#he still came back and tried to pretend to be a new person asking to color my art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonlover1110 · 5 months ago

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𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡

Toji Fushiguro

Ex-Rated Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: There's an elephant in the room: Your new boyfriend that Toji has yet to hear about, someone that your daughter clearly knows. Toji needs to hear all the details.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Angst, Smut, Ex-Husband!Toji, Cheating, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, Vaginal Sex, Biting, Scratching, Creampie

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“I never want to see you again.” Were the last words you told Toji before handing him the divorce papers. As much as you want your words to hold true, there’s no way in hell that you can escape him.

In the end, he holds the last laugh.

He sits on your couch, making himself feel welcome in your home as your daughter pulls on his hair with claims that she’s brushing it. At least she’s getting payback for her mommy, even if she does it unknowingly. She finally stops when Toji cries out and yells,

“Stop! My scalp hurts.”

“You’re going to end up ugly.” She responds, and you can’t help but chuckle at her comment.

“No, he won’t end up ugly. He already is.” You murmur, not wanting your daughter to repeat the words back to her father. Though it’d make you proud to hear it from her, you don’t have to incite disrespectful behavior towards her father.

“I heard that!” Toji yells, and you roll your eyes, muttering yet another comment, this time about his ears. No matter what, in this situation he ends up losing. He picks up his daughter, and puts her down on his lap to keep her away from messing around with his hair.

“Where’s Megumi?” She asks, wondering where her older brother is. If she can’t play with Toji’s hair, she knows that Megumi will allow her to do anything to his hair.

“With his friend.” Toji answers, and a small pout comes to her face. Not only is she hearing that her brother isn’t here, but also that he’d rather spend time with a friend instead of his little sister. Granted, he does see her a lot, but in her mind, she should be everyone’s priority.

“I want another brother.” She crosses her arms, her little eyebrows meeting in the middle. Toji chuckles. No way in hell is he letting that happen.

“You’re not getting one from me.” Toji responds, though she’s unphased by the answer. Instead, she gets off her father’s lap and runs to you. She looks up at you with pleading eyes, and you pretend not to see her as you wash the dishes in the kitchen.

You still need to have a very awkward conversation with Toji. You don’t want your daughter to speak a little too much about your personal life when Toji is right there.

“Mommy, can you and Jin give me a brother?” She makes her voice loud and clear, making your heart drop. You feel your blood run cold as you feel his gaze burn a hole in your head.

“Jin? Who’s that, princess?” Toji’s voice gets sickly sweet as he questions his daughter. Something of his interest has come to light, and Toji will do anything to get information about it.

“He’s–” You begin, finally turning your head to look at Toji. The man glares at you, firmly telling you,

“I am asking my daughter.”

“Mommy’s boyfriend.” She lets it be known, and you bite down your lip. A sudden wave of guilt washes over you as the words roll off her tongue, and the feeling intensifies when you see a frown appear on Toji’s face.

“Jin Itadori? The father of Megumi’s friend?” Toji nearly sighs when you nod in response. He rolls his eyes, and tries to mask his anger by acting indifferent. Perhaps you should speak to him about what’s been going on, but you’re too much of a coward to speak up. It’s an intense conversation, one that you shouldn’t have in front of your daughter.

“Come here, princess.” Toji tells her, but she shakes her head. She wants a baby brother, and since Toji isn’t going to give her one then there’s no point in buttering him up.

“I’m going to my room!” She yells, before running away from the kitchen. You’re about to tell her to stop, her father came over to spend time with her but she’s run off.

The tension is thick in the air, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest. You and Toji stare at each other for a long minute before the man stands up from the couch. He begins to walk to his daughter’s room, not bothering to say anything else.

A sigh of relief escapes your body when he leaves the room, even when you know the relief won’t last for too long. You have to speak to Toji about your romantic life, as uncomfortable as it is.

Toji finds himself upset at the revelation of your boyfriend– Not just anyone for a matter of fact, but Jin Itadori. He knows that you’ve had multiple encounters with Jin, and even though he wouldn’t dare question your loyalty before, Toji is now wondering if there was something that you kept from him.

Even if he’s sure that you’ve always been loyal to him, he still hates the thought of you and Jin being together. You’re allowed to be happy with whoever you’d like, but Jin is too close for comfort. Megumi and that Itadori child are the best of friends for fuck’s sake.

There might be some other underlying reasons for his disapproval of the relationship, but Toji would rather not think about it. He just wants to blame his feelings on the possibility of a past betrayal; something very unlikely, but anything that gets him away from facing his true feelings.

Toji knows that he has to ask you, but he isn’t sure how to speak about the subject when there’s a child constantly up his ass. So when he gets a text from you, asking you to come over to talk, he cancels all plans for the night and rushes to your apartment.

“Toji.” You awkwardly smile at him as you open the door. You look as you usually do, since there’s no point in dressing up to talk to Toji. The conversation will last thirty minutes at most. You gesture him inside, “Come in.”

“Where’s Asumi?” Toji asks for his daughter as he steps into the apartment. He wants to know where his daughter is spending the night before anything.

“I asked a friend to babysit.” You answer as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink. No matter what, Toji is going to treat your apartment as his own. It’s something you can appreciate when you’re not in the mood for hosting. You clear your throat before adding on, “I didn’t think it’d be appropriate for her to be here for this… She hears more than what I’d like to admit.”

“Yeah, like you calling me ugly the other day.” Toji points out as he opens a strange can that he finds in the fridge. He doesn’t bother reading it, he’s just thirsty and grabs whatever he can find. He knows it’s nothing alcoholic, you don’t drink alcohol anymore.

“Oh, you’re not going to like tha–” You try to warn him as Toji puts the can up to his lips and begins to chug it. All to spite you. It’s his way of telling you that he doesn’t follow your orders anymore. To his dismay, Toji quickly regrets not listening to you when he realizes it’s vegetable juice.

“Why would they put this in a can? And why do you have this?” He sounds distraught, and it takes everything in you to not laugh at his misery.

“Asumi loves vegetable juice.” You tell him once you’re sure that you won’t burst into laughter in his face.

“What a little weirdo.” He mutters before walking to the couch and taking a seat. He makes sure to manspread, making himself as comfortable as possible on your couch. He looks at you with a look of indifference– Indifference that tries to mask something else. “What is it? Just get it out of the way.”

“No foreplay, huh?” You respond, and he lets out a low brief laugh at your choice of words. He ends up humming in response, and you take a deep breath to get yourself ready to speak. You lick your lips before an awkward chuckle leaves your lips. You’re not sure how to start off.

“Take a seat.” Toji pats the little space next to him, and you do as he says. “You should start off with when you started seeing him, and make sure that there’s no overlap between our marriage and–”

“Are you asking if I cheated on you?” There’s a hint of offense in your voice, and Toji knows you enough that he picks up on it. But he doesn’t care to take back his statement, he wants an answer. “I should be the one asking you that– You know what, no. Whatever. I started dating him almost a year ago.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, hating the fact that you’re using his own question against him. You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. You can’t believe he’s asking this question.

“I filed for divorce, and within a week you had a hussy by your side.” You remind him, not wanting to recall the behavior that left a bad taste on your mouth. He wanted to show her off to you, but you remained as indifferent as possible which drove him insane.

You end up standing up from the couch, walking over to the front door. “Actually, thanks for the reminder. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Huh?” He furrows his eyebrows and you loudly yell,

“Get out!”

“No.” He remains glued to his seat, refusing to get up. He wants to hear more about whatever you and your loverboy have going on. “This is clearly a serious relationship, and he could be my daughter’s stepdad.”

“Yeah, that’s all you need to know.” You unlock the door and open it so the man gets out. You’re not going to take his accusation lightly, not after all that he’s put you through. “And for the record, since when do you care?”

“What are you saying?” Toji asks as he stands up from the couch. He walks over to you, one hand going to the door behind you and shutting it. He looks down at you with dark, scary eyes. Eyes that could make anyone fall to their knees, but they’re no longer intimidating to you.

“The reason we got divorced is because you didn’t want to step up as a father.” You point out, and a frown appears on his face. You fight back a smirk, feeling satisfaction with his evident anger. “So suddenly you care? Or do you not like the fact that I have a boyfriend?”

“What? So you’re saying I’m jealous?” Toji avoids reacting with the anger that you’re attempting to fuel. Toji has a cocky smirk on his lips before saying, “Because trust me when I say, I know I’m not missing out.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want you jealous because there’s no way in hell you can get me back.” You respond. You’re about to walk away, but Toji keeps you pinned to the door. You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest in this position– And you know that if you’re kept here for longer then you’ll do something you regret. “Let me go, idiot.”

“We both know you don’t mean that.” Toji tells you, and you click your tongue. He’s right. You still find him attractive, and if he plays his cards right he just might have a chance– No you wouldn’t. You’re happy with whatever you have with your boyfriend, and you won’t let it go to waste for someone as stupid as Toji.

“The same way you don’t mean that you’re not missing out.” You answer, and Toji bites down his tongue. You look away from his face, hating the thoughts that come to your head if you stare too long. Toji should look uglier with age, but it’s the opposite.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m jealous?” He questions, and you roll your eyes. He notices that you refuse to make any sort of eye contact with his face, and he can read you like a book. He laughs. “I’m jealous. Fine.”

“You couldn’t have made it more obvious.” You respond, attempting to get out from the position, but Toji makes it impossible. “Now will you let me go?”

“Now you explain to me whatever you and that idiot have going on.” He says, and you shake your head.

“You didn’t explain whatever you and your girlfriends had going on. I take back my invitation.” You answer, and he puffs out a breath. His hand goes under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him.

“So what? You’re getting payback?” He asks, and to his surprise, you nod in response. He can’t help but chuckle, finally letting you go. You walk away as fast as possible, putting a lot of space between the two of you. “You know, if you want to give me a taste of my own medicine then you know what’ll end up happening, right?”

“No way in hell I’d end up fucking you.”

“For the record, you were the one who fucked me.” You curse yourself for whatever the hell just happened. You’re covering yourself under the bedsheets, avoiding looking at Toji who lays naked beside you.

This is the reason why you’re never alone with him. You must have one of the kids with you, or else you’ll end up doing something you regret.

He holds the last laugh, per usual.

“Are you picking up Asumi tonight or do we have the night off?” Toji asks, and you’re burning in embarrassment. You’re not listening to what he has to say– And oh my goodness, Jin! You invited Toji to talk about Jin, and here you are, laying in bed with your ex-husband.

“I think you should leave.” You murmur, and a cackle leaves Toji’s lips.

“I can leave, but that doesn’t change the fact that we just had sex.” Toji says, and you want to die inside. He pulls the bed sheet down so it uncovers your face. You look so mortified. It’s cute, really. Back then, he was the one that was cheating so it wasn’t a big deal to you. “Oh, c’mon, it’s no big deal.”

“Would you be this laid back if it was you finding me with another man?” You question, and Toji shrugs. He knows he’d be livid, but he doesn’t want to prove your point. You lightly slap his shoulder before telling him, “Yeah, right. You were just asking me if I cheated on you with Jin– Jin!”

“Oh, c’mon, baby. He’s a loser.” He tells you as he tries to bring you close to him again. You can’t be too close to him. Toji has a way of sweet talking you into things that you wouldn’t do due to common sense. He kisses your cheek before saying, “We both know he was the last thing on your mind while you screamed my name.”

“He’s so sweet, Toji.” You respond, though he doesn’t listen. He couldn’t give a shit if Jin is an angel or not. Toji doesn’t like to share. Before you can get another word out, Toji kisses your lips, stopping any trail of thoughts on your end. His lips work like a charm.

His lips move down to your neck, kissing all the spots he just went over. You’re a weak woman. You just told him to leave, yet you won’t stop him as he picks up where you left off. His tongue traces over your breasts, mouth wrapping around your nipple. A soft moan leaves your lips, body feeling so weak with the slightest touch.

“Toji–” Your breath gets caught up in your chest as you feel his hand go down in between your legs. Two fingers run through your wet folds before he applies some pressure to your clit. Whatever you were thinking a couple of minutes ago, has completely left your mind.

He pushes a finger into your pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He shouldn’t get such a reaction out of you, but your body is weak for him. It’s why you go back to him so easily. You feel his tongue lick up your breasts to your shoulder before he bites down. The pain is quickly overshadowed by pleasure when Toji pushes in another finger.

“Keep moaning my name, baby.” Toji whispers into your ear as he curves his fingers so they brush against your sweet spot. Your breath begins to get heavy, and all proper thoughts have completely left your brain.

You mindlessly moan his name, your body turning into putty with his touch. He always does this. He makes you feel euphoric so you go back to him. He knows your body so well, and you don’t hate it as much as you should.

“Right there– Oh, Toji!” You moan as you feel his thumb rub your clit. As if just a moment ago you weren’t worrying about Jin, feeling guilty about your betrayal.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Toji’s voice nearly drives you over the edge. His lips kiss back down to your breasts, tongue flicking your nipple. Your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling his hair as he bites down.

“Oh, fuck!” Escapes your lips as you feel the sweet sweet feeling build up in your body. Toji’s looking up at you as his mouth sucks on your nipple. He’s watching your face contort with pleasure, and he feels satisfied, knowing that no one will ever please you as much as he does. You’ll never react like this with anyone else.

Toji keeps sucking on your tit until your legs quiver in pleasure, and you reach your high. Toji continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, until he’s satisfied with his work. Until you’re a complete mess around him for the umpteenth time in the night.

“You’re just too cute.” Toji tells you as he unlatches from your nipple, taking his fingers out of your pussy. His lips kiss yours over and over again.

He gets on top of you, running the tip of his cock through your folds. He won’t give you a minute to calm down. Before his cock can fill you up, you stop him.

“Toji, grab a condom.” You remind him, and he laughs. His lips meet yours again before you feel his lips on your ear.

“Let me feel you raw, baby. Every inch of you.” He whispers, and you’re tempted. You bite down your lip, and Toji can see the temptation written all over your face.

“I’m not on birth control.” You tell him, and he’s unphased by the confession. That’s never stopped him before, it’s how you ended up with a daughter in the first place.

“I’ll pull out.” He promises, and you nod in response. With that, Toji slowly pushes his cock into you. You bite down your lip to not pathetically moan as his cock fills you out again. Toji feels so perfect inside of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips as Toji slowly begins to move in and out of you. He’s holding a moan in his throat. He hasn’t felt this good in a while. Your nails go to his back, digging into his skin as his thrusts pick up speed.

He’s slowly losing control as he gets lost inside of you. He needs you. He hates to admit it but he can’t be intimate with anyone without thinking of you. You’re so perfect for him. It’s good that he doesn’t have to say it out loud.

“Toji–” You moan, and Toji is glad that your voice drowns out the moan that escapes his throat. He mutters your name, as he feels your pussy clench around him. He feels the jealousy boiling over, mad that he isn’t the one with you.

“Is it good?” Toji asks you before his mouth goes to your shoulder again, biting down again when he feels your nails drag on his back. He’s leaving marks, clearly marking his territory for whenever your boyfriend gets to touch you.

“Fuck!” You’re loud, making it clear that he’s making you feel so good. He’s hitting every right spot, and his jealousy is fueling his movements. Your hand goes down to play with your clit, eyes rolling to the back of your head again.

“Does he make you feel this good?” Toji can’t help but say as he sees the look of absolute bliss written over your pretty little face. There’s no answer. You’re too caught up in your own feelings to listen to anything.

“Cum in me.” You tell him, out of the blue. He feels your cunt tighten around him as your orgasm approaches, answering all of his questions. You’re rather risky when you’re in the middle of the act. It’s not an opportunity that he’ll pass up on, not when you so prettily say, “Fill me up, Toji. Please.”

He watches you shut your eyes and loudly moan his name as you reach your climax, yet again. You’re making a mess all over him, yet again. He misses this more than you could imagine.

“Fuck.” He mutters, his breath getting caught up in his chest as his thrusts get messy. He’s picking up speed, losing control until he finally comes to a stop and his warm cum fills up your cunt.

He stays still for a moment, watching your sweaty face as you catch your breath. Fuck, you’re so beautiful. He hates looking at you like this because it’s the only thought he’ll have for the next month. He’s just going to think of you.

He pulls out and fully lays down on top of you, a weight that’s too heavy for you to carry but you support him nonetheless. Your hand goes to the back of his head, playing with his hair and kissing it ever so lovingly.

“I can stay like this forever.” His words come out muffled as Toji’s face rests on your chest.

