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awesumsaus · 1 year ago

Text

pretty when I cry

wc: 6k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.

a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry

It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window.

He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning.

Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.

He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.

He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core.

“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare.

He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle.

“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip.

With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior.

The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired.

But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.

He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his.

The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed.

To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry.

And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps.

After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to.

“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you.

“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up.

“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist.

His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.”

You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take.

It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands.

“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it.

You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.

He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him.

“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core.

“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.

“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs.

“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see.

“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away.

“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold.

“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response.

“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity.

“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face.

“Good girl.”

His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.

He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky.

“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”

His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him.

The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.

Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him.

He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated.

“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“

He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”

He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”

“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily.

“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”

“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours.

“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”

You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.

His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again.

Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission.

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure.

“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you.

“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.

He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole.

“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you.

“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment.

He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way.

It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes.

His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide.

“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”

“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you.

Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core.

With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.

“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”

Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer.

“Will you let me, pretty girl?”

You nod.

“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought.

Yes, please, yes.

He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds.

You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take.

When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name.

“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”

You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare.

His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge.

“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled.

“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”

“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried.

“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”

“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain.

“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness.

When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear.

Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of.

“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?”

You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet.

He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity.

“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin.

When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates.

You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away.

Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room.

He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.

He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording.

Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object.

“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil.

“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.

He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“

“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later.

“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.

He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you.

y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me

but hope we enjoyed the rest :p

part two

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction

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infamous-if · 7 months ago

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I finally signed up for the patreon and played through all the povs in one go and can I just say

you.

evil. i love you lol. god getting inside g's brain was so insightful, the way they think is something so interesting to me. I'm so excited to play their route in the future. also that recent valentines day special for seb? SETTING THE TONE FOR THE RELATIONSHIP MAYHAPS? I have concerns but also very heartwarming. and Victoria is just so. ugh. she deserves nothing but hugs and a good life. August surprisingly I feel might be the most comforting/heartwarming route? but I have no doubt you have surprises in store for us.

and seven. love and hate is thin line seven. the way they're so scared of being hurt and won't be vulnerable for even a second because of it. and so scared that mc feels the exact same way so is always playing games? seven let yourself be loved, platonically or romantically god damn it.

your writing is fantastic, and you put a lot of effort in, I hope your pillow is always the perfect temperature. thank you for blessing us with infamous!

hahahahah the valentines specials are definitely supposed to be a peek of how the relationships are when they're 'good' of course it won't always be that smooth sailing lolol funnily enough, even when it's 'good' the valenreign relationships are still pretty messy due to the affair which is like a dark cloud constantly over your head....

thank you so much! <3 im glad they were insightful heheheh

#inbox #valenreign #victoria valentine #g reign #seven lawless #august pierce

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stellayuta · 6 months ago

Text

Love on The Grid - Formula 1 AU! Yuta Okkotsu - Pt 2.

Your likes, comments and reblogs really encourage me to write more! So do interact with this post and let me know your thoughts 🧡

PART 1

synopsis: One-night stands were nothing but a necessary painkiller for your inability to cross paths with true love. Your most recent find at a Vegas Club was no different. He was boring, obedient, SLOW! You leave him high and hanging hoping you'd never see him again until you find yourself gawking at a supersized billboard of him on a Vegas highway with the title 'LEGEND RETURNS TO VEGAS'.

genre: some s*xual tension, a lot of fluff, thrill and angst

content: 18+ only. Formula one driver! Yuta x f! reader, use of alcohol, swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 5k

a/n: part 2 came soon because i'm so pumped lolol. Note, In this story, Megumi and Toji aren't related.

WARNING: always use protection!

You sat in your hot, plastic seat with bated breath, like a thousand others, keeping your eyes trained on the asphalt of the track.

Even though it was November, temperatures in Vegas were no good - either that, or the revelation that your hookup from last night is a world-renowned athlete is making you nauseous.

You were in the most uncomfortable position in the entire stands combined, smack in the middle of a fired up Noritoshi and a spiteful Kokichi, who were planning on probably shouting at the top of their lungs for their favorite driver on the grid.

"When's this starting?" You turn to Miwa, a bit nervous.are You nervous to see that man, Yuta, in the middle of his job? What if he doesn't perform well - that would be embarrassing. Oh well, no one here knows about us anyway so it's fine. Except for his number one fan Noritoshi maybe.

"Well, they're almost done with the formation lap, so they should line up at the start line soon. Red Bull's Geto has the pole with a surprise front line seat for Ferrari's Gojo. King Okkotsu is sitting third with Ferrari's second, Itadori Yuji. Then it's Red Bull's Mahito followed by Merc's Toge and - " he goes on and on, speaking jargon and names You don't understand.

"Noritoshi." You stop him in the middle of his enthusiastic speech. "You understand that none of what you said passed through my brain right?"

"Ah well, none of it matters!" He cackles. "When the race begins - you will know who you'll cheer for and who will have you at the edge of your seat. Who gets your heart pumping." He says, fisting his chest. The last bit seemed a bit unintentionally personal but you roll your eyes at him anyway.

The drivers are soon done with their 'formation lap' which Kokichi is nice enough to enlighten you - is a circle they do around the track to prep their tyres for the race and check the tracks and engines. You also see now that Pole is the car sitting first in the starting lineup, as you narrow your eyes at dark, red and blue car zooming its way to ease into the frontmost bracket. That must be the bane of Noritoshi's existence and the Object of Kokichi's desire - Geto Suguru.

Behind him is a flashy red car that earns a deafening roar of cheer as he comes into position. That must Gojo Satoru.

Music Recommendation:

Behind him, and you find yourself looking really keenly. You spot the teal and midnight black hues of a fiery car, followed by another deafening roar and a partial standing ovation. So that's him. 'Mr. Cute Dick, I don't drink, I am not a virgin'. You smirk at thought of such a wallflower being at the center of one of the hottest sports in the world, in a championship with the highest stakes.

"Looks like Y/N is an Okkotsu fan." Noritoshi claims, grinning sarcastically at Kokichi who replies with a grimace. "No, I clearly saw her looking keenly at Geto."

"Ah, shut up the two of you." You snap. "Let me watch!"

The both of them exchange glances at your sudden interest but humor you as the crowd waits with a chilling silence. The five red lights light up, sounding a beep and you can hear your heartbeat in that moment as they turn green without warning and the race is on!

The set of 20 cars pick up speed at a maddening rate and are soon accelerating through the curves and straights of the track, tailing one another. The commentator is particularly zealous, and you find yourself listening to him with a lot of attention. Your eyes never leave the Teal and Dark vehicle with his tiny head popping out the cockpit, protected by his shiny, silver helmet.

For around 30 laps or so, nothing changes, and the people have started chatting amongst themselves. You slump back down into your seat.

There is some action going on at the back of the line-up with a few of the cars overtaking and re-overtaking one another.

"Well, this is boring…" You admit.

"It has its moments." Noritoshi states. "Oh wait, what's that-"

You turn to the track so fast, your vision goes blurry, and You nearly miss the spectacle.

The second red is quickly closing in on Yuta's Teal but Yuta swivels out of the way just in time, apparently surprising his tail-end as the driver, Itadori, loses control and touches the back of the first red car, Gojo's. Both of them start spinning dramatically and are vaulted out of the race at one of the turns.

"Collision! In the Top Five! Both Ferraris are out!" The commentator is roaring out now, with several people standing to get a better view.

You yourself are concerned for the Ferraris that seemed to have lost some parts of the car, leaving behind a trail of debris. But soon enough, both drivers emerge from their respective cars, with the taller one giving the crowd a thumbs up. He removes his helmet and a layer of clothing to reveal striking snow-white hair and dazzling smile. This sport is too fucking dangerous.

"The collision will be under investigation for sure to see if Ferrari's Number 3, Itadori is at fault! For now, the safety car is out."

You train your gaze on Yuta again. He seems to have taken a different route from the track now, heading towards a group of people, clad in suits and uniforms similar to the colors of his car.

"Hey, what's he doing?" You ask Noritoshi. You almost hear Kokichi mumbling "Oh shit." under his breath.

"That's a pit stop. Change of Tyres. Now is a brilliant time for this." Noritoshi says, his lips quivering. Is he really that excited for Yuta.

"The Safety Car has been taken off and with Mercedes' Number 7 quick thinking, Okkotsu takes the lead of the race!" The commentator announces earning a barrage of cheer from the crowd and a giant sigh from Kokichi.

"But not far behind him is Red Bull's Number 4, Geto, fastest car of the crop, who is looking to overtake… He has the DRS on and, and…." You don't need to listen to the commentator anymore because You see it happening and You almost let out some weird feral choke as Yuta barely, barely manages to keep his lead and the vicious, red and blue car accepts defeat, staying behind. You finally breathe out when You see Yuta gaining some speed and maintaining a good distance between him and Geto.

