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barcaatthemoon · 13 days ago

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goody two shoes || paige bueckers x reader ||

You and Paige take the next step in your relationship.

18+

Paige couldn't wait to see you. A couple of days every week, Paige had been coming over to hang out with you. She had gotten used to seeing you, so whenever she found herself unable to come over all week, Paige had been missing you a lot. Most of her teammates had no idea that Paige was going to hang out with you, and Paige kind of wanted to keep it that way.

Azzi and KK knew, but that was pretty much it. You weren't like most of the girls that tried to weasel their way into Paige's life. They wanted to fuck, and while Paige had been absolutely fine with that before, you being different intrigued her. You didn't really seem all that interested in sex with Paige or anybody at all.

"Damn P, what did sweet little (Y/n) do to get you rushing around like this?" KK asked teasingly. Paige didn't pay any mind to it and just rolled her eyes as she continued to gather up her things. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this over a girl before."

"Nothing is going on, K. (Y/n) isn't like that," Azzi said. Paige noticed a slight edge to Azzi's voice. She had noticed it before whenever KK made jokes about you and Paige fucking. Sometimes it was even directed at Paige, but Paige had been trying to pretend that she hadn't noticed it.

"Nah, there's no way that Paige is acting like this over a girl who doesn't put out," KK said. Azzi just tried to ignore KK and left, Paige hot on her trail.

"You really shouldn't let KK talk about (Y/n) like that. She's got a loud mouth, and it'll spread around the locker room. I don't think (Y/n) would appreciate everybody around campus and the internet talking about her like that." Azzi shoved past Paige after that, leaving the blonde a bit dumbfounded. She sent a quick text to KK about leaving your name out of her mouth before she set out towards your apartment.

Azzi's words echoed around in Paige's head. She had heard a couple of frat guys complain about you at parties before, but she hadn't really given it much mind. Now though, she wondered if you had actually ever been with someone sexually before. Paige hadn't taken someone's virginity in a couple of years, and the idea of taking yours kind of made her nervous. She didn't really think that she was special enough to deserve that, but then again, she didn't want to bring it up until you had put sex on the table.

The two of you were taking things slow. Paige understood your apprehension about her, especially with the way that girls had thrown themselves at her when the two of you went out for lunch together. Sometimes they'd have tact to back off once they noticed you hanging around, but most of them pretended that you weren't even there. Despite your insistence that it didn't bother you, Paige knew differently. She had noticed the way you'd be a bit less affectionate with her after these instances.

"Yeah, she's walking over now. Bye Az, I love you," you said as you hung up your phone. Paige looked absolutely trapped in her own head, and all you wanted to do was comfort her. "Hi Paigey."

"Hey baby," Paige greeted you with a quick kiss. She placed her hand on your back as she led you inside. Your apartment was on the bottom floor, which you were pretty grateful for in moments like this. Azzi's phone call hadn't been a very long one, but she had urged you to have the talk with Paige that you had been holding off on.

"So, Azzi called me. She's kind of mad at you," you told her. Paige groaned as she covered her face. You pulled her hands down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I didn't say that I was mad at you. It's not really your job to constantly defend me."

"Yeah, but it kind of should be. I mean, I'm your girlfriend, and KK just says stupid shit sometimes. Azzi reacts kind of harshly sometimes, but she has a point." Paige looked really down on herself, so you decided that this was as good of a time as any to rip the bandage off.

"Paige, she's only getting mad because she knows that it's not true. Obviously you know that we're not having sex, but I haven't had sex with anybody. I didn't tell you that before because I didn't want you to think that I was a prude or a loser," you admitted. You felt your nerves grow with each moment of silence between the two of you.

"I wouldn't think that about you at all. I like being around you. I like hanging out with you and doing all sorts of things I wouldn't with other people. We don't need to be having sex, and I don't mind waiting until you feel like you're ready for me. I'd be a pretty shitty girlfriend if I pressured you before you were ready, and I don't think I'd be able to honestly say I loved you if I did any of that."

"Y-you love me?" Paige went ghost white for a moment, afraid that she had overstepped. The look of relief that washed over her as you launched yourself into her arms seemed to bring her back to life. "I love you too!"

…

Something had definitely shifted between the two of you after that day. You weren't quite sure what it was, but you found yourself opening up a little more physically. Now, it was Paige who found herself pulling back between the two of you. At first, she had been very open with her willingness and want to sleep with you, and a small part of you wondered if maybe you shouldn't have told her that you were still a virgin.

"Shit!" Paige swore as she quickly turned around. Paige had asked to come over and take you out to lunch after her morning classes, so you told her to just come right in. You had woken up later than normal, and for the past 30 minutes or so, had been lounging around in your pajamas. You realized a little bit too late that Paige had never really seen you in any state of undress, so to see you in just a t-shirt and boxers was probably a bit of a shock for Paige.

"Paige, it's fine. This is what I sleep in. Don't tell me that you expected me to wear some Victorian nightgown like Scrooge," you teased. Paige cleared her throat as she slowly lowered her hands from her eyes. "Give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready to go."

"I can order in if you don't want to change. I'm sure that with food around, I'll be distracted enough to keep my hands to myself," Paige offered. You agreed to Paige's suggestion and secretly hoped that Paige wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of you.

"What if I wouldn't mind if you didn't?" you asked her. Paige's face went red at that.

"You don't mean that. You don't want me touching you," Paige said as she flopped back onto your couch. You crawled into her lap and started running your fingers through her hair.

"Yes I do. What's up with you, hmm? I've been trying to move things along without pushing, but you keep shoving me back. Is this because of what I told you?"

"You deserve better than some fuckboy like me. You're kind and sweet, and so fucking good that I don't know what to do with myself when I'm around you. I'd love nothing more than to bend you over the back of your couch sometimes and make you scream my name, but you deserve better than that. You deserve someone soft and sweet, and I don't know if I can do that," Paige confessed. You sighed as you twirled some of her baby hairs in the back around your fingers.

"But you are all of those things, you just don't realize it. You've been coming over for almost nine months every single week to spend time with me. You stopped going to parties because I didn't want to go. You buckled down and put more effort into your schoolwork because you noticed that my grades were slipping a little. You love me, and more than that, you put so much effort into caring for me in ways that you don't even notice. Paige, you're the best person that I've ever dated by a long shot, and I've never been so sure that I trust someone with my body more than you."

"I don't know what to say to all that," Paige mumbled. You could tell that she was getting sort of shy, so you leaned down and kissed her. "You really want to have sex with me?"

"Of course I do. I love you, and it definitely helps that you're the hottest girl I've ever met." Paige was smiling hard at your words, and it was like a switch was flipped for her. She pulled you in for a kiss, not pushing you back once even after you deepened it.

Paige moaned into the kiss as your tongue slipped past her lips. She was absolutely loving the taste of you and couldn't wait for more. Paige broke the kiss to begin trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You were panting a little as you tried to catch your breath. The second that you had it back, Paige was right back at your lips kissing you again. This kiss was a little rougher than the one before, and it left your lips buzzing pleasantly.

"Do you want to do this right now?" Paige asked as her hands ran along the outside of your thighs.

"Yes, I'm sure. I've wanted this for a while now. I don't know what changed, but I know that I want you Paige in a way that I've never wanted anybody else before," you told her. Paige didn't need any more convincing after that. She picked you up in her arms and carried you back to your bedroom.

Paige gently laid you down on your bed, and both of you had the realization that she had never been in this room before. You watched as Paige took in as much of her surroundings as she could without disturbing the momentum the two of you were building. She pulled her shirt off, leaving her in a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra.

You had seen pictures of Paige like that before, but never been around her like that. Paige seemed to sense your interest in her body, and flexed as she joined you on the bed. She grabbed your hand and placed it on her waist, allowing the tip of your thumb to brush against her abs a little.

"Do you have anything on under your shirt?" Paige asked as her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. In the two years that you had been at UConn, you had never been to a football game. You were sure that Paige had given you that shirt, as she somehow always ended up with so much free UConn merch as a prominent student athlete.

"No, but you can take it off anyway," you told her. Paige bit her lip as she pushed the fabric up your torso. Paige faltered a bit when she reached the top of your ribcage. You took the last little step for her, and Paige's attention zeroed in your breasts. "You can touch if you want."

Paige acted on instinct and took your breasts into her hands. She pressed kiss after kiss to your chest as her fingers began to tweak and tease your nipples. It as much further than anybody had gotten with you before, and you felt yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the simple gestures.

Slightly uncomfortable by the arousal pooling between your legs, you started to squeeze your thighs together for a little bit of relief. You had only recently began to try getting yourself off, and it was nothing compared to the way it felt as Paige's thigh slotted in between yours. Your head fell back with a gasp as you began to grind against her leg, no longer caring about feeling shameful about any of it.

"Relax baby, I'll take care of you. You deserve better than humping my leg," Paige told you. She placed her hands on your hips and pushed back a bit. You immediately whined at the loss of contact and stimulation, only to gasp when you felt Paige's hand between your legs. She cupped you over your boxers, just barely able to feel a little wet spot through the fabric. "I want you to know before I do this that it's not going to change anything between us. I'm still gonna be right here for you because I love you."

"Paige, I love you too, but please don't stall. I need you," you whined. Paige pulled the boxers down your legs and threw them behind her. She spread your lips open to reveal how wet you were. Paige knew that it had been a while since she had been with anybody, but she couldn't remember the last time a girl had gotten this wet for her.

"Fuck, you are so hot baby," Paige told you. You let out a little whine and pushed your hips forward, hopeful that she'd take the hint and keep going. Paige seemed to take mercy on you, and she let her fingers run through your folds. Her fingers moved with no resistance, stroking you gently before being replaced by her tongue.

"Paige!" you cried out loudly. There was no way that your neighbors weren't going to hear that. You didn't care though, not when you were being brought so close to what you swore had to be heaven. Paige seemed blissfully unaware of how close you were to cumming already as she just continued happily lapping at your cunt. Your fist balled up in the sheets as you let out a string of incoherent mumbles, hips rising and bucking against Paige's face. "Stop. Please stop, I can't…"

"Shit, my bad," Paige said as she let your legs snap shut in front of her. Paige sat up on her knees, looking at you with the proudest grin on her face that you thought you had ever seen. "So, um, I know this is a stupid question, but how was it?"

"I don't know what I expected, but it was better than that," you told her. Paige let out a sigh of relief as she moved to sit next to you. "Do you think that you could order that food now please?"

"Oh yeah, of course. And, um, I'm gonna go run and grab you something to drink. If you want when I get back, we can take a shower together. Not because I want to stare at you or anything, just that I don't know how strong your legs are gonna be. I'm gonna shut up now because I don't think I'm making this sound any better."

"You're so sweet, Paige. Such a good girl-," you cradled Paige's face and pulled her in for a kiss, "-friend. Absolutely the best."

#wbb fanfics #wbb imagine #wbb smut #wbb x reader #wcbb fanfics #wcbb imagine #wcbb smut #wcbb x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers x reader #minors do not interact #minors dni

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pedrospatch · 1 year ago

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fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before.��

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it?

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name.

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them.

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that.

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened.

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing.

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him.

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol.

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit.

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late.

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head.

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse.

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?”

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig.

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly.

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?”

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door.

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone.

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself.

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet.

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening.

Kent was going after you.

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around.

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent.

That couldn’t fucking be good.

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh.

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two.

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist.

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear.

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard.

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley.

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more.

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet.

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it.

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest.

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you.

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face.

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours.

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards.

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you.

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?”

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.”

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin.

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side.

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted.

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship.

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring.

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls.

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk.

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered.

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar.

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else.

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it.

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world.

A fucking slab of carved wood.

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder.

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt.

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers.

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church.

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly.

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words.

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him.

He was right, after all.

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?”

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone.

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse.

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee.

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest. “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables?

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone.

Want, sure.

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther.

But Joel didn’t just want you.

He fucking needed you.

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain.

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?”

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you.

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek.

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body.

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.”

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours.

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle.

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss.

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

And what about you?

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it.

None.

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss.

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you?

He couldn’t. Simple as that.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself?

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further.

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance.

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat.

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt.

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline.

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt.

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else.

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud.

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.”

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle.

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t.

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson.

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God.

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?”

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression.

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

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jinkiezzsstuff · 7 months ago

Note

Hey! I really loved your Covkwarming with Alastor Story. Would you maybe want to make one where Alastor is busy and reader wants his attention? Maybe he even snaps at her only to later search for her and make it up to her? With lots of fluff and maybe nsfw?

Hope you have a nice day

-🌸🦇

BRODI! You waited a whole month for this and I AM SO SORRY. I love and appreciate you and your request so much thank you very much for being patient, i really really loved this idea but dang april has been a crazy month for me, i hope you’re doing well and enjoy this fic it’s a longer one!

i’m actually really happy with how this turned out

warnings: SMUT 18+, angst, fluff, mean alastor, you guys fight, gaslighting girl boss alastor, established relationship (you were together before he went missing), loyal reader described, codependency kinda, some horror aspects?, descriptions of alastors dead food, alastor admits his emotions and issues in an alastor way, brief descriptions of reader having self sabotaging habits- drinking smoking/potsmoking too, GN reader although clit is used, penetrative sex, slow sex, swearing, alastor doesn’t like pillow talk lol i think that’s it but let me know not proof read

5.1K words

Alastor was locked up in his radio tower, exhausted as he sifted through various forms of media coverage from his battle. Vox, the little electronic weasel, had his entire affair with Adam recorded and broadcasted around, which was frightful for Alastors image. Not only had he been gone for seven years, but he’s helping with a hotel that endorsed goodness. Needless to say Alastor wasn’t doing okay, his ears were constantly pulled back, smile strained, and he kept blowing the lights up and down. Hell, his static was so violent it even gave him headaches.

Even his shadows at this point began causing chaos, his own anxiousness and frustration bleeding off into them. Alastors isolation caused you to be extremely worried, you weren’t there while he fought Adam, you should’ve been, because since then he’s not been the same. You saw it on TV, the one Vox had broadcasted. Try as he may, Alastor didn’t keep it away long enough for you to not see, there was always someone else putting it back out there.

You didn’t bring it up to him- not that you could; he was too overly consumed in his tower. Incessantly shutting down broadcasts, throwing out power, attacking minor demons for spreading the information. It made you feel so very many unfortunate emotions, never in your many years of being dead have you ever seen him so erratic and emotionally disturbed.

Alastor would play pretend in public but you knew him, as did Husk, the two of you could tell he was tense, strained, constantly ready to snap, his poise was harder to keep. Lucifer presence in the hotel didn’t help at either, constantly trying to get into it with Alastor, which only furthered his isolation. You began to feel extremely lonely, it was rare in hell anyone was a good shoulder to cry on, or ear to hear, but you got used to going to Al after a long day, laying your head on his lap as he caressed your face and hummed you tunes, now you were alone most the time. None of his silly jokes filled the air, no you barging into your shared room and him attempting to hide his messy eating, no soft jazz playing next to you as you slept, no shadows trying to scare you, nothing.

It was incredibly lonely and the time without him showed how emotionally dependent you were on him. You wondered if he felt the same lonesomeness without you around, or if he didn’t even want you around? Maybe he was too wrapped up in his feelings to realize you weren’t around him? Did he have the same need for you as you did him? Did he miss little things about you as you did him.

Throwing your body off the couch and standing pin straight, you cut your thoughts off by marching towards Alastors tower on the far end of the hotel. You hadn’t been up there once since the battle, so this was bound to be interesting, and anxiety inducing. You could already feel the worry prickling your finger tips, making you even more uncomfortable. Knocking at Alastors door was, well, underwhelming, there was no sound, no movement, no indication he was even in there. Even shouting out at him normally would’ve gotten him to at least respond by now, it was rare he left people hanging like that, it wasn’t how he was brought up.

So you decide to cross the boundary you knew he loathed; intrusion. You entered with your breath held tightly making your throat clench, walking in you meekly hummed out his name. “Al? It’s been a long couple of days, I was wondering if you wanted some down time?” Your eyes bounced around the dark room, papers on the floor, radio frequency buzzing harshly in your ears, the low buzz of what sounded like hospital lights, it was all very creepy

Wringing your hands you came up toward his large table connected with cables and speakers, on the table was cups of coffee empty and half drank, corpses and bones of unfinished mutilated deer, and the smell of blood was something that suddenly hit you nearly knocking you back. As you covered your nose with your wrist, you back up and bumped into something, turning around with incredible speed. Alastor was there, taller than usual with his bones looking sharp and broken in his skin, his smile was stretched gruesomely making you nearly grimace, his eyes as well, wildly glaring down at you black and soulless. “Uh, I missed you.” You squeaked curling into yourself just at the sight of him.

Alastor hasn’t ever looked like this in front of you ever, it was such an abnormal and alarming look for you to set your eyes on. Alastor let out a jagged breath, his antlers growing in size with a nasty crunching sound to accompany it. “You disturbed my work, and snuck in, all because you missed me?” Alastor bent down to grab your attention, your eyes flickering to meet his own. You nodded at him, and he only hummed in return, standing tall and walking around his desk to sit at his chair. You turned on your heel to follow his movements, biting your lip with worry. Sure you were anxious before as you typically got with anybody, you weren’t confrontational and you weren’t one to cross the boundary, although you never expected him to look so angry with you.

“Perhaps, if that’s the case, you should find yourself another demon; I cannot be surrounded by the meek and emotionally stunted. My work, my image, will always come first my dear. Now, get out.” Alastor enunciated every word with his hands rested under his chin, and his head cocked to the side. Your stomach dropped and your cheeks watered like you were about to be sick, immediately your eyes widened, noises falling out of your mouth as you attempted to grasp at the words you were trying to say. “S-You’re breaking up with me?” Your voice was a wreck, struggling to expel the words past the sob that wanted to rip out of you, the disbelief evident in your tone. Alastor stood from his seat and leaned toward your face over the table, your lip quivered as he did so, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Heavens no! I’m simply saying if you can’t handle being a secondary priority perhaps you should take some time alone, remember what it is to be your own person! I will not bend my rules for some silly relationship.” His tone dripped with condescension and he finished his sentence with a boop on your nose. The only thing your mind could conjure was ‘how dare he?’ you never felt so insulted by him before. You always put him first, you waited seven years for his return defending his role in hell, and he sees you as secondary to himself. Does that mean he would save himself before you? Was this relationship only about his own desires, his own cravings and you weren’t important? You must be too sensitive about this?

“So you won’t spare me a moment because some stupid TV proved you aren’t invincible? Grow up Alastor please,” You could help the rage that slipped out in between your words, fists clenching, eyes narrowing. Alastor hissed statically at you. “Don’t for a second get it twisted up in your pretty little head that you are special, you are just like every other disposable sinner, i suggest you monitor your tone with me, dear.” Alastor crackled, his voice more electric than you’ve ever heard before. Your frown was deep, the tears silently falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know what to say, instead you just shrugged with your head low, and turned around silently leaving him behind.

The moment you existed his tower you ran, your brain screamed to get away before somebody could question what was wrong or what happened. You couldn’t stomach the idea of being seen like this, and you didn’t want Alastor to come out and catch you, so you took off. You exited out the back without a trace, wandering into the streets of the pentagram. Eventually you found yourself back at your old apartment, which you still paid for as you really don’t plan to continue living at the hotel. When you got there you were finally able to let everything settle in you, it felt like the sadness slipped into your bones and weighed you down further into your sofa.

You didn’t move for hours, and eventually you ended up falling asleep. You left without a word, without your phone and without any of your stuff. Of course Alastor was very aware he made the choice to say the things he did, but he didn’t mean them, and after a short bit of reflection he could understand it was just an emotional response to the fear of being vulnerable. As well as the anxious thought dancing in his mind about the what ifs, what if he were to die, what if his plan fails and the deal goes wayward and you’re left with the pieces of his mess? What if Vox targets you, what if others do, do the citizens of hell see him as some weak mush because he’s dating you?

It’s all what led him to exploding; insecurity. Even the thought of having such a low tier emotion made his blood boil, but as long as nobody knew about it, he would find a way to quell it. Alastor waited, not wanting to impose while you were still going through thee emotions. However things started getting worrisome by the next day, nearly thirty hours into being gone and the patrons had begun to question him. Obviously Alastor didn’t know, and instead opted to sway the topic away from you and instead to something else.

The week came and gone like a blur, Alastor hadn’t seen you since you came into his tower and the rest of the hotel had set out to look for you with no luck. Alastor kept to his tower, telling himself if you wanted to be away that was your choice; he wasn’t chasing you like some lost puppy. Though he did find himself briefly wondering if you were still alive, after all Vox was out there watching through cameras on every corner and Adam’s corpse went missing and wasn’t accounted for, there was many threats to your safety he hadn’t thought of before.

With a sigh of static frustration, Alastor flicked his hand giving the okay to his right hand shadow to go find you, he couldn’t stand his thoughts anymore. And so it did, within seconds the shadow zipped and zoomed knowing exactly where you were, not that you were trying to hide. It slinked up against the paint peeling wall of your apartment, watching you on the couch, news softly sounding out as you read a book. Your home was a wreck, looking as though you’ve had fits upon fits of rage and lacked to clean after. Dishes piled, laundry scattered all across the linoleum floors. Alcohol, pot and cigarettes were a hefty scent in the room, it didn’t accompany the damp mold smell well at all. Oh what a thing you’d become without Alastor! The shadow watched like a fly on the wall for varying moments, studying you and your state before vaporising into the floor and taking off back to its master.

Honestly, you weren’t expecting Alastor to come knocking at your apartment door, so when you swung it open expecting your usual delivery guy, you were shocked and you didn’t bother fixing your depressed appearance. “Goodness gracious my little dame it looks like you’ve been dragged through mud!” Alastor laughed boisterously using his microphone to push you aside and barge in. You stood aside speechless, watching as he stepped inside with his hands rested just above his tail, surveying the room around him. His neck cracked disgustingly, his body forward while his head faced you, his grin tamed. “What happened here?” The words were simple but his tone was confusing, you couldn’t tell if he was angry, suspicious, or worried. You sneered at him, lip twitching upward as you slammed the door and wordlessly returned to your spot on the couch.

“I didn’t expect you to search, work come first yknow.” Oh yes, you planned to milk the words he said against you to berate him and his attempts to make up, you were in hell for a reason after all. Alastor huffed- like a buck would, something uncharacteristic for him to do outside of being alone with you, which sickeningly made your heart flutter, he still trusted you in a way, did that mean you were still his? You always told him he was more deer then he’d like to admit and those huffs were one of those deer attributes. “Hm yes, but you’ve been quite the work, I hope you know.” You clenched your teeth, trying not to snap instantly, but you did send him a glare.

You muttered about how that didn’t make things any better when he snapped his fingers, all things garbage vanishing in a pinch, mold included. “Ah, much better! My mother always said the state of the house is the state of the mind!” A round of applause sounds from his microphone as he laughed, rounding the couch with a slow stride. “Tell me, would you like to talk?” It felt more condescending then genuine, the way he was bent forward with lidded eyes and an eased smile, like you were some child having a tantrum. “No, Al, you made what you said pretty fuckin clear, i don’t wanna be with you if I am some chore or job, or secondary whatever!- i wanna be your partner and you want me to be a pet? Yeah, no thanks.” You punctuated your sentence with a dramatic scoff, flopping back into the cushions with your arms folded protectively across your chest.