Tonight isn’t as petty as the other nights. Sure, Toji is jealous and he’s set on reminding you that no one will ever make you feel as good as he does, but it’s more than that. It’s also a reminder to him of what he’s lost. His inability to accept a situation out of his comfort zone cost him the family that he’s so badly desired.

Every tactic to get back at you didn’t work. His inability to act like a mature adult ruined everything that he had. And he truly doubts that anything he does will change your mind. The sex hasn’t worked before, it surely won’t change anything now.

“I want us to be a family.” Toji tells you, face buried in your chest since he can’t possibly look at you now. Not while he tells you how he feels.

“Toji…” You’re not sure how to respond. You still care for Toji, and of course you have very mixed feelings for him. But you’re not sure if you can be a family. “I don’t think we can.”

“I’ve changed.” He quickly sits up, ready to get you to consider his suggestion. He wants you to completely forget about your boyfriend in the long-term. “I promise, I’m a better man. I’ll be the best husband to you, and the best father to Megumi and Asumi.”

“I don’t know, Toji. I just feel like you should’ve been that man while we were together. We dated for two years, and were married for five.” You remind him, feeling your heart swell as you recall your past. It’s not like earlier when you were angry, you’re mourning a relationship that you poured so much sweat and tears on. “It’s not like we were teenagers who couldn’t handle a pregnancy. And it was fine if you couldn’t stay with me then, but it hurt to see you come around with other women while I was adapting to everything.”

“I was trying to get back at you–” He tries to explain himself, but you can’t listen to it. You know. And you always made the mistake of sleeping with him to comfort yourself that he was only emotionally attached to you. You should’ve stood your ground then, but it’s too late now.

“For what? For being pregnant? For not ending the pregnancy?” You quickly cut him off. “As if you had no part, as if I had trapped you.”

“I’m sorry.” He tells you, and you sigh, standing up from the bed. Reality quickly settles in, and it serves as a reminder that you need to run to the pharmacy.

“Yeah.” You respond. “I’m sorry but I can’t. You’re great to our daughter, but I don’t want to test my luck with you.”

“I promise–” He continues, but before he can continue, you shush him. You hear a weird sound from outside the bedroom, and you begin to freak out– If it was an intruder you could send Toji out. He can fight booty naked and still win, but it’s not that.

“Babe, did Toji leave?!” You hear, and your eyes go wide. While Toji fights back a smirk.

You run to lock the bedroom door and you quickly point to the closet.

“Get in the closet!” You half yell, half whisper. But you know him. Toji listens to no one but himself.

“Let me greet him.” Toji stands up, but you’re in the way of the door. He won’t push you out of the way, he’s a gentleman. Which is what leads him to yell very loud and clear, “Hey, Jin! We had a nice chat!”

In the end, Toji holds the last laugh.

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luvashli · 3 months ago

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MORE THEN FRIENDS

Synopsis -> Heeseung has always been your best friend—but lately, the lingering touches and stolen glances feel different. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to realize he’s meant to be more.

Pairing -> best!friend!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, best friends to lovers, suggestive

Status -> complete

Wc -> 3.4k

Note -> requestet by this ask :) hope you enjoy

The first time you met Heeseung, he was the quiet new kid in your fourth-grade class, staring down at his desk while nervously tapping his pencil. You had been assigned as his seat partner, and while the rest of the class chattered around him, he stayed silent.

Ever the curious one, you nudged his arm with your elbow. “Wanna trade snacks?” you asked, holding up your peanut butter sandwich.

Heeseung hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for the first time. Then, without a word, he slid his pack of strawberry Pocky across the desk. You grinned, breaking your sandwich in half and handing it to him.

And just like that, you were inseparable.

___

Middle school was a blur of shared lunch trays, inside jokes, and whispered secrets. Heeseung wasn’t as shy anymore—not with you, at least. He still liked to keep to himself, but you were the exception to that rule.

You balanced each other out. Where you were loud and impulsive, he was calm and thoughtful. Where you rushed headfirst into things, he held back and thought things through.

When the other kids teased you for being “too much,” Heeseung was always there, rolling his eyes and telling you they were just jealous. And when Heeseung got called a nerd for acing every math test, you sat beside him at lunch and loudly declared that smart people were hot anyway.

Back then, everything was simple. Heeseung was your best friend, and you were his. No questions asked. No complicated feelings.

But then came high school. And suddenly, things weren’t so simple anymore.

___

Heeseung had always thought you were pretty. Even back in middle school, when you still had braces and a habit of tripping over your own feet, he knew there was something about you that pulled people in—pulled him in. But he never really understood what that feeling meant until sophomore year.

It happened at a school dance, of all places. You had dragged him there, even though he insisted he hated school events. You’d rolled your eyes and called him a grandpa, saying, “Come on, Hee, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, apparently, was watching you slow dance with someone else.

He hadn’t realized he was gripping his soda can so tightly until Jake nudged him. “Dude, you look like you wanna kill someone.”

Heeseung forced a laugh. “What? No. I just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on you—on the way you laughed at something your dance partner said, on the way they spun you around like you were weightless. And that’s when it hit him.

He was in love with you.

It was a terrifying realization, one that made his stomach twist into knots. Because the moment he understood his feelings, he also understood something else—you didn’t feel the same way.

After that night, Heeseung tried to ignore his feelings. He told himself it was just a phase, just a stupid crush that would go away if he stopped thinking about it.

He dated other girls. Not many, but enough to convince himself he was over you. But it never worked, because every time something good happened, you were the first person he wanted to tell. And every time something bad happened, you were the only person who could make it better.

So, he buried his feelings. He smiled when you talked about your latest crushes, pretended it didn’t sting when you called him your platonic soulmate, and kept being the best friend you needed him to be.

Because loving you was easy. It was having you that was impossible.

___

Now, standing on the edge of adulthood, you still saw Heeseung as your constant, your safe place. But Heeseung? He had spent years pretending not to love you.

And he was starting to wonder how much longer he could keep up the act.

If someone had told Heeseung years ago that he’d still be hopelessly in love with you, he would’ve laughed it off. He had convinced himself—or at least tried to—that his feelings would fade with time. That someday, he’d wake up and you’d just be his best friend again, nothing more.

But here he was, sitting across from you in your favorite café, watching as you stirred sugar into your coffee with that same absentminded concentration you always had, and he knew—he had never stopped loving you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Heeseung wanted to tell you the truth—that you had his whole heart on your face, that he couldn’t look at you without wanting to memorize every little detail. But instead, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you have ‘annoying’ written all over it.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Is this how you treat your best friend? Unbelievable.”

There it was. That word. Best friend.

Heeseung swallowed down the bitter taste that always followed when you said that. He knew it wasn’t your fault—you had no idea how he felt. How could you? He had spent years making sure you didn’t.

But lately, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to keep smiling when you told him about your latest date, harder to act normal when you rested your head on his shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. Because to you, it was casual. But to Heeseung, every touch, every laugh, every moment with you felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

“Hello? Earth to Heeseung?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized you were waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” He blinked.

“I was saying, do you wanna come over tonight? Movie night, just like old times.” You smiled, eyes bright with excitement.

It was an innocent offer. Just another normal night in your friendship. But to Heeseung, it was another reminder of how much he wanted but could never have.

Still, he nodded, forcing a grin. “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because no matter how much it hurt, being close to you—even as just a friend—was better than not having you at all.

___

Movie nights with Heeseung were nothing new. They had been a tradition since high school—just the two of you, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and an unspoken rule that you had to rewatch at least one childhood favorite before the night was over.

But tonight felt… different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way Heeseung seemed quieter than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way your heart kept skipping beats whenever his knee brushed against yours on the couch.

You shook the thought away, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It’s just Heeseung. Your best friend. Stop being weird.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, flipping through the streaming options.

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “You pick.”

“You always say that.”

“And yet, you always pick something terrible.” He smirked, reaching over to steal some of your popcorn.

You gasped, smacking his hand away. “Excuse you! I have excellent taste.”

He snorted. “Sure, if excellent taste means forcing me to sit through three-hour-long romance movies where nothing happens except people staring at each other.”

“You like those movies, don’t lie.”

“I like suffering through them for you—big difference,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread just a little. Heeseung always did that—acted like he was just tolerating the things you loved, when in reality, he indulged you more than anyone ever had.

You ended up picking a random movie, something lighthearted, but halfway through, you barely paid attention. Your focus kept drifting to Heeseung—his stupidly perfect side profile, the way his lips parted slightly when he was concentrating, the little crease in his brow when something in the movie confused him.

It wasn’t like you had never noticed before. You had eyes, after all. But tonight, it was like your brain refused to brush it off as nothing.

You shifted slightly, only to realize just how close the two of you were sitting. At some point, Heeseung had draped his arm across the back of the couch, and without thinking, you had leaned into his side. It wasn’t unusual. You’d done this a hundred times before.

So why did it feel like your whole body was hyper-aware of him?

A scene in the movie made you laugh, and without thinking, you turned to share the moment with him—only to find him already looking at you.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away.

For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the muffled dialogue from the movie, but everything else faded into the background. His gaze flickered down—to your lips, just for a split second—before returning to your eyes.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew what had been different about tonight. You knew why your heart was racing, why his touches felt electric, why the way he looked at you sent heat rushing through your veins.

Because for the first time, you were seeing Heeseung in a way you had never let yourself before.

And maybe—just maybe—you were falling for your best friend.

Your heart pounded as you stared at Heeseung, the glow of the TV flickering against his face. He wasn’t looking away.

He always looked at you—watching, waiting, as if he had something to say but never quite found the words. But tonight, for the first time, you weren’t oblivious to it. You weren’t brushing off the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for you but held himself back.

And maybe, for the first time, you didn’t want him to hold back.

You swallowed, trying to play it off. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Heeseung’s jaw clenched slightly, and his voice came out lower than usual. "You’re the one staring first."

You weren’t. Or maybe you were. It didn’t matter.

The tension between you felt thick, heavy, like a rubber band stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

And then it did.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Heeseung’s lips were on yours, crashing into you like he had been waiting for this moment forever. Maybe he had. Maybe you had, too, without realizing it.

A small gasp left your lips, but Heeseung didn’t hesitate—his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him like you had been made to fit there.

The movie long forgotten, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing between kisses, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back as Heeseung deepened the kiss. His hands roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you onto his lap.

You should’ve felt nervous. This was Heeseung, your best friend. The one who had always been by your side, the one you told everything to. But right now, nothing about this felt wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

His lips trailed down, grazing the corner of your jaw, your neck—hot and unhurried, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you.

"Hee," you breathed, hands tangling in his hair.

His grip on you tightened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your skin.

The confession made your stomach flip. Because if he had wanted this for a long time… why did it take you so long to see it?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, filled with something raw, something unspoken.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Because I was scared you’d never look at me the way I look at you."

Your heart clenched. How had you been so blind?

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. "I’m looking at you now."

And then, you kissed him again—slow, deep, like you were making up for all the lost time.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was years of unsaid words, years of stolen glances, years of Heeseung loving you in silence.

And finally, finally, you were listening.

Heeseung’s lips moved against yours like he had been waiting forever—slow at first, savoring every second, but growing more desperate with each passing moment. His fingers dug into your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away, but there was no chance of that happening. Not anymore.

You were completely, hopelessly lost in him.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and Heeseung let out a quiet groan against your lips. The sound sent heat rushing through you, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

He pulled you even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space left between you. His hands roamed, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

When he kissed you again, it was different—deeper, rougher, like he had finally let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

And you wanted more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, your fingers tracing down his jaw, his neck, the sharp lines of his collarbone. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around you.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost pleading.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard him sound like that before.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" you teased softly, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. "You’re actually going to kill me."

You grinned, feeling a rush of confidence. "Oh? Am I?"

His hands squeezed your hips, grounding himself. "You have no idea."

The air between you was thick, charged with something neither of you had dared to acknowledge before tonight. But now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

You stared at him—his swollen lips, the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Heeseung had always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, he looked absolutely wrecked.

Because of you.

Something about that realization made your heart pound even harder.

Slowly, you traced your fingers over his jaw, your touch featherlight. "Then maybe you should do something about it," you murmured.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened.

And in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a smirk that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured, his voice lower now, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. "Show me."

Heeseung groaned softly before capturing your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss.

And this time, neither of you held back.

___

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth.

You were tangled in Heeseung—his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair, his steady breathing fanning across your skin. The soft glow of early morning filtered through your curtains, casting everything in golden light.

And then it hit you.

Last night. The kisses, the way he touched you like he had been waiting forever, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Your heart clenched.

What happens now?

You shifted slightly, and Heeseung groaned in protest, tightening his hold on you.

“Mm, don’t move,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at how soft he sounded. “Heeseung, we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” He buried his face deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Five more minutes.”

You hesitated, staring at the ceiling. What were you supposed to say? Did last night change everything? Were you still just… friends? Did he regret it?

Heeseung must’ve felt the tension in your body because he finally lifted his head, his eyes barely open, but still filled with something softer when they met yours.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I just… what does this mean?”

Heeseung blinked at you sleepily before a small smirk played at his lips. “You want me to confess again, don’t you?”

Your face heated. “That’s not—”

He cut you off by leaning in, brushing a slow, lazy kiss against your lips. It was barely a kiss at all, just a soft press of his mouth against yours, but it made your whole body melt.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

Your breath hitched.

It was one thing to realize your feelings, to feel them creeping up on you like a slow-burning flame. But hearing him say it—knowing that he had felt this way for so long—made your chest ache.

“I…” You hesitated, but only for a second. Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

You cupped his face, running your thumb along his cheek. “I love you too, Hee.”

Heeseung let out a small, relieved laugh before kissing you again—slow and sweet, like he was savoring every second.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just you and him, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Heeseung kissed you again, slow and deliberate, as if making sure you weren’t just a dream. His hands rested gently on your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin, grounding himself in the moment.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Waking up late?”

“No.” He pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Waking up with you.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his eyes held nothing but warmth.

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was—you liked this side of him. The Heeseung who was completely unfiltered, who didn’t hold back anymore. And maybe, deep down, you always had.

A comfortable silence settled between you as Heeseung shifted, pulling you impossibly closer until your head was resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the warmth of his skin against yours made you wish you could stay here forever.

But reality was waiting.

Eventually, you sighed. “We really should get up.”

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, grinning when you shot him a glare.

You tried to move, but he tightened his arms around you, effortlessly keeping you trapped against him. “Nope,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”

You huffed, but your resolve was crumbling. He was too warm. Too comfortable. And if you were being honest… you didn’t really want to move either.

“Fine,” you relented, nuzzling closer. “But only for five more minutes.”

Heeseung chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. “You say that now.”

And, of course, five minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

And before you knew it, the two of you were still tangled together, lost in quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft, lingering touches.

Because for the first time, there was no rush. No reason to pretend.

For the first time, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

You were his. And he was yours.

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niwaart · 3 months ago

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See what I can do.

Spoiled idiot Bruce Wayne decided to adopt another child and Jason had only been dead for a few weeks... And what did Y/N do? She burned every Robin suit in the cave except Jason's old one, to remind spoiled idiot Bruce of his mistake.. The new kid only came out as Robin twice.

Y/N stands in the park throwing all of Robin's new outfits into the fire she started. Needless to say, Bruce comes running from work to stop her. Alfred has failed and is getting tired of trying to stop Y/N. No matter how hard they try to stop her from getting in, no matter how hard they try to protect the new suits by locking the doors, putting up new codes, and putting the suits in unbreakable glass, it doesn't stop Y/N.

“Stop!!” Bruce grabbed Y/N’s wrist “That’s enough you crazy girl! You’ve crossed the line!!” Y/N smiled at Bruce’s words, angering him was her goal, and she succeeded. Richard stood silently behind Bruce… Oh yeah, Richard came home after hearing the news of Jason’s death, and decided to train the new kid to be Robin, but first they had to stop Y/N.

"Oh please tell me what are you going to do now? Are you going to hit me? Kick me out of the house? Punish me by not going out? Give me what you have, because I won't stop until you cry more pain and regret than you did over Jason, he died because of you so you have to take responsibility for your actions... so act like an adult and take what comes your way..." Y/N pushed Bruce's hand off her wrist then patted his shoulder and walked back inside the mansion, on her way back she saw the new kid hiding behind one of the walls looking at her angrily with tears of frustration filling his eyes. Y/N simply gave him a wicked smile and continued on her way without any regrets.