Kokichi pokes your shoulder and gives you a look of immense worry when You realize You are literally gripping your hair at the roots with both hands.

"ah, hah!" You laugh nervously, letting go off your now scrunched up hair. You lean back again as they announce the final lap and with no difficulty, as the checkered flag is waved, Yuta's Mercedes finishes first, with Geto behind him, followed by the other red bull, Mahito.

All of us rise to give the winners a standing ovation as confetti is blasted into the air and fireworks decorate the already shimmering Vegas skyline. You watch in wonder at the colors in the sky as Yuta pumps his fists up, getting out of his car and running over to his team.

"Good win, bro." Kokichi smiles at Noritoshi, who You now notice is on the verge of tears.

You see Yuta remove his helmet, but You can only make out his dark hair from this distance. You don't stop yourself from pouting at the disappointment. Why do You feel like You deserve being close to him right now. Maybe your good-luck suck off today guaranteed his win.

You see him disappear into the pavilion and ask Noritoshi if we can take a closer look at them.

"Close is not close enough to get their autographs but I can get you close enough to see their faces." Noritoshi claims and You give him a smile of gratitude.

"Geez Y/N. Did I really convert you in one race? Can't say if I'm prouder of you or myself." He jokes.

We stand for the Japanese national anthem as we cheer for the winning drivers receiving their trophies and drowning each other in champagne. Geto Suguru doesn't seem to be too keen to join into the racket, but Mahito wants to push the whole bottle down Yuta's throat. You smirk at the view. No teetotalling today?

As the crowd disperses out of the stands, we make our way through as well. You are tightly holding on to one of Miwa's and Momo's hands, each.

Noritoshi guides us through a few sections of the crowd and through a few random nooks and alleys of the arena until we reach what seems like a back gate. You see that a sizable yet dealable crowd is already standing there with Cameras and posters and shirts in hand.

"Well, this is a guarded secret, so not many know." Noritoshi winks at us. Today You are glad You became friends with his girlfriend, Momo.

We join the rows of people, but you fight your way to at least the second from start row, earning a lot of swears and some chick even trying to pull your hair.

You gaze at the gate with hope. One last look. Just to curb your excitement. It's just excitement nothing else. I'll be done after this. I'll go back to your city and drown yourself in work. None of this ever happened…. but why do You feel oddly bitter.

Is it because You realized Yuta and You are worlds apart? You are just an ordinary, honest worker - a commonality. Whereas he a star athlete, loved by the masses and with access to as many options as he wants. But what You have learnt from your past is, people can be as special or common as they want - a person who wants to find options, will always go out in search of options.

And as if to prove your point, You feel an ominous buzz in your hands right as You hear the doors open. You check your phone to see the screen flashing "Megumi Baby." right onto your face. You don't react or move; You simply glare at the screen. You are unable to breath as memories come flooding in.

Promises, nectar-soaked words, caressing your face with the deepest look of love. His bare back shining with sweat as he pounded into a girl from your workplace that YOU had introduced to him as your coworker. Him turning around, expressionless, leaving without giving you an explanation. Him telling you that you were expecting too much of him and You should have never assumed we were a thing since he was just trying new things in life.

All of it comes back to me, not particularly with ease. It washes over you like a tsunami. Completely drowns me. It's not until the incessant shouting of the crowd brings you to your senses that You snap out of your trance.

"Yuta! Yuta!" the people cheer. "Look here, please, just once. Yuta!"

You stare in horror as You spot Yuta's back getting into his matte black car. You are only able to see a small fraction of the back of his head and his white shirt.

You missed your chance.

You look back at the still ringing phone and want to smash it to bits. Fuck you, Megumi. Fuck you.

The first thing You do is cut the call and block his vile number. Then You try to scream out Yuta's name too in a futile attempt to get his attention, but You are not loud enough.

Amazing.

You start laughing to yourself now.

What was the point of this?

You recall yourself looking in the mirror at your apartment, coaching yourself to make this a pleasure trip. You would hookup with the best guy You could find, forget Megumi for good and move on with your life. So, whatare You doing now?

That guy Yuta would probably head to some lavish after party now and have a string of the prettiest girls in the world willing to suck him off. What use is it down?

The realization nearly brings you to tears. You should have never tried. You slowly retract your raised hands and sink back into the crowd, letting them continue their cheers. You turn back and slowly make your way out of the crowd and towards your friends.

"Wow, Y/N. Even Noritoshi and I didn't go that far in. You good?" Kokichi asks.

"Y/N, sweetie, you look like you're about to throw up what's wrong?" Momo asks me, cupping your face while Miwa rubs your arm.

"Megumi called…" You admit and all of them show a violent shift in expression.

"You haven't blocked that asshole yet?" Miwa asks, furious. You shake your head. "I just did."

"Y/N. You better not maintain any contact with him. He's the absolute scum of-"

"Hey, hey there miss." Suddenly our discussion is interrupted by a polite voice. We all turn around to see two men in suits and glasses standing tall and strong, waiting behind us. They look oddly familiar somehow with the waxed-up hair and somber faces. One of them has a scar near his lips and the other has his hair in a messy bun.

"Miss, are you the one who took Mr. Okkotsu out of the Four Seasons Club last night?" One of them, the bun guy, asks in a business-like fashion, pointing at me. Ah, now You remember them. The two lookers from the club last night, hiding Mr. wallflower behind their broad backs.

Scarface gets a call before You could reply though.

"Yes, Mr. Okkotsu. We're on our way. Well, we have a surprise for you." he tells Mr. Okkotsu mischievously. You narrow your eyes at the word "Surprise."

Scarface exchanges a knowing look with Bunhair and both of them cage you in.

"Would you like to see Mr. Okkotsu, again? It's not like we can force you, but he gave us specific instructions to find you and let him know."

"I didn't make him out to be a stalker you know." You say sarcastically, pondering if You should accept their offer. your friends do give you a strange look and You almost want to tell at least Noritoshi what's going on. But before You can take a call, You get a beep from your phone. This time it's a fucking EMAIL from Megumi.

Jesus, this man.

"I'm coming." You say abruptly. "I'll meet up with you guys later." You tell your friends as they give you looks of utter confusion.

"And burn this shitty device please." you say, tossing your phone towards Kokichi. "At least until I get some sort of restraining order against Megumi."

You exchange a look with Noritoshi and he knows in his heart that You will certainly get an autograph for him.

The two men take surround you as they guide you towards the waiting car. A matte black Lambo. They make sure to hide you from prying eyes, which isn't too hard with their gigantic muscular bodies.

You take a deep breath before You open the door and slide in.

Yuta and you share a good 10 seconds of absolute silence. Honestly, he looks like he's about to fracture his jaw from how wide his gaping mouth is getting. The two men climb into the front and openly laugh at his expression.

"Really, Okkotsu?" they say in unison.

"Wh-wh-wha-" He stutters.

"If you're that offended to see me, I can get out." You tease him, knowing he's going to grab your arm and make you stay. That's exactly what he does.

"Sorry, I was just surprised." He regains his composure. "Well, it's good to see you again, after last time…"

Uff, he shouldn't remind you because you wouldn't be able to control your cheeks getting flushed. There is another round of awkward silence before he decides to continue.

"Ah, right. You left your undergarments in the room last night, I thought you'd want them back so I-" before he can say anything else you slap your palm onto his lips, turning an embarrassing shade of tomato red.

"Not here, not right now!" You whisper-yell at him but his bodyguards/managers/goons/whatevers are quick to catch onto the conversation. Scarface who's driving the car gives you a perverted whistle without turning back and Bun-guy merely hums to himself, pretending to not have heard anything.

"T-Toji, that's impolite!" Yuta shouts at the scarface driver, turning red himself.

"It's not an uncommon thing with you. Aren't you creating quite a collection anyway?" The bun-guy butts in, leaving Yuta defenseless.

"Todo!" he yells at him too and slumps back into his seat, hiding his face. You study him. This was the champion race car driver an hour ago - and now he's a blushy, awkward, highly embarassing puddle.

"Collection, so you do this a lot huh?" You poke him.

"Absolutely not!" He sits up again. "Last night, I just…"

Now you're interested. Sounds like he broke a rule for you.

"Last night what?"

"Well, I just-"

"Oh my god, speak up, Okkotsu!" Toji screams from the wheel.

"Nevermind!" Yuta retorts and grabs your hands. "Are you coming to the after-party or not?"

"Well, I don't have a gown or anything…" You reply, looking down at your very non-party like clothing - a pin strip pant suit.

