#his name even SOUNDS southern | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugugasm · 6 months ago

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☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites/games !#AHHHHH WE HERE #papa toji i luv him #toji x fem! reader #toji x female reader #toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji smut #jjk x fem! reader #jjk x poc!reader

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hoshigray · 4 months ago

Note

shower sex with sukuna?

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: true form! Sukuna - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - standing + against a wall positions - biting/marking - kissing/making out - itty bitty degradation - unprotected sex - clitoral stimulation - cervix-fucking - pet names (babe, dove, pet) - overstimulation - mention of drool/spit and pain.

“Mmmahh, ‘Kuna, wa—Eeek!"

“Keheh, so damn noisy.”

Being fucked in the shower with Sukuna would be out of this world — an experience that one would have difficulty to even formulate into words. Something that they would have to experience for themselves…

Nude bodies enclosed within a confined space, shower water sprinkling down from up above glide down across wet skin, and a mist fills the atmosphere and clouds your vision…Either that or the proximity of your face with Sukuna’s.

The cursed being holds you to the wall, your hands balled to fists as hot breaths exit your frame. The man behind you carries you effortlessly with his multiple arms, the water hitting his tattooed chest showers to your buttocks. One girthy cock is stuffed inside your cunt, stretching your entrance and rubbing your inner texture in a gratifying rhythm. Every smack of the giant’s hips on your butt is louder and bounces the walls of the shower, making it easier to drown your eardrums.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,” Salmon-pink hair, usually pushed back, is now damp and low, sticking to his forehead and nape. He scoffs, “And it’s been like that way before I put the water on, huh.”

“Haaahh, ohhmyGod,” you stammer with eyebrows knitted. Sukuna’s hands arms hold you up by your arms, his lower ones keeping your waist still and stuck to the skin of his pelvis. “Ohh G-God…! So hooot…”

The man snickers to himself, observing from behind how your body’s movement is affected by his. A powerful man such as himself can put you at your whims efficiently. Even now, as his second cock doesn’t have to be inside you to have you turn into a whimpering mess, the erect, free limb rubbing up against your clitoris is enough to cause shivers to rattle your spine. All it does is feed the man’s egotistical self; seeing you try to writhe from his grasp – knowing damn well you’d fall and bust your head on the floor – keeps the sadistic excitement going.

And to keep it up, Sukuna spawns lips of his palms to chew and bite on your arms, resulting in a cry from the simultaneous pain. “—Ahaack! F-Fuucking shiiit.”

“Hmmph, so tight on me,” he purrs to your ear; the twitch of your vagina was anything but discreet. “Enjoyin’ this, aren’t you? Hmph, such a slut for my dicks, babe?”

“Ohhh, myGo—Ahhh! ’Kunaaa…!” Your mind is swimming; sticking to one thought is strenuous when all you can hear is the sounds of skin smacking up against each other or the sensation of your southern region meeting the hilt of Sukuna’s cock for his other one to press your clit again. “Suk’naa, I beg of y—“

“What?” He steps back, causing your hands to come off the wall. You nearly lose your soul, forgetting that the behemoth is holding you. Yet your fright is humorous to him. “Can’t hear you; if you wish to beg, speak aloud?”

Now is where he decided to increase the pace; the work of his hips changed to an irregular cadence you can’t keep up with. Frequent grazes to your sweet spots now happen every second or so, and the poke of your cervix nearly knocks the wind clean off you. Warm, tranquilizing water felt like cold, sharp knives for a split second, like the tongue of his stomach on your back. “Ohh! Hoooh!! Wa-wait, please, no…!”

“Answer me, pet.” He barks with a grin, sporadic plunges to your chasm becoming the norm.

“Taahh, I’m so close…!” The heat within this enclosed space strengthens the smog, disorienting your brain and causing fuzziness to blanket you outside of this intimacy. Your senses are wholly stuck to the moment, sticky and wet by the man who has you levitated and fills your slit with his girthy groin. “Please, Suku, let me cummm…!!”

Sukuna laughs bitterly, using his upper left hand to swipe his wet bangs. “Ask again.”

“I beg you, Sukuna,” Holy fuck, you can’t take this anymore! “Please, let me cum, I wanna c—Ohooo!!”

A harsh flex of his abs causes another hit to your cervix, turning your words into instant babbles. “Again.”

Before your mind becomes numb, you spit out the words in desperation. Drool mixes with the trickled water hitting your chin, and your ass is practically embedded in Sukuna’s length and meaty thighs. “—Cum!! I wish to cum!! Please, please, pleaseplease—”

“Quiet.” His upper left-hand silences your wails, the mouth of his palm chewing on your bottom lip until you open up. “Hurry up and cum, you cock-hungry whore.”

His hand kisses you — no elegance nor grace in it, an utter mess of saliva and water that you can nearly choke on. Instead, you moan along to the tongue shoving and fucking you orally. A sinful kiss that pairs with the raunchy scene and noises around you. Your ears could melt any second now, brushes to your clit has you on the brink of tears, and the heat gets worse within the span of ten seconds. Constant pokes to your cervix quicken your heart rate, and your body submits to the shocks that pull you down to your euphoric apex.

You howl to his palm; your frame jolts with every single passing crash of your orgasm with quivering toes. Sukuna doesn’t stop moving; however, he allows the gesture of going slow to treasure your vaginal walls spasming on his member and biting his lip at the feeling, having to control his urge to release by enjoying the merits of your essence coating him.

“Hnngh, fuck…That’ll do, little dove.” He whirs to your ear again, licking your helix before a chew from his canines. “Keep wringing me out.”

His words were barely decipherable because of your after-haze, succumbing to the kiss of his hand and the cold water that plasters on your hot figure. And yet, despite the contrasts, the warmth within you has you hum in delight.

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goldfades · 25 days ago

Text

TROUBLE ─── RAFE CAMERON

request for blurb night! : "ev, hear me out—reader is sarah’s best friend who used to babysit wheezie. she's always thought rafe was just some spoiled rich kid until one night he helps her out of a dangerous situation, and she see a different side of him"

The sound of cicadas swells in the sticky summer air as you maneuver your car into the Camerons’ circular driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The house stands before you, grand and overbearing, like something pulled straight from a Southern Gothic novel. Even after all these years, it still has a way of making you feel out of place, like you’re trespassing on a life far removed from your own.

You killed the engine and take a deep breath, your hands lingering on the steering wheel. Coming here used to feel second nature—a daily part of your routine back when you were just Sarah’s friend who needed extra cash and Wheezie was a chatty eight-year-old who never seemed to run out of energy.

Now, it feels complicated. It’s not like you’re unwelcome here—Rose is always polite in her distant, Stepford kind of way, and Wheezie practically lights up whenever she sees you. Sarah treats you like family, but there’s always been one Cameron who makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

Rafe.

Spoiled, sharp-tongued, entitled Rafe, whose condescending smirk had been a permanent fixture of your teenage years. The golden boy with a black hole of a temper, a trust fund, and an ego that stretched for miles. You’d never understood him, and frankly, you’d never wanted to. He was a hurricane you learned to avoid at all costs, never lingering too long in his orbit.

But life has a funny way of pulling you into places you swore you’d never go.

You grab your bag from the passenger seat and step out into the muggy heat, your sandals crunching against the gravel. Somewhere inside the house, you hear the faint echo of laughter—Wheezie, probably, shouting at Sarah over a card game or some other nonsense. The sound makes you smile despite yourself.

You weren’t always someone the Camerons—or anyone from Figure Eight, for that matter—gave the time of day. Growing up, you were just another Pogue, another kid from the Cut with hand-me-down clothes and a chip on your shoulder. The people from Sarah’s world weren’t interested in you back then. Why would they be? You had nothing they wanted—no yacht, no country club membership, no sprawling waterfront property. You didn’t mind much. You had your own circle, your own rhythm, and you learned to brush off the condescending stares whenever you ventured into their territory.

But everything changed when your dad’s business took off. What started as a small, bare-bones construction company turned into one of the most in-demand firms in the Outer Banks almost overnight. Suddenly, the same people who used to look through you like you were invisible started remembering your name. Invitations to parties you’d never have been considered for started showing up in your mailbox. They weren’t just tolerating you—they wanted you there.

Sarah was one of the first to genuinely befriend you during that whirlwind of change. She wasn’t like the others, who only smiled at you because their parents said it was polite or because they wanted a favor from your dad. She liked you for you—your sarcasm, your groundedness, your tendency to keep it real in a place where everyone else seemed to be faking something. And through Sarah, you met Wheezie.

Wheezie was eight at the time, still caught between childhood and whatever it is that happens when you grow up as a Cameron. She adored you from the start, trailing behind you whenever you came over like a little shadow. You didn’t mind. She was funny, curious, and refreshingly unfiltered—a lot more like the kids from the Cut than anyone wanted to admit.

When Rose offhandedly mentioned they needed someone to look after Wheezie while she was busy managing the house (or hosting one of her endless charity luncheons), Sarah volunteered you without hesitation. “She’s perfect,” Sarah had said with that trademark confidence of hers, as though your schedule had already been cleared.

To your surprise, it worked out. Wheezie loved you, probably because you didn’t treat her like a chore or talk down to her like so many others did. You indulged her weird little interests, let her ramble on about books and whatever new drama she overheard in the house. You made her laugh.

And if the Camerons noticed you weren’t exactly one of their own, they didn’t seem to mind much anymore. After all, in their world, proximity to success was enough to erase just about anything.

Even after a couple years had passed, it’s a little funny how much has stayed the same. Every time you pull into the Camerons’ driveway, you still get the same sinking feeling, like you’re stepping onto foreign soil without a passport. Except now, it’s become a routine. Cameron game nights.

It started as an extension of the babysitting gig—a casual invite from Sarah, insisting you stay for dinner one night after watching Wheezie. Dinner turned into a board game that Sarah claimed was “super quick,” which turned into three hours of family chaos. It was ridiculous, overly competitive, and a little awkward with Rose monitoring everything like a referee, but Wheezie loved having you there, and Sarah was relentless in making sure you felt included.

At some point, it just became normal. Even after Wheezie grew out of needing a babysitter, the tradition stuck. Every week or two, Sarah would text you about game night, and somehow, you always said yes.

“You’re like an honorary Cameron,” Sarah had joked once, and you’d laughed because the idea of that felt ridiculous. But there were moments, like now, when you almost believed her.

Wheezie’s voice echoes from the living room the second you step through the door. “You’re late!”

“I’m literally on time,” you call back, closing the door behind you. The smell of freshly baked something wafts through the air, probably cookies Wheezie convinced Rose to make under the guise of a family bonding activity.

“Technically, Rafe’s late,” Sarah says, popping her head around the corner, already grinning. “You’re just cutting it close. Come on, Wheezie’s already plotting your downfall.”

You laugh and follow her into the living room, where the familiar chaos is already brewing. Wheezie’s sprawled across the couch, a pile of board game pieces spread out in front of her, while Ward sits in his chair, sipping a scotch like it’s all beneath him but still keeping a hawk’s eye on the rules. Rose flits between the kitchen and the table, not-so-casually reminding everyone to keep the snacks on coasters.

And then there’s Rafe.

He’s leaning back in one of the armchairs, his legs stretched out like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. A half-smirk tugs at his lips as he spins a stray game token between his fingers. He barely glances at you when you walk in, but you catch the faintest flicker of recognition.

It’s been years, but Rafe is still Rafe: cocky, restless, and way too pretty for his own good. He’s toned down some of the more obvious brattiness since the early days, but the edge is still there, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful.

And, as always, you do your best to steer clear.

The quiet hum of the boutique fades behind you as you pull the glass door shut, twisting the key to lock it. The click echoes in the empty street, a sharp sound against the stillness of downtown this late at night. The once-bustling sidewalks are deserted now, the streetlights casting uneven pools of orange on the pavement. Most of the shops had closed hours ago, their dark windows reflecting the faint shimmer of the moon.

You adjust the strap of your bag over your shoulder and glance at your phone. 11:43 p.m. Later than you’d intended. It wasn’t your shift to close, but your coworker had begged you to cover for her last minute, and you couldn’t say no. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ve done this before. Downtown isn’t that bad, and your car is parked just a block away. Still, there’s something unnerving about the silence, the way the shadows stretch a little too far when you’re alone.

Reaching your car—a trusty but aging sedan that you inherited from your dad—you fumble with the keys before sliding into the driver’s seat. The interior smells faintly of the vanilla air freshener you keep on the rearview mirror, a comforting contrast to the chilly night air outside. You toss your bag onto the passenger seat, then grip the steering wheel as you turn the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

You pause, frowning. That’s… odd. Your car’s old, sure, but it’s never been completely unresponsive. You twist the key again, harder this time, willing it to come to life.

Still nothing.

A low groan escapes your throat as you lean back against the seat. This can’t be happening. Not tonight. Not here.

You pull out your phone, half-tempted to call Sarah or even your dad, but you hesitate. Sarah’s probably asleep by now, and your dad’s a good thirty minutes away—not to mention, he’d definitely give you a lecture about not keeping up with the car’s maintenance. Sighing, you pop the hood and step out into the cool night air, shivering slightly as a gust of wind cuts through your jacket.

The street around you is unnervingly quiet. A stray cat darts across the road, its shadow flickering under the streetlights. You glance around, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It’s just your imagination, you tell yourself. No one’s here.

With a deep breath, you lift the hood and stare down at the engine like it might magically fix itself. You know a grand total of nothing about cars, but you wiggle a few cables anyway, hoping for a miracle. When you try the ignition again, the result is the same—silence, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp overhead.

Panic starts to creep in now, slow and steady. Your phone’s battery is hovering at 10%, and downtown—normally picturesque and charming by day—feels like a completely different place at night. The empty windows of the closed shops look less quaint and more sinister, their dark interiors like gaping mouths.

You lean back against the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as you weigh your options. Call someone? Walk to the gas station a few blocks down? Stay here and wait it out? None of them sound appealing, especially with the growing sensation that you’re being watched. You tell yourself it’s just nerves, but your skin prickles anyway, and you can’t help but glance over your shoulder every few seconds.

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. “This is how horror movies start.”

You huff out a shaky breath and decide to at least look under the hood. Not that you know what you’re doing, but it’s better than standing here like a sitting duck. Popping the latch, you step out into the cool night air again, every sound amplified in the unsettling quiet. Your shoes scrape against the pavement as you walk to the front of the car, lifting the hood and leaning over the engine.

The faint metallic scent of oil hits your nose as you peer into the mess of cables and parts. It all looks like a foreign language to you, but you fiddle with a few wires anyway, hoping for some kind of miracle.

That’s when you hear it—footsteps.

At first, you think maybe it’s nothing, just your imagination running wild, but then you hear them again, deliberate and getting closer. Your stomach clenches, and you straighten up, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.

Two figures are walking toward you from the opposite side of the street, their strides slow and unhurried. The dim streetlights reveal faces you vaguely recognize—Kooks, no doubt, probably from the same parties Sarah used to drag you to back in high school. Their names escape you, but the looks on their faces don’t—grins too wide, eyes too sharp, the kind of predatory energy that sets every nerve in your body on edge.