The next day, Bruce was standing in front of her room door telling her that he had booked her an appointment with a psychiatrist. Y/N pushed Bruce out of the way and ignored him and went to make breakfast. But Bruce stopped her by grabbing her shoulder. Y/N was about to turn around to break his arm if she hadn't felt a needle prick her neck and everything went blurry and she lost consciousness. This was Bruce's plan with everyone... Richard, Alfred, and the new kid, they all planned this...

As Y/N tried to move and wake up, her headache was severe and the room was spinning in circles. When she tried to move her hand, she found that she was tied to a chair, her hands and feet bound. She tried to speak, but her tongue was still heavy... "I see you're awake, very good. Do you need some time to get your bearings or should we start right away?" Y/N lifted her head up, the voice was familiar... Who else but that doctor who claims to know how to treat mental patients... Leslie the devil... digs lies into people's minds so that they believe her... Pretending to be a victim... But she is a devil in human form. Jason went to her several times, and every time he came back from the sessions, he came back a different person... Someone who wasn't Jason, a stranger, so she forbade Jason from going to her...

Y/N bit her tongue to speak. “I see that spoiled brat had no other solution than to send me to the devil… right?” Leslie’s eyes narrowed at Y/N’s words. “It’s not appropriate to talk about your father that way. Bruce brought you here for your own good, you have anger issues.” Leslie said as she scribbled notes in her notebook. Y/N was silent for a moment before she smiled and said, “Well… show me how you can change for the better… just to let you know before we start that me being here now is going to cause a lot of problems so I hope you enjoy it with me.” Y/N laughed as she relaxed into chair, she couldn’t wait to see Leslie Thompkins fail at her job.

And so three days passed while Leslie kept asking Y/N questions and Y/N answered them with complete honesty. This surprised Leslie. “You answer the questions with such confidence. I thought you would be stubborn and not answer…Are you planning something?” It was already the fourth day, and Y/N had been in a good mood since she arrived until now. Y/N laughed at Leslie’s words and said, “I thought you would never ask, and since today is the fourth day I will answer you. Actually, Bruce’s plan to bring me here… I knew about it before he drugged me.” Leslie was surprised by Y/N’s words but she did not believe her. “No way-..” Y/N interrupted Leslie and said, “Everything that’s happening now is part of the plan I made. Of course that spoiled brat put up security cameras all over the house, so I took advantage of that to monitor them… I had all the security cameras at my disposal from the beginning, so I knew what you and Bruce planned to do to stop me… Aren’t I a good actress? Maybe I should get an award… What do you think?” Y/N smiled mischievously at Leslie who was terrified. Leslie picked up her phone to call Bruce and confirm the matter, but Bruce wasn’t answering the calls or even the messages. She tried calling Richard, Alfred and even the new guy, but no one was answering. Leslie turned to Y/N in fear and found that Y/N had been freed from the handcuffs. “Leslie Thompkins..It's your end now.”

@crazycaoticsimp @randomlyappearingartist @ninihrtss @lovebug-apple @artistwithcreativeburnout @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @hopingtoclearmedschool @eyeless-kun @s4raahi @roseytheteacup @jsprien213 @uu-uuu

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multific · 1 year ago

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Constellation

Wolf Yautja x Reader

Summary: You loved living alone in your cottage. You moved out to be alone for a reason, you hated people, and you wanted to be left alone. And you were alone until a certain pair of eyes started following you.

You saw the news on the TV.

Aliens.

And yet you ignored it.

You tried to live the life you wanted for so long as best as you could.

For as long as you could.

You still took care of your land, fed your animals and did your daily chores as usual.

You did see a couple of ships pass over your home but nothing more.

You have never seen an alien. Only on TV.

It appeared that they were fighting.

Then the government decided to nuke the city to kill both aliens.

It looked like it was the end of it all.

But little did you know, for you, it was only the beginning.

You had a feeling that you were being watched.

The feeling not quite leaving you alone. You tried to look. You walked around your land, in the woods, nothing, no one.

Could it be that you were becoming more and more paranoid? Could it be because of isolation?

You were imagining things.

Until one evening, when you heard noises inside your house.

Loud distinctive noises of someone walking around.

Fear struck you.

You couldn't move out of bed. You just laid there, blankets up to your chin as you were shaking. Your heart beat out of your chest as the door to your room opened.

The person was huge, way too tall for a human, they had to dodge under the door to move in.

Then, came a clicking sound.

This is when you realized, this was no human.

There was a God damn alien in your home!

You knew you couldn't do anything. This thing could tear you apart in a matter of seconds.

You pretended to be asleep, hoping it would leave.

It watched you for a minute or two, which for you felt like an eternity before it left.

After the alien creature left, you rushed to see how it got in.

All doors and windows were locked from the inside. But you surely heard its footsteps moving into the woods next to your home.

You were utterly confused.

How did it get in?!

Why did it get in? What did it want?

It didn't take anything, it didn't hurt you, so what could it want?!

For the upcoming days, you didn't sleep.

The thing came every night, sometimes late in the night sometimes earlier. It just stood there and did nothing.

By the third time you were considering asking it what did it want. Or staying awake to see how it would react.

But you were too afraid.

Then two weeks later, as you were leaving your home, the skull of a deer with antlers was on your porch. It was placed there delicately, facing the door so you wouldn't miss it.

You were sure it was the alien.

Was this its sign to show you that it could kill you? You already knew that.

You took the skull and left it on your porch. You thought if you ignored it long enough, it would get tired and just leave you alone.

But it didn't.

The next day, another animal skull was placed on your steps. Looked to be a cat or a dog.

Then, something like a fox and finally, a wolf skull.

You began to have quite a collection. But you didn't understand. Was this thing trying to intimidate you?

It was working.

You just refused to leave because you spent your life building this place into a home.

But, was your life worth staying?

It showed that it could easily kill you.

But then why was it hiding?

Why did it already kill you and take what it wanted?

What did it want?

--- 2 months ago ---

Yautja prided themselves if they died during a fight.

It was the most honourable death they could ever ask for.

He fought many xenomorphs. One even left its scar on him.

And yet, now as he was fighting, he survived.

He got back on his ship and left, but his ship got damaged and it broke down in the woods.

Wolf had to fix his ship so he could go back to Yautja Prime.

On his way to find some materials he could use he stumbled upon a farm, he knew some humans lived out in the wild in their houses, away from other humans.

He hid behind a tree and observed, trying to figure out if this human opposed any danger to him.

The first time he saw you was when you took care of your crops.

He concluded that you were nothing but a harmless little human.

And yet, for the next two weeks, he found himself watching you. He sat up on the tree and watched you all day and fixed his ship all night.

He walked around your crops, looking at everything.

To him, it was clear that you were a provider. Much like the females on his planet, you took care of food while the males hunted.

But you had no male. Which was quite interesting to him.

How come no male humans wanted you as their mate?

One night, he got brave and decided to go inside the house while you slept.

He checked your home and found nothing of interest besides you.

He watched as you slept.

He stood there for hours, watching you.

You were so different from him, yet so similar.

You preferred to be alone, much like him.

You didn't have a mate, much like him.

He liked you. Which was extremely rare for him. During his life, he never looked for anyone like he did for you.

And so, he made his decision.

He will court you, win you and bring you back to his planet.

It was a simple plan for him.

And so, the first skull was placed on your doorstep.

You yawned as you got out of the bath, heading to the kitchen for some water before heading to bed, you stopped in your tracks.

It was here.

It was standing right in front of you. It was huge and grey and green and tall and... and you nearly fainted.

You knew you couldn't fight this thing.

You had no chance against it.

It raised its hands and pulled its helmet off, revealing its face.

This alien looked a lot like the one you saw on the TV once.

The one that fought the other.

You noted the scar on its face as it made a clicking sound. It started to walk towards you, you backed up into the fridge.

It raised its hand and placed a palm against your cheek. You looked into its eyes for the first time.

And somehow, you felt calm.

It made you calm down.

He made you calm down.

"What do you want?" you asked, hoping he would understand.

But he just made the same clicking sound as he did before.

"Why did you leave the skulls?" you asked and he moved his hand to the armour on his wrist and pushed a couple of buttons.

"Gi-fts." said a very broken robotic voice.

"Why did you leave me gifts?" you watched as he pushed more buttons.

"Gifts for Mate."

"Mate?" you asked and he nodded. Realization hit you and you realized, he was leaving you gifts so that he could court you. This must be an alien custom. "What are you?"

"Yautja."

"What's your name?"

"Wolf." the machine seemingly translated his name, but it was okay. "Your name?"

"My name is Y/N."

He nodded again.

"I want to take you to my planet. So we can marry." your eyes widened.

"Marry?"

"Strong female," he pointed at you, "Strong male." you would have assumed that he would have some issue having to marry you, wouldn't they only marry their own?

"Give me time. Two months. T-Then I will go with you." what were you saying? Why did you say that?! You didn't want to go! But you had no other options! This... Wolf clearly would get what he wants.

Maybe... those two months will be enough for you to get used to the thought.

Maybe those two months will be enough for you to grow some form of attachment.

Maybe... hopefully.

For the next two months, he stayed with you in the house.

The first week there was a lot of rain and storm so you were inside.

Most of the time you just kept looking at him or watched TV. He didn't speak, but he did notice the skulls you put up above your fireplace.

It filled him with pride, it meant you liked his presents.

That you accepted his courting.

For the upcoming days you cooked for both of you, since you weren't exactly sure what food he liked, you tried steak with potatoes. You can't go wrong with that.

And you didn't. He enjoyed it very much. Then the next day, he brought you cut meat, from where you were afraid to ask.

But you did cook everything that he brought to your home.

And he ate it all.

He still watched as you slept.

But instead of panicking, you found yourself enjoying having him there. He made you feel safe and you found that you wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him in the room.

You woke up each and every morning more and more comfortable in his presence, which did make you worry.

Turned out, you didn't hate company, you hated human company.

Wolf being the big alien that he was tried his best to be careful around you. He followed you everywhere, he watched you and learned.

He learned a lot about you from just watching you in the woods, but now, now he knew even more.

He saw the way you worked, how gentle and delicate you could be. But he also watched you chop up wood, showing that you can be strong when need be.

He liked it.

He was proud to pick such an amazing Mate.

It was the last day, two months had gone by and his ship was ready, he was ready.

He entered your house and found you in the kitchen, you looked out your window as if trying to memorize everything. But when you realized that he was behind you, you turned and smiled at him. A gesture he wished he could give back.

"I'm almost ready." you said with a heavy heart, but you were also ready to leave and be with Wolf, see where that path would take you.

And you felt ready for the adventure, it scared you but you felt ready.

You just wanted to remember this place.

You looked back out the window when he came up behind you, standing behind you, you felt his huge body but you didn't feel scared.

It felt good.

He felt safe.

He was a good two heads taller than you.

You didn't say a word as you turned around and looked at him. You really looked at his scar and his eye. You knew he still could see with it, but his vision wasn't the best on that one.

You could also assume that one of his... mandibles was missing. It's place is still present.

You wished you could ask, you wished he could tell you. He lowered himself, allowing you to reach his face as you reached up and ran your fingers down his scars.

You wished you were there to help him, you could have eased his pain.

And, just like that, you were ready.

--- 3 years later ---

Yautja Prime was very different from Earth.

Yautja were very different from humans.

You learned that Wolf was quite the loner. His name fit him very well.

He preferred to be alone in his home, working on his ship or head on a mission for a hunt.

He liked being with you.

You two were very similar.

You didn't enjoy the company of others, but you enjoyed having the others around.

On your wedding night, Wolf told you how Yautja found their mates.

He also told you about true mates. Which is what you would call soulmates.

He explained how he felt as if you two were true mates and you didn't agree at the time, but now you did.

Spending your last three years with him, you can confidently say that you are in love with him.

You only feel complete when he is there.

And from what he told you, he felt the same. You wore the necklace he gifted you with pride.

And you waited for him every day when he was away on a hunt. He always came back victorious with many gifts.

He proved his worth to you as a male and a Mate.

And so, you never once regretted coming with him. Even if you were nervous in the beginning.

He made sure you had a warm bed, filled with furs.

Every night he came to the bed, he held you close to him, keeping your smaller body close and safe.

You slept with the confidence of having him there. Knowing he would protect you if anything was to happen.

Not like anything ever did.

You found yourself not missing your old life.

The view you spent so much time trying to memorize, long forgotten.

All because of him.

You woke up every morning in his arms.

His body wasn't warm nor was it cold. But the feeling of his skin under your fingers always lets you know that he was there.

And you couldn't ask for more.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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softaestluv · 3 months ago

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Guard Dogs

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

Tags: Fluff, Angst, & Eventual smut

Summary: You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Tupperware becomes Simon’s weak excuse to see you in the evening. Carries it across the street once he sees you return home from work that next day. Maybe he should’ve waited another day to return it; he just saw you the night before. Keep it for later in the week when the weight of the food in his stomach didn’t remind him of your warmth anymore.

Though, Simon couldn’t find the lieutenant in himself to be patient. Especially when he sees you all dolled up once again, hair pulled back to show your pretty shoulders and neck. Races over before you even have the chance to think about changing or showering. Was it such a crime to want to see you in it up close?

You open the door like you had expected him to be standing there, but maybe you were. Gave him tupperware knowing he would have to come return it, have an excuse of your own to see him again. Asked him so sweetly if he wanted to come in.

So, he does. Can’t refuse you, not when you entice him with pot roast you’ve been letting set all day. He ate your leftovers for lunch, looked forward to it, but he still didn’t seem to have his fill. Jumps at the opportunity to taste more of your cooking.

He’s not exactly sure what happened in his life that graced him with the luck to eat dinner with you two days in row. If he squints hard enough, blurs the events of today in his mind he can pretend like he came home to you, his pretty bird. Pot roast and a soft smile instead of his dark and dull home. Has half the mind to feel bad for Riley, knows he would much rather be in your company also.

He feels guilty watching you plate his food for him, offers to do it himself. He doesn’t want you to feel like you need to do that, but you insist. Tell him you want to do it for him. Can’t remember the last time someone tried to take care of him, even down to something so minuscule as sharing dinner with him.

He listens to you tell him about your day, tries his best to listen to every word. But its almost impossible to spread his attention between the tender meat that dissolves on his tongue and the way your lips glisten from the gravy. It’s rude to stare, especially when someone’s eating; he knows this. All he could do was hope you didn’t notice his intense stare, the way his pants tighten in agony everytime you smile.

It makes the night go by faster; wishes he could cling to every second, slow it down somehow so he doesn’t have to return to his cold bed so soon. But it does anyways. Finds himself walking out just as fast as he walked in. Except this time he has a new container in his hand for lunch tomorrow because you swore you made more than intended.

He eats the leftovers the next day, spends his lunch thinking about you. Spends the entire day thinking about you— like he always does. Has your food to supplement the warmth you provide. Wants to return it that evening, would it be too desperate to show up another night?

So, he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to be too overbearing, suffocate you with his presence if you don’t want him around. If you don’t want another person to feed like a stray dog. Him and Riley the stray dogs you took into your home.

Plans to return it that weekend, shamefully hopes he could recreate last Sunday with you. But the stupid plastic is forgotten on the counter when he looks out the window and sees you on your hands and knees, plucking the weeds from your yard. His feet move on their own accord, rushing to your side before he even realizes.

“What are you doin’?” He asks, voice gruff like he was disgruntled.

You look up from your spot surprised, “Jesus, Simon, you terrified me. I’m pulling my weeds?”

“Why?” It’s a grunt. A dissatisfied one. But he never said he was one for words.

Your brows furrow, placing your hand above your eyebrows to look up at him better through the sun, “So they don’t kill my plants?”

“No, why are you doing it?” He clarifies, emphasizing his words, “Don’t worry I’ll do it.”

He reaches his hand out for you to take, meaty paws engulfing your slender ones as you accept it. Rough and calloused opposes your soft and smooth palms. Standing to your feet across from him.

“Gonna hurt your pretty hands,” He murmurs, “Should’ve asked me.”

You duck your head at his words, trying your best to hide the way your cheeks warm, “It’s fine. Couldn’t ask you to do something like that.”

Just how you insisted he takes leftovers, he doesn’t take your protests as an answer. Ushers you back inside to relax, bake, take a nap, something other than sitting in the sun, ruining your pretty skin. Besides, that’s what you have him for. So, he spends the rest of his day neglecting his own chores, so he can take care of yours. Not without negotiations from you to take breaks, feed him treats and tea when you deem it long enough since he’s sat down.