"Honestly…" He looks you dead in the eye. "You look so gorgeous, I don't want others to stare too much but if you want a dress, we can make a stop. I'll cover it, don't worry." He assures me, feeling a bit less awkward now.

For that compliment, he deserves to see a pretty dress on you and probably a flick to the forehead for making your heart race.

Todo seems to have a good eye for stores because the boutique he takes us to has a brilliant selection of clothes from classy to elegant to teasingly hot and even a corner for some sexy stuff.

You take some time to think and pick out a silvery satin cowl neck dress that compliments your cleavage and stops just a few inches shy of your womanhood. You also pair it will sparkly, strappy heels. You'll just have to make sure to walk properly to not expose anything… unless. When you walk out of the fitting room, you find Yuta waiting beside the billing counter, on his phone, matching your colors, in a light grey tux and black shirt-trouser set. He has combed his hair in a side part, looking rather sharp and you can smell his fresh cologne from a distance. He hears the clacking of your heels and looks up, his lips parting slightly at the sight.

For a moment when your eyes meet, everything stills, like the two of you are the only people in this room. The magnetic pull is something you have never experienced before, not even with Megumi, who you once thought was the love of your life. You walk over to him quickly, tucking your hair behind your ear and give him a twirl. "What do you think?"

"Might have to punch anyone who looks at you wrong tonight." He admits, sheepishly.

"W-What?" You mumble, looking away. Megumi could never. All he told you was to dress modestly so the men won't look. Never did he say he'd protect you. Maybe he never had the balls or talent to.

"Okay, you two get back in the car." Toji yawns at us, getting impatient or perhaps slightly weirded out by the clear tension between us.

The drive to one of Las Vegas' most affluent casino clubs was short and silent. You weren't really mentally prepared to see celebrities and big shots, partying away.

"This will be the best night of your life, I promise." Yuta assures you, intertwining his fingers with yours. You let him only because it calms your nerves. There are a few questions you need answers to though.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask and see Yuta's brow furrow.

"Are you uncomfortable or anything? You can't tell me-"

"It's not that... it's just..." you start. "It really doesn't make sense."

"I am not the most spectacular lay in the world." you admit. "I'm sure you have the world's most exquisite looking women dying to get time with you. I just don't see how being with me can benefit you."

You notice yourself putting yourself down and try to stop but your self-esteem is at an all-time low. That was one of the prime reasons you didn't want to meet up again with anyone you hooked up with during this trip. You wanted to leave feeling all parties involved had the best time of their lives and had no complaints.

Maybe lust got the better of Yuta and he'd come to his senses any minute.

"I think I liked the fact that you had no idea who I was..." He says and you raise your brows.

"I'm sorry I was unaware-"

"Nope, it's a good thing... I felt like I could just be the party loser, Yuta, for once... not a papped, scrutinized driver, Yuta. It felt oddly liberating." He admits.

"Plus, I-" He starts but swallows his words. "Do you remember what we talked about on the way to the hotel?"

You were not paying too much attention back then, being bowled over by the need to fuck someone, but... what did you say?

"Kids, we're here. Catch up later." Todo lets you two know, looking back. Before you could get off though, Yuta leans over.

"Are you going to tell me your name now or not?" He says. The shadows must be playing tricks on your eyes because in the dark, illuminated by paparazzi flashes you find your heart drumming inside your chest, unable to break eye contact.

"Y-Y/N. My name's Y/N." You say finally.

Yuta smiles wide at this and grabs one of your hands, opening the door to his flashy car and the light, noise and cheers hit you all at once.

He helps you get out suddenly, facing a sea of stunned yet curious people, you find yourself wanting to cry from embarrassment.

Oh no. no no no no no! What were they going to print about you now? What will you tell the managing director at your company about this PR scandal?

"Relax." Yuta holds your hand firmly. "I'll make sure only the news you want gets out." He reassures you, find your fingers again, locking them into his and you feel slightly better as you guys make our way to the inside, walking the red carpet.

The casino obviously is so maximalist, it hurts your eyes to say the least. There are people dressed in grandeur lining up at food tables, cigar tables and alcohol tables. There are some playing a few rounds of poker or gambling away at the machines. You are unable to focus on any one spot because all of it is so grandiose, you can't help but gawk at everything!

When people spot the two of you though, they quickly make their way over. Yuta is today's champion after all - this party is for him. They have a lot of good things to say to him - words of admiration, congratulations, words of passive aggressive envy but what all of them have in common is the looks of confusion or judgement they throw at you. One side-eye with a raised brow and they excuse themselves. Sure, no sparkly dress can make you look like one of them, but you had no idea 'big'-shots had the smallest sense of morals and social etiquette. Yuta introduces you as a 'good friend' to them and although it stings at first, this is a necessary step. It's what you would want and would cause the least amount of headache for the both of you. You aren't really friends or aren't really dating after all.

'One time Hookup-ers' isn't exactly a PR friendly term.

"Sorry about them. Most of them lack manners." Yuta says nervously but you reassure him that nothing they say can dent your self-image.

"No amount of looks they give me can change the fact that I'm not drowning in daddy's money, but my own." You smirk at him, leaving him impressed.

The two of you go through a few more people until you finally get to retire to a corner table of the giant ball room.

"How do you do this?" you ask, staring up at the magnificent chandelier crowning the hall.

"Well the boys never stay back for these kinds of things, we run off to different parts of the city to get wasted." He replies. "Just not before race night." You look at him with some mischief tingling behind your smile. He takes this chance to lean in closer and bump noses with you.

"And you thought I was inexperienced, didn't you?"

"So that's how you aren't a virgin...hmm, adventurous."

But Yuta shakes his head. "I've dated before. We ended things and I'm just beginning to explore my options now..."

"You must be spoilt for choice." You try to boost his ego, smiling wider as you feel his breath fan your face. Oh, how you could use a kiss right now. A kiss with everyone watching.

"I'm not spoilt for good choices." He says. "Having a choice doesn't always mean they're the best option for you." Damn, that's harsh. You cup his cheek in your hand and gaze into his dark blue eyes.

"And yet you gave me a chance-"

Before you can finish though, you hear a pair of boots slapping the ground while running in your direction.

"Okkotsu Yuta, you were supposed to give me the post-race comments. The media is waiting!" You hear a woman yell out as she approaches the two of you. She is dressed in a simple yet elegant navy-blue ensemble. Her eyes look disappointed, but her beautiful face, with its under-lip mole, maintains its poise. Yuta greets her with a sigh.

"I will, I will." He tells her. "Rika, let me off for today at least."

"No can do, Yuta." she shakes her head, getting her phone out.

"You can give me a few phrases and I'll piece together something coherent." she offers but Yuta doesn't want to hear it.

"Um, kind of in the middle of something?" He reminds her, circling his arm around your back.

The woman, Rika, gives you a pointed look. "You get one of those every other week. This is important business Yuta."

What does she mean those? You slightly free yourself from Yuta's embrace and look at him, confused. He looks as unaware as you are.

"Rika, you-"

"Yuta, you should stop toying with chicks. New one every few days. And when they want to get serious with you, I have to deal with all those calls and messages." Rika rants on and Yuta's eyes are getting wider by the minute.

For a second, you feel an empty pit in your stomach but before it can show on your face, you stand up.

"So that's how it is, huh?" you corner Yuta who looks aghast.

"Why am I even surprised?" you mutter, walking away from them. You remember Megumi's deadpan face as he walked out after you caught him and his mistress together. Yuta will be the same.

You reach for the balcony door to get some fresh air, but you feel your elbow being grabbed. It's Yuta. Huffing and very worried.

"W-wait, Y/N." He pleads.

You choose to keep your face neutral.

"It's fine. it's not like we were dating. Maybe, tell that woman to be mindful about her language though because the next time she addresses me as if I'm some object, I'll punch her." That threat, You are very serious about. This was a bad idea after all. You don't belong in the world of racecars, and parties and high-profile vips. You are happy with your computer and 3 cups of americanos, building prolific, useful software, from your cramped up office.

"Listen, Y/N... She was lying!" He tries to reason, and you take a look at him. You mentally give him thirty seconds to explain himself. He takes the cue and wastes no time.

"She's the one I dated. She has been my manager for a long time, and it has been some time since we split. I thought she had moved on since I saw her with another driver a while back but looks like she's still bitter." He explains frantically. But who he has dated isn't even your concern.

"I don't want to deal with fragments of your past, especially ex-flames, Yuta." you say bluntly. "I'm sorry, I have to leave now. Goodbye. Thanks for the evening."

You free yourself from Yuta's clutches, stifling a sob and heading towards the exit. You may have been seeing things, but you see a fluff of white follow you out from the corner of your eyes. It wasn't Yuta though.

Why did you care? It shouldn't matter.

No amount of love could bring people a universe apart, after all.