“Car trouble?” the taller one calls out, his voice carrying an edge of amusement as they stop a few feet away.

You force a tight smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, I’ve got it handled. Thanks.”

The shorter one, stockier and wearing a backward baseball cap, steps closer, tilting his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Doesn’t look like it,” he says. His tone is casual, but the way his eyes flick over you makes your skin crawl.

“I’m fine,” you insist, taking a small step back toward the car. Your heart is pounding now, a sick thrum in your chest, but you keep your expression as neutral as possible.

“Hey, we’re just trying to help,” the taller one says, holding up his hands like he’s harmless, but there’s something almost mocking in his tone. “No need to be rude.”

The stocky one smirks, moving to your other side, effectively boxing you in against the car. “Yeah, we’re just being friendly.”

The air feels heavy, oppressive, and the space between you and them feels like it’s shrinking by the second. You can feel the tension in their postures, the way they’re both leaning in slightly, testing how far they can push.

Your throat tightens as you glance around, desperate for someone, anyone to come walking down the street. But there’s no one—just you and these two strangers who clearly don’t care that you’re uncomfortable.

“Look,” you say, trying to sound firm but calm, “I appreciate it, but I’m good. You don’t need to stick around.”

The taller one laughs, a low, unpleasant sound that makes your stomach churn. “Aw, come on. You’re out here all alone. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we just left you like this?”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the hood, your mind racing for a way out. You consider making a run for it, but they’re too close now, their presence suffocating.

Just as the stockier one steps even closer, his grin widening, a voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding.

“What’s going on here?”

The relief is instant and overwhelming, like a lifeline being thrown to you in a raging sea. You turn toward the sound, and there he is—Rafe Cameron, standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved casually into his pockets but his posture rigid, his eyes hard as they lock onto the two guys.

The taller one straightens up immediately, his smirk faltering. “Rafe,” he says, a weak attempt at sounding friendly.

Rafe doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting to you for the briefest moment before snapping back to them. “Didn’t realize we were having a party,” he says, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous. “You two invited?”

The stockier guy takes a step back, muttering something under his breath. “We were just leaving,” he says quickly, his bravado crumbling under Rafe’s glare.

“Yeah, you are,” Rafe says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The two exchange uneasy glances before slinking away, their footsteps echoing down the street until they disappear around the corner.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat and the faint hum of Rafe’s truck idling in the distance.

“You good?” Rafe asks, his voice softer now but still steady, grounding.

You nod, your throat dry as you manage to croak out, “Yeah… I am now.”

Rafe watches the shadows where the two guys disappeared, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. You half expect him to say something cutting, maybe some sarcastic remark about how you can’t take care of yourself, but when he finally looks at you, there’s no smugness. Only something... softer, almost hesitant.

“You’re lucky I saw you,” he says, his voice low. “That could’ve gone bad. Fast.”

You nod, your throat still tight from the tension of the moment. He’s right. You don’t even want to think about how that could’ve ended if he hadn’t shown up. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s brow furrows like he’s surprised you said it. He leans back slightly, glancing at the car hood still propped open. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

“Won’t start,” you reply, gesturing vaguely at the engine. “Not that I’d know what to look for.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to.” His tone lacks the usual edge, though—it’s not a dig, just a statement.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there in the quiet. The night air feels less suffocating now, the earlier tension replaced by a strange calm. Despite everything you know—or think you know—about Rafe Cameron, there’s something about his presence right now that makes you feel… safe. It’s unsettling, in its own way.

“You should be more careful,” Rafe says, breaking the silence. His gaze is steady, not mocking or judgmental, just serious. “Downtown this late? Alone? That’s asking for trouble.”

You bristle slightly, your instinct to defend yourself flaring up. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down.”

He raises an eyebrow, but instead of snapping back, he just nods. “Fair.”

The quiet stretches between you again, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. Rafe steps closer, peering under the hood with a practiced air, and you’re struck by how uncharacteristically gentle he seems. No biting remarks, no smug superiority—just calm focus.

He taps a cable lightly, muttering something under his breath, then steps back, closing the hood with a decisive thud. “Battery’s probably dead,” he says, glancing at you. “You need a jump.”

You nod, your nerves finally starting to settle. “I guess I’ll call someone.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, already walking toward his truck. “I’ve got cables.”

You blink, caught off guard by his matter-of-fact tone. He’s not offering—he’s telling you he’s going to help. And for some reason, you don’t argue.

A few minutes later, Rafe has his truck pulled up nose-to-nose with your car, the cables stretched taut between them. He works in silence, his movements efficient, and you watch from the sidelines, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“You should get in,” he says, nodding toward the driver’s seat.

You do as he says, sliding back into the familiar confines of your car. The moment feels oddly intimate—just the two of you on this empty street, the hum of his truck filling the air.

“Try it now,” he calls out, stepping back.

You turn the key, but instead of the engine sputtering to life, it lets out a defeated whine and falls silent again. You try one more time, your chest tightening with frustration and dread, but it’s no use. The car isn’t going anywhere tonight.

You let your forehead drop against the steering wheel with a groan. Of course. Just your luck.

Rafe’s voice cuts through the night air, low and steady. “It’s not gonna work. Battery’s dead for real.”

You sit up, pressing your lips together as he leans against the open driver’s side door, his arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between amusement and mild concern.

“Great,” you mutter. “So, what now? I call a tow truck and wait here till dawn?”

Rafe tilts his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before landing on your car again. “Or,” he says, “I could just drive you home.”

The offer catches you off guard, and you hesitate, your immediate instinct to say no. Riding home with Rafe Cameron? That’s about as far outside your comfort zone as you can imagine.

But then you glance down at your nearly dead phone, the empty street around you, and the sheer impossibility of getting a tow out here tonight. What other choice do you have?

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe shrugs, the motion easy, like it’s no big deal. “You got a better plan?”

You don’t.

“Fine,” you say finally, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and climbing out of the car. The night air feels colder now, pressing against your skin as you walk toward his truck.

Rafe opens the passenger door for you without a word, and you slide in, the faint scent of leather and cologne filling the cab. It’s clean but lived-in—practical, not flashy, which surprises you.

He climbs in on the driver’s side, pulling the door shut and starting the engine with a smooth turn of the key. The sound is steady, reliable, and for a moment, you envy how effortlessly everything in his life seems to work.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, the only sound the low hum of the truck and the occasional creak of the suspension as it rolls over uneven pavement. You glance out the window, watching the darkened storefronts blur past, trying to ignore the strange tension sitting between you.

“You gonna sit there and sulk the whole way?” Rafe asks, his voice breaking the silence.

“I’m not sulking,” you shoot back, turning to glare at him.

He smirks, his eyes still on the road. “Sure you’re not.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just… processing the fact that my car officially hates me. And that I had to be rescued by you of all people.”

His smirk softens into something closer to a smile, and for once, it doesn’t look mocking. “Yeah, well, it’s your lucky night, I guess.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, and the quiet settles over the truck again. It’s not entirely uncomfortable this time—just strange, like you’re both trying to figure out how to navigate this unexpected moment.

After a while, Rafe glances over at you, his expression more serious now. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone like that,” he says quietly.

You shift in your seat, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down,” you mumble.

“Still,” he says, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Things could’ve gone bad. You know that, right?”

You do. The memory of those guys, their leering smiles and the way they cornered you, is still fresh in your mind. A shiver runs through you, and you glance at Rafe, his profile sharp in the dim light from the dashboard.

“Thanks,” you say, softer this time. “For stepping in.”

His jaw tenses for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

The rest of the drive passes in a blur of streetlights and quiet conversation. When he finally pulls up outside your house, you feel an odd sense of disappointment, like the night is ending too soon.

Rafe cuts the engine and looks over at you, his expression unreadable again. “You good?”

You nod, your fingers curling around the strap of your bag. “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

He hesitates, his eyes searching yours for a moment, and you swear you see something uncharacteristically soft in his gaze. “Anytime,” he says, his voice low.

You climb out of the truck, turning back as you reach your front door. Rafe is still there, leaning slightly out of the window, watching you with an intensity that sends a strange flutter through your chest.

“Night, Rafe,” you call out, your voice steadier than you feel.

He nods once, his smirk returning, but there’s a warmth to it now that wasn’t there before. “Night.”

You watch as he drives off, the tail lights disappearing down the street, and you can’t shake the feeling that tonight, something shifted. Something you didn’t see coming.

The living room is alive with laughter and the sugary smell of freshly microwaved popcorn. Wheezie is sprawled across the couch, her legs tangled in a blanket as she debates the finer points of the movie you’ve just paused, while Sarah snorts beside her, throwing a handful of popcorn in her sister’s direction.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, sipping from your drink and soaking in the warmth of the moment. It feels good to let your guard down like this—to laugh and tease and forget for a little while.

“Okay, but how does she not realize he’s the bad guy?” Wheezie demands, gesturing dramatically at the screen.

“Because she’s blinded by love,” Sarah says, grinning. “Or maybe she’s just as dumb as you are.”

“Excuse me?” Wheezie gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I feel like if someone was being that obvious about being evil, I’d notice.”

“Would you, though?” Sarah teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey!” you protest, chucking a stray pillow at her.

The playful banter continues, the night stretching on in a haze of easy conversation and snack-fueled chaos. You’re halfway through arguing over which movie to watch next when the sound of the front door opening pulls your attention.

You glance toward the entryway just as Rafe steps inside, his hair slightly mussed, his keys jingling in his hand. He pauses when he sees you all, his expression flickering from mild surprise to something unreadable.

“What’s this?” he asks, his voice carrying that familiar mix of curiosity and amusement. “A girls’ night?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, throwing a popcorn kernel at him. “And you’re not invited.”

“Tragic,” Rafe deadpans, stepping fully into the room. His eyes flick to you for a split second, and your stomach does an unexpected flip.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just residual nerves from the other night. Nothing to do with the way his presence seems to fill the space or the way his gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks heat.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying.”

“Good,” Sarah says. “Bye.”

He ignores her, pushing off the frame and heading toward the kitchen instead.

“I’m getting more popcorn,” you announce quickly, needing a reason to escape the sudden heat prickling at your skin. You grab the empty bowl and dart toward the kitchen before anyone can respond.

The kitchen is cooler, quieter, and you exhale a sigh of relief as you cross to the counter. You’re halfway through scooping kernels into a bowl when you hear the low hum of Rafe’s voice behind you.

“Didn’t know you were here tonight.”

You jump slightly, glancing over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed and that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you say, turning back to the task at hand, “I’m kind of a regular around here.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his tone light but edged with something that makes your stomach flutter.

You keep your focus on the popcorn, refusing to let him get to you. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re interesting,” he shoots back smoothly.

You roll your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. “Interesting? That’s a stretch.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I don’t think so.”

His voice is closer now, and you glance up to find him standing beside you, his gaze fixed on your face. You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the bowl as you try to think of something—anything—to say.

“Relax,” he says, his lips quirking up into a grin. “You look like you’re about to run out of here.”

“I’m not,” you insist, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

He leans in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I was starting to think I might scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you say quickly, your voice a touch too defensive.

“Hmm.” His smirk deepens, and he leans back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. “If you say so.”

With that, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and steps away, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he heads toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, trouble,” he calls out, his tone teasing but soft enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You stand there for a moment, staring after him, your heart racing and your face burning.

By the time you return to the living room with the popcorn, Wheezie and Sarah are too busy laughing at some inside joke to notice how flustered you are. You settle back into your spot on the floor, your mind still replaying the way Rafe’s voice sounded when he called you trouble.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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ahmedsal-1qa · 30 days ago

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⛔ please help my family don't skip 🛑

Hello, My name is Ahmad Mohammed Hassan Salah, a 33-year-old man from Gaza, Palestine. Under the sky of Gaza, amidst the war and shelling, begins my story. I lived my life in the northern part of Gaza with my wife and three children, dreaming of a secure future for my small family. Nada, my seven-year-old eldest daughter, loves to draw, though her colors have disappeared amid the rubble 🎨💔. Mohamed, my five-year-old son, still dreams of playing in a garden untouched by bombs 🛝💔. As for Huda, my two-year-old, she has started uttering her first words amid the sounds of explosions 🍼💔.

The tragedy began one night of the war when I was forced to leave my home under continuous bombardment 💣😔. I carried my children and my anxious wife, running through the debris and darkness in search of a safe haven 🌪️. Our journey was fraught with dangers, as we left everything behind: our home, memories, and even our money and food 🏚️💔. After a long journey, we found ourselves in southern Gaza, where we set up a small tent as a temporary refuge ⛺😞.

The tent, small as it was, became our new world. Without mattresses to shield us from the cold nights or blankets to protect us from the rain 🌧️❄️, life was harsh. The children slept on the ground, and I struggled to provide any food to feed my family 🍞💔. But the war showed us no mercy. After only three months, we were forced to move once again, this time to central Gaza. The Israeli army described it as a "safe zone," but the shelling followed us like an unrelenting shadow 💔💣.

More than a year has passed, and my family and I continue to live under bombardment and destruction 🌋💔. Each day brings with it a new story of suffering. Food is scarce 🍽️, water is contaminated 🚱, and fear never leaves my children's hearts 😔💔. Nada has started asking, "When will this war end?" 😢. Mohamed tries to comfort his mother, who weeps in silence 😭💔. As for Huda, she knows no world other than one filled with terrifying sounds 🥺.

I also suffer from a chronic illness, and I have a medical report confirming my condition 🏥💔. However, the pain of my illness is less than the anguish I see in my children's eyes 💔😔. I try to be strong, but I sometimes break down when I cannot provide food for them 🥺. My wife stands by me, trying to bring hope, but even hope has become a rare commodity 💔.

Amidst the devastation, I want to send a message to the world: "We are human. Our children deserve a better life. We just want safety. All I want is to sleep one night without fearing that my children will wake up to the sound of explosions." 🙏💔

Due to this ongoing suffering, I appeal to the world through Tumblr to raise donations for my family and for other families experiencing similar circumstances 🌍💔. If you are able to provide any assistance, no matter how small, it would mean so much to us 🙏🫂. You can help by donating food, clothing, or even essential medications that we desperately need 💊🛒. I kindly ask you to share our story on Tumblr, because spreading it may reach kind hearts all over the world—hearts that can offer help and save the lives of my children and the children of Gaza from this hell ❤️🕊️.

My story is not just an individual one; it represents thousands of families in Gaza living in conditions that are unimaginable 💔. The question remains: How long will this suffering continue? And will the day come when Nada can draw a sun without it being covered by the smoke of war? 🌞✏️💔

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #280 )✅️

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters

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roosterforme · 2 months ago

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California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago."

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

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

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly.

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

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

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

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

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house.

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy.

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him.

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

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

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia.

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking.

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

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

Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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mermaidgirl30 · 5 months ago

Text

✨Caught In the Act✨

Pre-outbreak! Joel Miller x Roommate! fem reader

A/N: Thank you to @littlevenicebitch69 for showing me that video that sparked the inspiration for this fic 😘 No beta, but I had so much fun writing this one!