“Ahhh my little doudou,” Alastor chided, sitting himself flush to you, arm around the back of the couch to trap you near him. “I want you to listen to me, and listen to me closely because i will never admit this again!” Alastor exclaimed this with what sounded to be false confidence and a slight hint of exasperation. He pinched your chin in between his claws forcing you to look at him, and of course you did, what else were you to do? “I have become a fool, all across the pentagram, I’m held by ball and chain— the devil my dear! The devil is- some frazzled little nitwit with all the power and no ambition!” Alastors fist clenched at the mention of Lucifer, abandoning your chin to do so. “I was feared my dear, nobody dared to test my authority, and now i’m an assumed bellboy for the princess and her gaggle of misfits. You,” Alastor paused leaning in so close your noses touched.

“My dear, were the only one i actually wouldn’t mind being weakened for.” You couldn’t stop the comical ‘huh’ that gargled straight from your throat. “What does that even mean Alastor.” You whine throwing your head back bumping his arm as you did so, an unknowing invitation to slide it down, hand caressing your shoulder softly. “It means dear, I didn’t mean what i said, because i’ve already done those exact things in the past! I’ve missed countless radio shows from you, refrained from eating deer around you- for your sake. I’ve held you to me on every block knowing Vox could see us perfectly! You were my chosen weakness, darling, but with all these other useless sinners belittling my role in hell, i took it out on you,”

Pausing Alastors static faded in and out, you watched his eyes closely, but the real give away was the way his ear subtly tilted to the side looking like a sad puppy. “I felt what i said, I felt weak and I knew you needed me and didn’t want to feel this weakness anymore, so logically-” You scoffed with a small smirk, mockingly muttering ‘logically’ back at him. “-I had to try to appear as though I am what I originally intended to be.” He finished giving you a pointed look. Shifting your body to face him more, you analysed his body language and face. Typically- no matter how long you’ve been together- he was amazing at hiding his emotions, always seeming to be happy. It seemed like he let his guard down however, his eyebrows were furrowed and pointed upward, his smile tight, shoulders rigid and his breathing shallow. Anticipation was evident by the way his hoof tapped against the floor with beat.

You finally let you emotion reignite, the tears slipped down your face like rivers as you gently shook your head. “What did you intend to be?” You asked softly, an unattractive spit bubble forming as you opened your mouth. “A ruler of sorts, i suppose. Emotionless, cruel, untouchable. I tried to reaffirm to myself by being cruel to you my dear, that i was still a demon, not the altruist teddy bear they all dubbed me as.” Alastors form had finally slumped, sinking into the cushions alongside you, his head falling back gazing up at the ceiling. You caved just slightly at his admission, and rested your head on his chest near his armpit, your body sinking into his. Suddenly he perked up, looking down at you, you reflexively shooting your gaze up to him.

“Yknow they made a mockery of my speech as well my dear! Preposterous, darling, many sinners posted about me being ‘cringe’, my speech was ‘corny’, my dearest can you believe that?” You almost took offence to the fact he sounded more distraught over being made fun of rather than hurting you, but you reminded yourself that Alastor was trying to open up, and you weren’t gonna ruin that. “Is that why you were killing randos instead of overlords?” You asked feeling more relaxed than you had before, obviously there was many words in between you two unsaid, but you wanted to bask in the small talk you craved for so long from him just a little longer.

“Precisely. I’m proud you noticed.” You hummed with a small smile, your head resting back on his chest. “Why did it take so long for you to come?” Despite not even thinking he would, you now had the knowledge he didn’t actually hate you, and if he didn’t why’d he drag it out? “Pride,” What would’ve been a hoarse voice to any other demon, was a staticy robotic sound that crackled out of his chest. “This is way out of my comfort my dear, i didn’t and still don’t know what to say or do, and i don’t like being out of control.” You whimpered at that, curling up into him, your legs slinging over his thighs so you could cuddle up next to him. Immediately his arms engulfed you, pulling you into him with a happy hum, his neck craning to kiss your head softly.

“i missed you, you really hurt me, bad. Don’t do it again.” You state firmly though it was muffled by the fabric of his coat, the one you had your face nuzzled into. Alastor hummed out softly petting you on your head, just like he would before. “Never again doudou~, you have my word, and i promise to make it up to you.” Tiling your head upward you yanked at his colar, and he immediately ducked down meeting your lips at will. The kiss was soft and Alastor could feel the dampness from your tears on your chin against him. After a moment you both pulled away, although not far from eachother your lips were practically still touching.

“Why don’t I give you some attention my sweet doe.” Alastor cooed against your lips, you could hear the mischief in his tone as his hand pawed your hips. You blinked slowly at him, an instant twist of desire appearing low in your gut. “How?” Alastors grin widened for the first time since appearing at your door, and you feared you’d truly be in for it tonight. “Oh my, have i neglected your needs so long you need to inquire how?” Alastor question was rhetorical only furthered by the way he kissed his teeth with his index finger coming up to shake side to side. “That simply will not do!” Standing suddenly, with you in his arms, made you gasp and clutch onto him instinctively. You smacked his chest playfully, muttering to him about being too heavy, he however ignored you, walking toward your old room with his head held high.

The room in question was a mess, and a thick layer of dust coated every object that wasn’t being continually used, like the nightstand, and the lamp. Alastor didn’t care much though, he never did care whether you were messy or super clean he’d always snap his fingers to assist you, and that’s exactly what he did. Slowly around the room things cleared up, his shadows slunk into the room with strange looking candles setting a romantic tone for the room. The bed was remade neatly when he set you on it gently, watching your doe eyes stare up at him with a familiar intensity that always made him fidgety. You let him flop you down without complaint, after all it wasn’t always that Alastor seemed so interested in getting down and dirty.

Standing above you, Alastor grinned down at you with lidded eyes, letting his long fingers dance down his chest to undo his buttons. He wasn’t really a fan of trying to appear sexually appealing to those around him, he’d never admit how out of the ordinary, and awkward it felt, but he knew you. You were his. You were loyal. You waited seven years just for him, never spilling a single secret. Secretly, he was way more comfortable with trying to appear “sexy” for you, because he knew no matter what, you wouldn’t look at him any differently. Alastor shrugged off his jacket, his button down shirt open exposing his chest to you. “Y'know dear,” A bit of southern drawl slipped out, as the mask he wore slipped away with his jacket. “You give me a very special outlet i do not think i’d have with any other sinner, you’re too kind to me.” Pulling off his shirt, he folded it and set it aside, kicking off his slacks right after, leaving himself in his boxers and long socks.

You watched him undress with wide eyes, you wanted nothing more then being pressed against the warmth of him, absorbing his touch. You however stayed still, letting Alastor relax into the mood as he rid himself of clothes. Alastor sat on the edge of the bed, right beside your hips, his hand traced lightly up and down your torso, occasionally dipping down to your thighs. You felt tense at the touch, both anticipation and insecurity making you feel stiff. Suddenly his claw hooked around the band of both your undergarments and pants, his eyes flickering up to inspect you when he did so. “May I?” His voice was soft, the usual uncertainty present as he felt out of his realm. “Yes, please.” You sigh, your tone nearly whiny. “I missed you so much Alastor,” You admit hushed as his claws brushed down your thighs with your clothes. Once off, Alastor leaned down, giving soft pecks to your thighs, eyes staring up to you through his red lashes. “Yes dear, my life been painstaking without you.” He whispered against your flesh, sharp teeth dragging up past your hips, nose bumping the cloth of your shirt. Sitting up slightly, you were preparing to slid your shirt over your head when Alastors body slid between your legs, claws coming up to pinch and lift the fabric exposing your chest.

With him now face to face with you, leaned over your body, you caved. Your hands slid around his neck guiding him toward you slowly, your lips met instantly like two magnets being held just inches apart. It was a sweet kiss for the most part, your lips meshed against his as you let him control the pace, it was nice with Alastor you always had enough time for the heat to simmer and grow, making foreplay unnecessary most times because he naturally took his time. You raked your fingers through his hair, nails scratching up his scalp causing ripples of goosebumps down his arms. Alastor slipped his tongue delicately licked at your lip, brushing as soft as ever. You were a bit shocked at this, typically he wasn’t into french kissing, lamenting that the whole tongue thing was messy and disgusting feeling. However you didn’t fight him, only allowed him access, which he immediately took with ease slipping his tongue against your own.

His body collided into yours, nose bumping your cheek as he angled his head. Your hands slipped down his back, smiling against his lips at the feeling of his tail wagging back and forth making small gusts of wind against your fingertips. Alastor nipped at your lips in retaliation, hands roaming your body as he pushed his hips up to softly grind his hard on into you. You hummed at the feeling of him against you, angling your hips back and up pressing your wetness against his briefs. Your body was buzzing while Alastor slowly grinded himself down on you, his clothed head travelling between your folds and back up to poke at your clit. The kiss had broken as he continued on, your breathing shaky as you enjoyed the slow motion of him above you, his teeth scraping down the length of your neck.

Alastor couldn’t help the groan that bubbled out of him. Not only could he smell your arousal but he could smell just you. He pressed his face to the nape of your neck, kissing and inhaling, loving the smell you had naturally on your skin. He also got quite the kick out of hearing the blood rush through your veins, it made him feel feral knowing you would bare yourself to him so willingly, he had you around his finger. Alastor let his lips glide down your body, leaving bite marks down your chest and neck as he did so, hips still moving slowly against you. You had soaked his briefs making the fabric feel absent, clinging to every ridge and vein of his cock slide through your folds. “Please Al, I need you.” You whined pathetically, pressing your hips up into his. Alastors choppy breath warmed your collar bone, his forehead rested on your shoulder, eyes closed as he slipped his hand down, yanking himself out of his boxers.

Sometimes he felt like an untrained dog, he couldn’t help but want to hump into you without restraint, but that wasn’t him, that was desire, and he knew how to hold back. As he sunk into you, slowly, he breathed out the quietest of noises against you shoulder, basking in you. You could hear his quiet noises clearly since he was so close, you bite your lip at the sound of him, loving how he always let you see him so wrecked. When Alastors hips were flush with your own, your legs came up around his hips, his tail stiff, while your arms wrapped around his neck, your right hand dragging up his scalp to his ears. “I like hearing you, Alastor,” You gasped as he jolted into you, like an involuntary reaction to your praise. “It makes me feel you.” You finished breathlessly. Alastor hummed against you, setting his pace slow and deep, barely pulling away before he pushed hard back inside you.

Your eyes were wide as he continued this rhythm, to you it was incredibly overwhelming, he never left you vacant always hungry to fill you right back up with him. His pants against you were also adding to your arousal, his eyelashes fluttered against your skin ever now and again as he attempted to contain himself. You knew he was sort of embarrassed with himself feeling pleasure, so you never egged him on when he did start making noise, but lord you wanted more. You tugged Alastors hair softly, pulling him up for a sloppy opened mouth kiss. He barely opened his eyes as he mushed his lips against yours, snaking his tongue against your own, bucking up faster into you at the warmth of your mouth. “I missed you, i love you,” You cried against his lips pathetically, your body’s both rocking on the bed as Alastor hurried his pace.

Alastor let out a low guttural noise, something from the back of his throat making your toes curl, pulling at his hips with your legs. “I couldn’t- stand you being away, dear.” Alastors face was inches from your own, forehead rested on yours, lips brushing against each other as he spoke. “Never again will i be such a fool, you’re mine forever.” Alastor growled through his clenched teeth, claws ripping into the mattress as he spoke. Your mouth hung open, eyebrows raised as you tried to from some sort of praise, but now his eyes were open looking down at you with such intensity and emotion, and his pace fast hard putting your body straight into the mattress. You didn’t even feel your orgasm coming on when it did, your body arching up into his, crying out his name alongside pleas.

The display of you in front of him was so pornographic, something he wasn’t fond of seeing but now understood why people were. You were gorgeous right now, your face red, your eyes watering, your body folded up towards his, all the scars, folds marks on your body, all for his eyes only. Groaning loudly, he fell back into his favourite place, your neck, and let out a deep breathless static moan as he came. You clutched him the entire time through watery blurred eyes, enjoying the feeling of him inside you post orgasm. Pulling away, Alastor was quick to pull out and away, snapping his fingers he began to clean you with a cloth. “Disgusting of me,” He muttered, seemingly angrily. “No, it was good Al, you’re allowed to. You’re not disgusting and neither was the sex, believe me.” You coo, sitting up from your position, a dopey look on your face. In a snap, Alastor was redressed as were you, in leisure clothing. “We’re going back to the hotel to sleep my little doe.” Alastor spoke softly, lending his hand to you, humming you took his hand letting him take you through his magic, back to the hotel. You knew Alastor didn’t like to lay sticky in the remnants of sex like many others, and probably would push you to shower before getting in his bed. But that way okay, you loved him regardless, and you really missed having his attention.

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bucks-babe · 8 months ago

Text

More to Love

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take care of you in every sense of the term; so what if you gain a bit of extra fat because of it?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of past relationships, kind of told in flashbacks, shitty ex boyfriend who forces reader to lose weight (not Bucky), Bucky is so in love it hurts, Bucky takes care of his woman, body insecurity, weight gain because of a healthy relationship, smut, CMNF (only for a little bit), looking in the mirror while on Bucky’s lap (yes, that needs a warning), crying during sex, daddy kink, soft!dom Bucky, so much fluff, no use of Y/N, Bucky calls reader love, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), implied creampie, Bucky loves his girl’s tummy, emotions.

A/N: This is NOT fetishizing weight gain, nor unhealthy habits. Bucky is not forcing the reader to gain weight to make her attractive to him; he loves his girl at any weight and just wants to take care of her. I made this fic because I want to feel like the parts of my body that I’m insecure about can still be desirable. Also this turned out way softer than the drabble, but there is still smut going on. Thank you to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are my own.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, you have noticed how different he is compared to your previous partners. Not just because he is a 6 foot something brick house, but also in the way he treats you. You’ve never experienced such raw and untamed love directed solely at you, or the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, memorizing every quirk and tick you possess. It’s almost overwhelming how much he loves you.

Never before have you felt so comfortable in a relationship. Previous boyfriends never really felt like boyfriends, rather personal trainers. Maybe you were bad at picking them out, but your last partner was a gym rat, constantly obsessing over what he was eating and how many hours he put into the gym that week. The obsession he had for the gym followed through into your relationship. If you wanted to spend time with him, it had to be at the gym.

He would construct fitness plans for you, saying that the softness of your stomach needed to go to make him happy, and you let him. You don’t know why you let him weasel his way into your head, but he did. Eventually, it went past the gym, and he would only allow you to go to a certain restaurant to eat because the others had way too many unhealthy options, side-eyeing you for ordering a side of fries instead of a salad. Cooking at home became a battle since you weren’t supposed to eat anything fatty or fried, nothing you did was ever good enough for him.

Over the course of that relationship you did end up losing the extra weight you had, but also weight that you didn’t need to lose, and soon you were “too skinny” and “didn’t have enough meat on your bones for him.” He left you soon after - over text. It was something along the lines of, “I wanted to see if I could make you attractive, but you don’t look good, fat or skinny.” It crushed you. The man that you thought you were in love with, and who loved you, broke your heart. You never gained the weight back, hoping against hope that he could come back and realize he was wrong about you. He never did.

It took you a long time to get over that piece of shit, but what he said about your body never left - you were still terrified to gain weight. But then you met Bucky, and for a while you forgot about that asshole. You had the sweetest, sexiest, kindest man that you were able to call yours, so why would you even think about your past? It started so slow you didn’t even notice until it was too late.

You groaned, stretching out in bed, arm reaching out for your boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Squinting, you try to open your eyes, sunlight forcing them to close. After a few tries, you get them open and look at the time - 7:19. Bucky must be back from his morning run. Searching the floor for his henley, you walk into the kitchen to find Bucky cutting up your favorite fruit in a bowl, shirtless. The both of you know that he can hear you walk up to him, hell he probably heard you the moment you woke up, but he humors you when you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he jumps in surprise.

“What’cha doing, honey,” you murmur into his back, peppering it with kisses.

“Makin’ something to eat after runnin’ with Steve all mornin’. Hope I didn’t wake ya up, Love.” You feel the shiver that shoots up his spine at your touch.

“No, I was just about to get up anyway, just so happens that I woke up to this sight.”

Bucky turns only his head to look down at you, a crooked smile adorning his scruffy face, “And you can wake up to it every day. Now how about you go sit your pretty little ass down on the couch and get our show ready? I’ll be there in a minute.”

You place a chaste kiss to his cheek before slapping his ass on the way out earning a glare from him. Bucky knows that you don’t eat in the morning but he has devised a plan because you not eating in the morning will follow to you only eating at dinner tonight.

You hear his heavy foot fall as you’re getting comfy on the couch only for him to pick you up and rest his back against the arm of the couch, setting you down in his lap, his chest to your back. He ignores your squeals and settles down.

While you are watching your show, Bucky is watching you, and before you know it, a piece of pineapple is passing your lips. Chewing happily, you don’t even notice that Bucky has you eating until the deep rumble of ‘good girl’ is whispered in your ear. A deep throb settles in your core as you continue to eat each piece he puts in your mouth, desperate to hear his praise again and again.

That was how it started, Bucky feeding you in the mornings. But it slowly progressed from that. He was always making sure that you’ve eaten your three meals a day, no if, ands or buts. You were an Avenger after all so of course you needed to eat to stay healthy with all the missions and training you go through. Bucky noticed the pudge on your belly coming back way before you did.

“Love, what is this movie even about? I’m so confused.” The smile in his voice was impossible to miss. With him against the headboard and your back resting against his chest, you couldn’t see his face. Whatever explanation you gave, Bucky didn’t hear a word of it. As you repositioned in his lap, you sat up, just a bit, but his hands on your stomach felt it, the small bit of fat soft and warm in his hands.

To this day you have no idea why Bucky stripped off both of your clothes and pounded you for hours, but he did, and that little bit of soft flesh made him go a little crazy.

During this time you didn’t even realize that you were gaining your weight back because for the first time since you met your last boyfriend, you had so much more energy. You didn’t need extra naps throughout the day, or feel dead tired after doing absolutely nothing. Now, your body had enough nutrients to function properly, the hump of your belly was there because you were healthy. You’ve had it all your life, nothing getting rid of it. To you it made you feel like you were fat, but to Bucky, oh, it showed him that you were a strong, healthy woman.

Everyday after training, you would boast to him about how much better you’ve been doing in training, claiming Natasha said so. Of course you have always been a very capable agent, but now that you had enough fuel to support the vigorous Avenger training, you’ve been doing better than ever, and Bucky couldn’t have been more proud; however, it all came to a head when you finally caught on to your weight gain.

Fresh out of the shower, you head over to your closet. It was no special occasion but Bucky being the perfect boyfriend that he is, wanted to take you out on a date, just because. After finding Bucky’s favorite pair of lingerie and putting them on, you huff. You don’t remember the bottoms feeling so tight. You passed it off however, thinking that maybe you did something to them in the wash.

But what you couldn’t ignore was how your favorite dress wasn’t fitting. It took way too much wiggling to get it past your hips and waist. What really set you off though, was that you couldn’t zip it. Already too tight on you before zipping, now you couldn’t get the damn thing to move more than an inch. Looking in the mirror you found the reason why the zipper refused to move. The small pocket of fat on your tummy that you thought you got rid of, was back, and larger than it ever was.

Turning to the side, you saw just how much it was coming out. You could’ve sworn you were a few months pregnant. How could you have missed this? It took a while, but you got the dress off so you could investigate the fat on your stomach. Gasping, you tried to suck in, in the hope that it would disappear. It didn’t.

Tears sprung in your eyes. How could Bucky find this attractive? Why hasn’t he said anything about this? How could you let yourself go like this? All these horrible thoughts raced through your head, before you heard Bucky’s sweet voice through the door asking if you were ready.

All of those little moments lead you to where you are now, standing in front of your mirror crying, while Bucky patiently waits on the other side of the door, thinking all is right with the world, as yours is falling apart right before your eyes. Before you can hide yourself, Bucky opens the door. Immediately, you move to cover yourself up, disgusted with the shape of your body hoping that he doesn’t look at what you can’t cover. Bucky, however, looks directly into your eyes first, seeing the pain and tears.

In two steps he reaches you and his strong arms envelop you, hands running up and down your back. “Love, what’s wrong?” You only bury your face in his chest further. He walks back to the bed, pulling you in his lap as he sits. Your naked body pressed up against his fully clothed one. Bucky’s right palm slides down your back and he tries to squeeze your waist when you jerk away from him.

“No! Don’t touch me there!” Bucky feels his heart crack in his chest at your repulsion, not understanding why you don’t want him to touch your waist. He doesn’t let you leave his lap however, keeping you in place.

“Why, Love? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything. Look at my stomach, Buck!” You bite back another sob when he does, confusion written all over his face, not understanding what you’re trying to convey. “It’s FAT!” You all but scream, failing at trying to escape when his arms pull you down once again.

“Love…” He gets cut off by another sob falling from your lips. Instead of trying to talk you down, Bucky brings your lips to his and keeps your head in place. The only movement is the wobble of your lower lip as you try to contain your sobs.

A few minutes pass by before Bucky can’t stand it anymore, and he tilts your head and moves his lips. The kiss tastes of your tears but neither of you care. Clawing at his back, you try to get closer to him, wanting him to consume you.

When his hands trail down your sides, you pull away. Strong arms spin you around, naked back to clothed chest. The warm palm of his right hand forces you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Buc..”

“No, Love. Look at how fucking sexy you are.” With his right hand still holding your chin, his left trails down your body, stopping over the swell of your tummy. “So goddamn pretty, you know that?” He whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck, cock twitching under your ass.

He spreads his legs, forcing yours to open as well and he groans deep and long at the sight of your pussy. “God, Love, don’t you see how pretty you are, so soft and strong and all mine.” You try to pull away, the feeling of looking at yourself too much, but Bucky’s strong hands don’t let you move an inch. “Feel what you do to me? Feel how hard my cock is?”

It’s too much, all of it. His praise, his touch, the sight of you. More tears well in your eyes and a pitiful whine leaves you. “Can’t, Bucky. I-I…” You have to close your eyes; you can't look at yourself any longer.

“Shhh, Love, you can, baby. Let Daddy take care of you. Let him show you how pretty you are. Open your eyes for Daddy.” At his request, you open your eyes, only to find his already on you. With tears still pouring from your eyes, Bucky wipes them away before laying you down on your back.

If there was anyone who knew your limits better than yourself, it was Bucky. He knows that having you look at yourself right now would only do more harm than good, but showing you how much he loves you is a whole different story. Before laying down with you, Bucky takes his clothes off, needing to feel you against his bare skin. “I love you so fucking much, you know that? Never met a stronger,” Bucky plants a kiss on your cheek, “more beautiful,” another kiss, “smarter, sweeter, perfect woman in all my life.”

With each kiss you can't tell if your erratic heart is slowing down or speeding up. This is such a foreign feeling for you, such unbridled love. Your head falls deeper into the pillows, Bucky’s scent enveloping all your senses, and you can’t think properly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the heedy stare Bucky is giving you.

“Daddy, I don’t, I can’t.” You don’t even know what you are trying to say, words no longer coming to you, but Bucky does, he always knows what you need.