To be continued....READ PART 3 HERE!!

a/n: Okay there is practically no smut here but the plot needs some build up. Part 3 gonna be out soon and it's going to have a lot of smut, stay tuned guys!

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rottngdeer · 15 days ago

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Heyy🥹 I have a request for NBC Hannibal, a bit weird one LOLOL, so embrace

This idea has been on my mind for ages but I suck ass at writing, so... erm. Anyway,

Could you write about a patient (transmale/male preferably 🙏) with a fascination with blood? Like, at one point in a session where he admits that it's kind of a fetish to him, and upon seeing Hannibal's reaction, he takes it as an invite and slits his wrist in with a box knife in front of him, kinda like relishing in the act if you get me, like obviously he'd still be reacting to the pain, but more with arousal... Could you make it NSFW if you feel comfortable? I'd like to see a sub, masochistic patient x Hannibal ugh

sorry for how late this is :’)

Pairings || Hannibal Lecter x Trans!Male!Reader

Contents/Warnings || Self harm, blood kink, masochism, sadism, rough sex, choking. 18+ overall.

You had been seeing Hannibal for a few months now, and it had been going better than you had hoped. You were able to open up about your identity a trans and gay man, and about your relationship with your parents and other personal details you wouldn’t share with even some of your friends.

One session you opened up about something you definitely hadn’t told many other people about- your fascination with blood. It had all started from a young age, always being interested your veins and the red that gushed out. You had several self inflicted injuries that scarred your body, but if anyone ever asked, you wrote them off as accidents from being in the kitchen or falling when you were younger. An excuse you could come up with. No one ever really questioned you further. It was a fascination that eventually turned into a rush for you— and not an appropriate one. Whenever you got a cut or bruise you felt yourself getting hot and bothered. As you got older you learned what masochism meant, and you knew that you were definitely a masochist. You went through a few boyfriends, getting off on being degraded and cut during sex, but the relationships never lasted. Or, they never wanted to engage with the things you asked them to do, and you weren’t pushy, but also weren’t very satisfied.

You didn’t make eye contact with Hannibal in the beginning of your explanation, nervous to see what his reaction would be. Once you glanced at him midway through, you noticed his expression. His mouth was closed and still, but his eyes were a bit wider than usual, full of both curiosity and… lust? He shifted, crossing one leg over the other ever so elegantly.

When you finished your explanation, Hannibal leaned forward a bit in his chair, taking a few moments, which felt like hours, to respond.

“You and I are quite similar, on the opposite spectrum of such a world,” He finally spoke, his reply surprising you. Your psychiatrist, a sadist? You hoped he wasn’t just saying that to make you feel better about yourself, but the stare-down between the two of you was growing intense, a heavy silence filling the room. Your eyes landed on his desk, noticing a box cutter next to an opened package. You stood from your chair, your steps feeling slower than they were as you approached his desk, picking up the box cutter and sliding the blade out. Hannibal didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes burning a hole through you. You turned to him, briefly making eye contact before rolling up your sleeve, exposing your wrist to him before you place the blade on top. Hannibal rose from his chair, not to stop you, but to watch closer, making deliberate and slow steps toward you.

You pause for a moment before sliding the blade across your wrist vertically, certainly deep enough to leave a permanent reminder. Your fist clenched in reflex, blood beginning to seep out of the newly formed wound. It felt amazing to be doing this in front of someone, having someone watch you as you hurt yourself, you face flushing red as you let out a shaky breath, your body growing warm. Hannibal surprises you by suddenly grabbing your arm just above the wound, pulling it towards him. He leans down slightly, keeping eye contact with you as he licks the open wound, his tongue staining red and making the cut sting from his salvia.

You barely had a chance to react before his lips pressed onto yours, and the taste of your own blood filled your mouth. He was quick to dominating you, pushing you against his desk hard, causing you to fall into it on your back. You were taken off guard, but you stayed on your back on the desk as he undid his belt, sliding it off with ease. Still, not a word had been spoken in these passing minutes until he said, “On your stomach.”

You obediently flipped over, bending over his desk, keeping yourself up on your elbows as you looked over your shoulder at him. He pressed up against your backside, straightening out his belt before wrapping it around your neck, loosely buckling it and giving it a tug, making you squeak in suprise.

“Quiet,” Hannibal commands, tugging the belt again as his other hand moves to your pants and underwear, pushing them down to pool around your ankles. He takes the box cutter from you, pressing it against your middle back before gently scraping it down your spine, giving you goosebumps. He moves the box cutter to your hip before digging it in, dragging it deeply for about an inch, relishing in the pained groan you let out. He sets it down on the desk for a moment to unzip his pants, pulling himself out and giving himself a few lazy strokes before aligning himself with you. His grip on the belt tightened, pulling on it tighter and further restricting your airflow.

He pushed into you in one swift motion with a grunt, and you only managed to let out a gargled hiss, feeling him begin to move inside of you, setting a fast pace. You close your eyes, your hands balling into fists as he pumps into you. Hannibal picked up the box cutter again, and you felt your shirt being pushed up before the sharp blade slid across your skin, breaking your skin. You can barely keep track of how many cuts he left along your back, and every strained groan and whimper from you only made him speed up further. You felt the blood trickling down your back as Hannibal tosses the box cutter down, his fingers gathering up some of you blood before licking them off of his fingers, his grip on his belt tightening.

He speeds up as your groans become more and more frequent, your back arching, only adding to the sting of the fresh cuts. You manage to let out a choked cry as you came, the accumulation of the rough pace, belt, and cuts giving you one of the most intense releases you’ve ever experienced. Hannibal was all too pleased with himself, his pace unwavering for another minute until he spilled inside of you with a huff. He eventually came to a stop, his breathing ragged. He lets go of the belt, giving you a chance to take a deep breath, knowing you’d have a bruise along your next. You feel his fingers run along the cuts he made, which were now dark and drying up.

Hannibal gently taps your bottom, looking down at you, “Lets go get you cleaned up, hm?”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #mads mikkelsen #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x y/n #hannibal x you #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x reader smut #hannibal smut #nbc hannibal

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g1rld1ary · 8 months ago

Note

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

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You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

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aliamor · 5 months ago

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OMGGGG I have an ideaaaaa! <33

Okay so boom, CaseOh and his girlfriend (or just another streamer) doing the hardcore Minecraft challenge together!!

Caseoh is so sweet so he'll make sure that she has food and armor!!!!

As a plus (projecting myself here lolol), she loves the color pink so she was the one who saw the pretty cherry trees and thought of the Cherry Blossom Base!! 🥹🥹🌸

(also, watching CaseOh play Minecraft with Jynxzi and Sketch was a hard watch only because they didn't really know how to play😭... so I want her to have good knowledge of it)

Please if you could do this that would be so awesome!! <3

Thank you so much and I hope you have a good day! :) 🌸

Oooo i like thiss, i got you :)

Bro that stream with jynx and sketch had him STRESSED😭

Streaming minecraft with case was interesting but also made your heart swell. Case was always in the mines grinding for iron, coal, you name it. But as soon as he had what made him happy, he would suface back to you and smelt whatever needed to be.

As soon as the iron was good, he made full set of armor and dropped them to you and they filled four of your inventory slots.

“Case, you dont have too, you should be using this armor not me” you speak to him through your mic.

“Im making another set for me dont worry, i gotta make sure your safe well im off at seas” he would joke to you.

But not only did he stop with that, he would always check if you had enough food or what your hunger was looking like.

“baby, you got enough food?”

Or “hows your hungry? Whatchu at?”

“Partly hungry, im good but thank you”

Every so often as you guys adventure around the minecraft world he would drop fish into you inventory. As you explore, you had one biome in mind, its wood is what you wanted to use as your house and the color was just a fan favorite,

The Cherry Blossom biome.

Which felt like hours but really was max of 15 min before the pink leafs in the distance fills the next country mile of your screen. Of course case had no problem having his base being made out of blossom wood, he more of the fact liked it more than you did.

You got the structure down and farmed sand, wood, carpeting/ different materials for your flooring, beds, chest, all that good stuff to make it home. You both even went out and collected animals to have a farm.

Mwah,

This is like the one idea I actually went in writinh mode about, i just felt like i had too. Ill probably do this more often with some of the ideas. Lemme know if you like it or not, your thoughts are good to know so ill know how to make your ideas the best way possible for you to enjoy 🤍

#caseohxreader #caseoh fanfic #caseoh x reader #sfw

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simphornies · 9 months ago

Note

I saw you drop a request in my askbox and bsksksjakdhkshd I love it- so imma drop an idea in yours too and what you do with it is up to you lolol

So what about Vox and a drunk fem!reader? Like they were kinda just chilling but Reader has one stupidly large crush on the TV man but is too shy to say anything- but it all comes out on a drunken spiel at some point?

