eyes glinting with that same arrogant fire. “You should be thanking me for this. You’ll never get this fast on your own.”
You clenched your jaw but didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it. You knew what you needed to do.
“Go.”
Your fingers shot to the grip of the gun, a smooth, practiced motion - except it wasn’t quite smooth enough. Your hand fumbled slightly at first, a split-second delay in pulling the gun free, and that split-second was enough for In-ho to draw your gun away.
In-ho lowered his gun with a grin, his voice dripping with that all too familiar smugness. “You might want to work on that. A slow draw will get you killed before you even start.”
You felt the heat of frustration surge in your chest, but you swallowed it down. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was right. Yet you didn’t want to lose this time.
“Let’s do it again,” you said, steadying your breathing.
In-ho gave you a cocky nod, clearly entertained. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I wouldn’t want you to waste all my time.”
You took a step closer, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love to waste more time on me,” you teased, leaning in just enough for him to notice the playful glint in your eyes. “But I think you’re already getting a little distracted.”
In-ho’s expression faltered for a moment, his usual confidence slipping as he caught the shift on your tone. His eyes lingered on you, just a fraction longer than what was considered normal, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something else behind his gaze.
At that moment, you knew you caught him off guard.
In-ho’s expression shifted, his confidence momentarily shaken as he cleared his throat. “You think you can distract me that easily?” A tight chuckle escaped from his lips.
You shrugged with a smirk. “I’m sure you can handle it. But I think you might be a little more… interested in what I can do.”
In-ho’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile. For a second, you could see him caught between his usual arrogance and the curiosity that had crept up into his eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, though there was a slight edge to his voice, something more amused than irritated.
“Ready for round two?” You challenged, giving him a wink, this time with more confidence than before.
“Go.”
The signal came again, and this time, you were ready. Your hand shot to the holster, faster, smoother, pulling the gun with fluid motion from him. You pointed and aimed at In-ho, sending his arms up in surrender.
For a moment, the room went still. In-ho was caught off guard, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a flicker of surprise. You couldn’t help but grin, your finger resting lightly on the trigger, though you weren’t about to fire.
“You were saying?” You asked, your voice low and teasing.
In-ho blinked, the smile creeping back onto his face, only this time, it was different. There was something more impressed in it, a quiet acknowledgement of the thought that you just won.
“Guess I underestimated you,” In-ho said, his cockiness returning, though with a slight edge of admiration.
You lowered your gun, placing it on your pockets as you wiped your sweat away with a face towel. “You do that a lot, don’t you?” A soft chuckle escaped from you.
To your surprise, he smiled. “You’re full of surprises.” His voice was almost softer now, a subtle warmth in his words.
You felt your heart skip a beat. There was something about the way he looked at you - something disarmingly genuine in the smile that reached his eyes. As you tried to steady the racing of your heart, you swallowed as you let out a small grin. “You have no idea,” you replied.
In-ho watched you for a moment longer, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips. He seemed to favor the tension between you and him before giving a slight nod. “I think I’m starting to.”
----
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A lady I took care of passed away last night. She was 100.
One of my first clients at my new caregiving job at the time in early 2021. She was recovering from covid. She'd also had polio in the past and with surgery, got the use of her hands back, which she had used exceptionally well cooking every Sunday as long as she was able. She also had had breast cancer in the past. Gave birth to twins before ultrasounds. They'd discovered it via X-ray. This lady survived a lot.
When she broke her hip, we thought that'd be it. That's usually the start of the decline. But she bounced back for another 2 years. Several boughts of pneumonia... She was a fighter.
She was like another grandmother to me. I'd lost one already and was across country from the other who had dementia. (That one I actually lost last year on Valentine's) She was always a comfort if I had a hard day and needed loving. Her family always said I was like family to them as well.
She'd tell me every night when I left to "be safe. You're precious to me" and every time I felt so warm and comforted. That she meant it.
I hadn't gotten to see her for a while due to work. She moved facilities and ended up with a new caregiver. Which was fine. The new one was amazing for her and loved on her like I had. Last time I saw her was her birthday where she made it to the big 100. She'd complained the last few years about still being here and I always told her "you're so close to 100. So close to that milestone not many people get to. Make it out of spite. Then you can go if you want. Just make it to 100"
100 years, 6 months, and one week.
Her daughter said the other day they'd been talking and she'd said "I did it. I made it."
I'd tried swinging by last week to check up on her. But she was out of the building. I texted her daughter to let her know. Tell her hi. I'd try again later when I could.
Yesterday I got a call while at work. Her daughter. She was just letting me know she was on hospice and had 24-48 hours. Well, lucky me! Guess where I am? They had assigned me last minute to work with a client that day .. in the same building. What are the chances? I'd swing by when I got off.
And so I did. Family was there visiting. She was sleeping and on morphine but I got to love on her like I used to. Rubbing her leg and arm a bit, telling her what I'd wanted to. Some family and I shared some funny stories about her before they left. I stayed a bit longer to chat a bit longer with the family who stayed.
Then we realized she'd stopped breathing. Nurse came to check, hospice was called to confirm.
Her new caregiver and I prepared her for pick up. Favorite night gown, lay her down comfortably... Caring for her one last time.
The way things lined up the other day, even though she was out of it when I got there, feels like she set it up. Like she was calling me herself to say goodbye.
The building. The phonecall. The timing...
Til the end she was such a funny, feisty woman. Always loving, always kind, quick as a whip she was until the end.
"You're precious to me" Miss Carolyn. You did it.
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