“I know, Love. You just need Daddy to make you feel better, make you see how perfect you are for him.” Wrapping his arms around your back, he pulls you in closer to him, both of you gasping when his hard cock presses up against your naked core. Without thought, you grind your hips up, chasing the friction of his silky skin.

“All those tears, and all you wanted was Daddy’s cock, huh? Just want Daddy to fuck you dumb, turn that little brain off for you? Don’t worry, Love, Daddy’ll take care of you.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, not leaving any space between the two of you, the hard planes of his abdomen pressed against the soft swell of yours.

Bucky doesn’t wait for you to beg, he can’t, not now, he needs to be inside of you, lining himself up, he pushes in, inch by perfect inch.”Shit, Love, you feel how perfect you are for me?”

Your lips part, letting a breathy whine out. Bucky doesn’t wait, slowly pulling out until only his plush tip is still inside, just to roll his hips back in. “Fuck. Look at Daddy, look at what you do to him.” It takes everything in your power to open your eyes and look at Bucky, the pleasure almost too much just after one thrust, but when you do, the sight that meets you is glorious. Face flushed, brows drawn together, lips parted, Bucky looked debauched.

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without warning, Bucky rolls the both of you over, with you on his lap. “Since you listen to Daddy so well, why don’t you ride his cock, let him look at his pretty girl bounce?” This snaps you out of your stupor, there’s no way you’re going to let him see your stomach jiggle.

“Bucky, I can’t, not this way. What about the other way?” You try to turn around, but his left hand grabs your waist while his right lands a harsh slap to your ass causing you to clench around him.

“Ah, ah, ah, Daddy wants to see your face. You hear me?” Before you can complain again, Bucky thrusts his hips up, hard. You both moan, caught up in the sensation of his cock inside of you. Your hands fly to his chest, trying to balance yourself before you tumble off. Bucky doesn’t let up, thrust after thrust, pounding into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Daddy, right there, shit, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, just that you don’t want him to stop. The room is filled with the salacious sounds of your combined moans along with the clapclapclap of his thighs meeting your ass.

“So fucking good, Love, you know that? This pussy was made for me. Fucking perfect. Look at this little belly jiggling while I fuck you, shit, gonna make me blow my fucking load early. You’re. So. Fucking. Gorgeous.” Each word was punctuated by a vicious thrust. Ice pours down your spine, in the midst of pleasure you completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this position. He’s fucking staring right at your belly, hands gripping at your extra fat, just watching it ripple with each brutal thrust of his hips.

“Bucky stop, don’t look there, I don’t…” The rest of your sentence gets cut off when Bucky somehow fucks you even harder, effectively making your tummy move more. It’s too much: the feral look in his eyes, the perfect angle of his cock, and his beautiful moans. Despite your best efforts, you feel your orgasm building up. The little coil hidden under the small hump of your belly pulls tighter and tighter, and Bucky can feel it. He can feel your pussy pulsing around him so he moves his hands from your belly to your hips, grinding them against his coarse hairs with sharp thrust.

It pulls tighter and tighter until it snaps, dragging you under, blood roaring through your ears. You vaguely hear Bucky’s voice, “There you go, give it to Daddy. So good for me, soaking my cock. God, I fucking love you.” Bucky stops moving, giving you time to come down from your high. Still gasping for air, you fall down onto his sweaty chest, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You’re pulled out of your haze by Bucky. “Think you can give me one more? I think you can.”

He flips you over, back landing on the bed while he throws your legs over his shoulders, effectively causing your stomach to roll up, small pockets of fat pushing out. You whine, not wanting Bucky to see it, but he fucking loves this. Loves the bit of extra fat that has found its way under your chin, the soft flesh around your strong thighs, and the belly that fits perfectly in his hands. He loves it because it proves your healthy, that he’s feeding you well, well enough that you can train to your full potential, have the energy to do what you want to, not always be so tired you don’t want to do the things you love to do, that you aren’t afraid to eat what you want. That’s what he fucking loves, taking care of you and the way your body has changed has absolutely zero affect on his attraction to you. He will always think you are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe.

“Love, you don’t understand how fucking sexy you are, do you? Look at how well we fit together.” He cups the back of your head, making you look at your stomach as he enters you again, making your belly bulge more. “Do you see this, Love? See how pretty you are, and it's all for me, isn’t it?” The adoration in his eyes was almost too much, the swell in your chest threatening to burst as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his love with every stroke. Bucky wasn’t fucking you anymore, he was making love to you, showing you how much you mean to him.

Bucky takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together, placing your hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock underneath your softness. “Daddy, feels so good. Fuck. Love you so much.” Bucky’s hips stutter when you say you love him, it has always been his weakness, the utter devotion and vulnerability that you allow him to experience is something he will never take for granted. Tears were streaming down your face, eyes probably red and puffy. Leaning forward, Bucky places his forehead on yours, eyes locked into yours.

“I know, Love. Can’t even begin to describe how much I love you.” Bucky can feel you getting closer again, pussy clenching around him, hands scrambling to grab onto something: his hair, back, hands, sheets, you can’t decide, the pleasure coursing through you too much. “Give it to me Love, make your Daddy proud and cum on his cock. Know you want to, just let go.” With two more thrusts, your eyes roll back, another orgasm rolling through you. This one shorter than the last, but no less intense. Bucky finds his release right after, burrowing his face into your neck, holding you to him, wanting to be as close as possible.

It takes a few minutes, but the both of you calm down, hearts returning back to normal. You’re the first to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. “You knew I was gaining weight, didn’t you?” With his softening cock still buried deep inside you, Bucky lifts his head up a small smirk adorning his face.

“Of course, but this little pudge,” he grabs your tummy and almost kneads it, “is because you’re healthy. You have so much more energy recently, and I fall deeper in love with you every single time I see how fucking happy you are now. You make me so proud to be able to call myself your boyfriend. You're so beautiful and I promise you that I will spend everyday for the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You don’t have any words to respond, so you just wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. And of course Bucky keeps true to his promise, and you believe him when he tells you that you are the most beautiful woman because he proves it to you everyday, in and outside of the bedroom.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader

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fernandopiastri28 · 6 months ago

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Hello! I loved your last oscar fic so maybe you could do one when oscar repays her and is focused only on her pleasure?

hands in your hair ~ oscar piastri

It’s only a few minutes of this before Oscar begins to get increasingly more irritated. A string of whines and groans leave his mouth as her nails scratch at his scalp and his hips shift against the cushioning under him, desperate for friction and pressure. “Y/N,” He mumbles into the flesh of her thighs, “I’m horny,”

Shocker. “Same,” She cranes her neck and hunching her back awkwardly so she can kiss the back of his head. His hair smells vaguely of sweat and some expensive aftershave, hints of hotel shampoo underneath. It’s distinctively Oscar, her favourite.

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?”

wc: 2,437 || warnings: pure smut- oral (f), mentions of sex, hair kink??

(self indulgent- just me being obsessed with oscar's longer hair)

Her finger’s card through the soft locks of his brunette hair, relishing in just how long his hair’s gotten. It looks better than it has throughout their whole relationship, and she’s seen her fair share of his interesting haircuts. For a moment, her hands pull away and her touches stop. He wiggles around, his head lolling around in her lap. “Why’d you stop?” His voice comes out as a grumble, a slight pout to his lips.

“Sorry, Oz,” Y/N giggles, her thumbs moving to brush over his cheeks before moving back into his hair. His eyes are shut, trying to get in a last little bit of sleep before he has to get in the car for free practice 3. Oscar Piastri napping minutes before he has to be driving around a track he’s never driven before in his career- fork found in kitchen. He would sleep forever if he could, and likely would if it weren’t for Y/N, Andrea, and Lando all having to try to wake him up.

A knock sounds on the door a few minutes later, proving her point further. “Osc?” Lando’s voice travels underneath the door of Oscar’s room in the motorhome. When he doesn’t get a response, he calls out again. “Y/N, stop sucking his cock, we need to get in the cars soon” She cringes out, turning dark red that that’s what’s presumed they do whenever they’re alone.

It kinda is, but not always. “He’s sleeping, not getting head,” She retorts, enjoying her last few minutes before he gets whisked away.

“Sleeping, sex, quickies- who cares, please just wake him up,” Lando keeps knocking on the door and she frowns slightly, sad that her time with her boyfriend has to be cut short for him to race.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” She weasels her way out from under him, slipping down enough for her feet to hit the floor. “Oscar, time to wake up,” She brushes her hair off his forehead, kissing at the revealed skin. “Cmon, neither of us want you to get in trouble with Zak because you’ve just decided you don’t want to race today,”

He groans, rolling himself over to bury his face into a cushion. “Fine,” His arms click as he pushes himself up, his fireproof top having hitched itself up to show off the majority of his toned abdomen. “Only because I don’t want to end up in a Danny Ric situation,” She sucks in a deep breath at that, her mouth moving into a grimace. “Sorry, too soon,”

Oscar needs to remember that even though she’s his girlfriend, she’s a Ricciardo fan firstly, a true aussie supporting her country. “Good luck, loverboy” She pulls him in for a final kiss just as he’s working on getting his race suit zipped up, forgetting he only has one of his arms in a sleeve.

His hand squeezes at her waist, pushing it slightly into the edge of the bench they were previously perched upon, “Back here at the end of practice?” His adorable bunny teeth scrape along her bottom lip, his lips clasping around it.

“You’ve got it,” She sends him off with a swift smack to the butt, getting a howl out of him and a permanently red face of embarrassment when he sees that Lando saw the whole thing.