Anyway have funnnn :D

A/N: SORRY FOR BEING INACTIVE. I got burnt out </3 But I hope you guys enjoy!

Word count: 1.2k (1,258) Contents: no mention of y/n, alcohol consumption, valentino being valentino

Drunk Confession [ Vox x F!Reader ]

After an extremely productive day, Vox decided to take out the employees that went above and beyond for their quotas, per your request. It took a lot of begging to convince the Vees to come along but Velvette denied, saying she didn’t want to hang around “lower class” demons. Vox agreed after you begged and pleaded repeatedly. Mainly just to get you to stop talking.

Everyone met up at the “Consent” club Valentino suggested. You show up, excited to have a day off and hang out with Val and Vox. One thing led to another and you got caught up in a drinking game with the employees. Vox watched you down shots after shots. Fifteen shots in and you were drunk out of your mind. You became a giggling, flushed, and drunken mess. You stumble over to Vox, draping your arm lazily over his shoulder.

“Hey, Vox!” Your words slurred as you spoke, a strong smell of alcohol emanating off of you. You give him a wide smile, “I’m so glad you came tonight. Made me really happy.”

Vox let out a chuckle, “I think you’re done for the night.” He says, glancing at his watch, “Let me take you home.”

You whined and pouted, “I don’t wanna.” As you tried to get up off of him, you stumbled over your own foot and fell. Vox caught you in time before you hit the ground and hurt yourself, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’re definitely done.” He puts your arm around his neck and supports you. He turns to look at Valentino, “I’m gonna take her home. We’re done for tonight.”

Valentino smirked at Vox, “Don’t have too much fun, Voxy~” He teased.

Vox scowled in response, “Shut the fuck up. It’s not like that.”

Valentino laughs, “I’m just saying! But! if you do anything else…Record it for me.”

He grimaced at the comment. Who knows what Valentino would do with footage of you and him sleeping together? He stopped his own thoughts before he started to imagine it. “Gross! No.” Vox scoffed and walked out with you to his car. You were laughing at anything and everything throughout the whole car ride, pointing at every little light that interested you. Vox quietly admired this different side of you. You were always shy and professional around him, but this was new to him. He’d never seen you so open. He honestly liked it better than the front you’d put up at work.

You reach for the doorknob and miss it multiple times. “I can’t fuckin’ open it.” You whined, “Stupid door…Vox can ya open it f’me, please?” He sighed at your question and opened the door to which you wobbled over to your couch, nearly missing and landing on the floor. “Thankssss~” You look at him as he stands in your doorway. His arms were crossed and he was watching you with interest in his eyes.

Vox hasn’t seen you this wasted before, honestly it was entertaining to him. Usually you’d have a little bit of your wits but you just laid on your couch, giggling uncontrollably at him. He didn’t know if you would be okay to be left alone right now so he, reluctantly, shut your front door behind him.

“Why are you so giggly, right now?” He said as he walked towards you, joining you on the couch. You took this opportunity to stretch enough for you to have your head on his lap.

Your giggles didn’t cease unless you needed to catch your breath. You reach up and touch his screen, tracing the borders of his face with your fingers. “Because you’re sooooo cute~” You answered, “I looove being around ya all the time.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling your hands off of his face. He brushed away your compliments, writing them off as drunk talk. “You need to go drink some, I don’t know, water or something. And go to bed.”

You pout and whine, “I meannn it! I love workin’ with youuu.” You poked his screen.

“Yeah? But don’t you complain about work, which includes me, all the time?” He replied, crossing his arms. He didn’t want to admit to you that he liked your company and your help. Probably because you weren’t going to remember it anyways.

“Pfff-” You scoffed, “Youuuu…are what I look forward to~ I like you.”

Vox stared at you in silence. He heard what you said but he didn’t know if you were being honest or just drunk. His fans kicked up and his screen started to warm up. “W-Well…” He cleared his throat, attempting to stop himself from stuttering due to the curveball you just threw at him, “I like you too. You’re a good employee, you’re perfect in your work and hardly make any mistakes.”

You laughed at him, “Silly TV demon man~” You placed your hand on his screen, “I like like you~” As soon as you confessed, he warmed up even more under your touch. You giggled at this, “You’re hot.”

Vox became a flustered mess. You were just shooting curveballs at him at this point. He fiddled with his collar in an attempt to cool himself down before he crashed. He enjoyed your company and grew to like you over time. He didn’t really understand his own feelings until Velvette had to tell him, calling him oblivious for not realizing and an idiot for not understanding his own feelings. He managed to compose himself the best he could but his voice cracked as he spoke, “You need to go to bed.”

Your smile faded into a pout. You squint at him and cross your arms, “No! I dun’ wanna.”

“I’m not asking you to go to bed, you’re going to go to bed. You’re drunk.”

You sit up and scoff, waving your hand as if you were swatting his ridiculous statement away. “Who’s drunk?” You get up, walk around the couch just to end up on the floor.

He got up to look at where you fell, “You. Come on, let’s go.” He walked over to you, laughing a bit as you whined, lifting you up into his arms to take you to your room. He sets you down and begins to take your shoes and jewelry off. “You’re not doing any more drinking games after this.” He tucked you in but you were fighting the sleep that slowly crept up on you.

“I’m not even tired.” You say just to be proven wrong by your own body as a yawn comes after your statement.

“You worked and drank enough. Go to bed and get some rest. You deserve it.” His voice was softer this time. He shifts to leave but you grab him by his sleeve.

“Stay until I fall asleep?” You asked. He was internally screaming and malfunctioning but you were too drunk to notice. He simply nods and sits on the bed next to you, holding your hand until you eventually dozed off. He gives your knuckles a gentle kiss and smiles.

“Sleep well.” He leaves a bottle of water and some medicine in case you get a hangover the next day on your bedside table.

You wake up the next day to a single text from Vox.

VOX: We need to talk about last night. Meet me in the security room when you’re not hungover

You suddenly don’t feel your pounding headache as soon as the words register in your mind. You don’t remember anything after your 6th shot.

Me: what happened? VOX: :)

“I’m never fucking drinking ever again.”

Taglist: @froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox

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xomakara · 1 year ago

Text

Inked By You

SUMMARY | You're best friends with Johnny and have had feelings for him for awhile. You think he's only attracted to you because of your tattoos but it's so much more. PAIRINGS | Johnny/Fem!Reader GENRE | non-idol au, college au, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, fluff towards the end RATING | Mature LENGTH | 10,114 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | This turned out longer than I expected LOL. So in this one, all the members I mentioned are the same age lolol. I hope it makes sense. Does it make sense?? I feel like my writing style has been wonky lately.

“Those are real, aren’t they?” Johnny asked you as he leaned against your bedroom wall. Taeyong and Yuta were lounging on your bed before joining the party that was going on in your living room. Johnny was looking at the various tattoos that were on your left arm.

You and Johnny have been best friends since your freshman year of college. Although you both have very different personalities and interests, there was one thing that kept you close together: partying. It's your last year of college and despite all the stress from studying and taking exams, you still got together every now and again to do what you all did best.

Drink, dance, and make memories.

Johnny is wearing a silk button-down shirt and black slacks. And then there was you in a tight mini skirt and a one-shouldered top that accentuated your figure and showed off your tattoo sleeve.

You looked good.

Even though it wasn’t what most people would consider a typical Friday night out, you, Johnny and other mutual friends seemed happy enough as you stood in front of the mirror checking out each other.

That was until you caught Johnny staring at your body with an expression that suggested he wanted more than just a quick look. The silence between you both grew awkward and uncomfortable until you finally broke it by saying, “What? Are my tits distracting you or something?”

He snapped out of his trance with a surprised look on his face, causing you to smile. He quickly apologized for staring, but said that he was genuinely interested in your ink. You nodded in response, knowing exactly what he meant by that. There was no denying the amount of attention you always got when wearing a low-cut top or a revealing dress. Your tattoo sleeve was another story though. People either loved them or hated them.

Despite the interest from many men, you never really considered getting any more tattoos after you finished your sleeves because, frankly, your current ones turned heads even if you wore a burlap sack. It wasn't uncommon for you to get double takes from people you knew as well as complete strangers when walking around town. On top of that, you didn't want to mess up the awesome artwork that had already been drawn onto your skin. Your current sleeves represented some of your favorite memories, which you didn't ever want to lose. So while others spent thousands of dollars on inked bodies, you got yourself beautiful pieces of art that couldn't be taken away.

Still, you couldn't help but notice how excited Johnny appeared whenever he saw you in your sexy outfits. As far as you could tell, he never missed an opportunity to stare at your tattoos, or check you out whenever you walked by him. Sometimes you would catch him ogling you in such a way that you felt like he wanted to rip off your clothes right there in public. Of course, there was no way he'd actually do anything like that. He wasn't that kind of guy.