And because you’re an angel on Earth, you cook dinner when he’s done. Tell him you cooked dinner for ‘us’. Tries not to read into it too much, but his chest squeezes when you refer to you and him as a pair. He attempts to protest, only because he’s covered in sweat and dirt from working all day. Probably smells, knows he does, but you don’t let him get too far.

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle, “You’re like that for me. I don’t mind. I want to have dinner with you.”

His mouth dries.

“Unless I’m keeping you from someone.”

Simon is shaking his head as soon as the words leave your mouth. Would squish them from arising in your thoughts if he could. Someone else? He almost laughs. Just a cold bed waiting for him.

“Just Riley,” He jokes.

You smile at him, “Then stay. And bring him next time.”

Served him a plate of steaming lasagna, wishes he could take you in his arms right then and there. Sweat and all.

But he doesn’t.

Digs his palms into his thighs to stop himself. Buries himself in the lasagna to shove the urges away, pretend for a second that he hasn’t been craving you more than anything you’ve placed on his plate.

“Do you want some wine?”

He’s not much of a wine drinker, prefers the burn of whiskey. Helps him blame the bitter taste in his throat on the alcohol instead of the ugly images his memories conjure. But the taste isn’t as bad when he’s with you; when you wash away pain and blood with your presence. Replace it with your food and warmth instead.

He doesn’t feel the need for something so strong around you, so he agrees. Probably stays longer than he should, sweat dried tacky on his skin, but it’s hard to walk away when the two of you move to your couch. When you sit closer to him than before. When he can feel the warmth radiating from your body. When he looks down at you and your cheeks are decorated in a pretty pink from the wine.

“I don’t drink often,” You confess.

Simon chuckles, “I can tell.”

Your cheeks burn for a different reason now, “Am I being dumb?”

His brows furrow, you’re the smartest person he knows, “What? No. I would never say that.”

“Do you drink often?” You ask.

He doesn’t want you to think bad of him, doesn’t want you to know that he craves a glass every night when he’s trying to sleep and all he can think about is his past. Doesn’t want you to know that he doesn’t feel that way when he’s with you.

“When I have a bad day.” — Just doesn’t tell you that’s most days.

You laugh, “Me too.”

He wants to ask what makes your days bad, what can he do to make sure you don’t have days like that. Ask if he makes your days better the way you do his.

You never asked about his family before even between the countless questions you asked about his life. Maybe it’s the wine in your blood system, but tonight you do. Has his heart racing in his chest because what will you think of him if he tells the truth?

He gulps before he says it, knows you can hear it, “Just me and Riley.”

He doesn’t want you to sympathize for him, doesn’t want you to treat him like a weak dog who needs your saving. Doesn’t look at you when he says it, doesn’t want to associate the empathetic stare in your eyes with you. But it never comes.

“Just me, too,” You mumble, and if he hadn’t been so close he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

He hates the way it makes him want to protect you even more. Gives him the exact feeling he was hoping you wouldn’t give him, but he does. Can’t help it when you’ve been so sweet, perfect, angelic to him. Such a kind soul even though you share similar loneliness, contrasts the evil deeds he’s done.

When he leaves, you halt him at the door. A new container presented to him despite the lack of his last return of the plastic. Lasagna filled to the brim, a muffin for breakfast you explain, and cookies for dessert. Tell him you will have more than enough dinner for him if he wants to stop by tomorrow. Doesn’t even have to stay, come and take your fill and leave if you want.

So, he returns the next day like an eager puppy when he sees you arrive home, two Tupperware containers in hand. Doesn’t even feel the need to be embarrassed when you greet him with the same tender excitement at the door.

It becomes a routine he shouldn’t grow used to; a simple cycle of returning plastic and being invited in to share dinner. Except some days there’s no lunch, no dinner, no plastic, but he still stands at your door anyways. Doesn’t need those things to see you anymore.

Most weekends he spends time at your house more than he does his own. Brings Riley with him because you insist. Works on the monstrosity of your backyard that you left to fester into a jungle. And Riley enjoys every second, runs around the yard while Simon works on it. Finds a spot on your couch when you and Simon are sharing dinner.

Thinks it might be developing too far when you buy Riley a bowl of his own for your house. Have your own collection of dog food and treats you learned he likes. Always have two plates on your table, always cook more than enough for one person even if he doesn’t show.

But that’s the thing about his occupation. Taught him not to get too used to a routine, no matter how much he wished for it.

Finds himself at your doorstep one night, no Tupperware in hand, no plans to stay. You open the door in a soft dress, prettiest smile he’s ever seen. You greet him so warmly, tell him to come inside, but he doesn’t accept.

“I have to go.”

You looked at him confused, “What?”

“My work,” He explains because he doesn’t know who else to ask, “Will you be able to dog-sit Riley?”

You nod your head, let Riley run into your home as you stare up at him.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

He watches your fingers tighten around the doorknob.

“Or if I’ll ever come back.”

He can’t even explain the emotion on your face, the feeling numbing his entire body.

“What? Simon, what are you talking about?” Your voice is shaking, fright written all over your face.

“Riley will protect you, don’t worry.”

Leaves you at that. Doesn’t have time to explain, lucky he got the chance to even bring Riley to you. Clings to the happy image of you before he left you. Both of you left to the cold alone.

Glass barrier growing incredibly thicker as he realizes he’ll never have what he wants. Knows where he belongs, on the other side of the stupid glass, but atleast Riley found where he belongs. Found warmth in your home. Even if he wishes it was him too.

tag list: @rockinraccoons @crypticenbug @c1garette-nightmares

*if I added you & you no longer wanted to be tagged for updates just let me know & I’ll take you off!! thank you!!*

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celeryb1tch · 2 years ago

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innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #molly’s abby recs!#molly’s!

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persevereforahappyending · 3 months ago

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A Legacies Regret |5|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Rader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

The entire car ride you couldn’t help but think about what just happened. You didn’t have a problem with Tara punching Gale, you honestly enjoyed that and were even glad it happened in front of an audience and cameras. That had been the first time you had seen Gale in months, and she didn’t even so much as look at you. You couldn’t blame her, you were the one that told her you wanted nothing to do with her, if anything she was doing exactly as you asked.

You weren’t sure how much Tara knew, you didn’t like to talk about it, but Gale did try after the attacks last year. She almost seemed desperate with how much she was trying to be in your life last year. She wasn’t good at it, it was abundantly clear she had no idea what she was doing, not that you knew what you were doing either, the two of you were in uncharted waters, you figured it was best to just pretend nothing ever happened and everything could go back to normal.

One of the times she reached out you mentioned moving to New York. She had offered to get you an apartment, you, Tara, and Sam, which, considering how expensive New York was, was incredibly generous of her but you turned her down. You and Sam were managing the rent just fine on your own, you didn’t want to feel like you owed Gale for anything, not when she had done nothing for you before. You really only told her about moving because you knew she lived there and figured if she knew it would be easier to avoid each other.

The only time you reached out to her was when her book came out. You never saw Tara reading it, but you and Sam certainly did. Sam was painted in a much worse light than you and the book only fueled the online hate Sam was getting. Confronting Gale about the book was also the last time you saw her, at least before just outside the police station. You went off on her and she just took it, the last thing you told her was to stay the fuck out of your life. Gale had just nodded and handed you a present, as if that would make up for anything she’d done, she never even apologized for what she wrote. Still, despite your issues with her you kept the present, it was tucked safely under yours and Tara’s bed, though you keeping it wasn’t for sentimental reasons.

Before you knew it the cab came to a stop, dropping the three of you off in front of Blackmore University. After your conversation the ride had been rather silent, allowing you to get so lost in your mind. You tried to keep your leg as straight as possible; the bodega really did a number on it. When you ran into Ghostface again you hoped you wouldn’t have to be crawling around on the floor again.

Sam’s phone dinged almost instantly with a text from Mindy telling her where they were waiting. Apparently, you, Tara, and Sam were the only ones they were waiting on, everyone else was already there. You tried not to let the dread of going over suspects get to you. Last time, you didn’t even want to go, but you did, and then you got accused of attacking your girlfriend.

Amber had been the one to accuse you, she had been throwing all the accusations and trying to get a reaction out of you. Mindy had joined in though, agreeing with Amber on pretty much every front. Chad didn’t accuse you like Mindy did, but he certainly didn’t defend you, besides Tara, the only person who didn’t seem to think the worst of you was Liv, who was dead now.

You walked the familiar path to the courtyard where you saw the others waiting on a couple of benches. You had been on the campus plenty of times, Tara had actually given you a tour of the entire place after her first week of classes. It was a nice campus, you could see why Tara had been so excited to come, besides the classes of course. You had even eaten at a couple of the restaurants on campus when you met Tara for lunch, there was even a really nice coffee shop you and Tara stopped at one morning when you walked her to class, that had the most delicious muffins you had ever had.

You held in a sigh as you got closer to the group. Quinn, Anika, and Ethan were on one bench while Chad was sitting on another, and Mindy was already standing in front of everyone, ready to deliver what speech she definitely already had planned.

“Finally!” Mindy groaned when she caught sight of the three of you approaching.

Chad hopped up off the bench and decided to lean against the stone wall that was behind the two benches, allowing you, Sam, and Tara to share the now vacant bench. You didn’t realize you were tapping your finger until Tara linked her hand with yours, giving it a tight squeeze. You glanced over at her and smiled, trying to show her just how much comfort her being there brought you, things were already better than last year, even if they all accused you of murder again.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Sam said.

“Love the enthusiasm Sam,” Mindy deadpanned. “It’s not like I’m about to reveal the potential killers or anything!”

Chad raised a hand, holding his pen up high. You raised an eyebrow at that, it seemed he intended to take notes on whatever his sister was about to ramble on about. You honestly admired the commitment, but you weren’t sure when exactly he, or any of you, would have time to go over the notes. It wasn’t like he could run over and reference his notebook in the midst of Ghostface trying to kill all of you.

“You got it wrong last time,” Chad pointed out.

Mindy narrowed her eyes at that. “I’ll admit,” she said, holding up one of her hands as if she were confessing something. “Mistakes were made.” You gave her an unamused look, that was certainly one way to put it. “But I know what to expect this time!”

“And what’s that?” Sam asked, crossing her arms.

“The unexpected!” Mindy held her hands out wide while all of you just looked at her with confusion.

“So,” Tara said slowly, adjusting in her seat slightly so she was leaning a little closer to you. “We need to expect the unexpected?”

“Yes!” Mindy smiled brightly.

“Is this normal for her?” Quinn whispered but it was loud enough for the whole group to hear. Chad nodded, though he seemed ashamed to do so. Quinn let out a hiss and her eyes widened at she leaned back. “No wonder you didn’t figure it out last time.”

“We’re in franchise people!” Mindy ignored Quinn’s comment, forcing everyone’s attention back on herself. “Throw the rules out the window,” she made a throwing motion with her hands. “Everything is unpredictable! It’s bigger! It’s badder! Everyone is on the chopping block this time! Even Sam and Tara!” She pointed at the two sisters.

Your eyes narrowed at Mindy, even if she wasn’t threatening her, you didn’t like the suggestion that someone could hurt Tara. You didn’t care who this Ghostface was or how much training they had, you refused to let Tara get even so much as a scratch this time around.

“That means we’re most certainly dead,” Mindy said, pointed at herself and Chad. Chads mouth fell open, and he looked around as if he expected someone to disagree with her. “But let’s get to what’s important!” Mindy clapped her hands.

“My death isn’t important?” Chad asked.

“Suspects!” Mindy completely ignored her brother. “First! We have-”

“Let me guess,” you interrupted. “Me?” You figured getting it out of the way was better, especially if Mindy ended on accusing some of the others.

“Actually, no!” You raised your eyebrows at that, you wondered if your ears were messed up from all the shooting the previous night. “But only because you’re top of the kill list this time.”

You frowned. “Mindy!” Tara snapped.

“It’s nothing personal,” Mindy waved Tara off. It sure felt personal, you didn’t know how being at the top of the kill list wasn’t personal. “They’re the love interest!” Mindy gestured at you and Tara as if to prove her point. “Box one checked! They’re a child of legacy characters! Box two checked!” You crossed your arms, you remembered from last year how being Dewey and Gales kid put more of a target on your back. “And…” Mindy glanced at you as if she felt bad for what she would say next. “They were the prime suspect last year.” You felt Tara squeeze your hand, it made you instantly unclench your jaw, you hadn’t realized you were doing that. “Kill off the one who was framed and suspected last time.”

“Like Cotton!” Chad added, quickly scribbling something down in his notebook. When Chad looked up, he was met by everyone’s glare. “What? Is that not right?” He flipped through a couple pages of his notebook, as if they would hold the answer.

“No, it’s right,” Mindy admitted. “Cotton was falsely accused for killing Maureen Prescott, then when he was exonerated, he was framed by Mrs. Loomis and Mickey, only to be the opening kill for Roman.”

“Great,” you mumbled. You weren’t sure if being at the top of the kill list was better than being the prime suspect. You certainly didn’t want to die but maybe if Ghostface came after you it would mean keeping Tara safe would be easier.

“But those two guys from class were the opening kill,” Anika said. “Right?” Her brow was scrunched together as she clearly tried to make sense of everything her girlfriend was saying.

“Yes!” Mindy said, pointing proudly at her girlfriend. “But if you ask me, that was more taking out the competition than killing someone the core friend group knows.”

“Can we,” Sam interrupted, shaking her head at the scene before her. “Just get back on topic here.”

“This is all relevant Sam,” Mindy gestured wildly with her hands. “But Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “Our suspects!” She turned on her heel and gave Ethan a devilish smirk.

“Me?” Ethan asked, his voice going up a notch. “Why? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?”

“Roommate lotteries can be juked; you could have fixed it to get next to us.” Mindy didn’t wait for Ethan to respond because she was already turning to face her next suspect. “Quinn, the slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.” You suppressed a sigh, you didn’t think pointing out that this was real life and not a movie would do any good.

“Sex positive,” Quinn corrected but didn’t seem overly offended at being accused like Ethan had.

“How did you come to live with Sam, Tara, and Y/N?” Mindy tilted her head, though it wasn’t like she didn’t already know the answer.

“I answered their ad online,” Quinn shot the three of you a confused look.

“Say no more!” Mindy threw her hands in the air. “You’ve already implicated yourself enough.”

“It was an anonymous ad,” Tara sighed. “Plus, you know we vetted her.”

You nodded; you remember the meetings that were held for potential roommates. Several people responded to the ad and you, Sam, and Tara met with every single one of them. Some lasted longer than others, then there were some that arrived and Sam made leave before they ever stepped foot in the apartment. The handful of people that passed the initial inspection were subjected to a light Q&A, which you said seemed more like an interrogation. You didn’t participate a whole lot in that part, mostly just sitting silently at the table while Tara played nice cop, asking the questions, and Sam would butt in, asking her own questions or follow up questions, but mostly just glaring at said person. Mindy was also there, she was the one who came up with over half the questions for you guys to ask, even if some seemed very weird.

“Plus, her dad is a cop,” Tara added.

“And that makes it more likely that she’s the killer,” Mindy said, pointing at Quinn.

You tilted your head in thought at that. Your eyes slid over to Quinn, you did think it was suspicious Bailey had gotten the case, even if he said his buddy offered it to him. Something also felt off about him during the interrogation. Mindy hadn’t directly said Bailey was a suspect, but he was a cop, he’d know how to use a shotgun and could move like that Ghostface from the bodega. It also moved Quinn higher on the suspect list, her dad could have trained her how to shoot a gun and anything else she would need to know for defending herself, but those skills could also double in making her one effective killer.

“Do you not remember how these movies work Tara?” Mindy shouted, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You glared up at Mindy and pulled Tara closer. You knew this was just the way Mindy was, but Tara had really calmed down on the horror movie front, even though it was once her favorite genre. She still went to school for film she didn’t seem as excited about it as she once did. When she used to talk about going to college for film, it always involved the two of you moving together, but it also involved Amber. Amber was Tara’s best friend and someone who shared Tara’s love of movies, though she was less intense about everything as Mindy, well, at least that’s how she portrayed herself, it turned out she was even crazier than Mindy. After Amber’s betrayal it just seemed like Tara lost her original passion for the subject.

“And finally, Anika,” Mindy said, facing her girlfriend, and final suspect. Anika smiled and blew a kiss to Mindy, who happily blew a kiss in return. “Never trust the love interest.” Anika frowned at that, like she was hurt her own girlfriend didn’t trust her.