He’s never going to hear the end of it.

~~~

Oscar goes crazy on the radio as free practice 3 ends, securing him a first place ‘position’ after getting second in the prior session. For a track that had been cancelled last year, causing him to miss out on racing it before today, he’s doing exceptional. He hurries back to his driver room, excited to get back to spending time with Y/N before qualifying.

“Oz!” She’s already back on the bench, having made her way out of the paddock once the session had ended to avoid crowds of interviewers. “You were so good, baby!” She reaches her arms out, wrapping her legs around his waist once he’s fully in the hug.

His head buries into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling at her nose, “Did it for you,” He murmurs, his lips aimlessly moving against the collar of her shirt, unintentionally wetting it. “Can we cuddle like before? Your hands in my hair?” The question is slightly muffled by the angle he’s at, but she gets it enough. He’s not really one to go all out with celebrating, and FP3 isn’t something huge to party about anyways.

She leans back, her head hitting against the wall and lets her legs dangle over the edge so her thighs squish up, just like how Oscar likes. He palms at them, before just dropping his head down onto them, using them as cushions. His cheeks get all smushed up, just like they do under his helmet. Without much time after that, her hands move to his hair, tugging on it ever so slightly, the floppy strands long enough to nearly cover her fingers completely as they disappear under all the brown hair there. He turns over slightly, enough to be looking up at her and have his head up closer to her face.

After eye fucking eachother for what seems like a decade, his lips press into hers. The kiss is agonisingly slow, strings of spit connecting them and teeth tugging on each other's lips. Their faces seem to merge into one the longer it lasts, each breath being inhaled in tandem. The nose of smacking lips and wet suckling fills the small room, hands going on hips and waists as desperate attempts to hold back whatever incoming lustre they’re both heading towards until they get home tonight.

They just have to wait til after quali, get back to the hotel, then they can fuck it out.

Y/N’s the one who ends up pulling away, knowing she’s not strong enough to hold back if they’re gonna continue making out. Oscar’s an exceptional kisser, and sometimes, just that is enough for her to get off on. So they go back to Oscar’s head in her lap, sitting in silence as she strokes his head.

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?” That’s just about the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. It’s not completely out of character for him, he’s actually pretty insistent on spending evenings after races in between her legs, whether his result was good or not. He could spend eternity there, his mind all foggy and dreamlike- like he’ll stay there forever. “I won’t make a mess- I promise, we can be quick. I just wanna make you feel good,”

It’s her favourite request, and her dress is hitched up before he can ask again. Towards the beginning of last season, she’d worn a wide variety of jeans and other long pants, until she realised just how many they found themselves desperate for a quickie before or in between races, and she’d permanently switched to flowy dresses and skirts ever since.

He arranges himself onto his front, up on his knees and hands while he keeps his chest the lowest angled part of his body. She’s laying in the same direction as him, her knees towards the ceiling and her back flush to the bench, her fingers occupied by playing with the hem of her dress so as to not cum the second she sees his desperate face in between her parted legs.

It feels like her heart is stopping as his breath gets heavier and hotter on her clothed heat, the fabric basically ruined from how wet she’s gotten. A digit glides across the soaked material, taunting her as he pushes against it. “Fuck, Oscar,” She hits her head down against the pillow under her head, not even realising when she’d gotten this needy.

“You’re dripping,” He notes, his eyes huge and glossy, all mesmerised by the sight. A finger hooks into her waistband, pulling them down tantalisingly slowly. She forces her head up, just enough to study his expression from just above her cunt. He licks his lips, his pupils somehow growing bigger. “Holy shit,” He doesn’t waste a second, his face plunging forward so get his mouth all over her.

Oscar’s talented in many things. Driving, writing hit tweets, taking digs at DRS, being mature in all circumstances, making people laugh with his dry and sarcastic humour, but above all- he’s got a talented mouth. His teeth scrape along her clit, sending shocks of pleasure through her bundle of nerves. Y/N could cum just from that, it feels like floating on cloud nine. She doesn’t even understand how it could possibly get any better until his nose begins nudging her clit, his tongue pushing inside her hole.

His cock was leaky in his tight boxers, his rock hard bulge still concealed by his fireproofs handing awkwardly off his hips. As she stared down at him, she somehow got even wetter each time he paused momentarily to stare at her wrecked cunt then dove back in like a starved creature. Unclips nails dig further into her thighs, pushing them further apart so his face is fully coated in her wetness. “Oh my god Oscar,” Her voice comes out so depraved and debauched.

Only his eyes are visible as he keeps his steel hard gaze on her. A pair of usually big, puppy brown eyes, the type that ooze innocence and angelic beauty are hardened and dark with lust. Her hands slip into his hair, needing something to ground her as he takes her apart from the inside out. She genuinely can’t get over his hair. How silky it is, how good it feels to yank on, how hot he looks.

His fingers move from her thighs up to under her shirt, practised fingers trailing under the wire of her bra. He pulls the tight fabric far enough from her skin that it leaves a pale mark when it snaps back after release. It’s hell being tortured like this, but it also feels so good. His indexes and thumbs on both hands work the clasp of the bra, undoing it with not much work. It’s an improvement from a few months prior when she’d settled for doing each time as he was so clueless on how to do it smoothly.

The crazed look in his eyes speaks a million words. She might be the only one getting a proper physical sexual gratification out of this, but he’s clearly getting off on her being in near excruciating pleasure. It feels better than anything they’ve done in a while. She bites her lip, watching as a lock of hair falls onto his forehead, a perfect little curl above his furrowed eyebrows. It’s cute, it’s hot, it’s everything- all at once.

Now Y/N feels like she could cum just because of his hair, and that’s definitely a new thought.

He moans, watching his eyes soften at the noise, “That’s so good- you’re fucking amazing at this,” He’s relentless- his tongue, noise, lips, and teeth all committed to making her reach her peak. “Look at you,”

“Look at me? Look at you,” God, he’s so whipped. His index finger glides along her open hole, slipping it inside her and curling it instantaneously. A pain bubbles in her stomach- she’s going to cum. “Fuck, look at that, so perfect around my fingers, just as perfect in my mouth.” She’s leaking around his fingers, her body reacting to his ministrations and praises.

He can read her like a book, he knows that her twisted up expression can only mean one thing. “You don’t need to ask me, baby, you can come when you need to,” A sharp breath leaves her lungs and her head falls backwards, her orgasm crashing into her like a freight train.

He kisses up from her aching cunt to her the lower part of her stomach, then her abdomen. He takes his time on her exposed breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipples, before marking her with a love bite in between them. “Looks good on you,“ He looks down at her from where he kneels between her legs, basically drooling at how wrecked she looks post orgasm underneath him.

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, her core aching as she tries to sit up. She angles for a kiss, luckily met halfway by Oscar. “Your turn.. I wanna suck you off,” She pants, her hand moving to push down his race suit. He swats her hand away, laughing at her eagerness.

“Nah, that was plenty for me to get you off,” He declines, slowly getting off of her so he can clean up the mess he did make in the end, despite his promise. She opens her mouth to argue with him but she’s swiftly shut up with his mouth back on hers. “Plus, I have qualifying in… fuck, like 10 minutes,” He frowns, helping to redress her.

“Oscar?” Lando’s voice joins the conversation, once again right outside their door. “Now are you getting your dick sucked?” He taunts, like it’s a joke this time around. “Or can we head for quali together?”

He’s wrong, it was the other way around. “Nah, I’ll be out in a moment. Thanks for waiting for me,” He zips his suit up, giving Y/N a final grin.

“Oscar,” She groans. She hates leaving him hard, it feels unfair that she’s just had the best orgasm of her life and he has to go get in a car and drive around at crazy stupid speeds with an aching mass between his legs.

“Y/N,” He mocks teasingly, peppering her face in chaste kisses, “I’m okay, If I have a killer qualifying session tonight, we’ll continue this later. She gives a final comb through his hair with her fingers, enjoying every bit of it just incase he decides to cut it.

P2 sure is killer, and the sex after it is amazing. Even better when he finds out about the penalty, because angry Oscar is so hot. Her hands stay planted in his hair the whole time, and by the end of it, in their post coital comfort, he promises he won't cut it for as long as she wants.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #mclaren racing #f1 #f1 rpf #formula1 #formula one #lando norris #mclaren #imola gp 2024 #hair kink

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euthymiya · 6 months ago

Text

we’ll have a ball ft. wriothesley

in which you and your boyfriend are due to arrive at fontaine’s most prestigious event, but not before you give him a hand with a slight wardrobe malfunction

contains: female reader ; reader wears a gown ; established relationship ; quite a bit of suggestiveness but overall just fluff ; wriothesley hates fancy events he told me himself, and reader just wants to live her ballgown dreams—he indulges her because he’s a real man ; flirting with wriothelsey using his tie lol ; wriothesley has a brief jealousy induced existential crisis

despite wearing one every day, wriothelsey doesn’t know how to tie a tie.

it’s why it’s so loose around his neck—a stylistic choice, of course, but also a decision based around convenience. he doesn’t need to learn how to tie one if it’s already tied and loose enough to slip over his head. it’s easier that way, letting a complicated set of steps reduce down to just a quick garment to throw on around his neck, allowing him the ability to forgo the trouble of tying it altogether.

you think it’s a rather endearing shortcoming of his, especially when he stands in the mirror confused as he grumbles, fiddling with the material as he tries to properly tie it for once.

“you’re doing that wrong, you know,” you sing, walking up behind him in your gown as he pauses and meets your eyes through the mirror. “you’re hopeless.”

he ignores your quip, gulping slightly as he mumbles, “you look gorgeous.”

“and you look like a fool,” you snort, glancing at the messy knot at his chest.

“maybe they don’t need us,” he licks his lips, spinning around to properly look you up and down without the mirror. a reflection doesn’t do you justice, he thinks, he needs the real thing. “we should just stay here. and do other things.”

“and have lady furina behead us for canceling last minute? i don’t think so,” you wave him off, but your arms slip around his neck as soon his hands grab your hips, letting him pull you flush against his chest as his nose runs along your collarbone, inhaling sharply at the scent of your perfume.

the duke of meropide is, in its own right, a prestigious title. prestigious enough to extend wriothesley an invitation to the annual ball the hydro archon holds for the sake of extravagance. wriothesley manages to weasel his way out of it on most years—but this time, you’ve been newly added to the guest list as well, courtesy of your blossomed relationship with the warden.

you seem far too excited to attend for him to decline in good conscience. love is sacrifice, as they say—and wriothesley can happily suffer through an evening of small talk and formality while sporting an uncomfortably tight fitting suit.

the only problem he can’t manage to overlook so far is this cursed, wretched tie.

“you’re no fun,” he pouts slightly, trailing the tip of his nose to brush along your collarbone until it finds your neck, lips pressing a soft, lingering peck as you hum and play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “i’ll show you a good time. better than a silly ball.”

“that’s a big promise.”

“well, i can think of a way or two to make it worth your while,” he grins against your neck, and you’re certain you’ve memorized that curve of his lips by heart. you can recognize it instantly when it sears against your skin.

“nice try,” you laugh, pulling away as he begrudgingly does the same. he sighs at your dismissal while you reach over to the tie around his neck. “but we’re going. and you need this tie looking…not how it’s looking right now.”

“m’trying my best,” he grumbles, looking away to the side, cheeks dusted a precious shade of crimson that you lean over to kiss gently.

your fingers undo the messy knot at his neck, expertly weaving the tie into a new and neat, flawless knot as you tighten it to fit around his neck perfectly. it’s unlike the loose, rugged knot he usually wears—much more proper, much more professional, much more formal.

wriothesley doesn’t look particularly thrilled at the adjustment, sighing as he watches you inspect his appearance and straighten his collar. your hand smooths over his chest as you give your nod of approval, and he wonders if you can hear his thundering heartbeat under your palm.

if you do, you’re gracious enough to cut him some slack from being teased.

“there,” you hum, “you look quite handsome.”

“does it have to be so tight?” he complains—and then his brows twitch, furrowing deeper as he pauses to look at you briefly with a puzzled look. “hang on. where’d you learn how to tie a tie?”

you raise a playful eyebrow, letting out an amused huffed out breath as you say, “well, you’re not the only man i’ve gotten to know.”

“so you’ve done this before? for another man?” he asks incredulously, miserably looking down at the thin piece of fabric wrapped around his collar as if it’s choked him before he adds, “i think i’ll be taking that dip in the primordial sea like i mentioned.”

“oh, quit being a drama queen,” you swat at his arm, chuckling as he gives you a theatrically pained look before burying his head back into your neck again, hand fitting in the small of your back as he rubs slowly circles into your gown.

“is this punishment for my crimes? because i’ve already served a sentence and according to fontaine laws, you can’t try a man twice for the same crime.”

“if it makes you feel better, i think you of all men pull ties off the best.”

“i suppose it minimally raises my spirits that you think i look good,” he concedes.

he does look good—whether it’s his usual loose, improperly fit tie or the fancy, silk material of tonight, you think wriothesley is most handsome when there’s a thin piece of fabric decorating his neck and chest, perfectly hanging and waiting for you to tug and pull him in.

you decide to demonstrate the wonderful opportunity his attire grants you, too, when you murmur, “in fact, i quite appreciate your habit of wearing ties.”

“oh? is that so?”

“yes,” you say slyly, pushing him back gently as you question, “want to see why?”

“do enlighten me,” he grins, eyes mischievously narrowing, a knowing glint sparkling in them as he waits for you to finish what you started.

so you do—reaching over and grabbing the silk, giving it a firm yank so he leans down, forehead pressing against yours and lips just a few millimeters away as you breathe, “i can do this whenever i want when you wear one. it’s very convenient for when i need a kiss or two.”

“i see,” he nods, his breath fanning over your lips. it’s hot and searing—you shiver at the feeling of him even when his lips haven’t even touched you yet. “well, if it keeps you satisfied, then i’ll have to make sure i’m always dressed appropriately for your needs.”

“well,” you bat your lashes, biting your lip as you give him a cheeky giggle and say, “there’s a good chance i might need something that requires very little attire, too, your grace.”

he closes his eyes, and you stifle a victorious laugh.

“you’ll be the death of me,” he says through a strained groan, leaning in to finally close the gap and kiss you deeply. his lips are hungry, pressing into you for another taste every time you manage to pull away for even a brief moment. you hum against his mouth, cupping his cheeks and holding his face as his fingers grip at your waist and feel the curve of you against him.

you always wonder if you and wriothesley were once the same person in a previous life. perhaps split in two, destined to find each other in the next. it feels like he completes you when you meet like this, pressing against you like one half meeting the other to make a whole.

it’s dizzying, maybe even downright risky the way you kiss so passionately just moments before you need to leave—you’re not sure either of you have the self control to break away if it comes down to it.

luckily, wriothesley travels his mouth to find your jaw after a few more moments, kissing through breathless pants as your eyes flutter open.

“we have to go soon,” you whisper.

“are you certain we can’t just stay here? i promise what i offer will be far more fun than listening to random wealthy folk running their mouths for a night.”

“but we get to dance,” you point out.

he pretends to think about it for a moment before offering, “i’ll dance with you here.”

“no,” you scold, swatting at his shoulder as you roll your eyes, “this dress is expensive. it needs to be appreciated.”

“oh i’ll appreciate it alright,” he drawls, grinning against your jaw as he whispers into your skin, “i’ll appreciate it all night.”

“no. we’re going, and that’s final, you sleaze.”

“hey,” he pouts, pulling away as you reach over one last time to straighten his hair and fix up his appearance, “i’m nothing if not a doting boyfriend.”

“wonderful. then i expect to have a drink in my hands all night,” you wink teasingly, patting his cheek, “you’ll be in charge of grabbing me them.”

he deflates in defeat, grumbling a quiet, “alright, fine.”

“you can appreciate my gown after,” you lean close, whispering against the shell of his ear and making him pause with a hitched breath as you press a kiss to the skin under his earlobe and murmur, “maybe you can appreciate some other clothing i’ve purchased too.”

“well,” he inhales sharply, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along as he nods seriously, “in that case, i look forward to it.”

ok so basically i went to the mall today and i walked past this store with mens suits and one of the posters on the window with the models was a woman pulling a man in by the tie and then i was like oh that’s so me and wrio and that’s how this drabble came to be 👍

#writing tag #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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elliethefroggy · 2 months ago

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Operation Seduction

One night when Buck is a bit tipsy, he takes one of those online sexuality tests. The internet informs him that he’s bisexual.

After he sobers up, he starts to consider the possibility that he’s not as straight as he’d previously thought. He takes a few weeks to discretely stare at pretty men. Reads through some forums. Wanders into a few gay bars. Has one very messy make-out session with a man in one of those gay bars (it’s for science).

Thanks to his very scientific research, he realises that not everything you read on the internet is a lie, and that yes, he’s bisexual.

But that realisation doesn’t change the fact that he’s looking for a long-term commitment, no longer interested in flings and one night stands. He wants to settle down.

Though thanks to his recent revelation, this does mean that his dating pool has significantly expanded, allowing room for a whole new gender.

Then in waltzes Tommy, here to save the day. Here to fly them into a literal hurricane. Tommy Kinard. Hot pilot extraordinaire with an amazing cleft chin, an even better ass, pecks Buck wants to smother himself with, and attractive amount of confidence to boot.

How could Buck resist?

But before he gets ahead of himself, Buck has to figure out if Tommy is actually attracted to men. This is rendered easy by the fact that Chimney can’t keep a secret to save his life and is always willing to wax poetic about how cool Tommy is. One not-so-subtle interrogation later, Buck is now aware that Tommy is both very gay and very single.

Excellent.

The next obvious step is to see if Tommy is attracted to Buck. Now Buck knows how to pick up woman. He’s very good at it. He imagines it can’t be that much different to pick up men (if his one make-out session with a man was anything to go by).

But Buck is a changed man. He is Buck 4.0. He doesn’t want to hook up with Tommy. He doesn’t want a one-night stand or a messy make out session in a dark corner of a bar. He doesn’t want to start dating Tommy immediately after sleeping with him only for their relationship to fizzle out a few months down the line because of lack of communication and a misunderstanding of each other’s wants and needs.

So he tests the waters first. Starts hanging out with Tommy more. Gets an invite to those pub quizzes. Takes Tommy up on those flying lessons. Invites Tommy out to as many pretentious craft breweries he can find (that’s another hot tip he weaseled out of Chim).

During all this, his shorts get smaller and smaller. His tops get skimpier and more form-fitting. He wears less sleeves. He starts discreetly flexing in Tommy’s company. He rushes to the gym area whenever Tommy visits the fire station, showing off how much he can lift. He also uses any excuse to take his shirt off around Tommy to the point of pretending to spill greek yogurt all over his front on two occasions.

Buck pays close attention to Tommy’s every expression. He notices when Tommy’s eyes linger on the almost indecent amount of skin Buck is showing. Notices Tommy staring at Buck’s biceps whenever Buck forgoes sleeves. Notices Tommy’s gaze slide down to Buck’s lips whenever they’ve had a little too much fancy craft beer.

Operation Seduction is a go.

Buck ever so slowly starts making their hangouts more and more romantic.

At first, it’s just sandwiches on a bench in a nice park after a shared workout session.

Yes, he did stake out the park beforehand.

Yes, he did choose a nice, secluded bench where they wouldn’t bothered by too many people.

Yes, the bench just so happens to be located next to a very nice flower bed.

And yes, he did spend an hour preparing these sandwiches before the gym, and they tasted fucking fantastic. Admittedly, the deliciousness of the sandwiches does become detrimental when Tommy bites into his and moans around his mouthful.

He takes Tommy out to a nice restaurant with low lighting, cosy booths and excellent pasta. No candles on the table yet, though; it’s too soon for candles. But, the tables are small enough that Buck and Tommy’s long legs are pressed together during the whole meal.

He starts carrying around Tommy’s favourite snacks whenever he has a flying lesson.

(Buck’s heard that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and Buck is taking that very seriously).

Buck thinks his plan is going brilliantly, that he’s the height of discretion.

Tommy being Tommy, he notices all of this. From Buck’s outfits losing more and more fabric to the ever-closing distance between their bodies. He lets it play out for while, wanting to see where Buck goes with whatever he’s doing, but all Buck does is shower him in ever more delicious sandwiches.

It’s not until they’re having a not-officially-romantic walk along the beach as the sun is setting that Tommy finally asks the question he’s been puzzling over for a few weeks.

“What exactly is going on here, Evan?” Tommy asks.

“What do you mean?” Buck asks back, knowing exactly what Tommy is referring to, but trying to buy himself a little time. He’s figuratively hitting himself over the head because of course a sunset walk along the beach was too obvious. They should have gone bowling instead; there’s nothing romantic about bowling shoes.

“Come on,” Tommy says, “The fancy dinners, the even fancier sandwiches, the sunset walks,” he says, waving at the beach they were standing on, the gentle orange rays turning everything soft and golden.

“Ah. Right. That.” Buck says, pondering what to say. He settles on honesty because he would have had to admit to his plan eventually though that was meant to be at the end of Part 3 of Operation Seduction, and he’s only half way through Part 2. “Well, I’m attempting to seduce you.”

It takes a moment for the words to truly register in Tommy’s mind. And then hope inches its way in.

Because Tommy had an inkling that Evan was attracted to him. But he hadn’t allowed the hope to grow; he’d been burned one too many times when it came to romance.

Tommy enjoys Evan’s company, enjoys it more than he probably should. Evan was a fun, lovable man with a beautiful personality and the face to match. What’s not to like. But Tommy hadn’t wanted to ruin their growing friendship by testing out if Evan really liked him or not.

And here’s Evan, having the courage to try what Tommy could not.

“If you’re not interested, I’ll stop immediately, of course. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Evan says when Tommy is quiet for too long.

“I never said I wasn’t interested.” Tommy says immediately, and then watches as a gigantic and oh so sincere smile blossoms on Evan’s face. Tommy can’t do anything but smile back.

“That’s good. Because I really like you,” Evan says.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, trying to not sound as breathless as he feels because that hope that he has been beating down with a broom is rising up tenfold.

“Yeah,” Evan says, “Does this mean I can continue seducing you?”

“Seduce away,” Tommy says, then adds because he wants Evan to understand, “But you do know I don’t need all that?” Tommy is more than willing to start making out with Evan on the spot now that he knows he hasn’t been imagining all the wanting looks Evan’s been sending his way.

“But I want to,” Evan says, “It’s just, well, I’ve been told that I sometimes take things too fast, especially with dating, and I’m trying to be better about that. I want to be better. I want to do this properly. You’re the kind of person who deserves it. You deserve to be properly courted.”

“Courted? I’m being courted now.”

“Yes.” Evan nods. And Evan means every word, and Tommy sees that, and Tommy really wants that.

“Okay,” Tommy says because what else do you say when a hot, sincere, wonderful guy informs you that he wants to court you in the 21st century? You agree.

After that conversation, they are both on the same page. They’re not dancing around each other, they’re actively dancing towards one another. Though it’s less dancing and more Evan sashaying towards Tommy, a peacock strutting about with its tail feathers out on full display. They both know full well where this is going, how this dance ends, and they’re both happy to take their time on the journey there.

(Though Tommy is a bit impatient to get to the kissing part because he thinks he’ll enjoy kissing Evan quite a lot. But the joy on Evan’s face whenever Evan gets to do something even remotely romantic for Tommy makes the wait worthwhile.)

Once Buck has Tommy’s full permission to continue with seducing him, Operation Seduction goes to a whole new level. No longer needing to be subtle with his interest, Buck gleefully skips all the way to Part 5.

He goes on full seductor mode.

And Tommy has no idea what to do with himself. He hadn’t realised how much Evan was holding back until Tommy gave him the ‘go ahead’, but having Evan’s full attention on him is a thing to behold.

There are hikes in the hills surrounding LA accompanied by picnics at the very top with spectacular views and spectacular company (and also sandwiches that somehow get even fancier).

There is even more craft beer in places so obscure that even Tommy’s never heard of.

There are movie nights filled to the brim with some of Tommy’s favourite romcoms.

It’s not until Evan takes them to a drive-in movie of Love Actually that Tommy realises Evan has an informant, but Tommy is having so much fun that he doesn’t give Chim shit for revealing all his secrets to Evan.

Evan opens the door for Tommy at every opportunity he can get. When they drive somewhere together, Evan will ask Tommy to wait so that Evan can rush around the car to open Tommy’s door for him all the while Tommy stares at him bemused, but charmed all the same.

There are candle-lit dinners with rose petals scattered over the tablecloth. Tommy’s being showered in so many amazing home-cooked meals that he considers upping his work-outs just so he can eat more of them.

And flowers. There are so many flowers. The first time Evan offers him a bouquet, Tommy doesn't know what to say; no one has ever given him flowers before. Tommy couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. He’s sure Evan noticed because barely a week later, he gets another bouquet. Tommy had to go and buy himself a vase because he didn’t have anywhere to put them.

Throughout all of this, Evan is constantly asking Tommy if something is ok, checking in to make sure Tommy isn’t uncomfortable.

On their second sunset walk along a beach, Evan asks Tommy if he can hold Tommy’s hand. And of course, Tommy says yes. Evan’s hand is about as big as Tommy’s, and it’s so warm in Tommy’s own.

After that, Evan is always asking to hold Tommy’s hand no matter where they are or what they’re doing. Tommy says yes every single time. Even if it’s during a long hike or just after a gym session together when their hands are both sweaty and disgusting. And despite doing it so often, Evan always has that big smile on his face whenever Tommy agrees. Tommy is just the same.

But after a few weeks, the anxiety starts creeping in.

Because Tommy’s not used to this. Not used to so much effort being put into dating him (Are they even dating yet? Tommy’s not sure; it definitely feels like dating. But when in the courting process is Tommy allowed to call it dating? He should ask Evan for clarification.)

When it comes to romantic relationships, Tommy is usually the one doing all the work, coming up with all the outing ideas. He’s not used to the reverse, and he’s not completely sure how he’s meant to act in this situation.

When he asks Evan if he should be returning the seduction, Evan smiles at him and says, “You ask me that as though you haven’t already inadvertently seduced me. That terrible fake mouth static really did it for me.”

Evan informs him that he’s meant to sit back and enjoy the ride, nothing more. And so Tommy does.

(Tommy does also ask if they’re allowed to call it dating yet, but according to Evan’s clipboard and the very detailed spreadsheet attached to the clipboard, it is still too early call it dating. Tommy nods in agreement when Evan informs him of that, but Tommy still calls it dating in his head.)

(Tommy tries to ignore how hot and bothered it makes him to see Evan with the clipboard because, according to the spreadsheet, what he wants to do to Evan is not in the cards any time soon.)