Summary: Thinking you’re home alone, you decide to unwind in bed, but the last thing you expect is to have Joel Miller, the man you’re renting a room from, find you naked in bed.

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Vibrator use, porn with plot, yearning, feelings, infatuation, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, dirty talk, roommates

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The sunlight trickles against the sheer curtains as the room swelters with heat. The buzzing sounds fill the bedroom as your hips rock against the silk sheets, your fingers curling with every meticulous circle the vibrator makes against your swollen clit.

“Joel,” you moan freely, knowing he isn’t home, not at this hour of the day. It’s just you and your breathy whispers of his name, pretending the vibrator is his thick fingers stifling an orgasm from your needy clit, pretending the dampening sheets are his greying tousled curls as you tug and pull, pretending his large tongue is consuming you entirely as another moan slips from your lips.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the man you’re renting a room from like this, shouldn’t be moaning his name while your vibrator is pressed firmly against your bundle of nerves, but you just can’t help yourself. He’s just so hot the way his veiny hands open whiskey bottles as his strong muscles clench tight around his button-up flannels he always looks so damn good in. And he’s so fucking sexy the way he smirks while his Southern drawl falls from his plush lips every single time he talks to you with those big brown eyes that you just want to sink into. You can’t help but want him all the time, even though you really shouldn’t.

“Ohhh, fuck,” you whine as you hit that spot, right where it feels like you’re about to shed your orgasm at any second. So you speed up your motions, pressing down harder as you moan his name again, letting it fall off your lips like he’s here with you now, like he’s taking you exactly how you like it.

You’re breathing so hard and focusing on your ragged breaths and the sounds of the whirring vibrator that you don’t even hear the door being jarred open or see the brooding man that stands against your bedroom door. You don’t notice until you hear that thick, undeniable voice that only belongs to one man. That man being Joel fucking Miller.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Moanin’ my name and I ain’t even touchin’ you? Must want it bad,” he chuckles, a large smirk pressed on his mouth as he leans with crossed arms against your painted door frame.

You jump from the sudden intrusion and shut the vibrator off, panting and sweating from your almost orgasm as you work to throw the covers over your naked body. “Jesus, Joel! I didn’t know you were home. I'm sorry… I.” Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to see you like this!

He stops you mid sentence, holding up his large palm as he clears his throat. “Ain’t gotta apologize, sweetheart. Why don’t you just carry on? Besides, I could hear you moanin’ my name the moment I stepped in the house. Not gonna lie, it kinda turned me on. And then walkin’ in and seein’ this? Well, jus’ pull those covers back and let me see that pretty glistenin’ pussy. You want a little assistance there?” he nods, eyes darkening into black pits as you see the outline of his hard cock beneath his worn jeans.

You swallow and choke on your own spit, eyes widening as you slowly reveal your slick center to him once again as you spread your legs wide. “There ya go, sweetheart. Look at how fuckin’ wet you are. Goddamn,” he groans as he rakes a large hand slowly over his greying scruff. “Go on, be a good girl and turn the vibrator back on for me,” he replies in a raspy tone that sets your core on fire.

You slowly press the button, letting the vibrations slow your pounding heart rate as you stare up at the man you’ve been dreaming about from the moment you stepped foot into this house. “You want me to…”

He nods, dropping his jaw open as he takes in just how wet you already are for him. “Yeah, put it back on that pretty clit, sweetheart. Wanna see.”

Your mouth parts open the moment you place it on your throbbing mound, your mouth dropping open as you gaze up into pitch black eyes that want to consume you whole. You hold in a moan, spreading your legs wider as the vibrator circles against your puffy clit, but what feels even better is Joel standing there drinking down the image of you getting yourself off while he watches.

“Goddamn, darlin’. Look at you,” he whistles, untucking his flannel shirt from his jeans as he stalks over to the edge of the bed, kicking his boots off as his body weight makes the bed cave as he crawls on top of the sheets.

“Joel,” you whine, watching his big black eyes come closer as he props himself up beside you, one hand coming down on top of yours while the other tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Let me jus’ give you a hand there, sweetheart. Let me take control,” he growls, grabbing onto the end of the vibrator as he presses it further into your folds, circling slow, meticulous circles as he draws a breathy moan from you.

“That’s it, Attagirl,” he praises as your back arches off the bed, taking the vibrator a level up as he grinds it against your slick folds.

“Ooooh, fuck,” you whine, twisting your fingers into the soft material of his flannel while his gorgeous face hangs just over yours, his big eyes making another wave of slick slip from your center.

“Feels good, don’t it? Yeah, right there,” he purrs as he pushes it down close to your dripping hole, hitting that one special spot that makes your legs start to shake.

“Yes, Joel. Please, don’t stop,” you beg as you grip his forearm with a tight fist.

“I’m not gonna stop till that pretty pussy’s soakin’ my hand, sweetheart,” he smirks, turning the vibrations up even higher as your body hums with electricity from his touch. “If I would’ve known sooner that you’ve been wantin’ this, I would’ve already been on my knees with my mouth between your thighs,” he groans as another moan comes crashing through the room.

You start to feel the coils snap in your belly, and then hot heat starts to slide down your spine as your orgasm starts to break. “Joel, I’m not gonna - fuck, I’m coming!” you scream as you let the floodgates open and latch on to his veiny wrist.

“Jesus Chris, you’re fuckin’ soakin’ me,” he says in awe as slick sprays from your pussy, coating his hand in your release as your back arches off the mattress and your body hums with your intense orgasm. Joel works you through it, calling you a good girl as he shuts the vibrator off and just slowly circles it over your aching center until you’re coherent enough to open your eyes and breathe normally again.

He throws the vibrator to the side and slides a calloused hand carefully from your neckline, in between your breasts, skating down your abdomen, and ending right above your mound. He smiles down at you as he takes his time to ghost his fingers over your soaked folds, stifling a whimper from your lips as he hovers over your puffy clit.

“You look so pretty comin’ undone, darlin’. Wanna see it again, this time wanna really feel it.” He presses the pad of his thumb down on your bundle of nerves, drawing meticulous circles, making you cant your hips up as you soak in the way his fingers feel like pure magic.

“Oh god, please,” you beg, throwing your head back as he slips a finger inside your dripping hole.

“I got you, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel real good now, jus’ hold tight.” Before you know what’s coming, he crashes his lips down on yours and swallows a moan as he curls another finger inside, stretching your walls as he reaches that soft spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

You lean into the kiss, breathing in his woodsy scent, tasting the sweat of the Austin sun on his lips, feeling the way he slips his tongue inside your mouth and swallows every sound you make while he repeatedly fucks his fingers deep inside your pussy, making you feel like you’re floating on thin air.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your fingers through his dark tousled curls as a groan leaves his lips and enters your mouth while he repeatedly takes the breath from your lips. He licks inside you while his thick fingers make wet, obscene sounds as he fucks deeper, uncoiling that same tension he already snapped just minutes ago as he repeats the process all over again.

He unhooks from your lips, finds a steady rhythm as he slips from your hole and full on rocks his fingers up and down your folds, brushing the heel of his wrist over your puffy clit that screams for him to take you over the edge again.

The room is suddenly too hot with his weight on your chest, his expert fingers moving at an impossibly fast pace as your core burns hot and bright, begging for him to make you come again.

“Jesus, fuck - I’m right there. God, it feels so fucking good, Joel,” you stifle as your jaw slackens and your body starts to vibrate the more his fingers work and work at your core.

He slips two fingers back inside you, hitting that one spot that makes you see stars, and then he’s whispering filthy words against your parted lips. “Such a good fuckin’ girl lettin’ me use these fingers on that pretty pussy, wonder what you’d feel like takin’ my cock next,” he smirks as he nips at your bottom lip, pulling another moan from your throat.

“Please, Joel,” you beg.

“Is that an invitation, sweetheart?” he chuckles, raising a thick eyebrow as he looks you deep in the eyes with those beautiful brown eyes that are blown wide.

“Yes, want your cock, Joel. Want you to - oh, fill me up - fuck,” you whine as you feel your release start to flow down your insides.

“Yeah, fuckin’ spill for me, that’s it. Atta fuckin’ girl,” he growls as he presses deep inside that spongy spot, and then you’re completely done for. The slick pools down your core, covering Joel’s knuckles and the inside of your thighs as the orgasm takes a hold and knocks your head back against the cotton pillow.

“That’s it. So pretty, baby,” he coos as he works you through it once again.

The fog fills your brain as every euphoric feeling takes its hold on you, holding you down against the damp sheets as you focus on the man that hangs above you. When you finally come to your senses, Joel uncurls his fingers from your core and pops the digits into his mouth, sucking and groaning as he indulges in your sweet taste.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you taste better than a shot of whiskey,” he groans as he delves his fingers back inside you, collecting slick on the tips of his calloused fingers and brings it up to your lips. “Open up, sweetheart. Try a taste,” he purrs.

You part your lips and allow him to enter. You take his two fingers and suck, glancing at him with glazed over eyes as your sweet taste slides down the back of your throat.

“Goddamn. That’s picture worthy, sweetheart. You suckin’ on my fingers while you lick off your own slick? Jesus Christ, you’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me,” he murmurs as he looks at you with wide, blown out eyes.

You giggle as you tip your head up, wrapping your fingers around the collar of his flannel as you tug, pulling just enough to expose a trail of dark chest hair that’s saturated in sweat. “Just like you’ll ruin me. But I’m okay with that. Just need you right now,” you pant out, popping open more of the buttons of his flannel until he gets the hint and throws it off, exposing his broad, muscular chest that’s beaded in glistening sweat, and his happy trail disappears under the material of his dark jeans.

“You want me inside you, sweetheart?” he whispers as you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and start popping open the top button.

“Yes, want your cock inside me. Please, I need you,” you beg as he smiles down at you with glossy brown eyes.

“Need me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you nice ‘n deep?” he smirks as he unzips his jeans and slides them off his legs, his boxers following swiftly after.

You gulp as his massive cock springs up against his soft tummy, taking in just how big he is as precum spills from the slit. You gawk at him when he wraps a hand around his large length and starts spreading the precum up and down his shaft meticulously.

“Mhm,” is all you can get out as you watch him stroke himself up and down. Fuck.

“Spread those legs then, sweetheart,” he smirks as he positions himself right between your legs. You can only whine and knead your breasts together as he takes the tip and slides it along your folds, collecting slick on his swollen tip that’s red and throbbing just for you. He rubs it along your overstimulated clit and chuckles when you pant his name out.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he drawls as he positions himself at the entrance of your sopping wet hole. “Such a messy girl, too. All this for me? Goddamn. Gonna fill you up real good.” Before you have time to say anything, he thrusts inside you, filling you so full as you gasp at the wide stretch he makes.

“Jesus Christ, you’re tight, darlin’. Jus’ needed this big cock to stretch you out, s’that right?” he groans, caging you in with his muscular arms as he ruts deeper inside you, filling you to the brim with every languid stroke of his massive cock.

You throw your head back, clawing your nails down his broad back as you moan nonsense while he generously slides his thick length back and forth, slipping out just enough to ram back inside you with a sting to your insides as his tip continually kisses the back of your cervix.

It’s like you can’t get enough, need more of him, need every inch of his skin to crawl into yours as he takes you to the edge again. You’ve never felt a stretch like this, never been so cock hungover, not until Joel fucking Miller slipped inside you, and you’re afraid you won’t ever get enough of him now.

“More,” you beg, panting from every motion of the snap of his hips, moaning every time he’s deep inside your clenched walls, splitting them open with every single rutting motion he gives.

“You want more, sweetheart? I’ll give you more. Yeah, give you jus’ what you want,” he smirks as he bends your knees up, folding you into a pancake shape as he crawls over you with his beautiful, broad body. “Careful what you ask for. Might not be able to take it,” he chuckles, eyes darkening with trouble written all over them.

He spears inside you, thrusting so deep that you swear you feel him inside your stomach, hitting that spongy spot that makes you gasp as your back arches off the damp sheets. “Fuckkkk,” you moan, your voice carrying through the entire room as his deep grunts collide with yours.

“Yeah, s’right. Take it,” he growls, nipping at your collarbone as your fingers fist in his tousled curls. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he demands as his hips thrust violently against yours.

You have no more control. The room is heavy and hot as your musk and sweat collect over the other, your fingers dragging down his back as you clench up and let your sweet release slip out, coating him in your slick. “Joel, feels - fuck, I’m coming,” you moan into the shell of his ear.

He stills his thrusts for a few seconds, feeling your walls clench around his cock as you start to soak him, the flow not stopping even as you tilt your head back and scream from the blistering heat that settles in your core.

“Oh, that’s a good fuckin’ girl. Squeezin’ so tight, milkin’ me with that slippery cum, Jesus Christ,” he moans as he thrusts back into you, not wasting a moments time as he chases his own release.

You settle into a fog, his deep pants and groans reverberating off the walls as his heavy hands settle on your hips, fucking into you so deep that you feel drunk and so full of him that you swear you should be satiated, but you’re not. You’d let him pump you full of his cock all night in every different position, if only you could continue to do this night after night.

“‘M not gonna last, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” He grinds his teeth together in concentration as he tries to hold it in just a little longer.

“Inside me. Fill me up, handsome,” you purr.

His jaw ticks, and something like fire lights in his glossy eyes, and a devilish smirk forms on his plush lips as he thrusts once, twice, three more times and then pounds you as hard as he can. He leans his forehead against yours and lets out a guttural groan, feeling the white ropes of cum paint the back of your cervix as he gushes all inside you.

“Fuck me,” he moans, not willing to move till he has all of him spilled inside your walls. He slowly pulls out of you, and you feel the warmth of your own slick and his release mix together as it gushes outside your pussy and down your thighs.

“Look at you, such a pretty little mess you are, ain’t ya,” he smiles, staring at your legs splayed wide as he dips a finger down against folds, collecting the mixed cum together on his index finger. “Open up, pretty girl,” he smirks.

He takes his index finger and slots it between your glossy lips, letting you lick and suck on his finger. You swear his eyes widen even further as his black pupils expand into pure lust. “So good,” you moan, wrapping your lips around his finger as you tease and suck on his slick covered digit.

“Goddamn, look at you. You’re jus’ a wicked little tease, ain’t ya?” he groans, dragging the finger from your lips and pulling it into his warm mouth, sucking with a deliciously hungry groan that makes your eyes widen with heat. ��Delicious,” he smirks as he pops his own digit from his mouth, grinding out another moan from your throat as he topples on the bed beside you.

You both breathe raggedly as you look from one to the other, both locked in a heated staring match, his fingertips lingering on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to his glistening chest. “That was…”

“Unexpected, but amazin’ all the same,” he finishes with a smile curled around his mouth. “You’re tellin’ me you’ve been livin’ in this house for moments, and you weren’t plannin’ on tellin’ me you thought ‘bout me in bed?” His eyebrows raise, and he looks at you square in the eyes, a sly smirk crossing his mouth.

“I didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out,” you say with your lips molded together in a tight gesture.