You liked Anika, she was the sweetest person you had ever met. You knew you had to have your guard up around her though, as much as you wanted to trust her you knew Ghostface could be anyone. You never liked Amber, but you had never imagined her as someone who was capable of hurting Tara. You glanced at Ethan, he was shy and dorky, someone who clearly struggled making friends. In the moment though, you couldn’t help but be reminded of Richie, he played the sweet supportive boyfriend to Sam, always coming off as incredibly awkward and a total dork, only to end up being a total psychopath.

“Great,” Sam said. “We have our suspects-”

“W-wait,” Ethan interrupted. “What about you guys?”

“I think it’s safe to rule out all of us who went through this last year,” Mindy said.

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Who’s to say the trauma you all went through didn’t cause one or even all of you to snap?”

“Yeah, and why do they,” Ethan said, pointing at you. “Get a free pass? Just because they’re more likely to be a target? Come on,” he scoffed. “Weren’t they your number one suspect last year?” he raised an eyebrow at Mindy. Tara whipped her head around, shooting a furious glare at Ethan. “And that look is rather murderous,” he glanced at Tara out of the side of his eye and even went as far as to shift away from her, even though he was on a completely different bench.

“Accuse her girlfriend and feel Tara’s wrath,” Mindy mumbled. “But that is not the only reason!” she raised her pointer finger up high. You furrowed your brow, you didn’t know there was another reason you couldn’t possibly be the murderer. “They are also not physically capable of such a thing.” You frowned at that, not that you wanted to be excused of murder again. “They received significant injuries last year and quite literally could not move and chase us around like Ghostface needs to.”

“They could have a partner and they’re just the mastermind,” Ethan pointed at you. “Playing the innocent victim.” This time you and Sam glared at Ethan, along with Tara who had yet to stop her own glare.

“That’s true,” Mindy mumbled more to herself, stroking her chin as if she were in deep thought. Tara was quick to shift her murderous glare from Ethan to Mindy. Mindy’s eyes widened, as if she just realized she spoke aloud and slowly raised her hands in surrender.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Sam said, ending the discussion before someone, most likely Ethan, got murdered, most likely by her sister.

Everyone got up and went their separate ways, most of them most likely heading off to class. It was just you, Tara, and Sam once again and Tara didn’t seem interested in heading in the direction of the class you knew started in almost half an hour.

“Let’s go home,” Tara said. She held out her hand and pulled you up from the bench. Going home would give the two of you the perfect opportunity to talk, even though a part of you just wanted to rest and spend time together.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrry-lov3 @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #a legacies regret

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hauntedbyjoel · 6 days ago

Text

Just This Once

pairing: joel miller x f! reader word count - 7.2k content - mdni, 18+, no outbreak, age gap (mid twenties reader, joel is in his 40s), possessive joel, mild angst, oral sex, explicit smut, p in v sex, fingering, creampie summary - When your family drags you on a week-long mountain lodge vacation, the last person you expect to see is Joel Miller—your dad’s best friend, the man you haven’t seen since a moment years ago nearly crossed a line. Now you're stuck under the same roof with him, and the tension is unbearable. You hate each other. You want each other. And it’s only a matter of time before everything explodes in secret touches, filthy nights, and a week that will change everything.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You hadn’t seen Joel Miller in four years. That’s the first thing that hit you when you stepped out of your car and saw him unloading a cooler from the back of your dad’s truck—grayer than you remembered, thicker in the shoulders, still wearing that same beat-up flannel like it was a second skin. The second thing that hit you was how fast the resentment came flooding back.

Your dad’s best friend. The one who used to ruffle your hair when you were a kid and bark at your boyfriends when you were a teenager. The one who used to give you rides home from parties with his jaw clenched and his hand gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from exploding. The one who looked at you differently the night before your college graduation. You didn’t imagine it. You couldn’t have.

Everyone else was outside, drunk on champagne and cheap beer, and you had slipped into the kitchen to get water. Joel had followed a few minutes later. You’d been wearing that little sundress—the one that made you feel older than you were. You turned around and found him already watching you.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. Just looked at you. And then he asked, low and dry, “You always wear things like that around your dad?” You’d smiled. Teased. “Only when I know you’ll be there.” He hadn’t smiled back. Not even close. He just exhaled, said your name like a warning, and left the room.

After that, you didn’t see him again. Not at your party. Not at any of the holidays that followed. If you asked your dad where Joel was, he always brushed it off—working, traveling, things got busy. You knew better. So when your dad invited you to the “family lodge trip” and casually dropped that oh, by the way, Joel’s coming, your gut twisted. You’d almost said no. You should have.

The lodge was up in the mountains—three hours from the nearest real town, with six bedrooms, a wraparound porch, and a hot tub that supposedly worked “if you didn’t touch the wrong switch.” It was your dad’s idea of heaven. It was your idea of hell.

The rest of the family arrived in chaotic waves: aunts, uncles, cousins, screaming toddlers, someone’s new girlfriend named Cassie who didn’t eat gluten. You tried to stay in the background, helping unload bags and pretending not to notice Joel already inside, talking to your dad like nothing had ever happened.

You almost made it through the first hour unnoticed. Almost. He turned around while you were unpacking the beer into the fridge. You didn’t look up. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. But you heard his voice shift. A beat of silence. Then: “Didn’t know you’d be here.” You closed the fridge too hard. “Guess that makes two of us.” Joel didn’t reply. He never did, not when you had that bite in your voice. You didn’t turn around until he was gone.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Joel avoided you the first two days. You weren’t exactly complaining—but you weren’t exactly unaffected, either. It wasn’t subtle. He kept his distance like you were contagious. Always one room away, one beat behind in conversation. If you went into the kitchen, he left. If you started a story, he suddenly remembered something to do outside. Your dad didn’t seem to notice. Nobody did. But you felt it. Because it wasn’t new.

It was just the same rhythm as before—like the two of you had learned how not to orbit each other years ago, and now you were slipping back into that old, silent routine. But it was different now. More bitter. More deliberate. And maybe that’s what made it worse.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The last time you saw Joel Miller, you were twenty-two. You were home from school for a few months, in that weird limbo between graduation and whatever came next. Your dad had thrown a summer party in the backyard—beer, a grill, some acoustic guitar, the whole neighborhood vibe. You hadn’t expected Joel to be there. He hadn’t come to much of anything after that weird little moment at your graduation the year before. You figured that distance was permanent.

But then you came outside in your sundress and saw him sitting at your dad’s patio table, nursing a beer and looking like he hadn’t aged a day. Or maybe he had—he looked tired, but in a good way. Worn in. Rough around the edges. That salt-and-pepper scruff, those eyes that never gave away a damn thing. You didn’t speak at first. You couldn’t.

You spent the whole evening pretending not to watch him. Pretending you weren’t wondering if he remembered. If he still thought about that look he gave you in the kitchen. The almost. The maybe. The fuck, don’t do this that hung between you. But something shifted that night. You were walking back from the bathroom, barefoot on the grass, tipsy from sangria and nostalgia, and Joel was there—just standing on the porch in the shadows, arms crossed, that same unreadable expression on his face. You didn’t stop. You just raised an eyebrow and said, “What?”

He looked at you for a long time. Then: “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because you know me so well.”

“I know what that dress means,” he said. Quiet. Low. “I know what kind of game you’re playing.” You took a step forward. Too bold. You always were with him.

“And what if I’m not playing?”

That silenced him. His jaw worked. His eyes darkened. He looked like he wanted to grab you and shake the words out of your mouth—or kiss you until you took them back. Maybe both. But he didn’t do either. He just muttered your name like it hurt to say, shook his head, and walked off into the night.

After that, nothing. No texts. No holidays. Not even a birthday message. You’d disappeared from his life—or he’d erased you. Either way, you’d gotten the message. You were off-limits. Not just because of your age or who your dad was. But because Joel knew better. He knew himself. Knew the kind of man he was. The things he’d already lost. And he didn’t want your name on that list.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So when your dad said Joel was coming on this trip, something inside you buckled. You didn’t say no. That wasn’t your style. Instead, you packed your best shorts, your skimpiest swimsuits, and a book you weren’t going to read. If he wanted to act like you were a mistake he never made, you were going to make him remember just how close he came.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The first night was fine. Mostly. Everyone was excited, loud, full of wine and bonfire smoke. You stayed in the background, floating from conversation to conversation like nothing was eating you alive. Joel didn’t say a word to you. Didn’t so much as glance in your direction. The second day, you caught him staring from across the cabin porch. Just a flicker of something in his eyes. A memory. A warning. But by day three, the silence broke.

It was over something stupid—a cooler left out on the porch in bear country. You’d forgotten to bring it in after everyone went down to the lake. Joel saw it first and dragged it in, dropping it at your feet with a muttered, “Real smart.” You blinked.

“Excuse me?

“Bears like easy food. You want ‘em crawling up to the cabin?”

“I didn’t realize I was personally responsible for every item on this trip,” you snapped. He narrowed his eyes.

“No, just the ones with your name on them.”

You didn’t say what you wanted to. You didn’t say, You’re still the same arrogant, self-righteous asshole who can’t admit he wanted me. Instead, you smiled sweetly and said, “Glad to know you’re still excellent at blaming everyone but yourself.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The heat between you spoke loud enough.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

That afternoon, you avoided him. Took your book out to the dock, let the sun bake your thighs, dipped your legs into the water, and tried not to replay every word of that argument in your head. It wasn’t even a real fight. But your heart was still pounding. And he’d looked good. Too good. That worn t-shirt clinging to his back, sweat on his collarbone, that low voice still rasping in your chest long after he left the room. You hated that he could still do this to you. You hated that you still let him.

That night, there was a bonfire again. You wore a tank top that clung to your skin and made no apologies. You laughed too loud. Let your cousin’s boyfriend sit too close. Ignored the heat of Joel’s stare from across the flames. Until he stood up without a word and walked inside. You followed five minutes later, breath caught in your throat.

You found him in the kitchen, alone, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand. His eyes didn’t move when you stepped inside.

“You gonna keep acting like this?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a brat.” The word bit. “Like you didn’t do anything wrong.” You crossed your arms. “I was twenty-two. You were thirty-nine. You were the one who disappeared.”

“I had to,” he said. His voice was quiet, hoarse. “You think I wanted to?”

“You think I cared?” you shot back. “You don’t get to act like you’re the one who got hurt.” Joel’s expression darkened. “You have no idea what it cost me not to touch you that night.” The air between you went still. Then your aunt came in looking for wine glasses, and the moment shattered. Joel disappeared again—just like before.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Now, on day five, it’s unbearable. Every look, every brush of your shoulders, every shared room—charged. You’re running out of places to avoid each other. And worse—you’re running out of excuses not to want it. You swear at one point he almost says something during dinner, but then your dad claps him on the back and the spell breaks.

Later, you find a reason to go outside. To breathe. To drink. To slip into the hot tub alone. To stop pretending this isn’t tearing you apart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The cabin was quiet. Too quiet. Everyone had gone to bed, eventually. You could still hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the back room—someone watching an old movie half-asleep—but otherwise, the place had gone still. The kind of quiet you only get in the woods. Thick and soft and unsettling. You couldn’t sleep. Not like this. Not with him still under the same roof. Not with your skin buzzing like it was trying to crawl off your bones. So you slipped outside.

A hoodie thrown over your tank top. Nothing under it. Bikini bottoms still damp from the lake earlier. A bottle of wine grabbed from the counter on your way out—half-full and yours now. No glass.

The hot tub creaked when you stepped in. Lukewarm. The jets barely worked. But it was something. Some kind of escape. You sank down into the water with a hiss and let it cover your thighs, your hips. Steam rose into the air around your face, humid and pine-scented. You sipped straight from the bottle. Tilted your head back. Let the stars blur. The ache in your chest hadn’t gone away. It had just learned to settle low—like a bruise behind your ribs. Dull, bitter, always there. Four years of unresolved tension pressing on your lungs. Four years of trying not to think about him. About the way he said your name. About the way he looked at you like he hated himself for wanting to.

You took another swig. The patio door creaked open behind you. Your pulse jumped. You didn’t move. Boots on the wood. A pause. Then—“Figured I’d find you out here.” Joel’s voice, low and even. But not casual. Never casual with him.

You didn’t turn around. “Want me to leave?” he asked. You took a slow breath. “No.”

Silence. The soft clink of glass—he set a bottle down on the ledge. Whiskey, probably. Of course it was. You heard the scrape of wood as he pulled a chair closer, the creak of him settling into it. Still didn’t look at you.

The stars shimmered overhead like they knew something you didn’t. “You always drink alone?” he asked after a while. You shrugged. “Better than company I don’t like.” He huffed once. Dry.

“You don’t like me.”

“Do you like you?”

That one hung in the air. He didn’t answer. You didn’t press. Another sip. Another minute of silence. It wasn’t peaceful—it was electric. The kind of quiet that buzzed with everything unsaid.

Finally, you asked, “Why’d you come?”

Joel didn’t pretend not to understand. “Your dad invited me.”

“And that’s it?” you asked. You turned your head just enough to see him. “You didn’t think twice?”

He looked tired. The firelight from the screened porch lit the edge of his jaw, the slope of his nose. His expression was unreadable.

“I thought twice,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “And the third time?”

His mouth twitched like it wanted to smile. But it didn’t. “I knew you’d be here,” he admitted. The words landed like a punch in your stomach. You swallowed. Hard.

“So what—” you leaned back against the tub wall, stretched your arms across the edge, “you wanted to torture yourself? Or me?”

Joel’s gaze slid to your collarbone. Your throat. The way your nipples had hardened under your thin top, the fabric clinging wet to your skin. He looked away fast, jaw tight. “I didn’t come here to start anything.”

“Bullshit.”

He met your eyes. This time, he didn’t flinch.

“You wanna talk about starting things?” he said, voice sharp. “You think I didn’t see what you were doing back then?”

“I was twenty-two.”

“You were my best friend’s daughter.”

“Not by choice.” He stood suddenly. Pushed off the chair, walked toward the railing like he couldn’t stand being that close. You watched his shoulders rise and fall, tense. “You think I’m proud of this?” he said. “Of wanting you?”

You stood, slowly. The water sloshed. Your tank top clung to every curve—wet and transparent in the porch light. You didn’t hide. You didn’t flinch. “I don’t want your pride,” you said.

Joel turned. You didn’t know which of you moved first. Maybe it didn’t matter. One second, you were dripping water onto the porch. The next, you were in his arms, mouth on his, kissing him like you’d been waiting your whole life to do it. He groaned into your mouth—low, raw, like it hurt. His hands came up to your waist, gripping hard, dragging you closer until your soaked chest was flush against him. It was messy. Desperate. All tongue and teeth and four years of restraint unraveling like thread in a storm. He backed you into the side of the cabin wall with a thud. You gasped. He kissed you harder.

“This is wrong,” he muttered against your lips.

“I don’t care,” you whispered.

He kissed you again. Hands under your shirt, dragging it up, baring your wet skin to the mountain air. His palms were rough and warm, moving over your ribs, your waist, up to your breasts. You arched into him.

“I thought about this,” he said. “Too many times.”

You bit his shoulder. “Show me.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

His mouth was everywhere.

You didn’t remember how you got from the hot tub to the porch steps, but suddenly he had you pinned to them—back against the rough wood, legs spread over his lap, and Joel’s mouth on your throat like he was trying to brand you there.

The porch light flickered behind his head, catching the silver in his hair, the tight clench of his jaw as he kissed you. It wasn’t soft. Nothing about this was. It was desperate. Hungry. The kind of kiss you only give someone after years of pretending you didn’t want to. You whimpered into his mouth. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, fingers teasing the damp hem of your bikini bottoms.

“Still wanna pretend this isn’t happening?” he rasped against your cheek.

You shook your head, gasping. “No. I want you.”

He groaned—like you’d said something obscene. Like you’d ruined him. Joel didn’t waste time. He lifted your top up, pulling it over your head until your bare chest hit the open air. Your nipples peaked, still wet from the tub, and his mouth was on them in seconds. Sucking, groaning, biting just enough to make you squirm.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your skin. “You’re perfect. You fuckin’ knew what you were doing back then, didn’t you?”

You arched your back, fingers in his hair. “I wanted you to look.”

“I did,” he growled. “I fuckin’ looked every time.”