But then it’s Buck’s turn to be anxious. The last time he took it this slow was with Abby, and that did not end well.

Despite the very detailed plan, despite all the thought he’s put into Operation Seduction, he wonders if maybe he’s taking it too far.

He knows not everyone likes this pedantic side of him, especially when he’s got a clipboard at hand.

When he shares these worries with Tommy, when he suggests that maybe they give up the plan entirely and just admit that they’ve basically already been dating for months, Tommy refuses.

“You made a colour-coded spreadsheet. Of course, we’re finishing the plan.” Tommy is invested now even though he has long since been seduced. Also, fuck knows how much time Evan took to make the spread-sheet. “What’s next?” He asks.

Evan smiles as he looks down at his phone to open said-spreadsheet (constantly carrying around a clipboard can be a hassle, so he also has a digital version on his phone. Tommy would not mind constantly seeing Evan with a clipboard).

“Uh, right. Next up is star-gazing.”

And so they go star-gazing, and they have an amazing time, just like they always do.

One day, Evan hesitantly asks Tommy if he wants to go on a hot air balloon ride. Like every time Evan asks him for something, Tommy says yes.

Even though Tommy is used to these heights, the hot air balloon ride is amazing (though that could have more to do with Evan than anything. Evan who handed him the largest bouquet of flowers yet before they lifted off and who packed them a whole bunch of Tommy’s favourite snacks for the ride.)

As they admire the view, Evan showers him in so many hot air balloon facts that even the person flying them is riveted.

Evan quiets down after a while because even he had to run out of facts eventually.

Instead, they quietly watch the small world beneath them, shoulders pressed against one another, not an inch of room between them. And it’s nice. It’s so wonderfully nice that Tommy’s starting to suspect that that he’s going to want to keep this, to keep Evan for a long, long while.

“So how far along in the plan are we?” Tommy asks instead of asking how much longer before he gets to kiss Evan.

“Actually, funny you should mention that. This is actually the before-last part of the plan.”

“What’s the last?” Tommy asks.

Evan turns to face him, their shoulders no longer pressed together, but their bodies still so close.

“Tommy Kinard,” Evans says, grabbing Tommy’s hand and interlacing his fingers with Tommy’s, “Will you do me the honour of dating me?”

“There is nothing I would love more,” Tommy says, because again, what else can he say?

They lean into each over even further. Tommy lets go of Evan’s hand and instead places two fingers underneath Evan’s chin, tilting Evan’s head up towards him. And finally, after all this time, they kiss.

Operation Seduction is a resounding success, and the infamous spreadsheet will one day be framed and hanging in a place of honour in their future home.

#911 #bucktommy #buck x tommy #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #buck buckley #Yes I gave Buck his hot air balloon date #He derserves it #Buck basically tells Tommy that all he has to do is stand there and look pretty #when the firefam hear the good news #they're all very happy for the both of them #but most of them are releaved they don't have to stage an intervention to finally force Buck to start swapping spit with Tommy #again like all my other 911 fic ideas if anyone wants to write this go ahead

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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omg part two for hotch scrolling through your ig pretty please 😭😭 like IMAGINE penelope gathering the rest of the gang so they can collectively stalk your instagram and she accidentally likes one of your pictures while lurking

Penelope isn't often scared of Hotch, because the man has a soft spot for her, and she knows it. But now he's staring at her with a stern glare, something she's not usually on the receiving end of. She shifts on her heels, strangely speechless.

"Sir? Is everything okay?"

He lets her suffer in silence for a moment longer, then gestures towards his phone face-up on the desk. It's lit up with a text notification, and she faintly recognizes the name that it's attached to.

Y/N Y/L/N: Isn't this your computer whiz?

"Open it." Hotch instructs, his voice unfailingly calm, which sets Penelope even further on edge. She reaches out with a trembling finger to tap on the notification and it opens your thread, the screen entirely consumed with a screenshot you'd taken of your instagram. Sure enough, in your notifications page is a note: baby_girl_penny_g liked your photo.

"Um," Penelope stalls, and despite her rampant creativity, she can't bring herself to fib, "Well, I- the tags were-"

"There were no hashtags," Hotch stops her in her tracks, "The only way you could have found that photo was on her profile. How long ago was that posted?"

Penelope scrolls to the bottom of the post even though she doesn't want to, and mutters "2018."

"Five years ago. Five-" Hotch steels himself before he gets too upset, pinching the slim bridge of his nose, "Garcia, did Morgan tell you about this?"

"it wasn't his fault," She pleads his case, "I could tell there was something on his mind! So I got him, like, super drunk, and we-"

"Penelope, this was none of your business." Hotch speaks over her. He doesn't like cutting her off, but he knows her, and she'll talk for hours just to try and weasel her way back into his good graces. He watches her squirm with a stern expression, hands folded on his desk while he clenches his jaw.

"I won't tell anyone else." She promises weakly, and Aaron raises a single eyebrow at her. Secret-keeping is not her forte, and they both know it.

"Okay, so-" She crumples, "I- I totally will. But Hotch, we're gonna be happy for you! I'm already happy for you, you deserve this! You deserve love, even if you try to use this job as an excuse not to find it! You found it, and you should own it."

"I purposefully did not share the status of my relationship with our team. It was meant to be private."

Penelope regains some of her boldness now, even in the face of Hotch's scowl, "Well tough shit, Hotchner! We love you, and we were all there when you lost Haley! We watched you die inside, and we deserve to watch you live again! We are part of your family, Hotch, whether you like it or not, and we're not gonna walk away just because you get snippy with us! So help me, Hotch, I will handcuff myself to you until you realize that we are here. We are here, and we love you, and we always will! You can tell us about your life, because we want to enjoy it with you."

Perhaps she shouldn't have been so forward. Perhaps she shouldn't have said the H-word, or brought up Hotch's infuriating tendency to distrust people's care for him not out of malice, but out of self-loathing. Perhaps she should have hung her head and apologized, but Penelope Garcia is headstrong, and she does not fear the tense wrath of Aaron Hotchner simply for loving him.

For a moment, she worries that she's flaunted a red cape around a bull. Reid's words echo in her mind about how it's nothing to do with the color red, and everything to do with the movement of the fabric, but now is not the time, Doctor Reid, thank you very much. She waits for him to charge, knows he'll withdraw now that she's faced him with the terror of being known, of being cared for, and she can feel her heart sink to the nearly-numb heels of her feet.

Then something in his jaw shifts, and he glances away from her, blinking.

"Thank you." He murmurs, and she thinks she may have heard him wrong.

"What?" She whispers, and he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, caving it in.

"Thank you. For being firm with me." He clarifies, "I... I'm glad that you're here."

Tears spring to her eyes and she nods vigorously, incapable of speech but overflowing with emotion. He swallows, clearing his throat, "In the future, please do not stalk my romantic partners. And... in the future, I will introduce you, so that you don't need to stalk them."

"Okay," She grins through her misty eyes, letting him steer the conversation back towards his comfort zone, "Okay, Hotch. We love you. And- and we're really happy for you, and can I please go and tell the others?"

He laughs despite himself, and doesn't bother steeling himself into composure anymore. He grins, "Fine. But leave out the details of her most recent posts, please."

"The ones where she talks about being sore in the mornings?" She fixes him with a devious grin, already making for the door intent on shouting the news from the rooftops, "I won't say it in the bullpen, 'cause Reid couldn't handle it, but I'm totally gossiping with the girls about it, Hotch."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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ohtobeleah · 1 month ago

Text

Day 13 [The Guy Next Door]

Summary: When your son shows up on Jake's door scared and all alone, he soon realises that something might be wrong at his neighbour's home.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions of sexual assault. Forced sexual acts. Gun violence. Blood. Self-sacrifice.

Word Count: 4k

Whumptober Prompt Day Thirteen: Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your husband used to say in his drunken rambles late at night, ‘When you live, live in clover, ‘cause when you’re dead, you’re dead all over.’ But much like your late husband was, the clover is traditionally, an opportunistic weed. Sure, the clover is seen as a good luck charm in many cultures across the globe. But in your experience, it was only ever a weed that grew and took hold of everything in its path. Destroying an array of vast beauty you never thought you’d get back.

Until the weed died…and your garden began to grow once again. But what do weeds typically do? They grow back. Even in death, your husband had managed to screw you once more. He’d left you in hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt to some guy he knew from ‘work’. Some guy who thought he could collect the debt even after your weasel of a husband had died a not-so-unfortunate death.

Some guy who had already made it abundantly clear that if you didn’t pay off the debt owing…You and your son would eventually be reunited with your husband. Permanently.

That was six months ago, and you still hadn’t paid up.

“Mr. Jake!” It was the panic in the little boy’s voice that got Jake’s attention first. “Mr Jake, Mr Jake! Are you home?” Next, it was the way the knocking didn’t falter. It was an unrelenting assault of young knuckles against the wooden surfaces of Jake Seresin’s front door. “Mr. Jake! I need help!”

Jake Seresin had been your neighbour for around four months. In that time you’d grown as close as neighbours could. He’d often mow your lawn in the afternoon Miramar sun. You’d cook enough food for three so that when Jake inevitably stayed for dinner, there was enough to go around and then some.

There was something so casual about your friendship with the aviator who seemed to have no intention of ever settling down. Jake was clear from the get-go, that he wasn't interested in being a stepdad. He wasn't interested in the possibility of a committed relationship. They were something he deemed worthy to be thrown in the too-hard basket. But what Jake had also been honest about, was the very fact he found you incredibly irresistible. He made it known from the very first kiss you both shared:

“I’m not the relationship type, Darlin, so don’t get too attached.”

But someone had grown attached. Your son, Dylan.

“Mr. Jake!!” The pounding was relentless as Jake padded down the hall toward his front door. The man had been enjoying a beer or two in the warmth of a steaming shower. The last thing he wanted to be doing on his day off was dealing with a pest the size of a seven-year-old who wanted to play catch down the side. “Mr. Jake! Help!”

“Kid, I swear to god you’re about to lose that fist if you don’t knock it off,” Jake answered the door with a huff and a scowl across his usually shit-eating face. “What? What do you want? I'm busy.” Sure, Jake could have been nicer, but as he held the towel around his waist and dripped onto his freshly cleaned hardwood flooring, he realised he didn’t actually give a shit. But what came out of your son’s mouth next had Jake’s heart racing with adrenaline he only ever felt when he was in the cockpit.

“My mum’s in trouble Mr. Jake,” Dylan explained as he rubbed his raw knuckles from bagging on his neighbour’s door for so long. “There’s some guys in our house that are trying–trying to hurt her and I need help!” Dylan explained as he began to sob. His emotions got the better of him after the adrenaline of running over without hesitation had started to diminish in his seven-year-old nervous system.

Tears welled in Dylan’s lower lash lines as Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his dripping and exposed chest, with a frown prominent across his face.

“Are you sure it’s not just one of your mum’s boyfriends, kid?” Jake sighed as he tried to process what your son was telling him. Dylan was a good kid. Jake didn’t mind the boy.. For a seven-year-old, he was able to hold a decent conversation most of the time.

It didn’t take Jake long at all to figure out that Dylan was one of those kids who had no choice but to grow up fast. Jake didn’t know everything, but you had told him about your late husband. How he wasn’t the best guy in town. One night while you shared a bottle of wine, or three, with Jake, you’d confided in him about the fact you often thought you were a horrible person for not missing him. Clayton was, at the end of the day, Dylan’s father.

“My mum doesn’t have boyfriends Mr Jake. You’re her boy-friend.” Dylan explained innocently enough. Jake was sure his brain was computing the conversation properly. “Mum’s in trouble, please! You have to help her!” Dylan begged as his tears stained his young cheeks. He’d seen a lot in his seven years. He even knew how to roll a cigarette. But he didn’t want to know half the things that plagued his young, impressionable mind.

In the time Jake had known you, he’d rarely ever seen you have friends besides him around the house. He’d seen a few big, burley men come and go. But they never stayed long enough to warrant concern. Jake wasn’t the jealous type either. He was more than happy to fill his roster with someone else if you were already busy with another guy.

But maybe those men weren’t there for the reason Jake had originally thought.

“Okay,” Jake sighed reluctantly. “Get in here before someone sees you.” Jake manhandled Dylan as he dragged him into his home via the kid’s collar. “I want you to hide in my bedroom with the door closed,” Jake instructed the kid who was just trying to keep up with Jake as they walked down the hall. “You don’t answer the front door to anyone, you don’t leave this room unless me–” Jake pointed to himself “–or your mother comes to get you, got it?”

“What if I need to pee?” Dylan asked as he sat on the edge of Jake’s bed, watching as he threw on an old T-shirt that had been lying on the floor. The same one he had taken off before his shower.

“Piss your pants for all I care, just don’t leave this room,” Jake growled back at the kid who had somewhat grown on him. But Jake couldn’t let him know that, could he? “Use the bathroom genius, just stay in the damn house.” There was a silence that followed as Jake looked around for a pair of shorts or jeans or something he could wear that wasn’t a white bath towel. His mind was racing a million miles an hour trying to think of a logical explanation as to why your son was banging on his door saying you were in trouble.

“What are there naked ladies on in this magazine?” Jake froze as he looked over his shoulder to see your son looking through an old magazine Jake had left out. He normally wasn’t the magazine type of guy. But when the urge hits…

“Did your mother ever tell you not to look through other people’s belongings?” Jake snatched the magazine out of your son’s hand as he zipped his jeans up.

“Yeah, but my dad taught me that if people are stupid enough to leave their stuff lying around, then it’s fair game,” Dylan replied almost too quickly for Jake’s liking. Like he was prepared with that one before he even asked his initial question.

“Your dad sounds like he was a real great guy.” If Jake had rolled his eyes any harder, he probably would have fallen over from the force.

“Not really,” Dylan sighed. His entire demeanour changed in the blink of an eye. “I think he’s the reason why my mums in trouble now.” Jake had to take a second to take in the sadness that plastered itself across Dylan’s face. He was scared, that much was for sure. But scared of what exactly?

“Right,” Jake huffed as he tussled Dylan’s hair. “Don’t move, got it?”

“I won’t Mr Jake,” Dylan replied as he nodded in response, still sitting on the corner of Jake’s unmade bed. “Thanks for helping my mum, she says you’re a good friend and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Your mum said that about me?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow. His hands fell to his hips as he watched your son nod. His tear-stained cheeks caused Jake to frown more than he’d care to admit. This kid had somehow managed to weasel his way into Jake’s life in a way Jake never expected. He wasn’t the greatest role model, that was clear. But something told Jake that Dylan hadn’t been exposed to the best either.

“Yeah, she likes you, I can tell,” Dylan snitched on you like he was getting paid. “Mum doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“Any reason why?” Jake didn’t want to pry, but he

“She says the more people she lets in, the more people can get hurt.”

“What’s your mum got herself caught up in, kid?” Jake sighed as he sat down beside Dylan on his bed. The mattress dipped a little more with Jake’s added body weight. Dylan immediately leaned against Jake for support as he tried to find the willpower not to cry.

His dad had always told him emotions were for women.

“I dunno,” Dylan sniffled as he dried his tears. “I just know that the men who came over aren’t nice and they want her money.”

“She owes someone money?”

“I think Dad did, but he’s dead,” Jake sometimes wished his dad had died a lot sooner than he did. There was a common ground there. Jake was also brought up on the ideology that emotions were his greatest weakness. He had watched his mother suffer for years. It was one of the reasons why he swore he’d never marry, never settle down. Jake didn’t want to be like his father. Listening to Dylan talk about his dad so flippantly made Jake wonder if Dylan felt the same way. “So I don’t know why they still want it.”

“Money doesn’t lose value like that, unfortunately,” Jake sighed as he connected the dots. He stood once again and tousled Dylan’s hair in the process. “Go through my shit and you’ll have bigger problems to deal with, understand?” Jake growled as he headed to the front door. Looking back over his shoulder to see Dylan settling further into Jake’s bed.

“I heard you the first time,” Dylan replied. Jake’s jaw nearly hit the hardwood flooring of his own house. Who did this kid think he was? “Thank you, Mr Jake.” Jake’s near rage dissipated within his chest when he heard the change-up of attitude almost immediately.

“Yeah yeah,” Jake sighed. He knew deep down that this really couldn’t be good. But there was still a large part of him that begged to ask the question, was this his problem? “The things I get myself into.” He mumbled to himself as he left the comfort of his humble abode on his one day off.

**************************************

“Wheres our fucking money Y/n?” Liam asked as he sat in the lounge chair across from the dining table chair you’d been tied to. “We’ve been more than patient with you given the circumstances,” None of this was realistically your fault. It was your late husband’s debt these guys were after.

“I’ve told you!” You tried to explain again for the hundredth time. “I’ve been saving, I’ve only got a couple thousand saved but it’s in the tin can above the fridge, take it all.”

Your husband had been a compulsive gambler. He bet your house on a game of blackjack one weekend and lost it all. He’d sold your belongings out from under you, used money for your son’s school fees and borrowed way more money than he could ever afford to pay back in his lifetime.

So he killed himself and left that debt to you. Weed. But when in clover, right?

“We’re past forgiving overdue debt,” Liam sighed. He was over hearing the same thing time and time again. “You owe us money, end of story.”

“Please, you know I had nothing to do with my husband’s affairs,” You tried to plead with the man who’d been on you for the last few months like a bad rash. “I can give you what I have, but I need more time!”

“Time is money, Miss. Y/l/n and I am a very busy man,” Liam replied with a sinister smirk smeared across his rugged face. “If you can’t pay up, you’ll just have to work off your debt.”

“We did just lose that one girl boss,” One of Liam’s henchmen chuckled as he moved your hair to one side over your shoulder. “She might be the perfect replacement?” Your skin crawled as the man’s fingertips trailed across your collarbone.

You strained against your restraints, trying every which way you could to get away from his touch and out of the chair you’d been tied to. But it was to no avail, you were tied down and tied down hard. The rope burned against your wrists, ankles and waist as you wriggled around. They’d surely leave marks for days, but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Might make us more money too,” Liam eyed you off as he leaned forward on his knees. “Bet it’s been a while since this widow got a good workout in, might have to take her for a test myself.”

“I have a son, please, I don’t know why my husband did what he did but his actions shouldn’t be mine to pay the price for!” You were sobbing. Tears streamed down your cheeks taking your not-so-waterproof mascara with them. “I’m begging you–”

“Good thing I like when they beg,” Liam snickered as he stood with a groan. “Let’s see what kinda merchandise we’re working with here,” The next few moments were tortuous. Far too many hands were all over your vulnerable body. “Let’s get a good look at you.” Tearing at articles of clothing to reveal more exposed skin as you screamed and pleaded with them to stop. Your breasts were out on full display by the time there was a knock at the door followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Y/n, open up yeah?” Jake knocked his knuckles against your front door as he whipped the bottoms of his shoes on the doormat. “Also, you might have to have the birds and the bees talk a lot earlier than expected, just a hunch.” Jake knew there was probably something going on inside, your son had been really spooked. But in true Jake Seresin style, he was gonna be a pain where he could be. He never made anything easy on anyone.

“Who the fucks that?” Liam asked as he grabbed your face. His fingertips squeezed against your cheeks as he looked you dead in the eye and held a gun to your temple. Things were escalating to new highs far too quickly. This was bad. Very bad.

“That’s just my neighbour,” You mumbled with fear laced in your words. “ He–”

“Tell him, to go the fuck home before I put a bullet in your thigh and fuck your face to see if you can really work off your pathetic excuse for a husband’s debt you weak fucking, bitch.” The way Liam spoke to you. The way he threatened you. The way his henchman all laughed as your visible tears and panic made you believe him without a shadow of a doubt. He was going to make you work off your husband’s debt against your will.

“Jake, not now, I have company!” You tried to conceal the worry in your tone, but Jake caught onto it right away. He bend down to reach for the spare hidden key under the fake ass rock he had told you time and time again to hide better.

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t respect boundaries all that often, isn’t it?” Jake grumbled to himself as he unlocked the front door and made his way into your home. The first thing Jake noticed as he walked in was how furniture had been knocked over every which way. He saw the smashed photo frame of you and your son.

The light switch for hanging light above the entrance had been bashed in. Your TV had been knocked over. And all of a sudden, Jake took inventory of the way his heart rate accelerated to new highs never felt as he saw you tied to a dining table chair in the middle of your living room. His heart rate had never even been this rapid when he was approaching ten G-forces.

But the way your top had been ripped to shreds had him seeing red. The way you sat there almost completely exposed to the three men all standing around your living room like they were about to play pass the parcel made his blood boil. Jake had never seen you look so scared. So defenceless. So broken before.

Damn, Dylan had been right on the money about there being bad guys in your home, hadn’t he?

“What’s going on here?” Jake asked as he slowly walked into plain sight. He had no intention of hiding. He wanted you to know he was there to help, come hell or high water.

“None of your concern,” Liam growled as he made sure to unclip the safety on his gun, still pointing it down towards your thigh. “Now, bet it before you become collateral damage buddy.”

“Jake,” You tried to warn him. “It’s alright, these are just some of my husband’s friends.” The fake smile you gave him broke Jake’s heart. He wasn’t sure what mess you’d managed to get yourself into. Or better yet, what mess your husband had left you behind to clean up. But what Jake knew for sure was that he wasn’t leaving without you.

“Gentleman, I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement here?” Jake asked as he walked further into your living room. Soon enough he had a gun facing towards him. A direct aim to his chest. That wasn’t enough to deter him, not when your son was currently hiding out in his bedroom. Not when you were clearly three seconds away from becoming a living sex toy.

“We had a deal, she didn’t pay up, a debt is a debt,” Liam explained as simply as he could. “Now get the fuck out before you start taking your final breaths through your chest.” Two more guns were now being held up in Jake’s direction. He could hear his heart in his ears as he held his hands in the air up beside his head.

“Wow, wow wow, I don’t want the smoke,” He teased. “What’s the debt? I’ll write a check?” It was the first thing Jake could think of that might help de-escalate an incredibly serious situation he truly wasn’t equipped to handle. “A couple thousand should do it, yeah?”

The choir of laughter that erupted around you was enough to have your tears streaming down your cheeks faster than they ever had been. You were screwed. Jake was a deadman walking and your son was about to become an orphan.

“Try two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Liam gave Jake the number he was after. The look Jake gave you told you all you needed to know. He didn’t have that kind of money. Which was quite ironic when you think about it because neither did you. “You have that in cash?” Liam pressed as he stepped closer to where Jake stood. “Because if not, I suggest you turn tail and get the fuck out of my goddamn sight.”

“She should sell for at least three–” One of the henchmen you didn’t even know, added. “We’ll make a profit after that piece of shit failed to repay the money we so generously loaned him.”

Jake’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. He couldn’t let these guys do this. He couldn’t let them take you. No one deserved this, but you especially didn’t. You’d been through so much already. You needed someone in your corner now more than ever. Jake wasn’t the relationship type, but he had a decent moral compass.

“What if I go with you and you give Y/n here more time to come up with the money?” Jake offered a counteroffer.

“Jake!” You pleaded before a pistol was making contact with your temple. The sheer force was enough to blind you for a few seconds as your neck was barely able to support your head.

“HEY!” Jale growled as he took strides towards you, only to be stopped by the two henchmen. One on each arm. “Please, don’t hurt her.” For a moment Jake had dropped his facade. He wasn’t the relationship kinda guy, but you sometimes made that the hardest rule to follow. “She’s–” Jake didn’t know how to explain what you meant to him. You; ‘d never spoken about what the two of you really were.

“She’s what? Loverboy?” Lima laughed in Jake’s face as he stood right before the detained aviator. “A gambler’s wife? A soon-to-be whore? A cum dumpster?” There was a second of silence that passed while Jake tried to figure out what he was about to say next. “Come on? What is she?”

“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” Jake confessed. At first, you thought it was the possible concussion making you hear things. But when he followed up? You knew it was really Jake speaking as blood dripped down the side of your face. “She’s the first person I think about in the morning and the last at night, so please, don’t hurt her,” Jake pleaded as he struggled in the confines of the henchman’s grip.

“Jake–” You groaned.

“Take me instead, let her go and she’ll get the money you want.” Jake never took his eyes off you as he spoke. “I’ll stay with you until she does, pretty sure I’d be worth a couple hundred thousand for you guys anyway?” There he was again, back to being the Jake you knew him to be. “What’s a bisexual naval aviator go for on the dark web these days?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Liam spat and he shot Jake straight through his thigh.

“Ahhh fuck!”

“Jake!” You screamed as he crumbled to his knees before you. Bleeding a crimson red into the carpet. “No, no this isn't his problem to fix!” You begged as you thrashed against your restraints.

“You have thirty days, or he’s fish food,” Liam growled as his men dragged Jake across the carpet heading towards your front door. “Thirty days, get me my fucking money!!”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” Jake smiled as he was draped past you, bleeding profusely from his thigh. “I got you,” Jake rushed to get his words out as he was dragged further and further away from where you were still tied to your chair. “Dylans safe, so are you.”

******************************

#ailesswhumptober #ailesswhumptober2024 #whump #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin

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evolnoomym · 3 months ago

Text

Make Daddy Proud 🦂

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: You don’t necessarily like your Mothers new beefy Husband, he tries and tries. To no avail, you just won’t warm up to him. When his patience reaches an end things finally get interesting.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, Moon is not a name necessarily but more a nickname, age-gap, ages are unspecified, cheating, infidelity, alcohol consumption, smoking, reader is mean, dubcon, Daddy Kink, reader has a pussy, sex toy, wet humping (?) 😅, cum, squirting, Sunny appearance, reader kinda shames Joel,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: this is for @beefrobeefcal ‘s Married Joel Sits On You Challenge. I hope you enjoy Beef, I love you 🦂🤎��😏😏

Shoutout to @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🤎

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. I appreciate reblogs, comments and likes greatly 🫶🏻

Your Mother started dating Joel when you were 17, within a year they decided that the two of you would be moving into Joel’s house. Their relationship had an astonishing pace, it made you sick, you should’ve felt happy for her but you couldn’t bring yourself to get used to the idea of having a stepdad again.

Admittedly he was much nicer than the previous one. Joel was really trying to make it easier on you, but he realized quickly that you were not gonna just eat out of his hand like your mother did.