“Kicked out, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his tousled curls. “Sweetheart, I found you in your bed moanin’ my name. Hell, you could’ve told me that first day you walked in. Think I would’ve taken you right there on the counter if I knew you were into me,” he chuckles.

“Get out of here,” you laugh as you playfully push him in the chest. “You would not have.”

“Oh yes I would. Thought you were a knockout from the minute you came through the front door with those little daisy dukes and those beautiful eyes. Shit, I’ve had a thing for you since day one, sweetheart.”

You purse your lips and give him a once over, assessing his genuine brown eyes that seem covered in softness. Holy shit. He’s being serious. “Really?” you ask breathlessly.

“Really,” he nods, curling his fingers through your hair and pulling you forward, till your mouth collides with his in a long, sensuous kiss that sends music running through your ears. His lips feel like velvet, and his tongue tastes like cinnamon.

When you fall away from his lips, he smiles. “We gonna make this a habit?”

“Do you want to make this a habit?” you ask with a raised brow, hope stirring in your chest.

“I mean, ‘course I do, darlin’. A pretty thing like you should be fucked well and taken on nice dates. Think we got the fuckin’ part down, jus’ gotta take ya to dinner now.” He winks and flashes his honey-glazed eyes, and you feel as if you could drown in those syrupy eyes.

“That what you tell all the girls who turn into your roommate?” you giggle.

“Now, sweetheart. You’re rentin’ a room from me. If you wanna be roommates, then technically you’d need to stay in my room, in my bed, in my arms,” he smiles as he pulls you flush to his broad chest, draping an arm around the back of your hip as his fingers softly tease at your soft skin.

You hum into his touch, giving him a dreamy smile as you drag your nails against his silver scruff. “Roommates, huh? Is that what we’re gonna be?”

“Roommates, fuck buddies, lovers… s’hard to say, darlin’. But I like you, and I’d like to explore whatever this is.” His tone is so sincere that it makes butterflies flit through your stomach at the possibilities of what this could turn out to be.

You push your fingers through his messy curls, reveling over his deep groans as you drag your nails down his scalp. “I like you too, Joel. A lot, actually,” you blush.

“Figured as much when I caught you moanin’ my name while usin’ that little vibrator on your pretty pink pussy,” he winks, making you blush at the way he drags out the words and keeps his brown eyes locked tight on yours.

You shake your head and groan when he drags his thick thumb over your lower lip. “Bet I’m not the only one. What have you been thinking about at night, in the shower, in your bed?” you smirk, making his cheeks redden at the mention of it.

“Yeah, yeah, sweetheart. You know I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you, too. Been wonderin’ how sweet you were. Turns out you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever put my lips on.” He curls his lips into a delicious smile and flips you over to where your back is flush with his sweat-covered chest, lacing his calloused fingers with yours as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his scruff scratching softly along your jawline.

You lay there in the twisted sheets, inhaling the musk that makes up Joel Miller, embedding his woodsy pine scent deep into your memory. This feels… right, like this is where you’ve always belonged, in his arms.

“How’s ’bout I take you on a date Friday night? We could go see a movie, I’ll buy you a big thing of popcorn, hold your hand, maybe pull you into my lap so I can kiss you all I want, then I’ll take you back home and make love to you in my bed all night long.” He places a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the feel of him.

You squeeze his hand and brush your lips over his knuckles, giving him a lazy smile as you turn to look back at him over your shoulder. “Okay, cowboy. You’ve got a deal.”

He brushes his lips over yours and pulls you close so he can trace his lips over the shell of your ear. “Alright, pretty girl. It’s a date. Now, how ‘bout we go take a shower, and I can make you some dinner. Maybe go for round two after with my mouth between those pretty thighs of yours,” he whispers as a chill runs down your spine, heat building back in your core.

You huff out a laugh and stifle a groan. “Mmmm, alright then, cowboy. I’m all in.”

He presses his lips against yours and then tugs you up from the bed, lacing his fingers with yours as he leads you to his room. “Gonna take you for the ride of your life, sweetheart,” he smirks.

“I’m counting on it,” you smile.

And so it begins.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #Joel Miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel x female reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller au #joel miller fan fiction #smut

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beloveds-embrace · 6 days ago

Note

What if in og dukedom Kiong was also a Duke but from another kingdom, perhaps the "monsterous northern duke" webcomics like to do lol.

You meet him at a gala in his kingdom (maybe Price had to attend for some political reason?) and make polite conversation, not bothered by this massive intimidating man (you live with Simon after all)

And he feels so at ease with you. This kind and warm woman who is unafraid of him, doesn't shy away from him when he moves a little closer. Perhaps you don't know about the rumors around him being a monster.

But you did know, you mentioned as you watched noblewomen gossip behind their fans. They were just nasty words spoken by bored nasty people. And you smiled so warmly up at him, him of all people.

It made his chest tighten watching you leave to return to your husband's side. He can't help but start looking into you after the gala, wondering what your life is like back home.

And it breaks his heart hearing what people say about you. Calling you a barren woman who's destined for divorce, how you're doomed to become a fallen noble because of it. You were the sweetest woman he's ever met, there's no way fate would have take the chance of motherhood from you. Obviously this was your husband's fault.

And he was more than happy to take you from him and give you all the children you were meant to have.

Wait omg yes i love this 😫 always the cliche northern duke tho hehehe will never get bored of that trope LOL

Dukedom au masterlist

I’m just thinking of him unable to stop thinking about you, even when months passed. In just one night, one gala, you had thawed the ice around him and now, you are all his thoughts circle back to you, you, you.

The flickering firelight danced across the dark stone walls of König’s private study. The room was quiet save for the occasional crackle of the hearth and the faint rustling of paper as he read through the letters his informants had gathered. With each word he read, a knot of anger tightened further and further within his chest, his calloused fingers gripping the parchment.

“Barren,” the word stood out on the page like a cruel slash across delicate skin. “A failure of a wife. Her inability to bear children has become the subject of much speculation among the Southern court. Whispers grow louder of Duke Price seeking annulment or taking a mistress. Some say he might already have.”

König’s sharp, pale eyes lingered on the word. His jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack. How dare they? How dare anyone reduce you to such indignity? The woman they were speaking of- the woman he could not get out of his thoughts no matter how much he tried- was kind, intelligent, poised beyond anything the shallow nobles of the Southern Kingdom could comprehend.

You spoke to him with no fear, no judgment. Not a single noble was worth half the delicate shoes you wore.

And this was what said nobles spoke of behind their gilded walls?

He exhaled through his nose, a harsh, controlled sound as he set the letter down. His hands, broad and powerful, trembled faintly as he dragged them over his face, trying to compose himself. His mind betrayed him, conjuring an image of you at the gala months ago, your warmth and grace so at odds with the venomous words on the page.

König stood abruptly, his imposing height casting long shadows across the room. The parchment fluttered to the desk, discarded, as he began pacing. Long strides carried him to the window, where snow fell silently beyond the frosted glass. He stared out, his breath fogging the pane, though his eyes saw nothing but the specter of his anger.

Unbelievable.

This wasn’t just idle gossip. He knew better. Rumors of this kind didn’t grow legs this much unless someone was feeding them. And who else but your own husband could have allowed such things to fester?

“Price.” König spat out the name like a curse.

The thought of the Duke filled him with a cold fury. John Price, who stood beside you at that gala with the possessive air of a man who knew what he had but didn’t deserve it. Price, who allowed these baseless, cruel rumors to circulate unchecked while you stood tall and weathered them alone, a lighthouse in the dark, deep oceans of nobility.

König’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. What kind of man allowed his wife- his Duchess- to suffer such indignity? A real husband would have silenced those rumors before they even began. A real husband would have cherished you, ensured the world saw you as König did: radiant, strong, untouchable. A goddess in your own right.

But Price… Price was blind. Or perhaps worse- he simply didn’t care.

Unbelievable.

“It’s his fault,” König growled to himself, taking a deep breath to calm the anger rolling through him.

Still, idea burned like a brand in his mind. If Price had been the husband you deserved, these rumors wouldn’t exist. If he had protected you, König wouldn’t be reading about your supposed “failings” in a cold Northern study lacking your warmth. The hearth was just a pale imitation of you.

His gaze returned to the letter on his desk. He reached for it, smoothing the crumpled edges with surprising gentleness for a man of his size. He scanned the hateful words again, and instead of despair, something else stirred within him- resolve.

If John Price wouldn’t shield you from this venom, then König would. He didn’t care what it cost him. You deserved better, and he would ensure you knew it. The Northern nobility bowed to him; no rumors against you would be allowed once he got you with him.

König pulled out another parchment, clean and smooth, and he wrote a letter. He needed to know what you’d like in general to have around, to make this space more comfortable for you.

How could a man be so blind to the treasure he had? König truly couldn’t fathom it. You deserved love, adoration, and everything the world had to offer. If John Price couldn’t see that, König would ensure that you knew your worth.

He dreamed of sweeping you away to his estate, where the snow-capped mountains would shield you from the cruelty of society even if by the time he had you, all their tongues would be culled. He imagined you holding his children, your laughter filling the halls of his once-empty home.

Yes, he decided. You were meant to be his.

Months later, so much information gathered, another diplomatic meeting brought you back to the Northern Kingdom. This time, König ensured he was present, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you again.

When you arrived, carefully stepping out of the carriage with John’s help, he couldn’t help but crack a smile; you looked so lovely, bundled against the cold in a fur-lined cloak and mittens, the deep and pale blues of your clothes making you look like a snowflake. He approached immediately, pale blue eyes bright.

“Duchess Price,” he said, bowing slightly. “Welcome back to the North.”

Your smile warmed him more than the roaring fireplaces in his castle ever could.

“Duke König,” you replied, offering your hand for him to kiss. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

He took your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against your gloved ones. “The pleasure is mine, my lady. Shall I show you the gardens? They’re especially beautiful this time of year.”

John watched from a distance, forced away as the servants began showing them to their room, though his sharp eyes narrowing as König led you away. Simon, standing beside him, crossed his arms with a grunt.

They… didn’t like this.

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punkshort · 7 months ago

Text

Night Shift

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x nurse!reader

Summary: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.

Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood (typical hospital junk), needles, drugs (the medical kind), fluff, flirting, rom-com vibes, soft!joel, just a little smut (18+ MDNI)

WC: 7.3K

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I'm fully aware some things I'm about to describe is probably incorrect (medically) but let's suspend that disbelief for a fun, fluffy story, shall we?

"Dr. Fisher wants you in room 504, but if you're too busy, I would be more than willing to go," Lily said, leaning over the counter with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

"Both sound great," you said dreamily, watching him saunter out of your bedroom. And as you ate breakfast across your kitchen table, sharing little smiles over eggs and toast, you couldn't help but feel hopeful and excited for what your future held together.

#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us au #pedro pascal character #joel miller one shot

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everyonewooeverywhere · 1 month ago

Text

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

chapter 2 : dirty bastard

part 1 | masterlist

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: non-idol au | strangers to lovers | angst | fluff (no smut yet, but there will be eventually)

rating: pg-13 (18+ for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually)

word count: 4.7k

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll), toxic relationship, yeonjun slander 😞 (again, sry baby)

notes: again, thank you @ateez-main-yapper for being my ride or die with this one 🫠 literally would have never finished this without her (and yes im gonna say that for every chapter get used to it ☺️💗)

The apartment was quiet for the rest of the evening. You’d stopped going to Yeonjun’s gigs ages ago, so you usually had the entire evening to yourself. It was nice, a relaxing way to wind down. It felt like you lived alone in this little apartment for a few short hours. After clearing away all the scattered beer cans and paper plates scattered around the living room, you could live in your little bubble of delusion. A single girl, just enjoying her quiet after a long day.

You tried to keep your previous argument with Yeonjun out of your mind. It wasn’t really a new one. He’d always been wildly insecure around any of your male friends, even though most of them were the boyfriends of your female friends, and it was a disagreement you’d had several times.

He’d never acknowledge the hypocrisy of him having plenty of female friends who hung around him and his bandmates, though. Girls who either didn’t care that he had a girlfriend or simply didn’t know. Being the man that he was, you couldn’t help but assume the latter.

No more Yeonjun thoughts. You told yourself. He was going to be gone the rest of the night, so it was better that you kept him out of your head.

And as you watched the TV you found it was pretty easy to keep him out of your mind, especially when thoughts of another man slipped in so much easier.

The feeling of Yunho’s arms wrapped around your shoulders lingered. The way he’d held you so close and rubbed your back was so comforting. His soft whispers of reassurance floated through your head as if he was still there. As if he was curled up on the couch next to you, holding you because he knew it brought you comfort.

You were baffled at your lack of guilt over the fantasies of being cherished by a man who was certainly not your boyfriend, especially when said man had made it pretty clear that he would’ve made advances toward you had you been single.

But you couldn’t find it in you to care.

And when Yeonjun stumbled into the apartment at two in the morning, you were lying awake in bed. You felt the bed dip as he rolled himself toward you, drunkenly wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into him. “Mmh…Love you, baby,” you let him place a wet kiss on the back of your neck, “M’sorry.”

You didn’t pull away. Letting him hold you close. Imagining the slurring of his voice in a charming southern accent. And wishing the smell of alcohol on his breath was gasoline.

Yunho called you at noon the next day telling you the car was ready for you to pick up. He said that it had been a much quicker job than he’d first anticipated.

His soft southern drawl floated through the phone's speakers, “You need a ride over? I can bring ya some coffee, too.”

A heartfelt smile spread across your lips, “Oh thank you, Yunho. But I think I’ll just have my friend drive me over... If you…happen to still be getting coffee, though…”

The sound of his chuckle made your stomach flip, “I’ll grab ya somethin’, Doll.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Send me your order and whatever your friend wants, and I’ll have it ready for you when you get here.”

He hung up not long after. Huffing and complaining that “Mingi’s being needy.”

“Okay,” you let out a breathy laugh, “Bye Yunho. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you later, Doll.”

You felt an odd sort of guilt over how excited you were to see him, and you felt like you had to consistently remind yourself of your own relationship when you were around him. But it was so hard to mask the way he made you giddy every time he called you “sweetheart.” And nothing could compare to the way “Doll” rolled off his tongue.

You quickly saved his number in your phone before calling up your friend, praying that she was free so you wouldn’t have to call Yunho back and tell him that you actually did, in fact, need a ride.

She picked up in seconds, “Hey, babe! What’s up?”

“Hey Ro, you free this morning?”

You heard an excited gasp, “Yes, please! I don’t care what it is. My mom set me up on another blind date, and I’m like ninety percent sure he’s her pastor’s son. And I’ve met the guy a couple times, and he really gives me the creeps. Please give me an excuse to not go!”

“Rosie, how many times do I have to tell you that you can stay at my place if you need to avoid your mom and her date choices?”

“Babe, I love you, dearly. But there is no way I am sleeping on that couch of yours. I don’t think Yeonjun could keep it clean if he tried.”

You shrugged, “We could always kick him to the couch.”

“Yeah, not sure I want to deal with that, either.”

“Ok, well I actually need to go pick up his car from the mechanic today. Do you think you could give me a ride?”