His hands were already moving—down your hips, hooking into your bikini bottoms, dragging them off and tossing them somewhere behind him. Then he leaned back and just stared. You felt raw under that gaze. Bared open. Not just your body—your want. Your need.

“Joel—”

“Goddamn.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re soaked.”

“I was in the tub,” you teased.

He gave you a warning look. One hand slipped between your thighs, two fingers running over your center. You gasped—wet, throbbing, aching.

“This isn’t the tub,” he said.

And then he tasted you. Dropped to his knees between your legs and pushed them open wider with both hands. You moaned—loud, unfiltered, filthy—as his mouth found your core and sucked.

“F-fuck—” your hips jerked. His arms locked around your thighs, holding you still. He licked you like he was starving. Like he hadn’t let himself want this and now couldn’t stop. Long, slow swipes of his tongue that made your stomach clench. Then little flicks over your clit that made your toes curl.

You grabbed the porch railing behind your head, panting, “Joel, I’m—oh my god—”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he doubled down—moaning against you like your pleasure was his, like he could feel you coming apart in his bones. His beard scratched your skin in the best way. His grip on your thighs bruised.

When you came, you shook. Back arched, mouth open, your whole body trembling under him. He held you through it—let you grind against his face, let you cry out into the night with no shame. And then he pulled away, mouth wet, eyes black.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he rasped into your ear.

You nodded, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He kissed you like that destroyed him. Like you’d just said I love you and he didn’t know what to do with it. You were slumped against the cabin wall—wet, aching, and trembling from the orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you on the porch. His hand was slick with it, shining in the low light, and he looked at you like he didn’t know whether to kiss you or drag you back to hell with him.

You beat him to it. You stepped forward, dropped to your knees on the wood floor, and looked up at him with fire in your eyes.

“Let me take care of you.”

Joel froze. “Sweetheart—”

“Let me.” You reached for his belt. “I want to.”

He didn’t stop you. Couldn’t.

The sound of leather sliding through denim made your thighs clench all over again. You undid his fly, pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, and there he was—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. Your mouth watered.

Joel watched you with something close to pain in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You smiled, slow and wicked. “I think I do.”

And then you took him into your mouth. His hips jolted like he’d been shocked. A deep, raw groan escaped him—so loud it echoed in the trees.

“Jesus fuck,” he hissed. One big hand gripped your hair, not forcing—just grounding. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You sucked him slow. Deep. Let your lips drag along the underside of his cock as you worked him down your throat. He was hot and heavy on your tongue, the salt of his skin making your head spin. You gagged a little, spit sliding down your chin, but you didn’t stop.

“Goddamn—” Joel’s hand tightened. “You look so fuckin’ good like this.”

You moaned around him. His thighs flexed.

“You always act so tough, don’t you?” he rasped. “But look at you now. On your knees. Mouth full of cock. Drippin’ for me.”

You pulled off with a slick pop, panting. “Only for you.”

He lost it. Joel yanked you to your feet and kissed you like a man on the edge—mouth open, tongue messy, hands everywhere. You could taste him on your own lips. He grabbed your ass, squeezed hard, and muttered, “Inside. Now.”

-── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The guest room door slammed shut behind you. He didn’t even bother with lights. The moon through the window was enough to see him—dark and dangerous, shirt halfway off, jeans undone, chest rising and falling like he’d just run through the forest. You stripped for him without a word. You climbed back onto the bed, naked, legs spread—offering. Joel stared.

“Lie back,” he said roughly. “I need—fuck. Just lie back.”

You obeyed. He crawled over you slowly, like a man approaching something holy. And then he was there—settling between your thighs, spreading you with both hands.

“Still so fuckin’ wet,” he muttered. “That just from my fingers, baby? Or suckin’ me off got you like this?”

“Both,” you breathed. “I want you so bad.”

Joel groaned—feral.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl,” he growled. “You want my mouth? Wanna come on my tongue?”

You nodded, frantic. “Please.”

That was all he needed. Joel lowered his head and devoured you. There was no teasing. No slow buildup. He licked into you like a man starving, tongue everywhere at once, sucking your clit into his mouth so hard your back arched off the bed.

“Oh my god—Joel—”

“That’s it,” he groaned against you. “Say my name.”

You did. Again and again. Cried it out while he fucked you with his tongue, his nose pressed against your clit, beard scratch burning your inner thighs.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmured. “Been dreamin’ about this. How sweet you’d be. How you’d sound.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

You came with your fingers in his hair and his name in your mouth—shaking, moaning, soaking his face. He didn’t stop until you begged. Then he climbed up your body, kissed you with your slick still on his mouth, and lined himself up between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You looked him in the eye. “Don’t be gentle.”

Joel’s face twisted—like you’d just said something cruel and beautiful.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he growled.

And then he thrust in. You gasped—so full, stretched wide, your whole body tensing at the intrusion. He cursed, slammed a hand against the headboard, and stayed there for a second, buried to the hilt, not moving.

“You feel—fuck, baby, you feel unreal,” he rasped into your neck.

“Move,” you begged. “Please.”

He did. Slow at first. Then harder. Then brutal. Joel fucked you deep, steady, with a kind of controlled rage—like he was punishing himself as much as he was giving you what you wanted.

“This what you needed?” he grunted. “Old man’s cock? Daddy’s best friend fuckin’ you stupid?”

You cried out—clawed at his back, wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Years,” he growled. “Years I told myself I couldn’t touch you. And now look at you.”

He sat back on his knees and dragged you with him—lifted your hips off the bed and fucked up into you until your head hit the pillows and the air left your lungs.

“You were mine the second you looked at me in that fuckin’ dress,” he said. “You know that?”

“Yes—Joel—”

“I’ll never be able to stop now,” he whispered. “You ruined me.”

You came with a scream. Your entire body clenched. Shaking, soaked, ruined beneath him—and he followed seconds later, growling your name into your neck as he emptied inside you with a broken moan.

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t move. Just held you there, panting against your skin, his cock still buried deep, his arms around you like he couldn’t let go.

“This changes everything,” you whispered.

“I know,” Joel said. “And I’m not sorry.”

Neither were you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You didn’t see him all afternoon. After breakfast—silent and unbearable—you watched Joel disappear down the trail with your dad and two of your uncles, a cooler over his shoulder and a rifle on his back. Some day-hunt, they said. Nothing serious. Deer if they got lucky. Beer if they didn’t. You stayed behind. Tried to read. Tried to nap. Tried not to think about how sore your thighs still were from the way he’d held you. How your lips still tingled from the way he kissed you—like a man grabbing for something he never thought he’d get to keep.

By evening, the house was full again. Laughter, music, chairs scraping across the floor. Your cousin burned a pan of garlic bread and someone dropped a bottle of wine. The usual chaos. Joel returned just after sunset. You caught the sound of his voice before you saw him—low, gruff, tired. But not angry. Not cold. Just… careful. You stepped into the hallway to grab towels and he passed you. Barely looked at you. But when he did? That glance leveled you. One second, and your whole body remembered everything.

You waited again that night. Waited until the noise died. Waited until the lights clicked off one by one and the lodge settled into creaks and wind. Then you crept down the hallway. Breath tight. Bare feet silent. You didn’t knock this time. Joel’s room was dark when you slipped in, but you didn’t need light. You found him by feel—sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, shirtless, boxers low on his hips. His head lifted the second you closed the door. He didn’t speak. You crossed the room and stood between his knees. You were wearing nothing but a thin tank top and cotton shorts. No bra. No panties. Joel’s eyes dragged over you, slow and unreadable.

“You’re not gonna let me walk away from this, are you?” he asked.

“No.”

His hands came up to your hips. Stayed there.

“You’re gonna ruin me.”

You leaned down, voice soft at his ear. “I think I already did."

Joel's hands slid up beneath your shirt. Slow. Heavy. Callused.

You let him.

You stood still as his palms swept over your waist, your ribs, up to your bare chest. His fingers spread wide, rough and reverent as they cupped your breasts—thumbs brushing slowly across your nipples until they hardened, tight and sensitive under his touch.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “No bra?”

“No need.”

Joel exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt him to keep control. He leaned forward, nuzzled his face into your chest. His scruff scratched your skin, made your stomach clench.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

You pulled your shirt off without answering. He groaned when you were bare in front of him.

“Get on the bed,” you whispered.

Joel did. Leaned back on his elbows as you climbed into his lap, straddling him, letting your thighs spread around his hips. You reached between your bodies, raked your nails softly down his chest, then lower—palming the length of him over his boxers. He was already hard. Of course he was.

You watched his jaw tighten as you touched him. Slid your hand beneath the waistband, freed him slow. His cock was flushed, thick, heavy in your hand. You licked your lips. Joel’s breath caught.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” he said. “You know what you do to me.”

You leaned in close. “Then make me stop.”

His hands flew to your hips. He flipped you—smooth, fast, practiced—until your back hit the mattress and he was over you. Heavy. Solid. Dangerous.

“You got a smart mouth, sweetheart,” he said. “Know that?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe I oughta shut you up.”

“Maybe you should try.”

He kissed you hard.

You don’t remember when your shorts came off. Just that they were gone and Joel’s fingers were between your legs again, stroking through your folds like he already knew exactly what would make you whimper.

“Still wet,” he rasped. “You come into my bed like this?”

You nodded.

He shoved two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust. You gasped—back arching, walls clenching, hands gripping the sheets.

“Fuck,” he growled. “So fuckin’ tight. You missed me, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Joel—please—”

He pulled out slowly. Watched your cunt twitch around nothing. Then he lowered himself between your thighs.

“I told you I wasn’t done tasting you,” he said.

And then his mouth was on you. Joel had your legs pinned open with his hands wrapped tight around your thighs, your hips pulled to the edge of the mattress, and his mouth already back on your pussy like he’d missed it. And you realized quick—he wasn’t going slow tonight. He wasn’t soft. He was starving.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he groaned into you, tongue parting your folds, mouth wet and messy. “I could eat this pussy every night. Every goddamn day.”

You gasped—already shaking, already too sensitive from his fingers. But he didn’t care. He licked through your slit, dragged his tongue flat and slow from your entrance to your clit, then sucked hard.

You cried out, hips jerking. “Joel—!”

“Don’t run,” he rasped, tightening his grip. “Don’t you fuckin’ run from me.”

His mouth latched onto your clit and stayed there. Tongue flicking fast, lips sucking firm, his beard rough on your thighs—just enough to burn.

You whimpered, hands flying to his hair. He let you pull, let you shake, let you grind into his face. He wanted it. All of it.

“Goddamn, you taste good,” he growled, breath hot against you. “You know that? Know how sweet you are, drippin’ like this? Soakin’ the sheets for me like a fuckin’ dream.”

Your head hit the pillow.

“Tell me,” he said, fingers digging into your hips. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“S-so good—Joel, I—fuck, it’s—”

“That’s right. That’s my girl,” he groaned, dragging his tongue in slow, torturous circles. “Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna let me taste it?”

You nodded frantically, eyes rolling back. “Yes—yes, I’m close, please—”

He moaned into your pussy, deep and rough and wrecked.

“That’s it. That’s what I want. Wanna feel you come on my fuckin’ tongue. Wanna hear you cry for it.”

You did. You cried out, thighs clamping around his head, whole body shuddering as your orgasm hit you like a wave. He held you through it—licked you through it—groaned like you were feeding him life itself.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered. “You hear me? Perfect. This pussy’s mine now. Mine.”

You were still twitching when he pulled back, lips swollen, beard soaked, eyes dark with something dangerous. Then he kissed the inside of your thigh. Once. Soft.

“You’re not ready for what I’m gonna do to you next.”

You were still gasping when he kissed your inner thigh.

Still shaking when he rose onto his knees and looked down at you like he’d never seen anything so fucking good in his life. Joel’s beard was soaked with you. His lips were red and swollen, his chest rising and falling heavy. His hands were still on your legs, holding them open, keeping you bare for him like you were something he earned.

“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. Your voice didn’t work yet.

Joel exhaled through his nose. Then:

“Because I’m not done.”

Your stomach flipped. He moved slow—like a man taking his time unwrapping a gift he’d waited years to touch. He crawled up your body, licking and kissing and dragging his scruff over your ribs, your breasts, your collarbone. You arched into him, hands threading through his hair, your body already begging for more.

“Still want me, baby?” he rasped into your neck.

“God—yes—”

“Need to hear it. Say it like you mean it.”

You looked up at him. Eyes wide. Voice shaking.

“I want you, Joel. I want you so bad.”

He growled—low and deep, like it tore straight through his chest—and pressed his cock against your soaked folds.

“You’re gonna get me,” he muttered. “Every inch.”

He reached between your bodies, lined himself up, and dragged the thick head of his cock through your slick—teasing you, smearing your wetness over his tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You feel this? How wet you are for me?”

You whimpered. “Please—put it in—”

“Not yet.”

He smirked. Cruel. “You sure you can take it?”

“Yes—fuck—Joel, please—”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“Beg for it.”

“Beg,” Joel whispered again. His lips were at your ear, his cock pressed thick and hard against your entrance, but not inside—not yet. His hand gripped your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles into your skin like he wasn’t already seconds from breaking you.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured. “You wanted to act all grown back then? Show me now. Show me how bad you need it.”

You swallowed. Chest heaving.

“Please, Joel.”

“Not good enough.”

You reached down and wrapped your hand around him—hot, thick, twitching in your grip—and guided him to your entrance yourself.

“I need you,” you breathed. “I need you so fucking bad, I can’t think. I’ve been waiting for this. Begging inside. Since the second you walked in that door.”

Joel froze. Then he thrust in. One smooth, filthy stroke—slow, deep, so deep, and your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. Your body stretched around him, impossibly tight, impossibly full, the stretch burning and perfect all at once.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel gritted out, voice breaking. “So fuckin’ tight. You feel that?”

You nodded, breathless.

He didn’t move yet. Just stayed there, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to yours.

“I can’t—” he whispered. “I can’t go slow.”

“Then don’t.”

Joel let out a growl—feral, wrecked—and pulled back before slamming back into you so hard your breath caught.

You cried out. Your nails dug into his back. He started moving. Rough, deep, steady thrusts that pushed you up the bed inch by inch, his hands on your hips to keep you where he wanted you.

“This what you wanted?” he panted. “Daddy’s friend to ruin you?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Yes—fuck—just like that—”

He fucked you like he was trying to carve it into your spine. Like he wanted your body to remember him even if you never saw each other again.

“Thought about this every fuckin’ night,” he groaned. “Touchin’ myself to the thought of you on your knees, on your back, ridin’ me—fuck.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist. You pulled him closer, begged him deeper, and he gave it to you—all of it.

“You’re takin’ me so well,” he said, voice dark. “So fuckin’ greedy for it. This pussy’s mine now, you understand me?”

You nodded. You couldn’t even speak.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” you whimpered. “Joel—it’s yours—”

“Damn right it is.”

He slammed into you harder.

“Turn over.”

His voice was low. Flat. A command, not a request. You blinked up at him, still dazed, your body shaking under the weight of everything he’d already done to you.

“Joel—”

“Face down. Ass up.” His hand wrapped around your hip. “Now.”

You obeyed. Your limbs were slow, heavy, fucked-out, but you flipped onto your stomach, pushing up onto your elbows. You felt the air hit your wet skin, your thighs slick, your cunt leaking for him—and you felt him behind you, shifting up onto his knees.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Just beggin’ for it.

He grabbed your hips and yanked you back onto him.

You gasped—loud, broken—as he filled you again from behind. Deeper, somehow. Angled to hit something inside you that made your toes curl and your jaw drop.

“Fuck—Joel—oh my god—”

He didn’t give you a second to adjust. Just started thrusting. Harder now. Rougher. His grip on your hips bruising. The sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, filthy and wet and constant.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “You hear me?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

“Say it. Tell me this pussy was made for me.”

You were already crying, but it wasn’t sad—it was too much. Too deep, too good, too intense.

“It’s yours,” you sobbed. “Joel, it’s yours, I swear—fuck—”

He leaned over your back, one hand sliding up your spine to the base of your neck. Then he grabbed your hair. Gentle but firm. And pulled. You gasped as your head tilted back—and he kept fucking you, right through it.

“Look at me,” he ordered, twisting your head just enough so your cheek pressed into the mattress, eyes catching his in the mirror across the room.

You hadn’t even realized it was there.

“You see that?” he panted. “You watch me fuckin’ you like this. You see what you do to me?”