One time over dinner he decided to jokingly offer that you could call him Dad and you were not amused at all.

“You know Moon ya don’t have to call me Joel, could just call me Dad, huh? How bout that.” He gave you a happy and warm smile. He looked genuinely excited.

“No fucking way, Joel, thank you but you are not my Dad and you’ll never be. You are just you.” The response came out in a harsh and cold way, to clearly let him know that you weren’t up for it.

The rest of the dinner was filled by an uncomfortable silence and Joel never tried asking you again.

A couple months later, he caught you smoking out on the patio. He had planned to drink one of his beers in secret. He kept them hidden in his wood carving room, since your mother disapproved of the bitter sparkly liquid.

As soon as he slid the door open he got hit by the smell of burning tobacco. You were leaning on the railing, staring up at the sky, taking slow drags of the glimmering cigarette, clouds of smoke surrounded you and Joel couldn’t help himself from taking in your bend over form. The curve of your ass, your thighs and all the way down to your bare feet. Joel would never admit it but your distanced act pulled him in more and more.

You knew he was right behind you, staring, you could feel his eyes tracing you up and down. Perhaps you arched your back a little more than necessary to show off for him. Give him a show. Have something you could hold above his head if need be.

After he’d gotten closer he stopped right next to you and started quietly sipping his beer. At some point he held out his beer towards you and in exchange you offered him a cigarette. You both knew that this would be your shared little secret, with many more to come, big secrets.

Joel thought he made some progress that night, but you continued to treat him just like before.

Then the day came where Joel decided to get down on one knee and asked your mother to marry him, right in front of you.

You didn’t think it would be possible to dislike him even more. Why would he want to marry your mother? Why did he have to weasel his way into your life? Why did he have to look so good? Why was all of this happening?

The wedding was quickly planned, nothing too fancy, just the closest people invited, which sadly included you too.

On all the wedding-photos that were taken you looked disgusted and appalled by the reality of your situation. Your mother tried to reprimand you for pulling all these faces but you were not gonna pretend to enjoy any bit of the show they put on.

Joel obviously recognized some changes in your behavior after the wedding, but instead of getting better, it got worse. You didn’t even try to hide your disdain anymore. Purposely bumping into him, ignoring when he spoke to you and if looks could’ve kill he’d be dead long ago.

But there’s something else in the way you glared at him, a glimmer of something undetectable and it scared him to not know what went through your head. You could’ve been plotting his downfall and unlike the rest of the family, Joel didn’t wanna make the mistake of underestimating you.

Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all like a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. Something you took advantage of, resorting to a childish approach of shaming his beefy form. Calling him out for his large portions, laughing loudly when you could hear him from the master bedroom complaining about his clothes not fitting properly anymore. He could feel your eyes tracking his every move, he felt like prey being watched before getting attacked, all of it happening in his own home.

Joel decided he wanted to make one last attempt to persuade you to accept his presence at least somewhat. You didn’t have to be his Bestfriend, but at least get along with him.

He had organized a spa weekend get away for your mother, so the two of you could spend some uninterrupted bonding time together. Maybe without your Mother you’d feel more comfortable opening up to him.

As usual you started the day by scowling at every move he made, even when you sat on the passenger side of Joel’s car while he drove you to the local aquarium you stared holes into the side of his head.

Even though you were afraid of deep waters he learned quickly that you loved sharks and have always wanted to go to an aquarium. Your mother however never really cared much for that wish, so Joel thought this is how he’d get you on his side.

Instead of having a pleasant conversation with you, he was punished with icy silence. He pathetically trailed behind you in the 2 hours it took to see everything the aquarium had to offer. You didn’t even thank him afterwards but he tried to chalk it up to you maybe having a bad night.

Joel hoped that perhaps him taking you to Kiki’s Nail’s, a very highly respected nail salon, would make you happy but more than a little smile was not in it.

Kiki generously offered that he could sit next to you, to watch what she does on your nails, but you quickly declined.

She also mistook you for his wife, which had you cackling loudly, purposefully embarrassing Joel and implying that he could never land a woman like you.

He got more and more upset, especially seeing you interact so excitedly and animatedly with Kiki. He didn’t understand what he had to do so he could get the same enthusiasm for himself. It pissed him off quite frankly.

When you stood next to him at the cash register you didn’t even blink an eye at 140$ your manicure cost Joel. You even went as far as to laugh at him for getting choked up by the amount of money he had to spend.

At least you seemed to really love the design Kiki did. A little victory he counted for himself.

When you got home, he told you to settle on the couch and relax, all while he was in the kitchen preparing his famous Miller tacos. Your mother told him behind your back that you liked them very much, but of course you’d never admit it to his face.

Even though Joel knew you probably just acted as if you didn’t enjoy them, the lackluster response soured his mood further. It hit rock bottom when you left him to deal with the dishes and ignored the fact he bought your favorite movie to watch with you.

After he had gotten done with cleaning up, he decided to indulge on some of his hidden whiskey. He pours himself a glass and sits down on the couch. Joel feels beyond frustrated by everything that went wrong today.

He spends 30 mins just slowly sipping on his whiskey, all while trying to figure out what to do next. The alcohol in his system makes the ever present Texas heat appear much stronger, so without thinking he pulls his sleeping shirt over his head.

Now only clad in his cotton pajama shorts and with alcohol cursing through his system, Joel impulsively decides he might have to take the route of having a serious talk with you about the ever pending attitude.

Joel stomps up the stairs, thinking you would hear it which makes him not even bother to knock, no, he practically throws himself against the door.

He should’ve expected to be greeted by immediate screaming.

“Joel what the hell?? Get the fuck out of my room!!”

“Noooo…no you shut up lil missy, ‘ve had enough of ya pissy attitude.”

“Get out,” And when he doesn’t react you continue “Are you deaf, old man, do I need to spell it out?? Fuck off.”

If Joel would’ve been less drunk he might have caught the panicked and out of breath way in which you spoke.

He starts shaking his head as he approaches your bedside.

“You know I’ve had enough of you, I tried all damn day to make ya happy. Ya didn’t show me an ounce of respect,” he comes to a stop beside your bed “ what is your goddamn problem, huh?”

You could say something to de-escalate the situation but that would be so unlike you.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

In Joel’s head a switch flips, within a split second he swings his leg over you and as he sits down on your hips the healthy swell of his tummy rubs up against you.

A shiver runs up your spine and you let out a sigh.

“W..wha- what are you doing Joel?”

He looks feral, like an animal ready to pounce on you any moment.

“Teaching ya a much needed lesson, sweet girl.”

His big warm, calloused hands engulf your wrists and pin them to the mattress beside your head.

Out of the corner of his eyes Joel sees something purple, he looks towards your nightstand and there it is. A purple silicone cock shaped vibrator, it looks glossy, covered in slick.

You can see the wheels turning in his head and when he seems to have come to some sorta conclusion his features light up.

His head turns back to you.

“Oh babygirl, ya naughty lil thing. You’ve been playin’ with yourself? Been in a bad mood all day long cuz that needy little pussy needed some attention,huh?”

Instead of answering your eyes wander down his bare chest.

“Where’s your shirt Joel?”

“Ya got a problem, baby?”

Your cheeks are heating up and you start nibbling on your lower lip while still staring.

“Ya like what you see sweet girl?”

He lets go of one wrist and tilts your chin up with two fingers.

You nod.

“Nah, use your voice babygirl. Come on ya know what I want to hear.”

“Yes Daddy.”

He grunts deeply.

“Atta Girl.”

Now both his hands slip beneath your lower back and he sits up while pulling you with him.

You go from being pinned beneath him, to sitting on top of his lower gut.

Your hands are splayed on his chest, probing yourself up.

His hands go to your hips, instantly squeezing and kneading.

“Oh baby, she’s leaking, dripping all over me. That lil pussy is so sloppy.”

With that his hands momentarily slip lower to pull his shorts down, at least so much that his cock can be freed. One of his hands goes back to your hips, while the other comes up to your mouth.

“Spit.”

And you do. Letting a decent amount drop into the palm of his hand and then it disappears behind you. At the squelching noises you're able to detach that he is touching himself.

“Start rubbing that cunt on me. Make yourself come. Use me sweetheart.”

He instructs, while setting a rhythm with the hand on your hip.

The slick noises that his hand wrapped around his length produce combined with your wet pussy fill your bedroom.

“Yes baby, ya doin’ so good for me. Finally being a good girl.”

You feel his thumb soothingly circling your hipbone.

“I was already close, I’m gonna come soon, Daddy.” You sound deliciously whiny.

Music to Joel’s ears.

It takes not much longer to make Joel catch up with you. You can tell he’s getting close by the way his hands grips your hip tightly, he will most likely leave marks.

“Baby you gotta lift up for me. Quick!”

You swiftly lift yourself up and watch in awe how he paints his tummy with white creamy ropes of cum.

“Good god, baby,” he writhes beneath you, “settle back down darlin’.”

When you lower yourself back down onto him you moan at the incredible sensation of his spend being spread up and down his hairy belly by your lips. It stimulates your engorged clit perfectly.

You are whimpering furiously.

“Da..Da- Daddy, so..so good. I’m gonna come, it feels so different, ughh.”

“Yes baby, be a good girl an’ come on me. Come on Daddy’s tummy.”

It takes only a couple more seconds before you fall over the edge with a high pitched scream, you feel yourself leaking more than ever before, hips stuttering in his iron grip.

You flop forward into Joel’s neck, burying yourself there and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Sweet girl ya made Daddy very happy, didn’t know ya could squirt, my princess is full of surprises, ain’t she?”

His cheek leans against yours to get your attention but to no avail, all energy was spend.

The soft snoring is all indication Joel needed.

He gently turned you on your back, got up, retrieved a washcloth and carefully cleaned you up. The last thing he does is tuck you in and leave a kiss on your forehead.

Hours later you are laying on your stomach in bed while holding the phone up to your ear.

“Sunny you won’t fucking believe what happened yesterday.”

Sunny’s manic giggling tells you she already has a pretty good idea of what could’ve happened.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Tags: @aurorawritestoescape @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @the-mandawhor1an @rivnedell @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @ace-turned-confused @strang3lov3 @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @moonlitbirdie @joelstummy @joelsdagger @joelslegalwhre @joelsgreys @pedge-page @littlemisspascal @fhatbhabiee @punkshort @macfrog @thundermartini @mrsmando @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @syd-djarin @msjarvis @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

#joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller Fic #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller sat on me 2024 #beefy Joel miller #belly #the tumtum is appreciated #Mina’s writing #My writing

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uzurimisery · 2 months ago

Text

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / (part 2)

Warnings: MDNI, smut, happy ending, DP, unprotected sex, hints of baby trapping, squirting, praise kink if you squint, still some unhealthy dynamics bc thats what a relationship with the two of them would be, use of ‘girl’, a hint of objectification, no sorcery au, unedited

wc: 9k

part one

Two painfully slow and tense weeks dragged on. Each day you spent doing your best to avoid Suguru, and Satoru who had just come back to town from a shoot. Every time you locked eyes with one of them it felt like the walls were closing in.

But there are traditions you can’t weasel out of and so, like clockwork, the biweekly get-together your friend groups had for years will happen. Suguru, Satoru, Utahime, Kento, Shoko, and you, sometimes a few extra people or dates, would crowd around a table of some izakaya in between all of you. There’d be too many beer glasses on the table, but another round would be ordered anyway.

You used to laugh until your sides hurt, sharp cramps from overuse, push the limits of intoxication and your aging body. Couldn’t drink like you were 20 anymore, but you could sure as hell try.

Simpler back then.

Being young.

Things were easier, so less complicated. You were entangled in a web of responsibilities, bills, and regrets that pockmarked your life.

Shoko slammed her pint glass on the table. “Anyhow have you guys been? Feel like I haven’t seen anymore in 80 years.” Her smile was normally so infectious, the bags under her eyes endearing. Too many late nights and endless shifts at the hospital made them a permanent feature.

“I’m okay,” you replied too quickly, voice wobbling slightly.

Suguru’s gaze fell on you immediately. Sharp and heavy, like he was peeling back the lie. His eyes were too much, too painful. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, but he says nothing. Just let the weight of his stare speak for him.

“Just okay?” Now Satoru’s eyes flicked over to you, his normal lighthearted expression gone.

A specimen under observation. You were under the microscope, both of them dissecting you, searching for answers you weren’t ready to give.

You forced a shrug and a weak, unconvincing, laugh. “Yeah, just okay.” The all too familiar lump formed in your throat again. “Still job hunting, still freeloading off these two in the meantime.” It felt wrong to joke, swallow, and brittle.

Your shoulder shook, trying to sell it, but Satoru’s eyes couldn’t be fooled.

“I think the board members at Shibuya General are hiring for an admin. Want me to put in a good word? The HR guy likes me,” Shoko offered. Always trying got be so helpful, so genuine.

Utahim snorted, smushing her face against her girlfriend’s arm. “That’s because he wants to fuck you.”

“Not true.”

“He texts you toomuch for a guy who just wants to be friends.”

“Well last I knew I’m still a lesbian.”

You cut through the lover’s quarrel. “I thought you were still at the University of Tokyo?”

“No, I moved to Shibuya General about two months ago.” Her tone was casual but it made you wince.

“Oh, yeah!” you scramble to try and cover up your blunder. “Sorry, I knew that. I guess the beer’s getting to me more than usual.” The smile you give is half-hearted and forced.

Satoru took the opportunity to turn the conversation towards himself, regaling the group about his latest project.

You stared at your beer, tuning out the chatter around you. The carbonation inside the class fizzed softly. Each little bubble rose to the surface before popping. They were so small, so insignificant. Guess that’s like society. Insignificant people all clamoring over each other, doing nothing really, but adding to something in the end.

Maybe that's all you were, a little bubble in the sea of society, drifting along with everyone else. The collective group matters, but on the individual level they didn’t. You didn’t. Maybe you never had. Maybe you were just another fleeting presence. Born to fade into the background of someone else’s grander, more important life.

It’s what you deserved. All that greed in your heart. The quiet pain and dissatisfaction gnawing on your bones every single day. Everything you wanted just fucking unreachable goals, and you wanted it all but everything shimmered and gleamed just out of reach like a mirage.

Your nails dug deep into the flesh of your palms, cutting the skin.

Satoru’s laugh rang in your ears, echoing on and on. It hammered in your skull with every chuckle. Mocking you, throwing everything you’ve ever told yourself back in your face. Every lie you’ve told. Every way you’ve wronged him. It grew louder and louder, pressure building in your skull.

You slammed your hands on the table, glasses knocking into each other, the wood shuddering from the force. Everyone stopped, staring at you as you pushed the chair back.

“I’m gonna do smoke,” the words are barely audible as you stumble out of your seat and make for the back door, their gazes heavy on your back.

The door slammed shut behind you. Panic clawed at your throat, a bitter acrid taste clinging to your tongue. Your throat felt clogged, the lump growing bigger, chest tightening like a boa constrictor coiling around its prey.

Hands shaking, you reach into your shoulder bag, fumbling to pull out the half-empty pack of menthol cigarettes. You had quit smoking four years ago but you were back at it now. The icy taste is a fleeting distraction, a brief reprieve from the reality around you. At least they tasted better than the regular filter ones.

As you sparked up your lighter and took the first drag, the burn seared your throat. Familiar pain echoing the mess inside you. The smoke circled in your lungs, searing as it went. A cough snuck out before you took another drag, dropping into a crouch. Your weight in your heels as you rest your head against your knees.

“Why can’t you be normal about things?” you whisper to yourself.

It was always the same. People, feelings, places, everything-- all you had to do was the right thing and you kept fucking it up.

How many more times could you fuck things up before everyone turns their back on you? How long was the end of the rope you were so desperately clinging to? If you let go, would it end it all? Would the rope wrap around your neck and put you down like the dog you were?

“Get your shit together.” You mutter to yourself, cigarette pulled to your lips, voice hoarse and raw. You took another drag, the smoke stinging your eyes as it hung in the air.

“You just gotta get through tonight…”

And then the night after that.

And after that.

And all the never-ending nights that came stretching into the horizon. An unbroken chain of sleepless hours testing your resolve to be a person. All of them blurring together in a haze of regret and longing, each passing moment a reminder of everything you were trying to escape.

“So what’s really wrong?”

It was Shoko, leaning casually against the wall. The shoulder of her cream jacket picked up the dirt of the building. She pulled a cigarette out of her own pack, reds as she always smoked, and lit it.

“Nothing,” you replied, but your voice cracked, thick with phlegm, and weighed down by self-hatred. Tears threatened to spill as you stared at the ground, unable to meet her eye.

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it,” she shot back, exhaling away from you. The accusation stung, but there was warmth in her tone.

“I fucked up Shoko. I fucked up.”

The confession hit heavy. It shattered the glass, broke the dam holding back your emotions. The tears finally fall as you look up at her, vulnerable and afraid.

Concern washed over her face as she crouched down next to you, a silent offer of comfort. “What’d you do?”

You shook your head, shame squeezing your heart, beating it like a drum. “I can’t tell you or you’ll hate me.”

“Doll face, I could never hate you,” she spoke softly, stubbing her cigarette out against the asphalt, her focus now purely on her. One of her hands, warm compared to the night air, reached out to cup your chin. Gently, she compelled you to meet her eyes, to keep your own on her.

The floodgates being this open felt like you were drawing in your misery. But in Shoko’s eyes, you found no judgment, only empathy and love. It made the deep, aching wounds of solitude and loneliness you bear bleed again, cutting through the scar tissue to stitch them up again so they'd heal properly.

“I slept with Suguru.” it came out as a broken sob, bursting out of your chest, each word cutting like glass against the balms of your hand after punching your mirror. Betrayal, guilt, confusion, and greed all pour out in a single gut-wrenching truth.

Her eyes widened at first, surprised by the admission before they softened.

She didn’t pull away, she stayed close, thumb brushing over your cheek repetitively and soothingly. Shoko didn’t speak for a moment, just let your admission hang in the air, the gears turning in her head.

“You… you slept with Suguru?” She spoke as if she was weighing the words, chewing through them, trying to understand the depth of what had transpired, trying to understand how it had happened.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you choked out, voice trembling. “It was a mistake. I was angry, I wasn’t thinking, and I just… I fucked up everything.”

Shoko’s silence said more than words ever could. You could tell she was holding back from asking you a thousand questions. But there was one she had to ask.

“Does Satoru know?”

You shook your head, the motion barely noticeable.

“No. I-I don't know how to tell him, or if I should.” you sniffled gaze drifting off “Sometimes I think it’d be better if I just disappeared.”

“Hey,” she moved closer, hand dropping to squeeze your own, trying to anchor you to the present and remind you that you weren’t alone. “You can’t just disappear. I don’t know how, but things will work out okay. And I won’t tell anyone, but you need to tell Satoru, both of you do.” She was firm but her voice had a compassionate edge, trying to gently nudge you to face the reality you were so desperately trying to run from “I think it’ll turn out better than you think. They both love you.”

“Okay.” You whispered, voice barely audible. So small. So fragile.

Shoko smiled like you were a little kid seeking comfort from a scrapped knee “Good.” She wrapped her arms around you tight, making you sob again, tears quickly dampening her shirt.

Shoko held you like this for some time, just letting you cry. Her hand rubbing circles on your back. She didn't rush you, try to stop you from crying. She just held you.

After what felt like an eternity you had cried all you could cry, eyes puffy now. You felt so drained, so exhausted, but better overall. A bit lighter. The weight of it all is now shared with someone else.

Shoko finally pulled back, resting on her heels.

“It’ll be alright. Just gotta take it one step at a time.”

For the first time in forever, it felt like you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I can’t go back there tonight, Shoko, please… can I stay with you?”

“Of course, you can”

It’s easy passing it off as a girls' night when you’ve gone inside to collect her things and Utahime. No one questioned it, though Satoru did raise a brow in suspicion but chose not to comment. At least you’d have this one night to just ignore it all.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Sometimes I feel like you create so much space between us,” Satoru speaks from over on your bed. It’s one of his rare days off and he’s taken to hanging out in your room while you applied for jobs.

Normally him being in here would be comforting, a nice presence to get you through the mundane clog of applications. But it’s not anymore. It just makes you feel guilty.

You look over at him, long limbs spread out over your duvet. Pausing your typing you speak for the first time in 30 minutes. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows to meet your eyes. “You create space between us. Randomly. Put up a barrier and keep me out, like you're purposefully hiding from me.”

Your eyes dart back to the screen.

“It’s not intentional,” you murmur. “I just… there’s a lot on my mind.”

“I get that, but you can talk to me about it. I’m always here for you.”

Hiding things from him was the worst.

“I… there’s just some stuff-”

Satoru pats the bed next to him, sitting up crisscross. “Sit and talk.”

You hesitate for a moment, the decision swinging in the air like a pendulum, before you stand and go to sit next to him. There’s an attempt to take a deep breath before you start, to remember everything Shoko had said.

“I need to keep you something, and I don’t know if it’ll change how you think about me.”

His warm, soft hands reach out to hold your own. Countless manicures kept them baby-smooth.

“Whatever it is I’m here.”

You looked down at your entwined fingers, the guilt rattling around you once again. “Suguru and I had sex.” his grip tightened “Not full on, but oral. It-it was a mistake and I’m sorry. I understand if you want to kick me out. I’ll leave, and you never have to see me again. I just couldn’t keep pretending like things were fine and I know now you probably hate me and want me gone. But I just--”

You were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. His lips followed yours as you tried to pull away confused. Satoru’s kiss was urgent, needy, and oppressive almost as if he kept you in tow. He grabs your waist, fingering and digging into the fat, squeezing so tightly. It felt like he was anchoring himself to you, refusing to let you do. Blindingly white teeth bit down into your bottom lip, begging you to let him in.

You could never say no to him, you were always so weak to his charm. So you let him in.

His tongue was warm and wet in your mouth as he brushed it over yours. You respond in turn, letting him decide the kiss. Sartoru’s free hand untangles from your own and goes to the back of your neck, half in your hair. He tilts your head back, leaning forward on his knees to deepen the kiss. The hand on your waist somehow squeezed tighter, thumb rubbing against the ribbed fabric of your tank top.

When he pulled away, a small strand of spit connecting the two of you, his eyes were wild with fear and possession.

“Don’t,” his eyes searched yours with an intensity you had never seen before. “Don’t say you’ll leave, don’t ever say that again.”

You were panting, confused, failing to understand what just happened. “I’m sorry?” It's whispers as you catch your breath. “I just thought you’d want me gone.”

He tilts your head to the side and kisses the length of your neck. “You don’t get to leave me.” The words as muffled as he places a kiss between each one.

Satoru bristles and pushes you back into the bed. Climbing on top of you, he cages you under him and pins your wrists together in his hand above your head. His eyes a wild, pupils fully blown out and it scared you. He’s crying now. One of the tears hit your face and he wipes it off, so gently and sweet, with his free hand before collapsing on top of you.

His body wraps around your own, his face tucked into your neck. He’s shaking slightly. As if the thought of losing you really brought him to this point. That you actually leaving would break him.

You wiggle your hands free and hug him, rubbing up and down his back as you do.

Notoriously, Satoru was not good with people he cared about leaving. Be it for work trips or temporarily, he didn’t do well with people not being accessible to him. He was filled with a desperate need to keep the people he cared about exactly where he wanted them. It was to the point he’d forsake his own well-being, his own feelings, for the sake of it.

You feel the vibrations against your skin before you can process what he said.

“I can’t lose you.”

“Satoru,” you try to pull away but his grip is too tight. “I slept with your fiance and you want me to stay?”

He nods, hair tickling your chin. “It’s okay if it's you.”

“You can’t just be fine with that doe the sake of keeping me around. What about your relationship?”

When he finally pulls out of your neck, his eyes still hold that same intensity. “Sleep with me too.” He hovers over you, noses nearly touching.

“I can't just-”

“Do you think he didn’t tell me?” he bends down and kisses you again. “We reached an agreement a long time ago. So fuck him, fuck me, fuck both of us I don’t care. What will it take to keep you here? I’ll give you anything, everything you want.”

“Satoru-”

“Don’t try and tell me it’s not okay. You’re not leaving. The three of us, Suguru, you, and me, we stay together. We’re better together.” He shouts the first word and you wince.

“You’re scaring me.”

That snaps him out of it.

He clamors off of you, leaping across the room.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he rushes back over as you sit up collapsing on his knees in front of the bed his head resting on your thighs. “Don’t leave please I’m sorry.”

“Satoru calm down—“

He rambles into the skin of your thighs, hands grabbing your own. “It’s okay, he told me the night it happened. I wasn’t mad, I’m not mad. I was a little jealous but because I wasn’t there too. I told him that we needed to talk to you about it first but he told me we needed to wait because you weren’t doing well and then he goes and does this.”

“Satoru,” you’re stern with him now. “Calm down.”

Satoru was an anxious individual under all the bravado. It’s been years since he had a moment like this. Normally the medication he’s on prevented it from getting it this point.

It took a few minutes, you pulled him onto the bed with you and made him lie down before he was calm enough to talk again. He’s lying on his side, mirroring you, his feet dangling off the bed.

“One day I realized I understood why he felt that way towards you and that day I started feeling the same.”

“Are you saying you’re in love with me too?”

He nodded

“Since when?”

“I can’t pinpoint when. There was the trip to Vietnam. It was raining, but you didn’t care though. You ran out from the umbrella and danced around, jumping, and smiling. It had been the first time in what felt like ever that I had seen you so carefree and happy that I ran out after you. I think that that's when things really started to change for me, start to blur the lines between romantic and platonic. But I knew for certain when Haruki cheated on you I was already in love with you by then. I was so mad. At him for doing that to you, and at myself for thinking how much better I could treat you.”

He reaches out and strokes the face of your face.

“Suguru and I used to argue about this when we both realized how we felt towards you as individuals and then as a couple. He was against saying anything. Leaving things just the way they were. No point in trying to fix what isn’t broken and risk our relationship. I had always thought it’d be me that cracked first. Tell you all the grimy little details of how sickly in love with you I am. It was like a bet with myself, not telling you, especially when we were both sure you felt the same way. Neither one of us wanted to pressure you into anything thought, especially because you live with us.”