Besides, you knew for a fact that he had a girlfriend who also attended the same college as you. They had been dating for about a few months, so she was obviously important to him. Still, whenever he caught you wearing something tight or sexy, he couldn't help but show off those sinful eyes of his.

With everyone gathered in yours and Ten's living room, you tried to ignore the eye candy standing across from you as you and your friends continued to talk about meaningless things, like where you should go for dinner later tonight. You weren't even sure why you brought it up. Maybe you were bored, maybe you were drunk, or maybe you just needed something to keep your mind occupied. But whatever the reason, somehow the conversation ended up on the topic of sexual partners. When it comes to sexual encounters, your friends tend to live by the motto: if you haven't had sex with anyone, then you're not having fun.

You hadn't given much thought to that phrase until Jaehyun wiggled his eyebrows at you. "We all know that Y/N has fun doesn't she?"

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. "I've been told I have a knack for keeping people entertained."

"She can entertain me anytime!" Ten shouted. "Have you seen her ass in that red dress she wears?"

You couldn't help but laugh. That comment got everybody else laughing too.

"Anyways," You muttered before clearing your throat and turning towards Taeyong, "How many women have you slept with?"

Taeyong glanced over at Yuta and grinned, "Four, but it's probably more. Do you need me to give you a count?"

Ten let out a small laugh before replying, "Four isn't bad. Don't think I'll ever get that high, although the number would probably increase if Yuta would stop trying to fuck everything that moves. Especially anything that moves."

You burst out laughing, followed by Yuta who laughed even harder. Eventually Ten joined in, as did Jaehyun, and everyone else that was listening.

“But back to the question at hand,” Taeyong spoke up once he was able to calm down. He looked over at you, “how many men have you slept with?”

Johnny grabbed a bottle of beer from the kitchen counter and took a swig of it. He looked at you curiously.

"Well...if we include Jaehyun, Doyoung, Mark, Hendery and Renjun..." You counted, the men you called out looking at you for a brief moment before going back to whatever they were doing. "Five. But hey, who's counting? Sex is sex."

That answer seemed to satisfy Johnny, although he continued to watch you carefully. You noticed that he was taking an interest in your tattoos again. You shrugged it off as you and your friends continued talking, however your heart began to beat faster when you realized that he was no longer looking at your tattoos. His eyes were locked on yours.

"Hey guys,” Jungwoo called out to the rest of your group, waving a hand in front of their faces. “Who wants to get more beer and food with me?"

Thank you Jungwoo, for your timely interruption. You weren't sure how long you could last with Johnny staring at you. In fact, your knees started to feel a little weak when he cleared his throat to gain your attention. It was almost like he was daring you to say something. Something inappropriate, to be exact. But you had to be strong. After all, he was with his girlfriend.

"Uh, yeah," You replied, forcing a smile onto your face. “Let's go get some food and drinks."

You turned around, ready to follow Jungwoo into the kitchen. You paused for a second to take one last look at Johnny, and saw him watching you intently. You smiled sheepishly before stepping inside the kitchen to join your friends.

You turned around to see Johnny coming towards you. He didn't speak for a minute, so you waited patiently. "So, have you had fun yet?"

Your brows furrowed. You expected him to ask you if you were enjoying yourself. Instead he was asking you a completely different question. You wondered what this was all about, so you replied, "Of course I'm having fun! Why wouldn't I be?"

Before he could respond, Xiaojun called out. "Yo, Johnny! Jieun is here."

Fuck. Johnny's girlfriend.

You sighed inwardly as you watched him walk away with Xiaojun to greet her. If only he wasn't dating someone you actually knew. Then maybe he'd pay you the proper amount of attention.

Oh well. No use thinking about it.

You shook your head and focused on your friends. You hadn't seen them in awhile, so you welcomed the chance to hang out with them again. Plus, the alcohol helped to loosen your tongue, which allowed you to ask some of the questions you had been wondering about for quite some time.

"So, guys," you said, pouring some vodka into a glass. "Is it true that Renjun hooked up with someone last week?"

Renjun choked on his beer. You covered your mouth to hide your laughter. Kun let out a loud groan. Haechan let out a loud chuckle. Even Taeyong chuckled quietly.

You couldn't believe that they were being so open with you. It was like you were part of the group, and you liked it. You weren't sure if they realized that, but you were grateful nonetheless.

As soon as you saw Renjun regaining his composure, you spoke up again. "So, how many girls have you banged so far?"

Mark snorted. "Including you? Like eight or nine."

Kun guffawed. "More like twenty."

A shocked expression formed on your face. It was funny to hear their numbers compared to yours, but even funnier was hearing their reactions. Their reactions made you realize just how ridiculous their answers were. For example, Kun's claim that he had fucked more than twenty women in his lifetime was preposterous. However, you didn't dare bring it up.

Renjun shrugged. "I dunno. A lot."

Mark nodded. "At least ten."

Jungwoo scoffed. "No fucking way. Five tops."

"Bet none of those girls were as good as Y/N." Jaehyun reminded them, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes as he continued to talk. "And to everyone at this party that had sex with her, admit that she was good."

"I admit, I'm a good fuck." You shrugged, a small smirk on your lips. You nudged Jaehyun's shoulder. "Now shut up."

You all stared at each other for a minute before bursting out laughing. The alcohol was definitely starting to hit you hard, making you forget all about Johnny and his girlfriend. All that mattered was that you were surrounded by friends, having a good time, and drinking.

It wasn't long before Ten, Mark, Kun, Haechan, Taeyong and you were sitting on the floor, passing around beers and shots as you waited for Jungwoo and Yuta to return with the food. And even though you were tipsy, you managed to hold your liquor fairly well. Until you drank the tequila shot you took right before going to get more drinks.

“So, Y/N.” Haechan drawled out, looking at you intently. You glanced at the tequila in your hands, your vision getting hazy. How much have you actually drunk so far?

“What?” you asked, shrugging. “What are you talking about?”

Haechan frowned. "You okay? You look wasted."

"Yeah, you look wasted Y/N." Taeyong said, as he put his drink down.

Your vision was getting worse. You felt dizzy. Your body was hot, then cold, then hot again. Fuck, you were going to pass out if you kept this up. You reached for the bottle of water next to you, holding it tightly against your chest. You closed your eyes for a second, concentrating on slowing your breathing. You managed to slow it down a bit, but you still felt lightheaded. Before you knew it, your vision blurred again. When you opened your eyes, you found everyone staring at you. Except for Taeyong. He was standing in front of you, looking very concerned.

"Taeyong." You whispered, unable to form any words. He held out his arms, inviting you to step into them.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed." He said gently.

"Y/N." Johnny stepped forward, his face showing concern. His girlfriend laid a hand on his arm, suggesting that he stay put. "Are you okay?"

You nodded and stumbled, reaching for the couch, only to find it further away than you remembered. Without thinking, you leaned against Haechan instead. As you dozed off, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"Johnny, what's wrong?" The pretty girl next to him muttered. "Is everything alright?"

Johnny watched from the corner of his eyes as his friends helped Y/N up from her drunken stupor. Was she okay? "It's nothing, Jieun."

"I hope she's alright." Jieun muttered, arms still clinging to him. "She seems so drunk."

"Don't worry about her, babe." Johnny assured her. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."

"Why are you always protecting her?" Jieun released a soft sigh.

"Because she's special to me." Johnny answered simply.

He gave her a small smile before turning his attention back to his friends. He really missed the opportunity to spend time with his friends and Y/N.

He sighed. Of course he missed her. Even though he hadn't been able to spend much time with her lately, whenever they were together, they always had fun. She was kind and caring. Whenever they hung out, he felt a sense of comfort wash over him. It wasn't until tonight that he realized how lucky he was to have her in his life.

In the beginning, it was all easy. They met at a party thrown by their classmates. Since Johnny had recently moved to Seoul, most of his friends struggled to communicate with him. So when his friend Jaehyun told him about the event being held by another foreign exchange student, he figured that it would be a good chance to meet new people. Little did he know that meeting Y/N would change his life forever.

They hit it off instantly, flirting shamelessly. They had no problem joking around and teasing each other. At first, it had been innocent, simple conversations, whether it was about the weather or their favorite movies. They stayed as friends since Y/N was currently in a relationship, but every once in a while, they still got together to hang out. On those occasions, they spent their time watching movies, going to karaoke bars, eating out, and shopping. They had mutual friends who always seemed to drag them along to the hottest clubs and parties.

Those times together were always memorable. He remembered the time when he helped Ten and Y/N find an apartment together since they were going to be roommates. There were nights where Y/N had gotten sick from drinking too much, falling asleep on Johnny's chest. Or times when he found himself helplessly straddling Y/N as they snuck into his apartment. He never questioned the level of their intimacy; after all, Y/N was a beautiful, smart, and sweet girl. In return, Johnny was respectful of her relationships with other men.