You moaned, clenching around him. “I see it—I feel it, Joel—don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not stoppin’.” His voice dropped even lower. “Not until I’ve filled you up. Not until you know you’re mine. Not until you come one more fuckin’ time.”

You whimpered.

He let go of your hair, slid his hand under you to rub your clit while he slammed into you from behind, every thrust sending you forward, your cries getting louder, messier.

“I’m gonna come—Joel—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled. “Soak me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.”

And you did. You came hard—full body, voice gone, hands gripping the sheets as your pussy clenched around him, milking him through it. Joel cursed loud, deep, broken. Your orgasm hit you like a wave crashing through every nerve—your body seized, thighs trembling, walls clenching hard around him. You screamed into the pillow, shaking as pleasure ripped through you, too big, too much— And Joel didn’t stop. He groaned—long, rough—but held himself back, jaw clenched like he was in pain. His thrusts slowed, not because he was tired, but because he was trying to hold on.

“Fuck—shit, baby—” his voice was wrecked. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight—fuckin’ beggin’ me to come—but I’m not done.”

You whimpered, twitching, still pulsing around him.

“No,” he growled. “You don’t come once and get off easy.”

He pulled out. You let out a weak, needy cry—your whole body aching from the loss—but Joel didn’t go far. He gripped your hip and flipped you back onto your back, sliding down your body, mouth pressed to your thigh again.

“Wanna taste you like this,” he murmured. “Wanna feel how sweet you get after I’ve fucked you open.”

You could barely breathe. He buried his face between your legs again—and this time, his tongue worked slow. No teasing. Just deep, soft licks, a finger pressing back into your soaked, fluttering entrance while he moaned against your clit like you were his favorite fucking dessert.

“You feel that?” he muttered, voice thick. “That mess? All mine. You’re fuckin’ ruined for anyone else now.”

You were sobbing—sensitive, overstimulated, panting as he licked you through another orgasm so slow it almost hurt. When he slid back up, his mouth was wet and his cock was throbbing. But he didn’t let himself come. Not yet.

“You ready to come one more time?” he asked, lining himself back up.

“Joel—fuck, I don’t—"

“You do,” he whispered. “You’re gonna take it. Gonna let me fuck it outta you. Let me fill you up.”

He started again—deep strokes this time, slower, heavier, grinding against your sweet spot as his thumb worked your clit. And you came again. Tears in your eyes. Nails in his back. Legs shaking like you’d collapse if he let you go. That’s when he gave in.

“Fuck, fuck—that’s it—that’s my fuckin’ girl—”

He pushed in deep, one final time, and groaned into your mouth as he finally came, hot and hard, hips twitching, cock pulsing deep inside you.

This time he didn’t move.

Just stayed there. Breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were still shaking. Your legs didn’t feel like they belonged to you. Your mouth was dry. Your skin slick with sweat and Joel’s breath still warm against your collarbone. He hadn’t pulled out. He didn’t move. His arm wrapped around your waist, the other under your neck. Protective. Possessive. Like if anyone opened that door, they’d have to go through him to get to you. Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Just breathing. Soft. Quiet. The only sound in the dark was the wind in the trees and the slow, steady beat of Joel’s heart against your shoulder. Then—

“That mouth of yours,” he muttered. Voice low. Wrecked. “Gonna be the end of me.”

You smiled faintly. Couldn’t quite look at him.

“Didn’t seem to mind it earlier.”

His nose brushed your jaw. “Didn’t say I minded. Just said it’s dangerous.”

“You’re dangerous.”

He hummed.

“Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

You turned your head toward him. His eyes were already on you. Heavy-lidded. Dark in the moonlight.

“Do you regret it?” you asked. Quiet.

Joel’s fingers traced a slow line down your spine. Thoughtful.

“No.”

A pause.

“Scares the hell outta me,” he admitted. “But I don’t regret it.”

Your chest ached. You let yourself curl in closer. Just a little.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t let go.

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yungistiny · 2 months ago

Text

GAMEBOY ═ chapter four

[ J. Yunho ]

chapter four: puzzle pieces

╚═════════

summary: yunho has no idea that his neighbor across the hall, the same one he’s had a crush on, was his arch nemesis behind a headset

warning: dom yunho, bratty/sub reader, slight orgothumophilia, masturbation, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, degradation, overstimulation, oral, sexting, more will be added

pairing: gamer yunho x gamer afab reader

genre: smut, romance, angst, drama

word count: 1.9k

chapter three

chapter five coming soon

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho woke up groaning. His head hurt a little, a slight pounding at his temple. He blinked, reaching up to rub at the sleep in his eyes.

Sitting up, he searched for his phone, hands moving under the pillows, kicking the blanket around. “What…” then he remembered. Everything came rushing back and he froze. “Shit.” He slept with her. He slept with y/n!

Where was she? Yunho almost fell off his bed, practically tripping over his own feet as he yanked his bedroom door open, almost crashing into Wooyoung. “Why are you running around naked?” Wooyoung asked, gaze landing low on Yunho. “Damn.” He smirked at his roommate and Yunho felt his ears start reddening.

“Fuck!” He turned, darting back into his room, Wooyoung leaning into his doorframe. “So, who was it?”

Yunho snatched his discarded sweats off the floor, catching sight of a pair of panties. A lacy red pair. He quickly pushed them under his bed out of sight. “What? Who’s what?”

“Who was the person you clearly fucked last night while your dear old roommate was on call?” Wooyoung teased him. He knew Yunho hadn’t really been very active in the sex department since his breakup and how down bad he was for y/n.

Wooyoung had tried on multiple occasions to get his friend laid but Yunho would always find a way to bring y/n up. A way to compare everyone to her. “Was it that girl on the floor below us? Umm….. Karina? Right, she’s always checking you out when we see her.”

“No.” Yunho brushed past him, searching the living room for his phone, finding it on the coffee table where a discarded pizza box still sat. It was past 5:00 pm. “Well, then who? It’s not like you have time to actually leave the building and that only leaves y/n and you and I both know that’s…” Wooyoung stoped talking, catching the way Yunho gripped his phone, frozen in place at the mention of her. “HOLY SHIT!”

“Don’t.” Yunho sat on the couch, every little touch, every sound and moan of his name was coming back. “Did she sneak out?” He didn’t mean to say that out loud, he had meant to think it but Wooyoung heard him. “Oh…… so you two didn’t plan this?”

“We were kind of drunk.” Yunho groaned, staring at his phone. He had a stream tonight but how the hell was he supposed to focus when all he could think about was y/n? The taste of her. The feel of her.

“Why are you moping?” Wooyoung sat next to him. “You’ve been pining after her for the last couple of years.” His roommate was so pathetically on the borderline, if not already, in love with y/n.

“She snuck out while I was passed out.” Yunho felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest. If she didn’t regret it then she wouldn’t have left. “I’m better off pretending like it never happened.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Juniper didn’t stream with them that night. She also didn’t stream with them the rest of the week. Yunho wondered what her deal was? She was streaming by herself, some new open world rpg. Yunho also hadn’t gotten any recent messages from her either.

He also hadn’t seen y/n. They were both avoiding each other.

“San, I told you to not go that direction! Is your headset broke?” Yunho snapped, he might have been a little frustrated lately. “You’ve gotten killed three times already!”

San rolled his eyes, ever since Yunho and y/n slept together, Yunho has been a dick while streaming lately. San had his suspicions it was because y/n wasn’t streaming with them, Juniper, his best friend was avoiding Yunho at all cost. San thought they were both acting stupid.

“Dude, you’re being a dick.” Jongho voiced San’s thoughts for him. Yunho clenched his jaw, now Jongho got killed. They haven’t won a match all night. He took the opportunity while they took a quick break between matches to grab his phone and open his twitter, going to his DMs.

Yunho: [ why haven’t you been joining us? san and jongho suck ]

Yunho: [ come on we need you ]

Yunho looked back at his monitor, eying the chat on his other. Even viewers wanted Juniper back.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N wasn’t streaming that night, she could hear San in his room, his bedroom door open, voice sounding frustrated when he told Yunho to lay off his ass.

She had been avoiding him. And Yunho hasn’t exactly sought her out since that night either. He must of regretted it. Y/N had been berating herself. She probably messed up their friendship, never should have kissed him. Yunho had drank more than her so she could only assume he hadn’t been thinking straight.

Y/N also couldn’t stop thinking about him, how good he had fucked her. It had certainly been better than she had imagined. She had tried the night before to get herself off, frustrated that she couldn’t. Her fingers nor her favorite vibrator compared to Yunho. Not as good as his own fingers. His tongue. Her vibrator not big enough, not thick enough.

She was frustrated.

Y/N wanted him to completely ruin her.

She jumped, pulled from her thoughts, gaze staring at the tv but not paying attention as a notification sounded from her phone. Y/N reached for the device beside her on the couch, freezing when she saw what it was.

The last message she had sent Yunho catching her eye when she opened her twitter DMs.

Juniper: [ I bet you’d be so heavy on my tongue you’d have to grip my hair to hold me up so I could take it ]

That’s why she’s been avoiding him. That’s why y/n couldn’t stream with him. It’s all she could think about. She hadn’t even gotten to take him in her mouth and now probably never would, it was driving her crazy.

Her gaze found the new messages sent by Yunho and smirked. It was easy talking to him when she didn’t have to face him. When she couldn’t hear his voice. Yunho’s voice alone could make her clench her thighs together.

Juniper: [awwwwwww 😌 you miss me ]

San was right. She really needed to tell Yunho the truth but how could she? Y/N was in too deep. If she told him he’d probably never speak to her again. Juniper was probably the only way she’d ever have him like she wanted again, even if it were behind texts and a screen.

“Y/N, can you please bring me something to drink?” San called out, y/n tossing her phone back down and stretching as she stood up. She walked into the kitchen, grabbing San a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

“Thank you, Jongho! Yunho, you’ve been an ass all week.” San eyed his other monitor where he could see both Yunho and Jongho’s streams on silent. “Here.” Y/N sat San his water down in front of him, her best friend giving her one of his dimpled smiles. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Yunho looked up from his phone, the message from Juniper forgotten suddenly at the mention of y/n. He could only see her from the chest down on San’s stream, the black calvin klein tank top a little too familiar to him. He’d never seen y/n in it but, he had seen Juniper wear one just like it many times during streams.

His brows furrowed because it was suddenly like looking at Juniper and not y/n. “Yunho, come on, we’re starting!” Jongho’s voice shook him out of his racing thoughts. Thoughts that now had him distracted. Now, it was Yunho getting killed in game.

“Dude, you suck.” Jongho teased which only pissed Yunho off more until he raged quit. They had been streaming for about four hours anyways.

Yunho stood and stretched, going to the bathroom to pee and grabbing himself a cold soda from the fridge. By the time he got back to his room and grabbed his phone, another message from Juniper awaited him.

Juniper: [ dude, jongho was right, you suck ]

So she had been watching? Yunho bit his bottom lip as he typed back a response.

Yunho: [ I’m frustrated ok! I told you we needed you! do you have any idea how hard it was to admit that? ]

Yunho: [ why haven’t you been streaming with us anyways? ]

It was a long pause before Juniper responded and Yunho had to close his eyes, take in a deep breath. She was going to drive him absolutely crazy.

Juniper: [ because I want you and your voice turns me on ]

Wasn’t a total lie, y/n closed her bedroom door behind her, crawling onto her bed as she waited for Yunho to say something back.

And what does he say? Because he knew he wanted her too. It was all lust with them, he wanted to just fuck her good one time. But he couldn’t.

Not when all he really wanted was y/n. He just couldn’t use Juniper like that, no matter how much she managed to turn him on.

Yunho: [ you can’t say shit like that ]

Juniper: [ why? ]

Juniper: [ are you backing out now? after every dirty little thing you said you would do to me ]

Yunho groaned. How did he manage to get himself in this situation? Practically leading one girl on all while longing for another. But…. y/n had been avoiding him and it’s not like he was taken. Just sex with Juniper didn’t require any commitment.

He was mid typing back when another message from Juniper once again had Yunho’s mind racing.

Yunho read over the text again and again and one more time before glancing towards the end of his bed, just hidden out of direct sight a pair of panties that matches the exact description of the ones Juniper just told him she was wearing. A pair of panties that belonged to y/n.

His brows furrowed, heart suddenly very loud and pounding. It was like puzzle pieces finally fitting together.

“it’s not my place to tell you.”

San would say every single time Yunho asked about who Juniper was.

San was the one that brought her into their little streamer group.

“You know, sometimes I feel like you’re over exaggerating about this girl.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.”

There was no way. Yunho was going crazy as he thought back to the way her voice had sounded the day she had called him, the same day they had slept together. When he had answered her after Juniper had gotten done telling him how he’d have to hold her head up just for her to take him in her mouth.

Y/N voice had been breathless, husky and almost sultry…. just like Juniper’s.

Realization was dawning on him and Yunho was only mad for a split second. If y/n was secretly Juniper, she had been playing him, messing with him this entire time.

But that meant she wanted him.

Was that why she was avoiding him?

because I want you and your voice turns me on

Yunho: [ we need to talk ]

This message wasn’t sent to Juniper. Sent to a contact. One Yunho had memorized, a number he knew all too well.

If y/n wanted to play with him then Yunho would certainly play back.

He’d drive her just as crazy as Juniper did him.

After all, she should know how competitive he was.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ateezswonderland @therealcuppicake @aerangi @delulu4yuyu @hyuninslutbbgirl @fireseo @insanityz @kyeos4ng @fvxyxnh0 @jintastic-yuyu @beccaskz

#yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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lancestrollsgf · 3 months ago

Text

# STOP LOOKING AT ME WITH THOSE EYES ! YANDERE! AXEL KOVACEVIC X READER, WRITTEN

introduction master list request list

# WARNINGS: not a good interpretation of a yandere (not intense), lowercase intended, female! reader, use of y/n, spelling/grammar errors, possible OOC axel and gullible reader, established relationship, messy writing, and maybe bad descriptions. good ending!! + a cute extra scene at the end

# SUMMARY: you decided to follow your boyfriend to the torment he was participating in. due to not making many friends in highschool in croatia, being in a new environment and country could be a possibility to make new friends, but by the way axel is acting, he doesn’t seem to like that.

# AUTHOR’S NOTE: i did have to watch season 6 again to really get a good intro on axel again, i also did some research/watch interviews, hoping it is right. in this axel is 16 years old and is from croatia, balkans. meaning that axel is going to school in croatia and went to hong kong for training with sensei wolf. i know that it wasn't shown but pretend that axel and reader actually had time and would at least in someway interact with the other characters (more like just miyagi do). i apologize for this being on the short side, i’m still trying to get the hang of writing again. word count: 1100. here is the link of the song the title is named after!

# REQUESTED: YES

axel has been your boyfriend for a while now, and you've always been by his side—more voluntarily than anything, considering how hard it was for you to make friends in your high school back in croatia. it wasn’t that you were unlikable, just that people didn’t seem to care enough to get close. axel was different, though. from the moment he noticed you, it was like you were the only person in his world.

when he told you he was leaving for the tournament, you didn’t hesitate to follow. a new environment, a new country—it sounded like an opportunity, a fresh start. maybe this time, things would be different. maybe you could finally belong somewhere. but axel… he didn’t seem to like that idea.

it started small. a hand on your lower back when you tried to talk to someone new. standing just a little too close when another competitor greeted you. answering for you when someone would ask a question. his grip would tighten, his voice always calm but firm, a quiet reminder.

stay close to me.

you brushed it off at first. axel had always been protective. he said it was because he knew what people were really like— how they used and discarded others when it suited them. you didn't want to believe that.

but then came the glares. the cold, sharp eyes watching every interaction you had. the way his jaw clenched whenever someone so much as smiled at you. the way his mood soured whenever you laughed at someone else's joke.

then the words.

"we're leaving soon, don't get to close"

"they're pretending to be nice, they're trying to get to me"

"i'm the only one who understands you"

at first, you tried to ignore it. axel had always been intense— possessive, even —but he had his reasons. he didn't trust easily, and he never let his guard down. but now, that wasn't just directed at his opponents in the tournament. it was now aimed at anyone who got too close to you.

it started off small. a hand on your wrist when you lingered too long in a conversation. a sharp look when miguel or hawk cracked a joke that made you laugh. the way he always seemed to position himself between you and someone else. like an unspoken barrier.

at first, the others found it ammusing.

"man, your boyfriend's intense," hawk had said nudging miguel after axel all but dragged you away from a conversation. "you sure he let's you breathe?" miguel had given you a sympathetic glance, but he didn't push. sam, on the other hand, did.