“Jesus,” you looked up, LEDs blinding as you blinked back tears “So that's what he meant when he said you wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s our fault,” He pulled you towards him, your face resting against his chest “We should have told you about this before. I’m sorry.” He kisses the top of your head, voice thick with emotion as he starts crying with you.

The two of you were always in sync like that. If one of you cried the other was right behind. It’s why Suguru hated watching romcoms with the both of you. At the end of the Notebook, you both had worked yourselves up so much that the two of you fell asleep on the couch cuddled up together.

A choked sob wracked your body “I’m sorry. I love you too, and I love Suguru.” The words were more of a whine as you cried “I’m sorry for being greedy.”

Satoru’s own tears picked up in time with yours “You’re not greedy.” his voice trembling “If you’re greedy I’m greedy.”

You clung to him, feeling warm in his embrace. Feeling almost whole again “I just don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m such a mess.” You were quiet as you spoke, the fear that's been eating you up slipping out.

You were so scared of fucking things up between all of you more than you had already fucked it up. Everything you touched felt like you broke and you didn't want to break them too. They were so pristine and perfect without you there. Maybe you’d only ruin things, stain them, muttle them unrecognizable. You could have ruined things for them already.

He held you tighter as if he was trying to blend the two of you together.

“I’m so scared of ruining everything and losing you both.” you sob out.

Satoru gently shifted the two of you so he could place a chaste kiss against your lips.

“You could never ruin anything.” his breath was warm against your skin.

“I feel like I have.”

“You are the most wonderful person I have ever met. If there want anything ruined by you, it was meant to be broken. Jsu because somethings broken doesn’t mean it doesn’t have beauty, or value, or isn’t deserving of love.”

This time you took the initiative and kissed him again, his lips soft against yours. It was tender, filled with all the love that was between the two of you. Quiet. Peaceful. Serene.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Since Suguru was still out at the office, dealing with a client, Satoru and you took to making dinner for the three of you. A simple katsu curry and rice with some vegetables. It’s simple, not overly complex, but it feels routine to make. Nothing too deviant. As you were cooking, Satoru and you intermittently cried and stole kisses. Gentle touches on the arms arm or side, nothing that hadn’t happened between the two of you before. Satoru had always been touchy but now they carried so much more weight. So much more meaning, each passing brush of his fingers against the expanse of your skin singing praises.

You sliced the vegetables carefully, occasionally glancing at Satoru as he worked on the curry. His hands stirred the sauce with practiced ease. It was always surprising to learn he was the one who did the majority of the cooking as he was a picky eater. You could almost be offended that he looks so beautiful stirring sauce.

Every so often he’d pause, look at you, and give a small reassuring smile. It made you feel lighter. As if he was telling you everything was going to be okay.

You sidled up next to him to sauté the vegetables and Satoru turned the heat for curry to low, letting it shimmer. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder. His arms make you feel secure and stable.

“This just feels right,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your cheek, urging you to lean back in his embrace. You do so willingly, letting yourself sink into the warmth and comfort he offered.

“It does,” you agreed. He was right.

It felt like coming home after a long shift, feet aching and joints creaking and climbing into a warm bath that soothes your aches and pains. Like the sudden realization of happiness, that everything was going to be okay. Like driving down the road in the summer, the windows down as the sun starts to set, music blaring on the radio, and everyone singing along. There was no awkward moment of overthinking how things were or would be, but just living in the moment and accepting things as they came to you overthinking and drowning in your thoughts.

You could sit here and stress about what you’ve done, why you’ve done it, and how that would change the future. Spiral into a mess of anxiety and regret. Or you could live in the moment.

Let go of the need for control that you so desperately craved, and ran after. And just let yourself float. Let yourself be cared for this time.

Wrapped up in Satoru, with him placing soft kisses on your neck, neither of you noticed the door quietly closing. You didn’t hear Sugur slide off his shoes, exchanging them for house slippers, or as he padded into the kitchen. He stood there, watching on for a moment. Seeing how entangled the two of you were, the way you filled How Satoru placed small kisses to your neck that made you giggle. How the two of you blended together.

You had always brought out the best in Satoru, parts of him that would go head to head with Suguru’s own stubborn nature. Always bring out the best in him too.

“What happened while I was at work today?” his voice made you jump, breaking through the moment, and making you drop the spatula from your hand. It clattered against the counter.

“Hey Suguru,” your voice was soft, warm as if the sound of it could pull him into the comfort as well.

Satoru let go of your waist and turned to face Suguru, smiling widely as he saw him. “Welcome home.”

There’s something in Satoru’s casual nature, how he said it like nothing changed between you all.

The three of you stood there for a long moment, still, silent. Painful longing, the desire to have always had things be so straightforward between the three of you. You felt frozen, unsure how to act, unsure what he was feeling. The curry simmering on the stove was the only noise in the room.

And then, Suguru’s face crumpled, and tears began to spill from his eyes. Satoru rushed to his side first, with you not far behind him, wrapping his arms around him.

Suguru’s shoulders shook with the force of his sobs as the two of you wrapped around him, sandwiching him in the space between your bodies. You were only a step behind, your own arms reaching around him.

“We’re here Suguru,” Satoru expressed “We’re right here.”

Suguru buried his face in Satoru’s shoulder, his hand clutching the front of your shirt as if he was afraid to let go.

“I was so scared” he choked out between sobs. “Fuck, I was so scared.”

You gently stroke Suguru’s back, your own tears wetting his shirt, your cheek pressed to his shoulder “I’m sorry.” The apology felt like too little, both right and wrong.

“I thought I was going to lose you both.” his voice cracks on the confession.

“You’re not going to lose us,” Satoru reassures him, kissing his forehead. “ We’re not going anywhere.”

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, all wrapped in each other’s arms. Letting the emotions, the tension, and the resolution wash over. Eventually, the tears started to subside and the three of you agreed to talk after eating and somehow things felt normal again. You all fall into the rhythm you’ve followed for years. Suguru talks about his projects while Satoru talks about an upcoming campaign.

They’re still as careful as they’d normally be when it comes to talking about your affairs. But they pushed more to know how your art was going. Since you’ve been unemployed it's been something you’ve been working more on.

It should be strange, you thought, that there is no overwhelming pressure between the three of you. If anything this is the lightest your friendships have felt in years. Maybe things really were always meant to work out this way. Shoko used to say the only person who could stand to be with the two of them, even platonically for long stretches, was yourself. That you just seamlessly fit them.

“I just… I don’t want to feel like a secondary attachment to the both of you.” you’re holding a mug filled with hot green tea, watching the steam rise from it. Dinner’s long since been finished but you’re all still around the table.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. “Why would you be one? You’ve never been one before.” His voice is as casual as ever, but there’s a firm undercurrent. As if his word is law.

Before you can protest, Suguru chimes in. “He’s right. It’s always been the three of us.”

“I feel like one.” you shift in your seat awkwardly, insecurities prickling your skin.

“The person who could be between us is you.” Suguru doesn’t miss a beat. There’s no room for doubt with the way he says it. It’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t want to fuck this up. You guys have been together for years… you’re literally engaged.”

Satoru delicately grabs your hand, the engagement ring cool against your skin. “There’s no fucking this up.” He looks to Suguru to add on.

“I’m more worried I’ll fuck it up given my track record so far.” Self-deprecation laces his tone, but there’s sincerity there too. “But we’ll figure it out. Take it slow.”

You smile a little at that. The nerves won't go away anytime soon, they churn in your stomach. Hearing both of them say it, both of them so willing to figure out the absolute mess you’ve found yourselves in together, made it a bit easier to breathe.

“Sure. That sounds good.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

A month passes by. Leaves change, and the winds get colder, but you’re filled with a warm sappy feeling. Like syrup in your veins it runs thick and sticky. But at the same time, it’s as if nothing changes. There’s no dramatic queue that signals you all to change your actions. Yet somehow, somewhere, things snap into place violently. Colliding with each other like asteroids, you wake up and feel it in your bones.

It feels like either man’s lips were destined to crash into the mantle of your skin every minute of the day.

Both were so hesitant at the start, afraid to scare you off like wild fauna. Afraid to delve into too deep of waters too early into something so fragile. They treated it like Tiffany blow glass. You were held so tightly by them. Seen so wholly.

Satoru had been the most overt with his physical affection. It was easy for him to pull you into his lap while you watched TV, his solid chest behind you. He tucked you into the nooks and crannies of his body, affection spilling out of him both verbal and nonverbal.

But it had really been Suguru who changed the most.

Tender love in his every action, every press of his skin against yours. A guiding hand on your lower back. Adjusting your shirts and sweaters. Standing on your left when you were standing for a long period, remembering your previous knee injury, so you could lean on him.

Both of them soothed you in ways you didn’t know you needed soothing before. Neither one moved in particularly new ways, sans the making out and heavy petting, but not you could recognize the true driving emotion behind them.

It wasn’t Satoru bringing your coffee order in the morning because he was on that side of town for a meeting with a client. His client was on the other side of town, but he had seen you frown at something so minor, so miniscule, that morning he trekked across Tokyo to go to your favorite place.

To be loved is to be known, but to be known so loudly, so intimately, made you feel vulnerable in a way. But there is certainty in it too. That this was the way things were always meant to be between the three of you but by circumstance, it only happened now.

So you found yourself in Satoru’s lap again, some cheesy early 2000s romcom on the TV in their bedroom. You had taken to watching movies in there due to their super king bed giving you room to spread out that the couch couldn’t. Sugaru was next to the both of you, arm around Satoru’s shoulder. He’s got some braids in between his fingers spinning it round his flesh.

None of you have anything on the agenda tomorrow, other than meeting up with your group of friends in the early evening.

Satoru has slumped over as the movies went on, his chest pressed against your back. Hot breath hits your neck every time he exhales, sending a constant chill down your spine. You’re not even sure what the last 20 minutes of the movie have been about, too distracted by the growing warmth in your core.

You shift as Satoru exhales again when you feel it. He’s incredibly hard right now. His erection slides against the swell of your ass.

The three of you haven’t been intimate, something you insisted on, and now a month’s worth of pent-up sexual need has come back into full focus.

Satoru drops his head. Nose pressed against the skin of your neck, he wraps his around around your waist. One of his hands sits splayed on your ribcage, right under your breast. You’ve never been more aware of your lack of a bra at home than now. His thumb moves and you stiffen.

He pauses for a millisecond before kissing your neck. The heat pooling in your stomach grows hotter. You’re so on edge that when he bites into your skin, the moan you let out startles you, your head falling to the side. Suguru catches your gaze, his eyes low, heavy with desire. There’s a rush of adrenaline that courses through you, no doubt dissimilar to what a prey animal feels when it's hunted.

Satoru’s teeth graze your skin, leaving a trail of darkening marks as he went. His hands move up to your breasts. He’s gentle, at first, squeezing them, testing the weight in his palms, before he pinches at your nipples. Gasping, your hips jut forward as if to grind against something.

Suguru stalks over, sliding over the bed, to sit right in front of the both of you. He looks down at your shirt, a large oversized graphic t-shirt that once belonged to him. Sees how the fabric bunches around his finger.

His eyes dart back up to yours, an eyebrow raised. “May I?” he questions about removing your shit.

You nod, leaning back further against Satoru as Suguru slides your shirt off. Satoru’s hands pulled away for him to do so, but once your shirt was removed they were right back on your chest, tweaking your nipples again. Suguru leans back and just watches.

One of Satoru’s hands leaves your chest and moves down to your thighs. They roam over the fat of them. You lift your hips and he pulls at your shorts, unable to get them off with just one hand. Luckily Suguru is there to help, and they get them off. The cheeky cut panties you've been wearing feel nonexistent as he brushes your clit through them.

“Fuck,” Satoru groans, grinding his hips against your ass, “you’re so perfect.”

The praise goes straight to your head.

He lifts his head out of your neck to look at Suguru. “Aren’t they perfect?”

“You should see how they taste.” Suguru purrs, palming himself through his sweat.

Satoru nips your neck again. “What do ya say, sweetheart? Can I eat you out?”

“Oh god, yes,” you’re practically melting into his arms now, limp and pliable.

The two of them move you around and get you on your back in the center of the bed. They treat you like you’re a porcelain doll. Theirs to play with but gently. Satoru tugs at your panties, pulling them off of you in one clean go. Suguru places a hand on your knee, coaxing your legs open.

Satoru draws a short breath, seeing you fully exposed, and moans.

“Can’t believe you’ve had this the whole time and never shared with me.” He bends down, parts your lips with two fingers, a licks a long stripe up your core. His eyes flutter closed as he does. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

Satoru doesn’t eat pussy, he devours it.

Consumes you like it's the first meal he’s had after a month of starvation. Like you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had. Something meant to be tasted fully and savored. It makes you dizzy with how much earnest desire, and love, are in his every movement. Every swipe of his tongue against your clit an ‘I love you.’

The pleasure gets to your head quick. Being this loved makes your skin flush and thoughts muddy. You reach out the hold Suguru’s hand. His fingers entangle with yours for a brief moment before he lets go and touches your jaw.

He taps your cheek. “Open.”

You open your mouth and his fingers push into it. He pinches your tongue between his fingers, pulling it out. The pink muscle is pliant under his touch, following his guidance religiously. “Fucking Christ you’re perfect.” He slides his fingers back into your mouth. “Suck.”

Following a command has never come easier. You suck on his fingers like they're a lollipop, rolling them between your tongue. He pushes them further down, nearly to the back of your throat. It almost makes you gag but you force yourself not to.

At the same time, Satoru picks up speed. His tongue flicking your clit back and forth rapidly. He eases a finger inside you, crooking it up as he pumps in and out. Shockwaves of pure ecstasy go out across your whole nervous system. Right before you cum Satoru pulls away, taking you right off the edge.

“Why?” you whine, panting. It’s muffled from Suguru’s fingers in your mouth. There’s a haze in your eyes.

“I want to try something,” He scoots to the side. “Suguru come here.” Satoru gestures towards you splayed out pussy.

Suguru removed his fingers and shuffled down to match Satoru’s posture. “You dirty dog.”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking of it.”

“You know me well,” Suguru laughs, kissing Satoru softly.

You’re about to ask what they are talking about before both of them lower their heads and make contact. Both of them are eating you out, tongues working in tandem. You aren’t sure if they're making out with each other or your pussy.

“Oh god,” you choke out.

Satoru moans loudly, the vibration overwhelming, his tongue meeting Suguru’s over your clit. They battle for dominance, bumping and nudging your clit as they do.

Suguru pulls away for a brief moment, climbing over Satoru to reach into the nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube. He moves so quickly, flipping the cap open, and squeezing some out onto his fingers. Once he’s satisfied with the amount, he goes back to the messy make-out session on your clit. But this time you feel him toy with the opening of your asshole as Satoru inserts his fingers back into your pussy.

The combination of both of their mouths and fingers makes you cum. Your body goes limp but they don't stop. Suguru pulls back from your pussy, inserting another finger into your asshole, stretching it open.

Satoru hungrily takes over your clit, sucking it harshly. The overstimulation is too much, too little time between your first orgasm, too much pressure as Satoru presses down on your lower abdomen that before you can even recoup you’re cumming again. This time squirting over the both of them, liquid gushing out of you, with a pathetic whine.

Satoru pulls back from your pussy, face glistening. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

Both of them stare at you with wicked grins.

“Stop,” you shyly try and cover your face with your arms. “Don’t stare at me like that.”

Suguru thrusts his fingers in your asshole again. “You make it hard not to stare. Don’t they.”

Satoru’s gaze is heavy on you. He’s always had such an intense stare but it makes you squirm so much more now in your naked state. It piercing. He licks his lips before speaking. “I feel like we should lock you away so no one else can ever look at you.”

“Be normal and say I love you.” Suguru nudges him with his shoulder.

“I love you, oh god I fucking love you.” Satoru kisses your inner thigh. “I love you so much. Please let us fuck you? Please?”

“I love you too.”

He bites down hard enough there’s sure to be a mark there tomorrow. “Don’t make me wear a condom, please? I’m clean, he’s clean.”

“Satoru I’m not on birth control.”

Where you thought it’d heed caution from him, it only serves to amp him up. He moves down and kisses your clit. “If you get pregnant I’ll take care of you, please. I want to feel all of you.”

Suguru smacks the back of his head. “Don’t you mean we’ll take care of them?” He pulled him back by his hair. “Stop pressuring them.”

You giggle a bit at that. “It’s a safe day so just… pull out?”

The offer makes Satoru lunge forward and lift you up. He lays down on his back under you, your legs spread around his middle, his feet on the ground. His public area is clear and recently waxed, so you just meet skin, and erection standing straight up in front of you. It gently smacks against your stomach as you settle into position.

There’s never been a doubt in your mind that Satoru was strong. You’ve seen him shirtless so many times, you know the panes of his muscles by heart. But it's a different thing to feel that strength.

Satoru moves you like there is no weight to you. He lifts your hips up, positioning your core just over his erection. It’s Suguru who reaches between you two to properly align your hole with his cock. The way they already work as a team when it came to fucking you should scare you. You know how they are. The next time the three of you fuck, there’s no telling what they’ll do.

Satoru lowers you down on his length. You’re so loose and wet from coming twice in short succession that you’re able to fit his entire length with no discomfort in one smooth, fluid motion. He’s girthy regardless, so when he pulls you up and drops you down again, it feels like your breath gets squeezed out of your lungs.

“Oh my god,” you fall forward on his chest as he does it again.

Satoru raises your hips, holding you above himself, and gives a few slow, experimental thrusts up into you. His mouth meets yours in a messy kiss as you jostle with each thrust.

Suguru sidles up behind the two of you, more lube on his fingers. He circles the rim of your asshole, dipping them in and scissoring it. “You gonna let me fuck you too? Or do you want me to wait my turn?”

You are, by nature, incredibly greedy when it comes to them. How could you not be?

Looking over your shoulder, you speak. “Please. I want to feel you both.”

“So fucking sexy,” Suguru groans, pulling his fingers out and lining up his cock. “Can’t believe we let you date that loser. Should have been here between us the whole time.”

Sure, you’d have fingers in your asshole before, but Suguru’s dick was longer and thicker. The whine is instinctive as he stretches you open. Once he’s fully inside and gives a gentle thrust, it’s then you realize that you can feel them almost rubbing against each other.

Oh.

You could never go back now.

It feels so good.

You’re close to cumming again and they’ve barely done anything other than interest themselves inside you.

Suguru’s hands grab hold of your hips, holding you still, switching places with Satoru who holds your face. His white hairs is stuck to his forehead with sweat as beams up at you. “Tell me you’re sorry for dating Haruki.”

“I’m sorry.” You try to move your hips, to gain any sort of friction but Suguru holds you still.

“Tell me you’re never going to leave us.”

You try to move again. Any movement is again stopped by Suguru who in turn smacks your ass.

“Listen to him.”

Satoru squeezes your cheeks. “Promise me. Promise me and we’ll fuck you until you pass out, okay?”

“I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“That’s my girl.”

It must have been something they discussed before because the moment Satoru gives the go-ahead, they set a pace so clearly set on breaking you apart and building you back up in the shape of them.

Both of them give full, long strokes. They move like a well-oiled machine, fucking you like they were designed to do so. Suguru circles an arm around your waist and lifts your back to be flush against his chest, one of your breasts in his hand. He bites and sucks on your neck while playing with your nipples.

They fill you to the fucking brim. It’s nearly indescribable, the electric sensation coursing through your body. The feeling is almost like a live current running through you that short-circuits your brain. Perhaps if you were more cognisant of it you’d be embarrassed of the noises you were making. All breathe whimpers and moans filling the room with the sinful slap of flesh.

With his hands-free, Satoru begins circling your clit with his thumb. The orgasm that has been steadily building growing closer and closer.

“Can feel you getting tighter,” Suguru growls in your ear. “You like it, huh? Like having us both inside you.”

Be it his possessive tone or words, it makes you tighten up even more.

Satoru picks up his pace toying with your clit. “You like it when he talks to you like that don’t you gorgeous.”

Your pussy flutters at the praise.

“You feel that Suguru?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“You’re close aren’t you?”

It’s on the repetition of the question that you realize it is directed towards you.

Satoru pulls you down towards him, your chests pressed tightly together. Suguru takes advantage of the new angle, propping a foot up on the bed to fuck you even deeper. Your eyelids flutter closed and you whine into Satoru.

“I’m gonna cum.” you barely mutter.

“Cum for us.”

There’s an uncertainty about which one of them said it. Perhaps it was both of them, you aren’t certain as you clamp down on them, body stiff, and cum like you’ve never cum before. They don’t cease their movements, fucking you through it, moving in perfect synch. Your whole body shakes, heat flashing through your veins. The world starts spinning twice as fast.

“That’s it. You’re so pretty with that fucked out look on your face.” Satoru starts.

Suguru snaps his hips forward, sliding you against Satoru while he speaks. “Knew you’d let us fuck you like this.”

“Should use a vibrator next time. I want to see ‘em cum even more.”

“We can’t break ‘em Satoru. Don’t you know how to take care of your toys?”

“You’re so rude. They can hear you, can’t you baby?”

You can’t even hold your head up, so Satoru does it for you. Holding your head steady as it nearly lulls to the side.

“You can hear him can’t you baby?”

Your tongue feels like lead, it’s a struggle to speak. “I’m not- oh fuck - I’m not a toy.”

They keep fucking you, spreading you open further. Everything goes fuzzy around the edges in your blissed-out state. Every brush of their hands on your skin makes another ripple of your orgasm pass. You lose sight of where they end and you begin. Satoru gently lets your cheek rest on his chest.

“Bet your throat feels just as good.” Satoru kisses the top of your head

“He should try your asshole next.”

“I don’t know Suguru, this pussy,” Satoru’s breath is labored. “Feels fucking amazing.”

“Next round we switch.”

Satoru grabs your face again. “He’s never fucked a pussy before. You’re gonna make it so he never wants to fuck another one, aren’t you?” His brow draws knitted. “Clamping down on me like that. I love you so much.”

He kisses you again, whining into it. His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated.

You pull back from the kiss, slightly more coherent. “Cum inside me please, I need to feel it.”

Satoru groans and increases his thrusts. “You’re killing me baby.”

He gives four more before hot spend fills you up. You can feel him pulsing inside you. He cums for what feels like a minute, spurts of cum spilling out of you before he pulls out and smears it all over your pussy.

With Satoru no longer inside you Suguru lifts you up to fuck you doggy style, your face nearly shoved in Sayorufs crotch. “Clean him up.”

Suguru starts a punishing pace, stretching your asshole further. His balls slap against your sensitive clit. You’re at a point where you don’t think you can cum anymore, but there’s whispers of an orgasm. You chose not to focus on that and instead on Satoru.

For being your best friend only a month ago, there’s no hesitation in these more than platonic actions he takes now. He taps his half-hard dick against your cheek, spreading cum over your cheek and lips. You open your mouth, and yak kitten licks at his length. His spend is salty on your tongue.

Suguru groans from behind you, gripping your hips tighter as he chases his own high. It doesn’t take much more for him to cum as well with nearly a growl. He hunches over you, extenuating the curve of your spine before he pulls out.

There’s the telltale feeling of some of his cum leaking out your asshole and dribbling down your pussy. Suguru scoops a mix of his and Satoru’s cum up and pushes it inside you. He makes sure to hit your G-spot as he does.

Exhaustion settles in your every fiber of being. Never have you been fucked so thoroughly. Made to feel so good.

Yawning, you try and stand up off the bed to go pee, but your knees buckle under you. You would have hit the cool hardwood flooring if it wasn’t for both men reaching out to grab you.

“My legs feel like jelly.”

Suguru smiles, feline as ever. “Can’t have you getting hurt after only round one.”

You straighten up. “Round one?”

“Don’t tell me you thought it’d end there?” Satoru chuckles.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The wood stood you normally perched on hurt like a bitch. Your entire lower half was sore and the lack of cushioning really was not helping. Satoru and Suguru had made good on their promise to fuck you until you passed out. They were “making up for lost time” if you asked them. But if someone asked you, your answer would be they were just freaks. Not that you minded. Clearly not given the array of marks over your neck, chest, and thighs all covered up by a turtle neck and long pants. Satoru really was a biter.

“I’m glad you made it this time Kento.” Utahime giggles, already tipsy from the one beer she's had. She’s leaning on Shoko’s arm, clinging around it.

Nanami is sat up straight across from her, politely sipping his beer. “Yes. My apologies for missing the last one. Tax season has me rather busy.”

Shoko laughs. “Don’t bullshit us, you just can't stand getting with us more than once every two months.”

He sighs. “Surprisingly I do actually enjoy your company. Even if you do annoy me.”

“Whoa! Kento don’t get soft on us.” Satoru claps him on the back. “Next think you know you’re going to tell us about your love life.”

“There is hardly anything happening in that department.” He eyes you, Suguru, and Satoru. “But I see that some of us have had some changes. When did the three of you get together?”

“WHAT?!” Utahime’s scream is shrill and she points a finger at you and the boys. “You guys are all fucking? I thought you guys were just all best friends”

Shoko shushes her, kissing the top of her head. “Baby, c’mon you didn’t realize the sexual tension oozing out of the tree of them the last time we saw them?”

“No,” she whines, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “No one tells me anything.”

do not copy, edit, translate, or repost my work on any platform

#uzuri writes #jjk imagine #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #satosugu x reader #satosugu imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru imagine #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 3 months ago

Note

Janet didn't put out the hit on Jack after Tim was born

Her ex girlfriend did

And then the ex girlfriend took the contract herself

Ex girlfriend is not pleased when she isn't the only one who rushes to...comfort the "grieving" widow, three of them come together in an alliance to chase off the others, there is a schedule they mostly adhere to depending on their own desires and responsibilities

And as Tim grows, all of his mother's various suitors are trying to both get his good opinion and train him to be a deadly warrior to beat away/freak out any further competition and report on what happened while they were away

Shiva steals Cass away from David Cain specifically for her courtship with Janet, presenting herself as fellow single mother with Tim's previously undiscovered soul sibling Cass, bonus Cass acts as a bodyguard/trainer/companion for Tim while she guards Janet on her expeditions

Selina uses the power of kittens and stealth lessons to bond with Tim and to help him with his stalking/information gathering hobby, she introduces Tim to the delicate art of blackmail and thievery.