She gasped again, and you swear you heard something thump against the floor on her end, “Oh my god! Please please please tell me you went to the shop I suggested!”

You laughed, “I mean, I didn’t really have any other options.”

There's a rushed squeal of joy, followed by the sound of her bedsprings crying out in pain as she launched herself off of it, “Hold on, let me put on a better outfit, and I’ll see you in like an hour, okay?”

“Take your time. There’s really no rush.”

“Oh no no no. There absolutely is a rush. Can’t leave any opportunity for someone to swing by and swoop Mingi off his feet before I get the chance.” You loved her dedication to this, “Hey, by the way…just out of curiosity, what color was his hair while you were there?”

“Uhh, it was platinum, I think,” clearly you hadn’t spent much of your time thinking about Mingi’s hair. Or any part of him for that matter. You had other things on your mind.

Her groan bordered on a moan, “Fuckkk, girl, he’s so hot. I need that man more than I need air.”

“Ok, well, finish getting ready, and then come pick me up, and you can get your fix! Oh! And tell me what kinda coffee you want.”

“Alrighty!” Her excitement was clear as day in the tone of her voice.

She pulled up to your building a little over an hour later. Looking absolutely stunning. Her hair was perfectly done up, and she was wearing the purple cardigan and white pleated skirt she had bought when you two went to the mall last month.

“You look cute.” You pulled her in for a hug.

A bright grin pulled at her lips as she squeezed you tight, “Thank you.” She leaned back but held onto your shoulders, “So do you!”

You smiled softly at her, “Really?”

“Yes.” You knew she’d never tell you otherwise, and you truly believed she'd never even considered that she could be wrong. But part of you really needed to hear her reassure you on it today.

She finally let you go after a few seconds and looked around the kitchen, “Where’s the coffee?”

“Oh! Actually the mechanic is getting it for us.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow at you, “The mechanic is getting us coffee?”

“Mhm. He was actually so sweet yesterday. Drove me home, too, because Yeonjun refused to give me a ride,” You sighed as the events played through your mind, “Jun and I actually got into a huge fight in front of him, and he was nice enough to…check on me after it was all over.”

Her eyes were wide as she grinned up at you, “And he’s buying you coffee this morning?”

“Yep.”

She looked beyond excited at this knowledge, “Is he cute?”

“Rosie.” You glared down at her.

“What? I’m just curious,” A giggle bubbled out of her throat

“Curiosity should have its limites Ro, I’m in a committed relationship”

Rosie scrunched her nose and mumbled something under her breath. You couldn’t make it out, but you had a clue. There was no bigger Yeonjun hater on the planet than her. And as much as she tried to keep in underwraps out of respect for you, there was no hiding how deep her distaste for him ran.

But you placed a hand gently on her shoulder, gestured her to the door, “Come on, girl. Let’s go.”

As you pulled up to the shop for the second time in the past twenty-four hours, you couldn’t help but start to feel a little giddy. You fidgeted with your hands in your lap, trying to control your excited anxiousness, but you couldn’t deny the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach when that baby blue pickup came into view.

“We’re here~” Rosie sang. Flipping down the visor to reapply her lip gloss in the mirror. She flipped it up just in time to see a very sweaty Mingi manually pulling open the garage doors. “Oh fuck.” She turned to you, “Babe, I love you, but will you be okay on your own?”

The pleading look in her eyes made you giggle. “Go for it girl.”

She giddily slid out of the car and jogged up to the building, leaving you to gather your things with a bit more apprehension in your step. It would have been a bold-faced lie to say you weren’t nervous. Crushing hard on a stranger when you were already in a relationship made you a little sick with guilt. As much as you and Yeonjun fought, being unfaithful to him was the last thing on your mind. Regardless of how you felt about him, you trusted your own character that much at least.

You watched as Rosie and Mingi talked with each other. The flirting blatantly obvious from both parties. You were so glad to see her enjoying herself. Dating had been a nightmare for her because of her mother’s incessant prying into her life. And it had gotten so much worse as of late. Rosie turning twenty-five last month with still no signs of marriage was turning her mother into a bit of a monster. Setting her up with men with questionable histories just because she knew that they would want to get married fast and give her grandchildren.

And while you didn’t know him, Mingi seemed like a great guy. He was absolutely her type, at least. She always had a thing for rugged car guys, so maybe his occupation was a sign from the universe herself that he might just be the one.

A knock on the window of Rosie’s car startled you out of your thoughts, making you drop your purse on the floor, tearing your gaze away from your friend. Oh. Yunho was standing outside smiling at you. You pushed the door open.

He tipped his head toward you in greeting, “Hey Doll, how ‘re you?”

“Oh…I’m alright,” you grabbed your purse off the car floor and finally looked up at him. He looked…good. Really good. Wearing another button up flannel and that same fucking beige cowboy hat.

He held a cup out for you, “Your drink.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks when his fingers brushed your own.

He glanced over at your friends who were getting very close as Mingi showed her the engine of a car. Yunho chuckled, “I’ll leave hers on the workbench. I don’t wanna interrupt that.” “That’s probably for the best,” you laughed, following him into the garage.

He set Rosie’s drink down on the bench, taking the opportunity to lean down towards you, “He’s talked about her a lot, you know?” He lowly whispered in your ear.

Pulling back, you fought the urge to shiver at his breath brushing your cheek, “Really?”

He nodded, “Spent a long time gettin’ ready this morning, too”

“Well, she was beyond excited to drive me, so I’d say it’s pretty mutual,” biting your bottom lip. Trying to hide how giddy that knowledge made you feel.

You both glanced over at them and saw Mingi’s hand on the lower part of her back as he reached to show her something inside the hood.

“I think that part’s pretty obvious.” He chuckled and turned his attention back to you, “Well, I got ‘er fixed up for ya.” He patted the hood of Yeonjun’s car.

Your mind was so focused on the proximity of Yunho’s body to yours that you hadn’t even realized that the car was right behind you, “Oh my gosh. Thank you so much, Yunho. This has been stressing me out for a while. I’m so glad it finally got done.”

The whisper of a smile on his lips did nothing to mask the pity in his eyes, “It’s not a problem at all, Doll. You’re an incredible partner for getting it fixed for him.”

An awkward laugh escaped your mouth, “I sure try.”

“You’re doin’ great, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you muttered. A little embarrassed by his flattery.

“And before I forget! I gave her a full detail for ya, too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that…” But your heart fluttered, “What do I owe you?”

He shook his head, “It’s on the house.”

“What? Yunho no. I can’t let you do that.” You started fishing in your purse for your wallet, “Please let me at least pay you for the work yo–.” You peered into your purse to see nothing but your phone, a tube of lip gloss, and a panty liner you kept on you for emergencies. You grumbled, “I forgot my wallet.”

Yunho laughed, “Then I guess that’s settled.” He swung open the driver side door, “Here, have a look.”

“Thank you,” you sighed in defeat.

“Oh! Before I forget.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a little pink digicam, “Found this on the floor in the backseat. Figured you might want it back.”

He placed it in your hands and watched as you tentatively flipped it over. Running your finger gently over the power button, but not pressing it hard enough to bring the device to life.

“Let me go grab some paper work, and then you’ll be good to go. Alright, Doll.”

You nodded but didn’t look up, too focused on the weight against your palm, “Ok.”

The cold metal felt unfamiliar in your hands. Its shiny surface reflecting a distorted, pink version of your face back at you. Yeonjun had never been the sentimental type, and the little heart stickers covering the front were not characteristic of him. You rested the beaded strap in your palm, the pearly white and blue glass beads smooth to the touch of your thumb. The name "Camryn" spelled out in bold, white lettering on powder blue hearts.

Yeonjun had female friends, you knew that. They weren’t exactly the quiet sort, their chatter and laughter usually spilling out the windows of Soobin’s car when he would pull up to your apartment. You’d never seen them as a cause for concern. But what would they be doing in his car? Yeonjun never drove himself to gigs or bars or parties. He always had someone else drive him, so how did his friend’s camera end up in the backseat?

Slipping your hand through the beaded strap, you flipped the camera over in your hands. The black screen staring back at you. Your thumb finally pressed the power button, and you watched as the little screen lit up. Flashing a logo at you before the lens pushed itself out and the screen showed your boots below you.

Hesitantly, you opened the gallery. The first photo was a selfie of a girl in a mosh pit huddled close by three other girls who all grinned up at the lens. And as you flipped through the gallery a bit of relief began to creep in. They all seemed to be photos of a girl partying and enjoying nightlife with her friends. But you kept scrolling.

And you eventually reached a photo of Yeonjun. He was grinning at the camera. Happier than you had seen him in years. You frowned at the photo, trying to recall the last time he looked at you like that.

It only took two more clicks for you to reach the first video. You pressed play without even hesitating for a moment.

A giggle seeped through the small speakers on the side, the sound coming out muffled due to the camera’s poor quality. A girl, who you assumed to be “Camryn” was placing the device on a table, clearly aiming to film something. You heard a male voice come from behind her but you couldn’t make out any of the words. When she turned around, you could see Yeonjun lounging on the couch in front of her. His arms splayed out on the back of it.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you knew was coming next.

And as you watched the scene play out, your fears were unmistakably confirmed. She slid onto his lap and let him wrap an arm around her waist.You couldn’t make out his voice, but the way he called her “baby” was impossible to miss.

You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. The video kept playing, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The way he held her and cupped the back of her head made your stomach turn. Her jacket fell away, and he pulled down her dress, exposing her bare back to you. He was leaning in to kiss her chest when you watched as the camera fell forward on the table she’d propped it up on. Your view became obstructed but you could still hear the muffled sounds of her moans.

You dropped the camera from your hands, letting it swing as it hung from your wrist. Everything felt so heavy. The legs under you didn’t feel like your own. Everything felt disconnected. You couldn’t stop the shaking in your hands or the bile that rose up in your throat.

It felt as if the floor was crumbling under you, and when your knees gave out, you would’ve tumbled into the cool cement beneath your shoes if it weren’t for the pair of arms that caught you before you hit the ground.

“Woah woah woah.” Yunho’s voice came from above you, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You couldn’t even muster up the energy to look up and meet his eyes.

“Y/n?” You heard Rosie run up behind you. Yunho let her take you into her arms. She saw the camera swinging from your wrist and slipped it off. And seeing the video playing on replay answered any questions she would’ve asked you. “Oh babe.” She pushed the camera into Yunho’s hands and wrapped her arms around you tightly., “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into your shoulder.

Just the comfort and familiarity of her arms around you made you break down to tears. You gripped onto her shirt for dear life. She ran a comforting hand over your hair. Letting you cry into her arms.

You had no idea how long she held you like that. But when you pulled away, Mingi and Yunho were clear across the other side of the shop, giving you your privacy.

Rosie wiped a tear from under your eye. “I asked Mingi if he could drive the car back,” she refused to even utter Yeonjun’s name, “I don’t think you should drive like this.”

You nodded, “Ok.”

“Do you want to go back now?” She asked apprehensively.

You took a deep breath, “Yes.” You didn’t have any other words. The sadness inside you was fading into anger, and you didn’t want anyone here to see that part of you.

Yunho came back over. He held the camera out to you, “I figured you might want this back. Might make it easier to…confront him.”

Your lips formed a tight smile, “Thank you, Yunho.” You looked up at him, missing the flutter in your heart that his eyes had given you just several minutes earlier, “You’ve been a really big help. I’m sorry you did all it for some asshole who…” You couldn’t say it out loud yet.

He shook his head, “I didn’t do it for no dirty bastard like that. I did it for you, Doll. Because that’s only the smallest fraction of what you deserve.”

You could only muster out another small “thank you” before Rosie was leading you to her car. And you watched as he stood in the garage door and watched you both drive away.

The numbness was starting to wear off by the time Rosie pulled her car into the lot below your apartment. You could feel the anger seeping into your blood as she parked and turned off the car. A million explanations for why your partner of six long years would cheat on you playing through your mind like a broken film reel.

He’d stopped being attracted to you when your long work hours stopped you from putting as much effort into your appearance as you used to.

He’d only stayed with you so he’d have a place to sleep and food on the table.

He was using you.

He never really loved you.

You wished he’d never really loved you.

Gently, she grabbed your shoulder to get your attention, “Do you want me to come up? I’ll wait outside the door if you’d like. Or do you want me to wait down here?”

“Can you just wait here?”

She nodded and gave your shoulder a light squeeze, “Ok. Call me if you need me. I’ll be right there.” You couldn’t even formulate a response before you slid out of her car. Mute with anger as you rode the rickety elevator up to your floor. Racking your brain over and over and over again for some sliver of a reason for how he could do this to you. After everything you’d done for him and everything he’d put you through. After everything you’d been through together. Memories of the days back in college when you’d spend long nights out together at bars and crash out on the couch in each others’ arms swirling together with the anger swelling in your chest. Making you sick with distress and confusion.

Where did it all go wrong?

When you stepped through the door, the quiet air of the apartment felt so unfitting for your swarming thoughts. Of course, he was still asleep.

But not a sliver of your existence cared when you threw the bedroom door open, letting it slam back against the wall. He didn’t stir. In fact, he didn’t even show a single sign of life until you kicked the bed with the toe of your boot.

When did everything you’d given him stop being enough?

He groaned and lifted his head to glare at you, “What the fuck?”

He had to have loved you at some point, right?

“Get up.”

Where did that end?

“Oh god, what did I do now?”

How did those two carefree lovers end up here?

“Get. Up.”

He sat up and reached into the nightstand for a shirt, “Will you save the nagging for one fucking second? I have a headache.” He pushed himself up from the bed with a huff, striding past you to get to the kitchen, “Is this about yesterday? I don’t want to talk about that right now. Not like you ever fucking listen to me anyway. All high and mighty think you’re better than me beca–”

Every bone in his body froze when he saw the camera sitting on the kitchen counter. He snapped out of his daze, realizing a little too late that you’d followed him out of the bedroom, and had been staring at him from across the counter. Watching his whole body stiffen in place.

Guilty.

“Who is she?”

“Who the hell are you talking about?”

Liar.

He wouldn’t even look you in the eye. Gesturing vaguely at the dusty pink digicam. “What even is this?”

“I am not in the mood to play stupid games with you. Who. Is. She?”

“Do I have to say it twice? I don’t fucking know.”

Did he think you were an idiot?

You slammed your hand down on the countertop, trying to stop yourself from screaming for the neighbor’s sake, “Will you fucking stop!? Turn around, look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re not fucking cheating on me!”

Maybe you were an idiot.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “She’s just a groupie. Comes to our shows sometimes.” He turned to you, mood shifting to desperation, “It wasn’t anything serious, I swear. We never did more than kiss. She doesn’t mean anything, baby please.”

An idiot for buying into his apologies and excuses for so, so long.

You were thankful in that moment that you were still too numbed by shock to cry. A bitter laugh bubbling out of your throat instead, “A groupie? You don’t fucking have groupies, Yeonjun. And there is practically a sex tape on that camera. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Shit, baby, come on. I’m sorry. It really didn’t mean anything. I was just drunk and stupid and got caught up in the moment.”