"you know that you can talk to whoever you want, right?" she asked one afternoon when axel had stepped away for a minute, due to his sensei wanting to have a conversation with him.

"i know," you had said, but the words felt hollow. because deep down, you knew it wasn't about permission. it was about him. about the way axel saw the world— how he believed people couldn't be trusted. and more than anything, it was about his fear of losing you.

but it couldn't go on like this.

that night, after most of the competitors had gone back to their rooms, you found him outside, leaning against the railing of the balcony of your shared rooms. the bright active city lights reflected in his eyes, but his expression was unreadable.

"you're mad," he said before you could even open your mouth. "i'm frustrated," you corrected, stepping closer. "axel... you have to stop this. i want to be here with you, but i can't do that if you keep pushing everyone else away." his grip tightened on the railing. "i'm not pushing them away. i'm protecting you."

"from what?" you asked, starting to get irritated. "from people being nice to me? from me finally being able to have the chance to make friends?"

he turned to face you then, his gaze sharp but conflicted. "people lie. they act friendly, they pretend to care— but in the end, they always let you down." his voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. something raw. "not everyone," you said softly, reaching for his hand. "not me."

for a moment, he didn't move. then, slowly, his fingers curled around yours, his grip firm, but not forceful. "i don't want to lose you," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "you won't," you promised. "but you have to trust me the way I trust you."

axel exhaled sharply, looking away. you could tell it wasn't easy for him, to let go of control. but after a moment, he nodded. "...alright," he muttered. "but if they give me a reason to not trust them—"

"i know," you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. "you'll be watching." a smirk ghosted across his face, and for the first time in a while. his presence didn't feel suffocating. it felt grounding.

— extra scene funny and cute!! (y/n and axel are sitting with miyagi do in this scenario and they have a good relationship with them in this scene.)

the shift in axel hadn't gone noticed. while he still had his moments—hovering nearby whenever someone got a little too friendly—he wasn’t shutting you off from the rest of the world anymore.

during a lunch with all the teams in the tournament, miguel nudged hawk and nodded toward the two of you. “dude, i think your little intervention worked.” hawk smirked, taking a bite of his food. “told you. y/n just had to remind him that she’s her own person, and won’t go anywhere.” hawk replied quietly.

demetri, who had been wary of axel ever since the tense standoff, finally realized enough to sit at the same table again. “so, we’re actually allowed to talk to you now?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

axel shot him a look, but there’s no hostility behind it. “don’t push it.” tory leaned back in her chair, smirking. “hey, progress is progress.”

even sam, who has been quietly observing, gave a small nod of approval. “it’s nice to see you with us instead of watching from a distance.”

you squeezed axel’s hand under the table, and for once, he didn’t flinch away from the attention. instead, he met your gaze, a silent understanding passing between you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

the end!!! 😄😄 if anyone from the better norris series is reading this, part three is coming soon! just trying to get through the axel requests, which i am open to more requests, before posting the third part. ( i am working on part four rn )

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actuallybean · 9 days ago

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Truth Hurts* | Part Two

When a witch curses you to spill the truth and nothing but the truth, your biggest secret slips—you're hopelessly, shamelessly into both Winchesters. Good news? They’re just as into sharing as you are. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI, threesome with brothers Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Part Three Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @hail-brod @s1mplyl0vely @ladykitana90 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @jenniferpendragon Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The motel room smelled like rain-soaked leather and old takeout, and for once, it was a comforting scent. You were freshly showered, wrapped in a pair of sleep shorts and one of Dean’s old shirts—yours still damp from the storm—and curled up on the edge of the bed with a bottle of water clutched like it might save you from yourself.

Dean was stretched across the other bed, boots off, feet crossed, one arm behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. Sam sat at the small table near the window, typing away on his laptop, probably combing every obscure grimoire he could get his hands on.

But the real danger wasn’t the curse.

It was them.

The way they kept sneaking glances at you, like they were trying not to look too amused. Too curious. Like they were both quietly holding back a hundred questions and deciding which ones would make you squirm the most.

Dean grinned at you from his bed. “So. Just to recap… you ate my pie, sleep in my shirt, and lie about your coffee preferences. What else are you hiding, sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Dean…”

“It’s for research,” Sam added innocently—though the way his lip twitched gave him away. “We should know the limits of the curse. Purely academic.”

“I hate both of you,” you muttered—and immediately followed with, “That’s a lie. I actually like you both too much and it’s becoming a problem.”

Dean choked on his beer. Sam looked like someone had just smacked him with a theology textbook.

You groaned. “God, I hate this. Can we not do the part where I become your personal truth jukebox?”

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying not to laugh. “C’mon. One more test. Nothing big. What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

“Nope.”

Dean grinned. “You have to answer.”

You threw a pillow at him. “I once tripped over my own feet in the middle of a salt circle, landed on my face, and knocked out a tooth. During a hunt.”

Sam blinked. “Was that the werewolf in Kansas?”

You nodded miserably. “Yeah.”

Dean was full-on laughing now. “Oh man, that’s why you wouldn’t talk to us for a day and a half?”

“Yep. Because I looked like a hillbilly jack-o’-lantern and you still tried to flirt with me while I was icing my face.”

Dean snorted. “What can I say? I admire perseverance.”

Sam closed his laptop and leaned back, expression softening, thoughtful. “Okay. Serious question—does it hurt? Telling the truth like this?”

You paused, surprised. “No. It’s… actually kind of a relief. Like breathing out after holding your breath for too long.”

Dean’s teasing faded, just a little. “You always hold back?”

You hesitated. And then, like always, the truth came out on its own. “Yes. Especially around you two. Because it’s easier not to say anything than say too much.”

Dean sat up slowly, arms resting on his knees, eyes locked on yours. Sam had gone quiet beside you, his attention sharp and weighted now.

The room felt smaller suddenly. Warmer. Like the moment before a storm breaks.

You swallowed. “That’s enough testing for tonight.”

Dean didn’t argue. Sam didn’t push. They just nodded, wordless, but neither of them looked away.

And as you crawled under the covers and rolled to face the wall, your heartbeat loud in your ears, you could feel both of their gazes still on you—curious, careful, and maybe… something more.

You prayed they wouldn’t ask the real questions.

Because if they did, you weren’t sure either of you would be able to pretend anymore.

✦

The morning light crept into the room like it was trying not to wake anyone, soft and golden through threadbare curtains. Rain still dripped from the edge of the roof outside. The room was quiet, filled only with the low hum of the A/C unit and the sound of Sam’s fingers tapping gently at his laptop keyboard.

Dean, for once, was up early—coffee in hand, barefoot, leaning against the dresser in a threadbare Henley and flannel pajama pants. You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in the same oversized shirt from last night, hair still damp from your rushed post-hunt shower. You felt raw. Honest. And still not totally safe.

You hadn’t said anything embarrassing yet this morning.

Yet.

Dean sipped his coffee. “You’re quiet.”

You shrugged. “Trying not to speak unless absolutely necessary.”

Sam looked up from the table. “I’m working on the reversal. Got some leads. But I don’t think you’re in danger.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Besides emotional humiliation?”

Dean chuckled. “Oh come on. It hasn’t been that bad.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I told you I cried when you ignored one of my texts for four hours.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Yeah, but that was kinda cute.”

Sam gave him a look.

Dean held up his hands. “What? It was.”

You groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Just don’t ask me anything. Not today. I need a break.”

But that’s when it happened.

Dean’s voice, still lazy from sleep, floated across the room—casual. “Fine, fine. Just one more dumb question and I’m done.”

You glared at the ceiling.

He grinned. “If you weren’t cursed, what’s one thing you’d never tell us?”

You opened your mouth to refuse—to make a joke, dodge, say literally anything else. But the words pushed up your throat like a confession scalded into truth.

“That I think about both of you when I touch myself.”

Silence.

A long, bone-deep silence that wrapped around the room like it was holding its breath.

Dean blinked. His mouth opened slightly like maybe he was going to say something. He didn’t.

You sat up slowly, eyes wide, heart punching your ribs. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean—I meant it—but I didn’t mean to say it.”

Sam had gone completely still in his chair, his jaw tight, one knuckle against his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, mortified. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—Dean, you said it was a dumb question!”

Dean just stared at you. His coffee cup slowly lowered from his lips. “You think about us. Plural.”

You nodded helplessly. “Yes.”

Sam finally spoke, voice quiet but hoarse. “At the same time?”

You closed your eyes. “Yes.”

A pause. A charged, heavy pause.

Dean’s voice dropped a note lower. “How long?”

You groaned, wanting to crawl into the floor. “Months. Since the djinn hunt in Montana. When you both got cut and I had to patch you up. I couldn't stop staring at your hands, Sam. And Dean was—God—you were all bloody and cocky and leaning on the doorframe like you hadn’t just nearly died, and I just—my brain short-circuited, okay?!”

The words just kept coming.

“And it’s not just about sex,” you blurted. “It’s everything. The way Sam reads and forgets to eat, the way Dean drives with one hand and sings off-key, the way you both look at me like I matter even when I’m a mess. I want you both. I love you both. And now you know. So just—please, someone kill me now.”

Your chest was heaving, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

Dean sat his coffee down with a quiet clink, eyes unreadable. Sam stood slowly, arms at his sides, breathing shallow.

You expected silence.

What you got instead… was movement.

Dean stepped forward first, slow, cautious, until he was standing at the foot of your bed. Sam came beside him, taller, tense. Your heart slammed against your ribs like it wanted out.

Dean tilted his head slightly. “Sweetheart, you really think we haven’t thought about this?”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

Sam’s voice was low, but steady. “You’re not the only one who keeps secrets.”

Dean’s eyes darkened as he looked you over, gaze dropping to your parted lips. “You’ve been cursed to tell the truth. Maybe it’s time we do the same.”

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cineatros · 23 days ago

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⋆˙⟡ must be love.

⋆˙⟡ pairing: manon bannerman x 7th!member reader ⋆˙⟡ about: it’s supposed to be a simple trip—just you, the snow, and a board beneath your feet, but then manon joins and suddenly, the air feels warmer. the silence feels louder. she says she wants to learn, but you’re starting to wonder who’s really teaching who. ⋆˙⟡ genre: fluff fluff fluff ⋆˙⟡ wc: 1.2k ⋆˙⟡ tune in: must be love by laufey ⋆˙⟡ a/n: as promised a fluff! not my best one tho, but i tried to make one T-T. I'll make another one cuz im not really satisfied with this. oh and i'll try to start on my smau hehe, and try to make a sabrina or jenna fic :D

It started with a Weverse post.

Just a photo of the chalet, half-covered in snow like powdered sugar dusted over gingerbread, with a lazy caption that barely hinted at anything: “Back home for a bit. Time to fall on my face snowboarding again ⛷️❄️”

Meant as a joke. Meant as a “don’t forget I exist” kind of thing.

I didn’t expect the flood of comments, or the stream of DMs from our fans. But most of all, I didn’t expect Manon to come knocking on my door five minutes later—literally, not metaphorically—still in her pajama pants, holding her phone like it had personally offended her.

“You didn’t think to invite me?” she said, pouting like I’d just eaten the last cookie.

I blinked at her, rubbing my eyes. “Invite you where?”

“Switzerland. Snow. Boards. You. What do you mean ‘where’?”

I laughed, thinking she was just teasing. But Manon wasn’t joking. She crossed her arms, stubborn. “You’re gonna teach me how to snowboard. That’s what’s happening. You promised once. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me.” “I’m dead serious,” she said. “You promised”

“I did?” I asked, still groggy.

She nodded, determined. “You did. On the tour bus. In Tokyo. You said if I ever came with you, you’d teach me how to snowboard.”

Of course she remembered. I vaguely did too. I probably said it in passing, like I always do when I’m too tired to filter myself. Still, I didn’t think she’d actually take me up on it.

But now she stood there with her bottom lip sticking out and her eyes all wide and serious and a duffle bag already packed behind her.

So I said yes.

The flight was quiet, save for the moments she kept humming the melody from one of our unreleased songs, except for the moment Manon fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled a little bit , but I didn’t mind. I kind of smiled to myself, tugged the blanket higher over her, and let her sleep. Switzerland in late winter was pure magic. The kind of cold that wakes you up without hurting.

My family’s vacation home sat tucked away in the Swiss Alps like a secret. The house was warm with pine-scented candles and the fireplace my mom insisted on lighting even if it wasn’t that cold inside. My brothers dropped by to say hi, and Manon charmed them within minutes, laughing at their jokes, stealing bites of fondue, slipping into our little world so easily it almost hurt. I watched her make my older brother laugh until he cried. That was new.

She always had this way of doing that. Blending in, but somehow shining just a little brighter than everyone else.

We hit the slopes the next morning.

“Okay,” I said, strapping on my board and tightening my gloves. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

Manon looked up at me from where she was awkwardly trying to balance on her board, an innocent expression plastered across her face. “Not really, no. I mean, a little. I went skiing once. Does that count?”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s slippery snow things. Same vibe.”

“Right.” I laughed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

It wasn’t, though. Or rather—it was, but in the best way.

Manon pretended to be clueless, but I caught her adjusting her stance just a little too well. And every time I gave her advice, she already seemed to know what I was going to say. She let herself fall a lot, though. Mostly into me.

“Oops,” she’d say, her laugh muffled against my jacket.

“You totally did that on purpose.”

“Nooo,” she’d drawl. “Never.”

But the way she looked up at me from the snow, grinning like a devil in a beanie, told me otherwise.

After a few hours and a lot of falling—real or otherwise—we collapsed near the edge of one of the quieter trails, just past a ridge where the snow dipped into soft rolling hills. The sky was blushing pink, the sun slow and syrupy as it slid behind the peaks. I pulled off my gloves, breath fogging in front of me, cheeks flushed.

Manon flopped beside me in the snow, still laughing from her last fall. “Okay,” she said, rolling onto her back. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. I only almost died three times. That’s a win.”

I chuckled and stretched out next to her, watching the sky change. Everything was quiet up there. No fans, no cameras, no pressure. Just cold air and the smell of pine and the sound of her breath beside mine.

She turned to me, her hair a mess of curls escaping her hat.

“You really love it here,” she said softly.

I nodded, squinting up at the sky. “It’s the only place that doesn’t feel loud. It’s quiet without being empty. You know?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

We were quiet again, the kind that feels full instead of empty. I watched the sun kiss the snow golden. Manon was watching me.

Then she said it.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just—

“You’re really pretty when you’re not paying attention.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She sat up fast, panic flashing across her face. “Wait, I didn’t— That came out weird. I just meant— You look…happy. Here. It’s nice. You’re nice.”

I laughed. “You’re rambling.”

“I know,” she groaned, flopping back down. “Ignore me. It’s the altitude.”

But then, quieter: “I think I might be in love with you.”

The words were soft. No drama. No buildup. Just a quiet, accidental slip. Like she’d said it a million times in her head and finally forgot to keep it there.

I sat up slowly. My breath caught. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I did, but not like this. I know we say ‘I love you’ a lot in the group, but I don’t mean it like that. I mean—”

A pause.

“—not in a friendly way. I love you, and I didn’t plan on telling you, but you looked like that and it just sort of happened.”

I stared at her. My heart was thudding like a drum line in my chest.

She was looking everywhere but at me now, cheeks red—but maybe from the cold, maybe from everything else. I sat up slowly, brushing snow from my coat.

“Manon.”

She groaned. “Don’t. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just—”

“I love you too,” I said finally.

Her head snapped up. She blinked. “Like—?”

“Like,” I added, shifting so I was facing her directly, “not in the group, we’re-besties kind of way. I think I’ve been trying not to think about it. Maybe I didn’t want to mess things up. Pretending it was something else. But it’s not. It’s you.”

Manon blinked. “Oh.”

For a beat, neither of us moved.

And then we were laughing again — breathless, snow-damp, joy bubbling up in our chests like we didn’t know where else to put it..

She leaned in, slowly, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay.

I met her halfway.

Our lips were cold, noses red, teeth clinking a little from nerves and cold. But it was still perfect. It was real.

Somewhere in the distance, the sky melted from pink to lavender. The stars were just starting to wake up.

Later, when we walked back to the chalet, Manon’s glove slipped into mine.

We didn’t say much.

We didn’t need to.

She leaned her head against my shoulder as we trudged through the snow.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the need to post about it.

Some things, I think, are just for us.

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