But the thought of Y/N with anyone else made him physically ill.

For several months, things continued this way. Eventually, they both became more serious with their respective partners. When that happened, they had trouble finding time to see each other. The good news was that they'd grown closer, becoming each other's best friends. During those moments when they saw each other, they'd always make sure to give the other person plenty of affection. It was obvious that neither one of them wanted to lose their friendship. Still, it was difficult not to get hurt every now and again.

Johnny would often ask himself why he didn't act sooner.

What stopped him from telling Y/N how he truly felt? He knew that he was attracted to her, especially after seeing how they interacted together. She made him laugh, genuinely enjoying his humor. It was impossible not to notice how sexy she looked when she was laughing at his jokes. Plus, she smelled amazing. When he breathed in her scent, it reminded him of chocolate. Or strawberry ice cream. Something sweet and fruity that melted his heart every time he inhaled it. But still, he kept his feelings bottled up inside.

Today was no exception.

Seeing Y/N dress in that mini skirt and that top that accentuated her figure, he had to try hard to stop himself from kissing her senseless. Heck, he knew she had tattoos but at the time, there were only a few. Now she had a whole sleeve of them. All over her left arm. Most of them seemed quite intricate and detailed, depicting nature scenes, symbols, even people. She had an incredible eye for detail and, based on her art, Johnny guessed that she had a lot of patience. It was one of the many reasons why he loved hanging out with her. They could talk for hours, even if they had absolutely nothing in common. There was always an instant connection between them, almost as if they were two halves of a whole.

Johnny glanced over at Jieun, his current girlfriend.

No.

Just the girl that he’s currently just sleeping with.

Jieun was pretty, don't get him wrong. She had short hair and bright brown eyes, delicate features and a slender frame. But when compared to Y/N, she didn't stand a chance. Compared to her, Y/N seemed like a goddess. Y/N was tall, slender, toned in all the right places. She was tan, and had long, black hair that she often ran her fingers through. Not only did she possess all of the qualities that Johnny desired, but she also had a personality that stole his heart. For years, he had been silently pining for her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't deny the fact that she was perfect for him.

But no matter how much he liked Jieun, he could never forget Y/N. The truth was that Y/N was just so different from everyone else. She never hesitated to show her true self, whatever that meant. Whether she was crying over a sad movie or dancing ecstatically at a club, he knew that she wouldn't lie to him or hold anything back. Her honesty made her extremely endearing. She was funny and carefree, and unlike some girls, she had a positive outlook on life. If it wasn't for Y/N, Johnny doubted that he would've made it through all the crap he went through during college.

No doubt, Johnny had fallen for her. But he refused to act on those feelings. To do so would be unfair to Jieun, despite them not really dating. More importantly, Y/N deserved someone better than him. Someone who actually appreciated her beauty and unique traits. She deserved someone who loved her unconditionally and showed it in every aspect of their relationship.

Johnny watched as Jieun struck up a conversation with the other party-goers. His attention went back to Y/N and how drunk she looked earlier. He wished that he could've done something to prevent her from embarrassing herself. Y/N was the last person he wanted to hurt.

The next thing you remember was waking up on the couch, your head resting on someone’s lap. Haechan was still sleeping soundly, and so were all of your friends except for Yuta. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Everyone looked so peaceful.

"Ugh, my head." You moaned as you sat up. "This hangover is going to kill me."

"Can I get you anything?" Ten asked, coming out of his bedroom. He looked around the living room, noticing that the people who didn't make it home last night, were all passed out on the floor or on the couch.

You rubbed your forehead, getting up and padding towards the kitchen. “Coffee, please.”

He handed you the mug and a pack of Advil. "Are you feeling better?"

"Just peachy." You replied sarcastically. "Not at all.”

Ten laughed. "Don't worry, you'll feel better tomorrow."

As soon as he walked back into the living room to wake everyone up, you finished your mug of coffee and padded into your bedroom to freshen up. You went through your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. You needed to dress casual, since you planned on spending most of the day lounging around the house, drinking coffee and playing games. Unfortunately, you couldn't decide between wearing sweatpants or shorts. Finally, after much deliberation, you chose to pair leggings with a gray tank top. Once you were done, you wandered back into the living room to wait for everyone else to wake up.

You didn't need to wait too long. Before you knew it, Taeyong and Renjun joined you at the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Mark rubbed at his eyes, sitting up from the couch, Haechan stirred next to him.

“Where did you two sleep?” You asked Taeyong and Renjun, curious.

Taeyong gave you a pointed look. “Like on the floor. At least Yuta was against the wall.”

You grinned. "I'm surprised no one took over my bed."

"I'm surprised no one put you to bed," Yuta muttered as he joined the group.

"Haechan was hogging her on the couch." Mark sleepily muttered.

"I was going to help her to her room but then I got sleepy and she was sleepy," Haechan yawned. "So we both passed out on the couch."

"Who didn't go home last night?" You asked Ten .

"Mark, Haechan, Renjun, Taeyong, and Yuta." Taeil replied. "Oh. Kun passed out on my bedroom floor."

“Haha. Let's go get breakfast once they wake up. What should we do today?” You asked the group of hungover men.

“Eat breakfast. Drink more coffee. Play video games. Whatever you want.” Kun shrugged, coming from Ten's bedroom. He stretched and yawned loudly. “Today is a free day. We can do whatever you want."

“Okay, sounds good. Can I shower first?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“Of course. Don't take too long. We're waiting.” Taeyong smirked.

“Whatever.” You replied. You slowly trudged upstairs to your bedroom. Once you were inside, you stripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor. You slid under the warm spray of water and scrubbed your hair vigorously. Soon, you stepped out of the shower, toweling off your hair and wrapping the towel around your body. Then you pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and an old, faded red t-shirt. Once you were ready, you padded downstairs to grab your purse and keys.

Once you returned to the living room, you found everyone waiting for you. They all sat around the living room, sipping on their morning coffees.

"Alright, let's go get breakfast." You declared happily.

"Good idea." Yuta agreed, getting up from the couch. "Let's not waste another minute here."

"We don't need another minute." Mark commented, looking around the room.

When you arrived at your favorite restaurant, everyone piled out of the car, stretching and yawning. The restaurant was fairly empty, save for the employees. So, when the owner came up to greet you all, you smiled.

"Morning! Glad to see my favorite group of hungover college kids." She beamed, her arms wide opened.

You stepped into her arms. "Morning mom. Can you feed us now?"

"Anything for my favorite daughter." Your mom kissed your cheek, ignoring your comment that you were her only child. Your mom looked at the rest of the group. “Now what can I get for you hungover kids?”

“Your egg sandwiches, auntie.” Ten muttered.

“Coffee.” Mark yawned. “Lots and lots of coffee.”

“Can I get toast, bacon, and fries, auntie?” Renjun asked.

"Oh, god, come on." Taeyong groaned, sitting down at a nearby table. "Just give me some coffee and bacon, I'll be fine. Please auntie."

After you placed your order, you settled down at the table, joining your friends.

"Why are we meeting here every morning?" Yuta yawned, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Because it's close to campus, you get free food and you know my mom loves you all." You shook your head, helping the staff pour everyone coffee or orange juice into their mugs and cups. You made your thanks, the staff smiling.

"One of the perks of being Y/N's friends," Kun laughed. "Free food from her mom's restaurant. Lucky us."

"True that." Ten nodded, finishing off his egg sandwich. "Man, I love her mom's sandwiches."

"She makes the best ones." You agreed, stealing a fry from Renjun's plate.

A few minutes later, the rest of the food was delivered.

"Can I have your bacon and eggs?" Ten asked, pointing at your plate.

You raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think you deserve to eat someone else's bacon?"

"Doesn't hurt to ask." He grinned, grabbing your plate. "But you can always share."

Everyone chuckled as you shoved a fry into Ten's mouth.

"So where did Johnny end up going last night?" You asked suddenly. “I really didn’t see him last night. I mean I saw him before I passed out.”

"He didn't stay long." Mark answered. "Around midnight, he left with Jieun."

"Ah." You frowned. "Makes sense. They never stay long whenever I'm around."

"They probably just wanted to spend time together." Kun explained. "Jieun and Johnny were really cute together. She followed him everywhere he went."

"Did you ever tell him that you liked him?" Yuta asked you suddenly.

"What?" You blinked. How did Yuta know about that?

"You did flirt with him a little." Renjun reminded you. "At least, that's what I saw."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "It was barely any flirting."

"Come on Y/N," Mark shook his head. "Johnny was staring at you the whole night before Jieun came."