You were done.

“Stop! Stop lying. Stop making up excuses! I don’t care! You cheated on me Yeonjun! That’s the fucking issue here!” You paused to take a deep breath, “I don’t care why. I don’t care what the circumstances were. I don’t care how bad you feel. I care that I’ve spent six years making sure you have a roof over your head and food on the table without you ever having to lift a finger, and instead of a ‘thank you, baby’ all I get is you fucking around with other girls.”

He grabbed your hand, and you let him bring it up to his lips and kiss your knuckles. Beyond numb to the feeling.

“We’ll work this out, baby. I swear. I’m so sorry. I’ll help out around the house! And I’ll start looking for a job I swear.”

You nearly scoffed.

“That’s great, Yeonjun,” and you saw him get excited at the prospect of winning this, “But you can do that somewhere else.”

Panic rose in his eyes, “Baby, no. Come on! We can work through this.” His hands started shaking as they held your own, “I can’t lose you.”

“I want you gone by tomorrow afternoon.”

“What?” He froze, “What the fuck? You’re kicking me out!? Where do you expect me to go?”

“Fuck if I care. You should’ve thought about that before you cheated on me. For fuck’s sake you should’ve thought about that before you decided to put your pathetic excuse for a band before me. Before us.”

Anger flashed across his face, and he dropped your hands as quickly as he’d held them. “You know what? Fine. You were never anything but a bitch anyway. You never supported me or my music. At least she knows talent when she sees it.”

The sound you made was more than a little unnerving, laughter ringing through your small apartment. “Nice to know you already prefer her over me. Hope she’s got room for you on her couch tonight.”

He ignored you completely. And you watched as he threw on his shoes and stormed out of the apartment. Slamming the door behind him. You had no idea where he was going, but you didn’t care. It would only take you a couple of hours to pack up all his stuff, and maybe you could leave it at the curb so he’d never have to step foot in your home ever again.

But as his footsteps faded down the hallway, silence enveloped the small space. You could feel the anger collapsing in on itself.. The pain you’d been bottling up for the past couple of hours finally overflowing. And the man who you’d spent years of your life trying to “fix” couldn’t have cared less about anything you did for him.

He couldn’t care less about you.

And as you sank to the floor of your kitchen, you felt the weight of all the time and energy you’d wasted on him. Of all the tears you’d shed and money you’d spent. All the love and youth you’d given. And you knew deep down it was as much your fault as it was his.

ok cowboy: @saintriots @ateezswonderland @fairyofhueningkai @acetyu @kyeomofhearts

@mimikittysblog @pale-hummingbird @deadbabiesmom @moonlightgrleric @cheriediosa

@afetepositivamente

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine

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ateez taglist: @certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 10 days ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, mutual pining, kissing, friends to lovers, fluffy, unprotected p in v, fingering, praise, teasing, soft!rafe, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership (“you're mine”; said sweetly).

📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that you and Rafe have been best friends for a while, and your relationship has become more romantic, blurring the lines between.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

Vanilla and cinnamon waft through the kitchen, mixing with the string lights' warm, cozy glow. Christmas music softly plays from the living room TV, drowned out by the sounds of his laughter and yours.

Rafe was entirely too distracting and far too charming. “You sure you know what you’re doin’, sweetheart?” He teases as he leans back into the counter with that frat boy smile. His blue eyes sparkle mischievously— tousled chestnut hair falling along his forehead, so perfectly undone it’s almost unfair.

“Stop,” you laugh as you shoot him a look. “‘Course I know what I’m doing… Unlike you, Mr. ‘How does the microwave work, again? Can’t get this fuckin’ thing to start.’”

His mouth falls open in disgust as he pushes off the counter, walking to your side, bumping you with his elbow playfully. He stays close, the brush of his skin against yours sending electricity through you.

“That was one time,” he whispers playfully.

You shake your head and bite your lip as you feel the warmth of his words so close. It's closer than he usually gets, making your heart flutter. “You’re hopeless-”

”Hopelessly handsome. M’fuckin’ sexy,” he rasps as his fingers find your sides, tickling you. You scurry away, but he grabs you, pulling you back in. “Admit it,” he grins. Your cheeks burn hot from your smile, crumbling under his beautiful gaze.

The two of you have been dancing around this for weeks: flirty texts, late-night drunk phone calls that stretched out until the sun came up, lingering touches just like this. It was intoxicating and maddening.

"You’re alright," you whisper, watching the corners of his lips curl into a smile.

“Yeah?” He breathes as he moves in closer. “Could say the same about you.”

Beep.

The timer goes off, shattering the tension for the moment. You pull away reluctantly, grabbing the oven mit as your racing heart starts to slow. “Umm…” You giggle nervously. “Can you roll that out for me?”

You gesture toward the rolling pin, and Rafe nods, hanging his head slightly to conceal his smile. "Yes, ma'am," he drawls with that rich southern charm.

He walks past you, a large hand brushing against the small of your back as he makes his way to the sugar cookie dough and pin. You inhale slightly at the contact between you, making him look back with a smile.

The two of you work beside each other for a little longer—silence fills the space for the first time all night. But his heavy gaze speaks volumes as you catch him stealing glances out of the corner of your eye.

“All done,” he beams, looking down at his work proudly, the cream-colored dough spread out on the counter perfectly. You step away from your place, setting down the frosting knife before looking up at him. “Good?”

“Look at you,” you coo.

His eyes fall to your lips; mouth tugging into a quick, sly smile.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, baby,” your stomach falls as that name leaves his lips so easily that he doesn’t even notice it himself. Rafe lifts his hand, brushing his thumb against your mouth. “Got a little somethin’ on your lip. You’ve been lickin’ the spoon or what?” He hums, his voice thick and sweet like honey. He draws his thumb between his lips, sucking down as your heart thuds in your chest.

You step closer, your body drawing to Rafe like a magnet. “You’re makin’ this really hard,” he mumbles as his baby blue eyes rest on yours. “You know that, right?”

You swallow hard—your mind, a mix of emotions. “You aren’t exactly making this easy either,” you whisper.

He smiles at your words, making your knees feel weak. “What if I don’t want easy,” he asks as he cups your soft cheek in his big hand, and you tilt into his touch. "You're beautiful, princess," he mumbles, his voice reverent. "Just perfect." You turn your cheek slightly, feeling slightly nervous, but he uses his finger to draw you back in, guiding your eyes to his. “You are."

“Thank you.”

“I don't know how long I've wanted to tell you that—it's been a while. So long… too long. I just didn't wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper, and he looks down at you, his smile falling slightly.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he assures.

“I don't want easy either-” Before you can say anymore, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, soft and sweet, ramping up fast. A deep groan rumbles in Rafe’s throat— kiss deepening, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into his muscular chest, hearts banging against each other, the taste of sugar lingering on his soft lips.

He pulls back for a moment, your airy laugh mingling with his as your excitement bubbles up in your chest.

“Fuck, princess,” he sighs blissfully, cupping your cheeks in his ringed hands, pressing his forehead against yours.

Beep.

The timer breaks you up, and he sighs, letting you go for the moment. You step toward the oven, your head dizzy with thoughts of Rafe and what had just happened as you replace a sheet of cookies with the next item, carefully selecting the brownies to give yourself a little more time in between. You reach up, pushing the numbers, selecting thirty minutes.

Rafe bites his lips to hinder his smile, catching the boost in time from the last, watching you divert from your cooking schedule to get a little more time with him, or so he hopes.

"Should we… Umm. Should we do something while we wait?” You ask as you nod toward the living room.

“Yeah, baby,” he responds quickly, racing against the clock. He clears his throat, catching himself acting too hurriedly. “… You wanna watch a movie or somethin’ while we wait?”

The two of you walk over to the couch, crashing down on the top before pulling up Netflix. Your body feels awkward after what happened, knowing you could get away with more, trying not to go too far, just in case. You replay the kiss in your mind again and again as you look through the movie titles, not concentrating as you should, but between those thoughts and Rafe’s glances, it’s hard to focus.

”That one?” He asks gently, not looking at the screen but at you, just wanting you to pick something.

You smile and nod, selecting the movie, but it instantly fades to the background.

You inch closer, your arm touching his, the heat of your skin brushing gently. Rafe turns toward you slightly. Your head finds his shoulder; Rafe’s muscular arm stretching wide before wrapping it around your body.

He pulls you nearer, needing you close—his soft breaths syncing with yours. You reach your hand out, resting it on his thigh. Time starts to blur as the touches become bolder: tracing skin, wandering fingers, soft hums at deeper pressure, desperate touches dipping under clothes.

Beep.

You draw a resounding breath, pushing it out slowly; the air between the two of you, charged with sexual tension.

Moving quicker than usual, you pull the brownies out of the oven, carefully selecting the next: the cinnamon bread, giving you even more time.

A smile slips your lips as you look back into the living room, catching Rafe peering over the couch— caught in a moment of excitement, seeing the time himself.

You walk into the living room, feeling the anticipation rise as you get closer. Rafe sits up on the couch, and right when you get close enough, he grabs for you, pulling you on top. He wastes no time pressing his lips against yours, unwilling to take that risk again.

The kiss is divine—deeper than before, more urgent than ever. You rest your hands on his chest, moving lower and lower as your pulse quickens. Rafe moans against your lips, sending a surge of need straight through you.

Your fingers curl under the bottom of his shirt, tugging at it slightly, and he takes his cue, pulling it off between passionate kisses. His big fingers reach up, thumbing at the buttons of your blouse, popping them open as his lips move with yours.

Reaching your hands behind your back, you unclasp your bra before he can even ask, making him moan hungrily against your lips. He buries his face in his chest, nuzzling into your sensitive skin.

Rafe takes your nipple between his plump lips, swirling and sucking as your head falls back.

He pulls away; his eyes half-lidded, pupils blown with lust. “Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice hoarse and needy.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he hums as he wraps you a little tighter in his arms, kissing along your neck. Your head falls to the side, giving him better access to you skin.

“I want you…” You whisper. “All of you. Please,” you plead.

”Right here?” He asks. You feel Rafe smile against your neck before his hand drifts under your skirt, fingers brushing against the soaked lace of your panties.

“Right here,” you whisper as you rest your hand against his pants, cupping his big, hard bulge in your hand, whimpering against his lips at his size alone.

“And what do you want right here?” He asks with a teasing edge, making you smile dreamily, thinking back to how many times you yearned for this moment, imagining this is exactly how he would act. He wants to hear it…

”I want you to fuck me, Rafe… I need you,” you slip your hand into his pants as he pushes your panties to the side.

You capture his tongue between your lips, sucking as you wrap your fingers around his thick dick. Rafe groans deeply—the pads of his rough fingers start circling your aching clit. “I wanna fuck you, princess,” he smiles as his fingers trace your soaked slit too, teasing your entrance. “I wanna push my cock deep,” he mimics his word with a thrust of his hand, fucking two long fingers in your tight hole, making you gasp. “I want you to cream all over my cock, princess. I wanna make you feel so, so good,” he hums between kisses as he curls his fingers inside you, making your toes do the same.

“Shit,” you pant as he drags his fingers across you g-spot again and again. You tug on his long cock, pulling to the tip, making him bite down on your lip as you smudge his precum over his swollen head.

"Rafe, please,” you whimper, craving more.

”You don’t wanna cum on my fingers, pretty?” He rasps, his smirk heard in his low, deep tone.

“I wanna cum on your cock… Please. I haven't…”

Rafe slows his movements slightly, tilting his forehead against yours, breathing quickly. “You’ve never cum before?” He asks, his voice laced with lust and curiosity.

“Not like that-”

“I’d be the first?” He asks hastily, and you nod your head ‘yes.’ "Fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, his voice raw with desire and need.

Before you can think, he rolls you to your back, pushing your skirt around your waist and your panties down your thighs. Rafe rises on his knees, tugging his pants down, releasing his long, hard cock.

Precum drips off his throbbing tip, landing your soft skin; rolling warmly down your inner thigh making goosebumps flair across your bare skin.

He looks down at you desperately, but you already know what he wants to ask. “I wanna feel you, Rafe,” you whisper as your fingers swirl, circling your puffy clit, making your thighs draw in, as you keep yourself on edge.

“Yeah?” He asks as he tilts down, spreading your thighs again, stroking his fat cock as he lowers himself to your lips. “You want me to fill up this perfect pussy, princess?” Your heart races as his filthy words fall from his lips—just like you guessed they would.

“… Please, baby,” you whimper, lips brushing against his as he rubs his fat tip along your slit, bumping your fingers, making you move your hand away—a look in his eyes letting you know he was going to take care of you. “I want to feel you dripping out of me.”

He moans at your words, and you gasp as he circles his head around your clit, eyes rolling back in your head. “You’re gonna, baby… All night. Alright?”

Rafe grabs your wrist, slipping your slight fingers in his mouth, tasting your pussy on his tongue for the first time. He sucks down, eyes rolling back, groaning around your digits. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he pants. “I’m gonna get you off with my mouth later… You ever done that before?”

“No…” You pant.

“Holy shit… I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? I'm gonna be all you need, I promise,” Rafe whispers as he presses his big cock against your entrance, your lips falling open from the stretch already. "Are we doing this, baby?”

“Yes-” You whisper, pulling his lips to yours as he thrusts inside. You moan against his mouth, never feeling so full.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as he bottoms you out; your warm, wet cunt wrapping around him tight.

He tips his hips upward, stretching you out even more, making you cry pitifully against his mouth. “Shit,” you whine as tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

”Baby, mpfhhh…” He grunts as he pulls back, looking at you. “Feels good?”

You nod quickly as tears of pleasure and happiness tumble down your cheek, lip tucked between your teeth. “So fucking good… More, baby. Please…”

”Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks as he drags out, letting you feel every curve and vein, brushing your tears off your face with his thumbs. “How do you want it?”

“Fast…” You whisper. “… Deep. Fuck me deep, Rafe.”

“Yeah, princess?” He asks as he starts to move, picking up the pace. “That’s how you like it?”

“Mhmm,” you respire, barely pressing the words past your lips before they get caught up in a moan. Rafe ramps up the pace, pounding you into the couch, burying you to the hilt.

Your arms wrap around him tight, nails clawing into his tanned skin, scratching down his back as his skin claps against yours.

He grunts with each thrust, the muscles in his jaw strained, trying his best to hold back his finish as you get closer to yours, wanting desperately to cum with you.

“Rafe…” You whine as you look at the slight space between your bodies, watching your sloppy cunt take every inch—Rafe’s dick pulls out each time, slicked with your wetness. “M’gonna cum.” He angles his hip, just like he had at the start, making your eyes cross slightly before fluttering shut.

”Look at me, baby. Come on,” he whispers lovingly, letting his thumb brush along your bottom lip just like it had in the kitchen earlier, that soft touch contrasting the slamming of his body against yours.

“I’m gonna-“

“Holy shit…” He moans as your pussy tightens around him, your body cumming harder than it ever has before, taking him with it. Rafe moans your name as his hips stutter, muscles flexing as he floods you with his sticky release.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you underneath him— his soft lips claiming yours tenderly as your bodies soften against eachother.