Talia draws on her father's records to find previously undiscovered or overlooked tombs and ruins to entice Janet with archaeological when digs and has ninja train/babysit Tim and Cass while she takes Janet out

And Bruce gets the very wrong impression as to why these women are going in and out of Gotham with such relative frequency

Hell yeah!

That ex-gf is lucky as hell that Janet only gets slightly mad about Jack dying (because of course Janet finds out). Though, this does come with the pointed words that this is one of the reasons they aren't currently dating.

Tim is sad his father died, but he's also confused about waking up the next morning to at least twenty of his mother's flings in Drake Manor. The process of watching seventeen of them being chased off one by one is entertaining.

Once Janet decides to start dating again, they for sure realize that Tim is the only way for them to go steady with Janet (because Janet Drake loves her son and will burn the world down for him). They come to adore Tim for the way his eyes get the same calculative glint as Janet, his innate ability to manipulate a room, and the smirk without smirking he does. He is, without a doubt, Janet's son.

Many of them, utter fools, initially underestimate Tim. He may be of Janet's blood, but he's also five (or six or eight or whatever young age they meet him at). This is how Tim manages to weasel whatever he desires (usually dangerous lessons like knife throwing) from his mom's suitor.

Janet is so proud of him.

Janet has a way with dangerous ladies, but this isn't only for villains. Vigilantes, anti-heroes, and even some heroes end up in her orbit. She doesn't ask them for exclusivity, and they don't ask that from her (so a lot of them have other relationships, including with each other).

Idk if Wonder Woman would keep her on again off again relationship with Janet (and periodic visits to Gotham) a secret, so I'm not sure if I ship it for this AU :/

Zatana, however, (when she is Bruce's age), could teach Tim some magic.

So, yeah. Bruce gets concerned when a bunch of extremely skilled women from all "sides" of Justice keep visiting Gotham.

[I'm also hella vibing with what each of the women in your descriptions did for bribes/courting gifts]

#tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #janet drake #lesbian janet drake #lesbian janet drake au

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midnightbluebells03 · 8 months ago

Text

Good luck babe!

CW - Owen mention, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving), hair pulling (A receiving)

Reader is fem, described as wearing a dress and heels.

WC - about 3000

No outbreak

Leave me requests so I can get out my writers block pls and thx xo

If Abby Anderson wasn't in denial of her sexuality, there's a chance you two could've been real. You got along like a house on fire, practically a perfect match. But the mix of comphet, her on and off again relationship of Owen and her crippling fear of being vunrable has left you two like this. Having not talked in just over a month, not a word since your argument about the fact she had been using you as an experiment without considering how you felt. And how did you feel?

Crushed.

Maybe you should know better. But yet again it's a Friday night, your other hook ups weren't out tonight and who else but Abby fucking Anderson was giving you eyes from across the room. Leaning against the bar with a tight black wife beater that makes you drool and matching cargos.

It's the first time you'd seen each other since you screamed in her face and called her selfish. And yet the butterflies in your stomach were boardering on a stampede. Her eyes scanning your body up and down while her hand stays clutching her beer bottle. So tight you're almost worried it'll smash in her unforgiving grasp.

Against your better judgement you decide to ignore the angel on your shoulder, also known as your best friend Ellie. Chugging back your drink and handing her the glass. Starting to make your way over to Abby.

Ellie rolls her eyes and shouts after you. Hardly breaking through the noise. "Don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart again!"

"Cmon Els, it's just some fun" you call back before pushing your way through the crowed dance floor and coming out at the other side. Looking up at those baby blue eyes that make a rush of emotions flow through you. You should be mad at her, should cuss her out again for using you. But tonight, you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

You just needed her again.

"Can I get you a drink?" Her normally confident voice has a slight wavier to it. It makes a slight smirk spread across your lips as you take the beer from her hand. Taking a large drink before your nose scrunches up at the taste. You were more of a spirits girl, a cocktail if you felt fancy.

"So no Owen tonight?" The venom in your voice is clear. There's not a soul in Jackson you wanted to punch more than him. The whole reason Abby was so unsure of herself in the first place. The way he managed to weasel his way back into her life time and time again. But yet you couldn't hate Abby for doing the same thing to you.

"He's back with Mel...shes pregnant." You give her a sympathetic look before handing her back the bottle. "I don't wanna talk about it" she mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear over the thumping music. She finishes it off before placing it on the bar counter behind her.

"How about we don't talk at all then?" You say before she can even turn back around. Watching as her movements stiffen, and she slowly faces you again. Cheeks flushed that shade of pink you could never be sick of. "Your place is close, Ellie's gonna meet with Dina soooo". Your sentence trails off, the suggestion in your voice clear.

The mention of your best friend makes her eyes widen. Looking around the room to try and spot her. "Ellies here?". There's a slight fear in her voice, something that makes you roll your eyes and scoff.

"Oh calm your tits Anderson you could literally kill her, I don't know why you're you're scared".

"Um let me think" she says sarcastically before looking down at you. "The psycho bitch keyed my car". You fight back the giggle that wants to escape your lips. After days of you crying over your ruined situationship Ellie took it into her own hands. And while you told her it was a stupid idea, you couldn't help but hug her and say thank you.

"Can't prove that" you shrug, looking down at your feet a little nervously. Scuffing your heels off the ground. "Look if you dont-"

"I do" she interrupts, her hand now resting onto your exposed arm. You look back into her eyes. Taking a deep breath and accepting that this was going to hurt tomorrow, but it was worth it. Since even just this little touch was making your skin feel like it's on fire.

"Say it." Your voice is stern, watching as Abby bites her lip softly. Leaning down to whisper into your ear.

"I...I want to fuck you"

Your hand comes up to hers, interlocking your fingers and leading her out. "Cmon then" the judgmental gaze coming from Ellie catches your attention before you reach the door. So you wave over and mouth 'I'll call you' while making a phone with your hand. As soon as you're out the warmth of the bar and in the unforgivng chill of the night, a shiver runs up your shine. "Fuck it's cold!" You squeal slightly.

Abby chuckles, looking around to make sure no one can see you two before her arm wraps around your shoulder. "Wouldn't be cold if you wore real clothes." The playfully dig at your revealing dress makes you push her away. With a fake gasp you point a finger into her defined arm.

"Don't slut shame me Anderson" you giggle softly before returning to her side looking up at her. Taking in the way the streetlamp lights bounce off her features. The way her hair flowed in the slight breeze, it was down for once tucked neatly behind her ears. "Besides I was trying to get fucked not stay warm" The slight look of hurt that flashes across her face makes you raise an eyebrow. "What? You jealous?"

"No" she protests, but they way she won't look at you is telling. Before you can question her again, she points towards the door to her apartment complex. Leading you over before punching in her code and opening the door for you. "Cmon before you get hypothermia"

You walk in and wait for her to be back beside you before you both continue up the stairs. "I thought you were meant to be a super smart med student, it's not cold enough for hypothermia". You're trying to lighten up the mood by teasing her lightly. Remembering the time you were convinced you had hypothermia because the heating in her apartment had gone out while you were over. Her door comes into view, and you listen to her dig the key out from her pocket.

"Yeah yeah, just get inside" Abby rolls her eyes while holding the door open for you again. Maybe it would be easier to hate her if she wasn't so kind, if she wasn't so pretty, if she didn't know you so well. The door shuts behind you as you take off your heels. When you turn Abby is just standing there. Fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding eye contact. "Look um...I- I'm sorry-"

"Save it Abby" you inturput, knowing that it would be nothing productive. It would be the say sorry she gave you atleast five times before you blocked her number. "I don't want an apology I want to cum" Abby steps towards you slowly, your hands moving up to her chest. She quickly takes off her boots before straightening back up.

"Yes ma'am" you giggle softly as her hands wrap around your waist and lift you up. Forcing your legs to wrap around her waist as she carries you to the bedroom. Taking your purse and putting it onto her nightstand before gently placing you down onto her navy blue sheets. Moving so she's looming over you. Her calloused hand running up your outer thigh, inching under the thin fabric of your dress as her lips trail down your jaw to your neck. Sucking a purple mark right in your pulse point that has you gripping for her hair.

"Fuck" you moan softly, feeling her smirk into your skin. You sit up inpatiently, pushing her back by her chest as you fumbling with the zipper on your dress. Huffing when you can't reach it.

"Desperate much?" Abby teases before reaching around and pulling it down for you. Helping to pull the fabric off before throwing it onto the floor. Letting her see the matching lingerie you had picked out for the night. "You really were trying to get fucked huh?"

"Yeah" you swallow hard as her eyes scan over you slowly. "You like it?" The truth was you had bought it for her, baby blue lace that matched her eyes. But she called off your little situatuonship before you got to show her.

Abby reaches her hand out for your cheek, pulling you in. This was new. She'd never been one for kissing during. You guys had made out maybe a hand full of times. Her lips touch yours, and you just melt into her. Arms drapping around her shoulders as she pushes you backwards. Her hand running up from your thigh to your chest. Palming your breast through the barley there fabric. When you moan softly she takes the chance to push her tongue past your lips. Deepening the kiss as your nails start to big into the skin of her upper back. When she finally pulls away slightly, the thin string of saliva still joining you together makes your stomach tighten.

"Abs" you whine softly, arching your back so she can slip her hands around and undo the clasp of your bra. Adding it to the floor alongside your dress.

She kisses you quickly "I love it". Abby mumbles before restarting her trail down your body. From your jaw to your neck, ending at your breast when she takes a nipple in her mouth. Swirling her tounge around the hardened bud as you arch into her. Moaning softly as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck you missed this. The way she made you come undone. Every touch so purposeful.

And God knows if she'd ever let you touch her you'd be the same.

The feeling of her fingers brushing over your clit through your panties makes you gasp. Slightly embrassed by the fact Abby can definitely feel the wetness seeping through the fabric.

"Stop- stop teasing me Abs" you plead as her mouth detaches from your nipple.

"Cmon pretty girl you clearly like it" she teases, rubbing your soaked panties. "What do you want?" You just look at her and bite your lip. Eyes darting down to her fingers but she tsks while shaking her head. "Say it" your own words repeated back to you. Because as much as Abby was unsure of herself when it came to you in public. In the comfort of her own four walls, she's as confident as ever.

"Fuck me" you say, the shake in your voice making Abby smirk. You clear your throat before speaking clearly. "Please Abby fuck me". Her fingers hook onto your panties as she moves back. Slowly peeling them off you and adding them to the pile. You sit up and tug at her shirt. Hoping she'll be feeling generous.

"Baby-"

"Please Abs" you cut her off, bringing your hands up to cup her cheeks gently. "I- I won't touch you, I know the rules by now just...wanna see you" she presses a hand to yours before nodding. Pulling back to grab them hem of her shirt. Slowly pulling it up and over her head.

When you started this situationship you asked her why she didn't like being naked. Why she never asked for anything in return. And the tough girl you'd known just looked at you softly and said. 'I just...I don't think I look good'. You left it at that, but you couldn't help the pity you felt for her. Because the truth was Abby was stunning, maybe the most gorgeous girl you'd ever seen. But there was clearly a voice in her head, who you could only assumed was Owen, telling her otherwise.

When her shirt hits the ground your eyes wander over her body, taking in her black sports bra and her washboard abs like you're obsessed with. "You're so pretty." You don't even realise you've said anything until she blushes softly. As Abby leans beck over you, you reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear gently. Just holding her for a second. God, you aren't drunk enough for this. A wave of feelings washing over you like a tsunami.

"What do you want baby?" Abbys voice breaks through your haze. "I've got the str-"

"Fingers" you inturput, just desperate to feel her. Just her.

"You don't usually want fingers" she teases "that's normally your warm up" Abby slowly moves her hands up your inner thighs, spreading your legs so she can look at your dripping pussy. "Fuck...you're soaked"

"Mhmm" you gasp her her fingers make contact with your clit. Making your hips jump slightly in a way that makes Abby chuckle. "You drive me crazy Abs"

She starts to move in slow, steady circles around your sensitive bud. Working soft gasps and moans from your lips as she kisses up your thighs. "Wanna taste you" she mumbles into your skin. Sure, you heard it but she didn't need to know that. So you snake your hand into her blonde locks at give her a gentle tug.

"What was that?" The fake innocence in your voice almost makes you want to laugh.

Abby looks away from you and goes to say it again so you place your hand on her jaw. Forcing her to keep eye contact. "I want to taste you" you raise an eyebrow, waiting on more. "Please?" The way her voice trembles slightly is the biggest ego boost. Working such a strong, confident woman to a mess like this is better than any drink you could've bought at the bar.

As soon as you nod your head and release her jaw, Abby wastes no time. Kissing down your stomach before her lips meet your clit. She gives you one fat lick from your hole to clit, her arms wrapping around your thighs to bring your legs over her shoulders. Abby's grip is so tight even if you wanted to move you'd stand no chance so instead you throw your head back into the pillow. Moaning shamlessly as her tounge works around your clit.

The pleasure makes a warmth spread across your body, your hand tangled in her hair as you hold her close to you. Trying to grind your hips into her but stopped by her hands pinning you down. You're almost convinced there's going to be bruises there tomorrow. "A- Abby" You whine, pleading for more.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with your wetness dripping down her chin. "Hmm?"

"Fingers please" your hand squeezes over her own. "Please Abby I'm so close"

Humming softly, she loosens her grip of her right hand. Slowly tracing over your skin until she reaches your mouth. You don't need to be told. Parting your lips, you let her push in. Sucking while keeping eyecontact. When she pulls them out you whine at the lose but it doesn't last long. As they slip into your hole your eyes roll back. "Fuck you're so wet" Abby gasps softly. Once you take her down to the knuckles she let's you adjust. "You good?"

"Mhm" you moans softly "move Abs please?". She doesn't need to be told twice, her fingers slowly starting to pump in and out of you as her mouth moves back to your clit. You can't help but clentch around her as she works you to your peak. Her neighbours must hate her, or really they must hate you. The way your loud moans echo throughout the room as she gets you closer and closer. You grip the sheets beneath you, screwing your eyes shut as your back arches. Orgasm washing over you while all you can do is chant her name over and over and over again. Completely lost in the pleasure.

Abby's pace slows after your finish over her fingers. Only pulling out once your breathing starts to steady and you open your eyes again. She moves up next to you, slumping down as your arms stay pressed together. The sudden silence hanging thick in the air. Uncomfortable, tense. But you break it.

"Are you gonna accept you like women yet?" You ask quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

"I don't" you don't wait for her to continue, instead you move yourself off the bed to start pulling on your underwear. You've been here so many times you just make your way to her closet, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt that's going to drown you. Planning on adding them to your small collection if her clothes. Even if they had all been shoved to the back of your closet. Abby sits up, stammer out some kind of explanation as you don't look at her. "I- I mean I do, but you know that this is"

"Mhm" you reply, the agitation clear in your tone. You quickly fix your hair to the best of your ability before picking up your dress and pulling out your phone from your purse. Slinging the bag over your arm as you request an Uber.

Abby just looks at you, nervously playing with the end of her hair. "I- its just the way I am-"

You inturput her with a sigh, finally looking at her with a slight pity. "It's not just gonna go away, but its your life Abby if you wanna be misrable and act like you dont like women thats your call" your app pings letting you know the ubers already here and you're silently thankful. Because the familiar feeling of falling for Abby is creeping back into you. "Good luck, babe" you say softly before heading out. Glancing down at your heels at the door with a groan. Reluctantly slipping them on before hurrying down to the Uber.

Maybe one day she'll change.

#Spotify #lesbian #wlw #fanfic #smut #writer #angst #writing #fanfiction #tlou #abby the last of us #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #request

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yorshie · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I’ve been obsessed with a recent post of yours, about the tmnt turtles and the ways they would confess their feelings, it was so on point? Seriously it has been even helping me fall asleep (dreaming about it lol) on that note, would you please do a scenario or Headcanons of tmnt x reader and their first kiss? Planned? Accidental? In a burst of emotion? Floor is yours

Thank you and hope you have a good day ♥️

Bayverse turtles (separate) x GN reader, SFW (set in 2023 so turtles 24-25)

OH this is RIGHT up my alley. Thank you for the ask! I'm glad you're getting some sleep lol, it was 3 a.m. when I wrote this. Being stuck in a car brings that special kind of tired where you're still jittery, you know? Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this, and thank you for sending in an ask so I wasn't bored staring at the ceiling fan.

It's not pertinent to the idea but I'm thinking Raph's kiss is a lot longer into the relationship, simply because in my head I keep thinking I wouldn't want to kiss him until he got over his whole angsty phase. If you wanna imagine he's still angsty when the smooch happens, feel free, but hot and cold ain't fun.

MIKEY

Angelo called you on your way home from work for a spontaneous Tuesday night date, and it was with only slight trepidation that you hurried home, visions of the sunshine ball left alone with no one to distract him amid all your stuff floating around your head.

Thankfully, there was no grand chaos when you poked your head through the door, only Mikey in an apron, twirling around your kitchen without a care in the world. He was juggling between three different bowls and the stove, singing along to the music blaring through his phone.

The oven dinged as you were shucking your shoes and jacket, and Mikey brightened upon spying you, tossing his spatula to the side and holding his arms open to hurry you towards him with a raucous, “babycakes! I missed you!”

You went willingly, not quite sure if he was intending to hug you or pull you into a dance, but it ended up being a mixture of the two. He spun you into a dip, hands pulling you upright when your socks slipped on the floor with a goofy smile and a little two step before he grabbed your hips, lifting you up onto the counter next to his work area.

He broke off mid chorus to offer you a spoonful of whipped cream with a soft, “try this, baby, tell me what you think.”

You tried it without thinking, eyebrows jumping at the cloying taste on your tongue.

“Uh. Angelo, you used way too much sugar in this.” You twisted in your spot, tossing the spoon into the sink and giving a little cheer at the satisfying ‘plonk’ of it disappearing into soapy water, completely missing the mischeiveous smile on your turtle’s face.

“Yea? Here, let me help get rid of it.” Mikey’s words were teasing, and for a moment you thought he was talking about something completely different.

You weren’t expecting the warmth of his hands sliding into your hair. You startled, blinking at him dumbly when he sidled into your space, plastron tapping against your knees and pinning your shins against the counter drawers.

He grinned, cradling your head, thumbs along your jaw, holding you still as he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to yours.

He was warm, lips soft, moving gently against your skin. He started to churr when you reached up and tucked your hands over the strong curve of his shoulders.

Your lips glided together once again, mouth opening barely under his direction, eyes closing at the little sweet exhale he gave at the motion.

“You taste like syrup.” You murmured against him, and felt his mouth fight not to tip upwards again.

“What can I say,” Mikey moved his thumb to brush over your lips, “I like sweet things, baby.”

You weaseled your arms down between your bodies, hooking around the edge of his shell and holding him closer, pulling a shiver from him.

“Give me another,” he pushed, and you giggled into the press of his lips.

DONNIE

Your nerd was thinking.

You could practically see the steam of over worked processors from where you lounged at the foot of his bed, book tilted far enough up so you could both pretend you weren’t sneaking glances his way.

Donnie was hunched over in his chair, just barely within eyesight around the low dresser separating the main room of the lab from his bedroom. His hands were lax on the keyboard of the refurbished laptop he was suppose to be working on, glasses low on his snout and eyes clearly trained, not on his work, but at the wall beyond his desk.

You entertained the thought of calling out to him, but the chances of reaching him in this state were slim to none even if you laid a trap with coffee for the bait, so you settled back into the book, flicking curious glances his way every now and then to make sure he was still breathing.

Your patience was rewarded, eventually, when he blinked and that sharp golden gaze flickered over to your face.

“I want to try something.” He said without preamble, once he saw he had your attention, and you closed the book you hadn’t been actually reading for a while with a snap to let him know he had the floor.

“Alright.” You scooted to sit at the edge of his bed, feet crossed under you and curiosity building. “What is it that you want to try, Dee?”

Donnie closed the laptop with a soft little click, rolled his chair towards you, then left his seat to shuffle into your space on his knees when he realized he still towered over you.

You swallowed at the abrupt closeness, breathed out slow to combat your sudden nerves.

The tall turtle took your hands in his, smoothed his thumbs softly over your knuckles. “I want… to kiss you. If that’s alright?”

You nodded as soon as the request was processed, gaze skittering to watch his tongue poke out reflexively before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss.

And held them there. No movement, no gentle give and take. You weren’t even sure he was breathing, he was so still.

He pulled back after a moment, light eyes quizzical before they turned inwards, and you could tell you were about to loose him to whatever data he’d collected.

“Ok. Hey. Wait.” You raised your hands, tapped along his cheeks until he glanced back at you. “I want to try again.”

You kept your words soft, and when he automatically leaned in, you stopped him. “Let me lead, Dee. Just do what I do.”

This time, you used your hands to tilt his head a little bit, and softly touched his lips with your own. Pressed short kisses against him, letting him settle before you moved your jaw and pet your mouth across his.

The steam pouring out Donnie’s ears was back, his hands tightening against your own, and he gave a shaky exhale against your cheek before he responded, mouth slipping over your lips a little roughly as he moved to mirror your grip and tilt your head a little to the back.

When the two of you broke apart, his eyes opened, and he whispered, “again?”

RAPH

The quiet times were the best with Raphael. The moments with no pressure, no societal niceties, away from the teasings of his brothers, when he’d look at you and jerk his head in a clear ‘let’s get out of here’ invitation that you’d never be able to turn down.

Raph would unwind enough to simply exist when it was just you and him, warm and mellow and guard low enough that only affection glanced back when you met his eyes.

You were taking advantage of the quiet this particular date night. He was loose from good food and the way your smaller form sat at his side without fear. So much so, that when you swiveled and tucked a leg over his thigh, his big hand wrapped around your knee without stuttering, grip wide and warm and content to rest on the curve of your joint.

He was still engrossed in the movie, though you caught the little flicker of his eyes as he watched for your reaction to his touch, an old gut reaction that you were happy had faded even this much.

When you simply leaned into him, he relaxed further, and you were rewarded with the slow brush of his thumb against the soft skin on the inside of your knee, as though he couldn’t help the movement.

You let him settle through a few more scenes before pushing a little further, thought the amused quirk of his mouth when you finally made your move made you realize you might be a tad predictable to the large turtle.

That didn’t matter so much though, when he made no move to stop you. If anything, it confirmed his trust, at least enough that when you pulled up to your knees to reach him, hands hooking into the upper edge of his plastron, he tilted his head further to meet you halfway.

He was probably was’t expecting a kiss, however, if the little stutter that rolled through him under your hands and the way he gripped your hips was any indication.

The press of his lips were sweet and a little hesitant, especially when how small your mouth was against his broke through even your hazy thoughts, but you tipped to the side to make up for the difference. After a beat he leaned in, following your lead of how hard to press and when to move, softly scrubbing his lips against you as much as you would allow.

His hand slid up your spine, careful and soft, and you shivered at the feeling, pulling away only to dart back in for one more small peck for luck, pulling a little flustered huff from his snout.

When you pulled back for real, he tucked his head under your chin in a fit of bashfulness, even though you could feel his grin against your skin.

“Wanna finish the movie?” You asked, loathed to quit but not wanting to push him too fast.

“In a minute.” He replied, surfacing to press his mouth to yours again.

LEO

Story time might be Leo’s favorite part of the day. Certainly it was the part of the day where he let himself relax, as much as he was able, but he coveted these moments where he wasn’t anything more than Leo, the mutant turtle that had found you.

So he soaked it all up, the softness of your back against his chest, the way you fit yourself against him without a care. It should have had his heart hammering, the way it had for hours after the first time he had found himself in this position. But the organ beat slow and steady in his chest, soothed when a shoe didn’t drop, and he became used to all the tiny movements you just couldn’t seem to help.

You were only partially aware of all the things that went on in your turtle's head, but slowly you were peeling back the layers as Leo let himself relax around you. You knew however, that he needed these small moments, and you were careful never to question when he came tired and bruised, to simply drop a book into your hands and lean his shell against the wall. He’d tell you, when he was ready.

You turned a page of the book, barely moving your wrist so the thumb sweeping back and forth across the small bones wouldn’t be dislodged, and continued weaving the story of a small elf looking for the last bit of magic in his world.

When Leo’s thumb slipped up to touch your knuckles, framing the back of your hand with his palm, you had a moment to wonder if he wanted to hold your hand. When a sigh sounded from above you though, a small sound of contentment slipping out in a rumble you knew you weren’t suppose to hear, you realized he already was.

You glanced up, taking in Leo’s rounded shoulders, his lowered head, his large form practically curling around you. His eyes were shut, head tilted into your space, and an urge pinged hard in your chest at the sight.

You slipped the book jacket between the pages to hold your place, and set it aside, twisting around until you faced him on your knees. Your hands found the corded strength right above his knees briefly to keep yourself from falling over.

His eyes were open now, staring at you curiously, still soft around the edges.

You cupped his cheeks, leaned up against his plastron, and touched his lower lip softly with your own, eyes half lidded to gauge his reaction.

You watched his pupils blow wide, refocused when you pulled back, almost chased you hypnotically before the action caught up. There was a moment where you could see the hesitation, an errant thought, before the decision cemented in his eyes and he closed the distance again.

This time, the kiss was longer, sweeter, and he pushed into your space with a deep rumble in his chest, enough so that you had to hold his head steady to avoid being tipped backwards, stepping in when he faltered to lead him through the movements.

#tmnt fanfiction #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt fanfiction #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #first kiss senario #mutant ninja turtle brothers #my writing requests

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