You breathe a deep sigh of relief as he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, working to your neck before tucking himself close.

Rafe’s rich cologne mixes with the warm smell of sex and the sugary sweetness around you. The sharp beep of the timer startles you both, breaking you out of your spell.

He doesn’t let go—helping you back into your clothes before walking to the kitchen. Rafe leans back into the counter as you walk toward the oven, your heart racing still.

“Not quite yet,” you giggle, pushing the three words past your lips through nerves, giving the bread a little more time.

You turn toward Rafe, and he smiles down at you. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, your words you’re both dying to say on the tips of your tongues, makes the tension and excitement between you even sweeter.

“Co’mere,” he whispers as he reaches out his hand, pulling you toward him. Your body relaxes in his— the pounding of your heart in your head slows and softens, leaving behind the gentle melody of the music playing.

You lay your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fall as you sway to the music together. The lights are low—just a twinkle above. Rafe rests his chin on your head, taking a deep, needed breath. “Are you okay, princess?” He asks sweetly.

“I am,” you smile. “That was amazing.”

Rafe’s muscles soften; his uncertainty melting away at your words. "You’re amazing," he hums, just over a whisper. You lift your eyes to Rafe’s, watching them glimmer as he looks down at you in adoration and disbelief like he still can’t believe that this happened himself. “I need to ask you somethin’…”

”Okay,” you whisper as your pounding heart muddles the sound of the music again.

"Everything I said before… I meant that. I don’t wanna keep pretending like we’re just friends. I’m done fakin’ it,” his voice lulls with emotion as he tries his best to control his feelings before speaking again. “Especially after that…”

“That was perfect,” you smile, giving him a little more assurance.

“Be mine. Officially. I want this— You and me. Alright? Just… Fuck— Just say ‘yes’.” Rafe’s vulnerability almost brings you to tears; his confidence shattered completely as he waits for you to speak, hoping for your heart.

You look up at him, pulling him a little closer, letting your soft lips brush against his, breathing a sigh of solace as you whisper the words you've always wanted to say.

"I’m yours.”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @watchmerora @babygorewhore @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @littlelamy @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren

#rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe kinkmas #obx kinkmas #rafe x female reader #rafe x me #rafe x reader smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #frat bro rafe #frat rafe #frat!rafe #rafe cameron x reader

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onelittlespiral · 9 months ago

Text

FML: Video

“Shoot, I don’t know about this. Something about watching this feels weird.”

My bro just kept holding my face, “You said you wanted to be one of the bros dude. Just keep watching, this video will tell you everything you need to know”

“Yeah, you said that, but this is just static and nonsense, and something about it has me on edge. Just let me get out of here.”

“But don’t it speak to you? Isn’t there something you want to let out jock boy.”

“I…no, no I… I can’t… stop, what’s happening?”

“Jock boy is about to learn what being a bro is all about. Jock boy wants to listen carefully to his bro and watch the video.”

“No no no… but, it… it sounds so… calm…”

“Yeah jock boy, just like a mind vacation. Just let it happen. Good jock boy.”

“Must… listen… to… bruuuuhhh.”

Sometimes it takes a little convincing, but eventually they all fall. Their eyes grow wide before their muscles go limp and mouths drop open. It usually only takes a little bit for them to process. But when they finally do come too, it’s like a whole different world in there. The first one I did by accident. Found the weird file and sent it to my roommate as a joke. It wasn’t until I got back from class that I saw just how much power I now had.

Gone was the theater kid, in his place was a souped up bro ready to knock back some cold ones, and get sweaty in the gym. It was a surprise when he began rubbing my thigh in the sauna, and pulled me in for a kiss. I melted in his arms as he positioned me on the bench and began stretching me out. I was so relaxed he slid in with no lube, fucking me raw and hard as his tongue kept my mouth distracted from moaning. Thought I just got lucky there, happened to get a gay guy. But I quickly learned for him now, “any hole’s a goal.” And it was confirmed when I tried it with a second guy:

Good old Southern boy, and as straight as they came. Thought he was hot shit in class. Sent him the file when we were on a group project together. By the next day when he came in, he couldn’t add two numbers together with a calculator. He was still smug as hell but in bed, let’s just say he earned it. He was about as thick as an ear of corn, and he knew how to plow a field and spread his seed.

I had tried a couple others since then. A scholarship rival here. A group mate there. A couple disappointing dates that ended up really turning the night around. But my friend had finally gotten curious and started asking some questions. I didn’t need someone to question what was happening. I needed a lifting buddy. This was my first time trying to edit the file to get some different results.

“Hey, bro? What happened last night? I feel hung over as fuck..”

Holy shit he was massive. “Nothing too much bro. You just got fucking shit faced.”

“Huhuhu, yeah,” he gawfed, “sounds right.

It was time to try the trigger and see how much the changes worked, “Hey, jock boy, tell me your name.”

His laughter stopped as his eyes glossed over, “My name is Jack, but my friends just call me Jacked.”

“What do you want more than anything, jock boy?”

“To serve my bros,” he replied.

“Will you do anything for them?”

His mind flickered for a moment. I saw a look of confusion pass over him. He looked down, “Hey, what… WHAT HAPPENED? What did you do-“

I walked up and held his face“JOCK BOY, STOP.”

He tried to fight it, his mind pulling him back to the abyss. But as I watched his body slowly relax, I knew I had won even before he said, “Ye-yeah. Sure thing bro.”

“Jock Boy, will you do anything for your bros?”

His face broke out in a shiteating grin, “Fuck yeah, anything for my bros.”

“New exercise routine. You, face down, ass up. My bed. Now.”

He excitedly ran back to my bedroom. I heard the bed squeal under his weight. Good to know I could edit things. Can’t always let my bros have all the fun.

#bro #straight to gay #fml #jockification #hypnosis #jock

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novaursa · 4 months ago

Text

Twin Fires

- Summary: Both you and Aegon have no problem expressing your desires openly and torment everybody in the Red Keep.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 665

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You sit on the chair beside Aegon, your hand resting lightly on his arm. The room is filled with the dull murmur of the small council meeting, the voices of the Lords Tyland, Larys, Jasper, Otto, and Grand Maester Orwyle blending into an almost rhythmic drone. You can see Aegon's eyes glazing over as his mind drifts away from the discussions of grain supplies and tax levies. You know exactly where his thoughts have gone.

Aegon shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. He can't stop thinking about the night before, the way your skin felt against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. The council's voices fade into the background as he remembers the way you gasped his name, the look in your eyes as he pulled you closer. His lips twitch into a small, satisfied smile.

"Your Grace," Otto's sharp voice cuts through Aegon's reverie. "Would you care to join us in the present? We were discussing the matter of the Dornish threat on our southern border."

Aegon blinks, attempting to pull himself back to the present. "Yes, yes, of course," he says, though he has no idea what Otto was talking about. His mind is still on you, on the way your hair spread out across the pillows, the way you whispered his name.

Otto's eyes narrow. "It seems your thoughts are elsewhere, Your Grace. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us on what is so captivating."

Aegon feels the eyes of the council on him, but he can't help the smirk that forms on his lips. "Just thinking about my Queen," he says, his voice low and suggestive. "Last night was... eventful."

You feel your cheeks heat at the memory and the implication of his words. The council members shift uncomfortably in their seats, while Otto's face turns a deep shade of red.

"Your Grace," Otto says through gritted teeth, "perhaps now is not the time for such... reflections."

Aegon laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, come now, Otto. Surely even you can appreciate the joys of marriage."

Tyland coughs, trying to hide a smile behind his hand, while Larys's eyes gleam with amusement. Jasper seems to be studying a particularly interesting spot on the table, avoiding looking at anyone.

The Grand Maester clears his throat. "Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand," he suggests diplomatically.

"Yes, let's," Otto agrees, his voice tight. "As I was saying, the Dornish—"

Aegon's thoughts drift away again, this time to the look on Otto's face when he walked in on the two of you in the gardens. Aegon had you pressed up against the stone wall, your skirts hitched up around your waist. Otto had stammered and turned bright red, backing away as quickly as he could.

"Y/N," Aegon says, turning to you with a wicked grin, "do you remember when Grandsire walked in on us?"

You can’t help but laugh softly, nodding. "Yes, I do. He looked like he was about to faint."

Otto's knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the table. "Your Grace, please," he grinds out. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"Lighten up, Otto," Aegon says, waving a hand dismissively. "A little levity never hurt anyone."

The tension in the room breaks slightly as the other council members chuckle. Otto, however, looks like he's about to explode.

"Perhaps we should adjourn for today," Aegon suggests, rising to his feet. "I believe we've accomplished quite enough."

Otto opens his mouth to protest, but Aegon is already moving, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, Y/N," he says, his voice low and intimate. "Let's continue this discussion elsewhere."

As you leave the room, you can feel the council's eyes on your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the warmth of Aegon's hand in yours, and the promise of what the rest of the day holds.

Aegon leads you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, his grip on your hand firm and possessive. The flickering torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an intimate atmosphere that sets your heart racing. The echoes of the small council meeting fade away, replaced by the anticipation of what is to come.

Instead of heading to your private chambers, Aegon pulls you toward the grand library, a place of quiet refuge and intellectual pursuit. The scent of old parchment and leather-bound tomes fills the air as you enter, the dim lighting from the candles casting a warm glow on the rows upon rows of books.

"I've been thinking about you all morning," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't wait to continue where we left off last night."

You shiver at his words, your own desire mirrored in his eyes. He leads you to a secluded corner, hidden from view by towering bookshelves. Aegon presses you against the polished wood, his hands eager as they roam your body. The library's quiet solitude only adds to the excitement, the risk of being discovered making your heart race.

But just as Aegon is about to pull you into a passionate kiss, a soft cough from behind a nearby shelf makes you both freeze. Aegon straightens, his head snapping towards the sound. Emerging from the shadows, a book in hand and expression stern, is Aemond.

"Aemond," Aegon says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't expect you to be lurking in the library."

"I can see that," Aemond replies dryly, stepping into the candlelight. "Must you always be so public about your... activities, brother?"

Aegon laughs, the sound deep and unabashed. "Why not? What's the point of being king if you can't enjoy yourself?"

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly unimpressed. "There are other ways to enjoy oneself that don't involve making a spectacle."

Aegon pulls you closer, his hand slipping around your waist. "But where's the fun in that, brother? Life is too short to be so serious all the time."

You can feel the tension in the library, but there's also a hint of amusement in Aemond's gaze. He shakes his head, exasperated but not entirely unamused. "You are impossible, Aegon."

"That's why you love me," Aegon replies, grinning. "Now, if you don't mind, we were in the middle of something."

Aemond raises an eyebrow. "Clearly. But perhaps you could exercise a bit more discretion. The walls have ears, and not all of them are friendly."

Aegon waves a hand dismissively. "Let them listen. Maybe they'll learn something."

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. Aegon turns his attention back to you, his eyes dark with intent. "Shall we continue, my love?"

Aemond sighs, shaking his head again. "Very well. I'll leave you to it. But please, try to keep it down this time."

As Aemond turns to leave, Aegon can't resist one last jibe. "Don't be jealous, Aemond. You'll find your own fun one day."

Aemond pauses at the doorway, glancing back with a faint smile. "One can only hope."

The door closes behind him, and you and Aegon are alone once more. Aegon pulls you into a deep kiss, his hands eager and insistent. The interruption seems only to have fueled his desire, his need for you more urgent than ever.

"Now, where were we?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive whisper.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Right here," you reply, pulling him closer.

As the passion between you reignites, the lingering humor of Aemond's intrusion adds a layer of excitement to the encounter. The grand library might have its hidden eyes and ears, but in this moment, all that matters is the fire burning between you and your king.

Your bodies are entwined, the weight of Aegon's heated skin pressing down on yours as you both clutch desperately at each other in the dimly lit library. The scent of parchment and aged leather fills the air, mixing with the intoxicating musk of your fervent lovemaking. Aegon's platinum blond hair falls over his eyes, glistening with sweat, as he murmurs your name — Y/N — with breathless urgency.

"More, Aegon," you gasp, fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. His lips are on your neck, your shoulders, everywhere at once, as if he can never get enough of you.

"You always want more," he grins against your skin, his voice a low growl of pleasure and amusement. "And I always want to give it to you."

You arch against him, your breath catching as he moves within you, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. Your world narrows to the sensation of his body, the heat of his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

Just as the world is about to shatter into a million pieces of ecstasy, the library door slams open with a thunderous crash. "Aegon! Y/N!" Dowager Queen Alicent's voice rings out, sharp and furious.

Aegon jolts, startled, and the sudden motion pushes him deeper into you, causing you both to cry out in unexpected bliss. The impact sends you both stumbling backward into a massive bookshelf. There's a moment of stunned silence before the entire row of shelves begins to topple like dominos, books cascading to the floor in a chaotic storm of paper and bindings.

As the dust settles, you find yourself pinned beneath Aegon, both of you as naked as the day you were born. His violet eyes are wide with a mix of shock and lingering desire, but there's a hint of laughter in them too. You can't help but chuckle softly, the absurdity of the situation taking hold again.

Alicent stands there, her face a mask of fury, flanked by a pale and trembling Grand Maester Orwyle, who looks like he's about to collapse. His precious tomes from the Citadel lie scattered and crushed around you.

"Mother," Aegon starts, still half-laughing, "I didn't hear you knock."

"Knock?" Alicent's voice rises in pitch, her hands clenching at her sides. "You have no sense of shame or propriety! Look at you both!"

You glance at Aegon, then back at your mother, feeling no shame whatsoever. "We were...occupied," you say with a coy smile.

Aegon shifts slightly, still positioned rather intimately, and you can't help but stifle a giggle. "We were, indeed," he agrees, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Alicent throws her hands up in exasperation. "Occupied! In the library! Grand Maester Orwyle has important matters to discuss, and you are here...doing this!"

Orwyle makes a strangled noise, his eyes darting to the ruined books. "My...my tomes..."

Aegon looks around, still atop you, and shrugs. "They can be replaced, Orwyle. Unlike my dear sister-wife, who I cannot get enough of."

You can't help but laugh, reaching up to pull him down for a quick kiss. "Flatterer," you murmur against his lips.

Alicent's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "Enough! Both of you! Get up and get dressed this instant!"

With exaggerated slowness, Aegon finally rolls off you, standing and offering you a hand up. You take it, rising gracefully despite the chaos around you. Neither of you bothers to cover yourselves, reveling in your mother's discomfort.

As you both dress leisurely, Alicent mutters angrily under her breath, and Orwyle looks like he's aged a decade in mere minutes. The library is a mess, but to you and Aegon, it's just another amusing chapter in your reign as King and Queen.

Once clothed, Aegon winks at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Shall we continue this...discussion later once more, my love?"

You return his smile, feeling the heat already rising again between you. "Oh, absolutely, Your Grace. I can't wait."

Alicent groans, turning away with a huff. "Seven save me," she mutters, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Despite her anger, even she can't deny the unbreakable bond you share with Aegon.

You and Aegon stride through the open doors of the library, a sea of wide-eyed servants parting before you. Whispers and shocked glances follow your every step, but you and Aegon remain completely unaffected, wearing expressions of amused indifference. The thrill of your recent encounter still lingers, and you can feel Aegon's hand subtly brushing against yours, a promise of more to come.

"Well," Aegon muses loudly, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Since the library is no longer an option, how about the throne room next?"

You hear a gasp from a cluster of maids, their faces a mix of scandal and fascination. Just as you are about to reply with a cheeky retort, Alicent's voice rings out from the library, where she is still consulting with Orwyle. "Aegon! Y/N! I swear by the Seven, if you even think about it, you'll both be confined to your chambers for a month!"

Aegon grins, leaning close to whisper in your ear. "I think she's bluffing. The throne room would be quite the statement, don't you think?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Perhaps another time, Aegon. We should at least pretend to heed her warnings once in a while."

He sighs dramatically but nods, his arm slipping around your waist as you continue down the hall. "Very well, my Queen. For now."

The next morning, the sun filters through the windows of the council chamber, casting a warm glow over the ancient stone walls. Alicent paces back and forth, her brow furrowed in frustration. Across from her, Otto Hightower sits at a polished wooden table, his expression calm but concerned.

"Alicent," he begins, his tone measured, "we need to address the behavior of the twins. This...scandalous display cannot continue. It undermines their authority and brings dishonor to the throne."

Alicent stops pacing, turning to face her father. "Believe me, Father, I am well aware. Yesterday's debacle in the library was just the latest in a long line of their...indiscretions."

Otto sighs, folding his hands on the table. "We must find a way to curb their impulses. Aegon and Y/N's bond is undeniably strong, but it is also causing disruptions. The court is buzzing with rumors, and the smallfolk are beginning to talk."

Alicent nods, her frustration evident. "I've tried talking to them, scolding them, threatening them with confinement, but nothing seems to work. They simply don't care."

Otto leans back in his chair, considering. "Perhaps we need a different approach. Something more...persuasive. Have you considered involving the High Septon? His influence could carry weight, even with those as headstrong as Aegon and Y/N."

Alicent's eyes widen slightly at the suggestion. "The High Septon? Are we really at that point, Father?"

Otto nods solemnly. "If we are to maintain order and respect, we must consider all options. Aegon is King, and Y/N is Queen, but they must learn that their actions have consequences beyond their own pleasure."

Alicent sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Very well. I will arrange a meeting with the High Septon. Perhaps he can impress upon them the seriousness of their duties."

Otto reaches out to place a reassuring hand on her arm. "It is for the best, Alicent. For the realm, and for them. They must learn to balance their love with their responsibilities."

As Alicent nods, determined but weary, you and Aegon lounge in your chambers, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place. Wrapped in each other's arms, you share a lazy, contented morning, your laughter and whispered promises a stark contrast to the serious discussions unfolding elsewhere in the Red Keep.

Aegon presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "What do you think Mother and Grandsire are plotting now?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No doubt some scheme to rein us in. But we have each other, Aegon. Whatever they plan, we'll face it."

He smiles, a slow, lazy grin that makes your heart flutter. "Always, my love. Always."

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #house targaryen

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cameronsprincess · 2 months ago

Note

Formal request for blodemulletmustacheprettyteethandeyessexysouthernaccent!rafe x reader baby

blondemulletmustacheprettyteethandeyessexysouthernaccentrafe has me on my kneeeees. we’re imagining a scenario here that @oceandriveab put in my mind! seduce. the. tree. man.

CW: smut! 18+ only! blue collar!rafe, slutty!reader, protected sex (shocker!!), fingering, nipple play, sex with a stranger (don’t do that fr).

rafe masterlist | requests | taglist form

you’re sitting on your front porch, enjoying the weather outside when your phone loudly ringing from inside catches your attention.

sighing, you stand from the swing and make your way inside to see who’s calling.

828-756-2798… you look over the number, not sure who it is, but you are expecting some workers to come by and deal with some trees in your yard, so you quickly answer.

“hello?”

“hi, is this y/n y/l/n?”

your body heats up at the sound of the deep, raspy southern accent at the other end of the line. you quickly shake the thoughts in your head and reply.

“yeah this is she, who’s this?”

you hear rustling from the other end before the man speaks again.

“my name’s rafe. rafe cameron. i’m calling about the trees you need cut down. i’m just letting you know i’ll be there in about an hour, my last job has run a little longer than expected.”

rafe cameron sounds sexy. you quickly squash the inappropriate thoughts about the man once more, clearing your throat as your thighs rub together.

“oh, yes, i forgot you’d be coming today,” not a total lie. “that’s perfectly fine, i’ll be home all day, just whenever you can get here is fine! thank you!”

“not a problem, darlin’, see you in an hour.”

he hangs up before you can say anything else. your mind begins reeling with inappropriate thoughts of the man who’d just called you. have you ever met him? is he as sexy as he sounds? fuck. you have serious problems, and you definitely need to get laid. and no, not by the man who’s coming to cut down some fucking trees for christ’s sake.

you shake your head, deciding you need to go inside and take a long, cold shower. hopefully it’ll help clear the thoughts running rampant through your mind.

—

an hour later, you’re sitting at the bar in your kitchen, glass of wine in hand— what? it’s five somewhere, right?— and scrolling through your phone when a knock sounds at your front door.

taking a quick sip of the wine, you set it on the counter and stand from your high top chair. you slowly approach the front door, running sweaty hands down the front of your tiny tank top before turning the knob and opening it. jesus fucking christ. you’re greeted by the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. tall— probably 6’2, 6’3 give or take— straight nose, sharp jaw with a slight stubble to it, a perfectly groomed mustache that looks like it’d feel amazing between your legs, messy dirty blond mullet that’s settled beneath a hat, and gorgeous fucking bright blue eyes. lets not even get started on his fucking arms, fuck.

“uh.. miss?”

the deep sound of his voice startles you, and you look up to meet those damn blue eyes. he has a slight hint of concern on his face, but it quickly fades as he smiles back at you. fuck. he’s the definition of perfection.

“oh sorry, long day,” you lie, you haven’t done shit all day. “um, so… do you know which trees need to be taken down or uh.. do i need to show you?”

he smiles that perfect fucking smile, letting out a small laugh as his head falls forward. “i remember which ones, miss. it’ll probably take me about two hours, give or take, then i’ll be out of your hair.”

you smile, but you’re internally wishing you could find an excuse to keep him around longer. you open your mouth a few times, trying and failing to speak. finally, you settle with, “sounds good, just let me know when you’re finished.”

he nods once and turns, making his way off your porch and getting to work.

—

you couldn’t help yourself. you’d shut the door and went back to your kitchen, trying to shove the deep, southern accent out of your mind, trying to forget that perfect fucking smile and those pretty blue eyes. but you couldn’t. so that’s how you ended up on your front porch, wine glass in hand as you zoned out on rafe, watching him work in your yard.

god if he didn’t look fucking edible. the way his arms flexed with each pull of the rope tied to the branches, the way his back muscles strained against the tight fabric of his baby blue work shirt, his denim jeans hugging his waist and ass perfectly… you couldn’t help but picture scenarios of him fucking you. bent over your front porch railing, in your bedroom, bathroom, in his work truck, anywhere. your mind wandered, imagining the most filthy fucking—

“all done, darlin’.”

fuck. when did he finish? how long has he been standing there?

your eyes focus on his face, and your entire body lights on fire when you catch those damn blue eyes scanning the length of your body. you didn’t leave much to the imagination in your tight tank top and tiny cotton shorts.

you stand, moving to reach a hand out for him to shake and go on his way, but the second his hand touches yours, tingles run up the length of your arm, traveling all the way to your already soaking wet and aching pussy. rafe notices your tense demeanor, and he smiles, tightening his hand on yours.

“you alright, darlin? you look a little… flushed.”

“it’s uh..” you pause, clearing your throat, “it’s the, the heat.. yeah. so.. all good?”

“all good” he drawls, giving you that panty dropping smile again.

you’re about to pull your hand away, but he tightens his hold, pulling your closer to him. you let out what can only be described as a squeak, a fucking squeak, what are you? a prepubescent girl?

“i saw the way you were eyein’ me, sweetheart.”

your face heats up, probably turning a bright shade of fucking red. way to be discreet. you definitely zoned out on him. fuck.

“i uh… i’m sorry.”

he chuckles. “no need to apologize, sweetheart. i’d be lyin’ if i said i didn’t have my eyes on you too.. you’re.. well you’re gorgeous.”

a moan slips from your lips at his compliment and you swear you wish the ground could swallow you whole. rafe’s eyes darken, flitting down to stare at your lips for a beat before they find yours again. you contemplate your next move very carefully.

stepping toward him, you place your free hand against his hard chest, digging your fingers into his shirt. his darkened over eyes stare down at you intently, flicking back and forth between your own eyes and your lips. you lift yourself up on your tiptoes, your lips so close to his you can feel each exhale he makes.

“do you wanna fuck me as badly as i wanna fuck you?”

you’re teasing him at best, but the guttural groan he releases has you flinching back. you gasp loudly when his lips crash against yours, swallowing every small whimper, gasp and moan you make.

he releases your hand, letting it flop down by your side. his large hands grip at your hips harshly, making their way to your ass and squeezing, hard. you whimper against his lips again and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. he tastes like mint and fucking addiction. his hands squeeze at your ass again while his lips continue to devour you. he breaks the kiss only for a second, asking, “you wanna be fucked here, or inside, darlin’?”

you moan at the way his voice sounds, the question sending sparks of pleasure straight to your aching core. you lift your eyes to meet his intense blue ones, “h-here?” you say, but it comes out more as a question than a statement.

he chuckles, his lips pecking yours once more before he pushes you back. your brow furrows, a frown working its way onto your lips, but it’s quickly squashed when you watch him begin fumbling with his belt. he swiftly pulls it from the loops of his jeans, tossing it to the ground, the sound of the metal buckle clanking against your wooden porch has you flinching. are you really about to fuck the goddamn tree guy? fuck yes. he’s sexy, and it’s been months since you’ve fucked anyone.

you watch intently as he pops the button on his denim jeans, sliding the zipper down. he shoves the rough material down his legs, letting them pool around his boots. your eyes slowly trail down from his face to his erect cock that’s straining against his boxers. holy fuck. his dick is fucking huge from what you can see.

he smirks at you, his large hands gripping your shoulders and making you jump, ripping your eyes off his monster of a cock. “strip f’me darlin’” he drawls.

you quickly obey, pulling your tank top up and over your head, exposing your bare chest to him. he sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers moving to pinch at your hard nipples. he rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers, pinching and pulling at them before cupping and massaging your breasts.

“you got pretty tits, darlin’. real pretty.”

you blush, biting at your bottom lip as he continues to massage your tits, his fingers moving to stimulate your nipples every so often. he drops his hands to your hips, fingers pushing into the sides of your cotton shorts. he slowly pushes them down your legs, his dark blue eyes never leaving yours.

once he has them pushed down to your ankles, you lift your feet and step out of them, kicking them across your porch. thank god you bought a house in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn’t be so easy with nosy neighbors around.

you stand before him in nothing but a black lace thong, and your body heats up under rafe’s intense gaze. his eyes trail the length of your body over and over again, as if he’s trying to carve the image of you into his mind. he pulls his jeans back up his legs a bit, and you furrow your brow, confused. he pulls his wallet from the back left pocket, opening it and pulling out a condom. typical male. at least he’s prepared.

his jeans drop back to the ground and he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. pulling it free from the packet, he shoves his boxers down his thighs, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you see his long, thick, veiny cock. fuck. me. he’s fucking huge. you watch in awe as he slides the lubricated condom down his length, stepping toward you in slow strides.

he grips your hips, spinning your body around and pushing your front into the porches railing. your fingers tightly grip at it as you suck in breath after breath. this is stupid, right? you don’t even know him. but he is sexy… so it’s fine. right? you’ll never see him again. it’s fine, you’re fi-

all your thoughts come to a screeching halt when you feel the head of his cock pushing inside you. he hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your sides harder. “fuck, darlin’… you’re so tight.”

he slowly pushes himself inside you, inch by inch until he’s completely buried inside you. his face falls, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on your shoulder, teeth biting into your delicate skin. he stays completely still, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“p-please?” you whimper, turning your hips in a circular motion and feeling his cock twitch inside you just the slightest.

“please what, sweetheart? use your words.” he rasps.

“please.. please fuck me?” you say, but it comes out more as a question than anything.

his deep laughter fills the air, and your face heats up. you’re actually begging a man you just met to fuck you, pathetic? maybe. but you’re too horny to care.

he pulls his face from your neck, one hand wrapping in your hair and pulling while the other rests on your hip. “‘m gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.” is all he says before he slowly pulls out, slamming himself back in and pulling a low whine from you.

rafe’s hips set a quick pace, his thick cock brutally pounding into your weeping cunt. you wrap your fingers around the railing of your porch for stability, gripping at the wood so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“oh, g-god… rafe!” you moan breathlessly.

his hand on your hip tightens, his blunt nails biting into the soft flesh of your skin. he slows his thrusts, slowly pulling his cock from inside you, letting you feel every thick inch and every vein as he does. he slowly pushes himself back inside, your warm, tight walls squeezing at him.

“pussy’s squeezin’ me, baby. she’s so fuckin’ needy, yeah? such a dirty little whore f’me, lettin’ me fuck you on your front porch ‘n we only just met today.”

each word is punctuated with a painfully slow thrust of his hips, the swollen head of his cock abusing that spongey sweet spot deep inside your pussy.

your toes curl, fingers tightening around your porch railing so hard you’re scared you might bruise your fingers.

“rafe… please?” you beg, feeling that band inside your belly tightening, threatening to snap.

he lowers his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat mixed. his lips kiss, lick and nip at your sweat slick skin, goosebumps spreading across your body. you’re so close..

“please what, darlin’? use your words f’me.”

“please… can i cum? please?”

a low growl is pulled from deep inside his chest, his hand wraps around your throat, pulling your face back so his lips can capture yours in a searing kiss.

“go on, cum f’me, make a mess on my cock, baby.” he mumbles against your lips.

the band snaps, your lips matching his pace. your body shakes underneath his as he continues to fuck himself inside you, never letting up as your euphoric high takes over your entire body.

“oh god… oh god, rafe! fuck!”

his thrusts begin to grow sloppy, low, raspy grunts falling from his lips before he buries his face in your neck once more. his teeth sink into your skin as he groans. “fuck, ‘m.. fuck ‘m coming.”

his cock twitches inside you, pushing himself deep inside one final time before he cums inside the condom.

his body twitches, his chest heaving as he slowly pulls himself from inside you. pulling off the condom, he disposes of it in the trash bin you have on your porch before slowly pulling his boxers and jeans back up his legs. he helps you get redressed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiling.

“you’re fuckin’ amazing. think i could call you sometime and we do this again?”

i had not a clue how to end this, i’m so sorry this is probably shitty but i’ve worked on it off n on for what… 2 months i think? maybe just a month😭😂 love you kel, hope it’s okay babe!😭

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