"It's the tatts, Mark." You replied. "He was asking me about them earlier."

"Seriously though." Yuta continued. "If you like him, why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I thought he'd never notice me." You sighed, knowing that there was no way to escape the converstation. "I'm not the type of girl that guys usually like."

"Really?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"It's the tatts, huh?" Taeyong muttered, looking at your tattooed arm. "I mean, I love a girl that has tatts."

"Guys will always find something to complain about." You nodded your head. “But thanks for that Taeyong.”

"Well," Renjun interrupted, chuckling slightly. "There's nothing wrong with your tattoos."

"Yeah." Haechan agreed. "They're pretty cool."

"I agree." Ten smiled. "And sexy as hell."

You blushed, ignoring everyone's laughter. But it wasn't long before you were in a conversation about your tattoos again. About how pretty you thought they were and about how unique each tattoo was. It felt good, having such amazing friends that were willing to talk about your ink. You knew it would probably never happen with other groups of guys you hung out with. Not because they didn't care, but because they were afraid to offend you. Which is why you weren't surprised when the subject turned to sex.

It was always sex with these guys.

Why were you friends with these sex-crazed guys?

"So..." Taeyong started, shooting a pointed glance at you. "Are there any guys here you want to bang?"

"Hear me out. I know he has a girl and I know someone's going to beat me up for saying it or even thinking of it," You decided to just tell the truth. You looked around biting your lip, making sure your mom didn’t hear you. "Johnny. He seems like a good fuck."

"Damn," Haechan raised his eyebrows. "Y/N and Johnny would be hot, to be honest."

"No shit." Renjun nodded. "They'd be the hottest couple on campus."

You rolled your eyes and laughed with the others. You and Johnny? If only that was possible.

He still has a girlfriend after all.

The days passed quickly. After hanging out with the group for breakfast, you usually went off on your own, doing homework or just spending time alone in your room. But one day, after lunch, you decided to join your friends again. This time you met up with Taeyong, Doyoung, Winwin, Xiaojun, and Jaemin.

You sat at the table, eating as everyone told you stories about who they hooked up with last night. You rolled your eyes when Taeyong started telling you about his drunken hookup with a girl named Minah.

"Drunk sex?" You scoffed, giving him a look. "Really?"

"Don't act like you haven't done that." Taeyong narrowed his eyes. "With as many times as you had drunken sex with Doyoung."

"Please don't bring that up. Every time you guys mention it, I feel bad." You groaned as Doyoung sputtered on his food. You reached out and patted his back. “But admit it Doyoung, the sex was good.”

"We don't mention it!" Taeyong responded to you, rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s reaction. "It's not our fault you're always horny!"

"Shut up. Just shut up." You threw your napkin at him, the others laughing.

You were surprised when the next person you noticed looking at you wasn't Xiaojun or Doyoung or Jaemin or even Winwin. Instead, it was your very handsome friend, Johnny. You didn't even know he would be here. He was out with others that were in his classes.

His dark brown eyes met yours across the room. There was something about the way he stared at you that made you blush. Your cheeks were hot. Even your ears felt hot. Why was this guy looking at you so intensely? And so much?

“Is there a reason why you’re staring at Johnny so much?” Xiaojun asked, leaning back in his chair.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Um…”

"She wants to fuck him." Jaemin muttered. "Renjun told me the other day."

"But then again, what girl doesn't want to fuck, Johnny?" You asked, shrugging your shoulders. "Jieun is one lucky bitch."

You tried not to look at him anymore. Because whenever you looked at him, your stomach would flip. He was just too beautiful. Too sexy. Too perfect. It didn't help that he was already famous for dating the popular girl. Not that you weren't popular.

No wonder every single girl kept trying to hit on him. You included. You've been fighting the urge to kiss him since you met him at that event you hosted with Mark for the foreign exchange students. But he still had a girlfriend. A serious girlfriend.

Yet, here you were, constantly looking at Johnny like he was a piece of candy that you desperately wanted. Or maybe like you were salivating at the sight of him. Yes, that sounded more appropriate.

Like you wanted to eat him alive.

You wanted to suck on his lips. Suck on his tongue. Slap his hard cock against your naked pussy.

God, you wish you could touch him. Touch his face. His arms. His chest. Hell, just touch his skin. To see if it was as soft as it looked.

Or if it was rough.

Maybe Johnny likes rougher sex than the girls he normally slept with. What do you know about him, huh? Nothing. And yet, you keep imagining yourself with him. Imagining how it would feel to lay beneath him, letting him fuck you from behind. Thinking about how incredible it would feel to take his load all over your face. Or maybe deep inside you. The possibilities were endless. You just couldn't seem to stop thinking about him.

Your friends didn't know about the way you fantasized about him.

At least, they hadn't said anything. Yet.

"Ah, fuck." You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Doyoung gave you a concerned look. “You okay, Y/N?”

You nodded in reply.

You were seriously losing control. That was a first. For as long as you could remember, you had been able to hold yourself back from acting on your urges. The fact that you had no self-control around him should've made you realize you shouldn't be with him. It should make you run away. But instead, your heart yearned to feel his body pressed against yours.

Why? You wondered. Why did you keep wanting him?

You took another bite of your salad, listening to your friends talking amongst themselves. And once again, Johnny’s name was brought up.

“Yeah, I heard he spent most of the weekend with Jieun.” Xiaojun said casually.

You sighed softly, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any questions about it.

The next week was rather uneventful. Since it was your last year of college, you have stayed late almost every night studying or doing homework. Sometimes, if your apartment was occupied, you would go to Hendery’s, Jeno’s or Yangyang’s rooms and study there since they often partied, playing sports or going to the gym. So you were surprised when Wednesday afternoon found you walking back to your apartment alone.

As you approached your building, you noticed Johnny standing near the front doors. Of course he was there. No doubt he had been waiting for you.

His posture screamed 'alpha male'. All six feet one inch of him stood rigidly, like he was prepared to strike at any moment. And the muscles in his arms and chest were clearly defined under his tight black shirt. Damn. You wanted to get closer to him, to see if those bulging biceps were real.

You swallowed nervously. How does a girl like you even get a chance to meet the guy that every other girl wants? What makes you different from all the rest? You were one of his best friends that's for sure.

You watched as he began talking to someone. A girl. And she seemed to respond well to his attention. She smiled as he leaned down to speak to her. She giggled. She touched his arm lightly. She probably thinks she's special. Probably thinks that he's interested in her. As if.

But he looks happy. Smiling. Even talking to her. Ah, this must be Jieun, the girlfriend. She was actually really cute. Much prettier than you expected her to be. Short hair cut in a layered style. Brown eyes. And a small nose.

The way his gaze lingered on her for a few moments longer than necessary, she seemed to be flattered. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly. Her head resting on his shoulder as she gazed at him with longing. It was then that you realized that he was completely oblivious to your presence.

What was wrong with you? Why are you watching them like that? Why can't you turn away? God damn it! Stop acting like some sort of pervert.

You cleared your throat. Maybe he won't notice you if you ignore him. It worked the last time. Didn't it?

But to your dismay, he did.

"Hi Y/N!" He said cheerfully, looking up and meeting your gaze. "I've been waiting for you."

Oh god.

"Hey Johnny," You forced yourself to say. Your voice came out low and shaky. You struggled to find your words. Suddenly, you felt like an awkward teenager again. Like your face was on fire.

Johnny nodded towards Jieun, causing her to frown slightly. Then he shot you a mischievous smile. "Let's go up."

It took everything you had to push past him and enter your building. Thankfully, Jieun left before you reached your apartment door. You were grateful. You didn't need her prying questions right now.

Inside your home, you stood in the living room, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. Ten wasn’t home yet, so you felt a bit nervous that you were left alone with Johnny. This had never before. Why all of a sudden were you feeling nervous in front of your best friend?

"Do you want a drink?" You offered nervously. "A soda or water? Wine?"

"A glass of red wine sounds nice." He replied without hesitation.

Relief flooded you as you hurried to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Thankfully, you had stocked the fridge earlier that day.

When you returned to the living room, Johnny was sitting on the couch, sipping his wine and watching TV.

He's so gorgeous. Why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful?

"So..." You started awkwardly. "How have you been?"

"Same old, same old." He shrugged. "What about you?"

You frowned. "Nothing new. Apart from hanging with the guys.”

He glanced at you quickly. Something passed between the two of you. Something strange. Something exciting. You squirmed in your seat, trying to focus on anything else besides the way his eyes smoldered at you. You felt like your whole world was going crazy. Everything around you became fuzzy. The way his voice sounded. The way his muscles flexed underneath his clothes. The way he gazed at you. Oh god.

Fuck.

Stop it. You chided yourself. This isn’t happening. Don’t give in to him. This is bad. Really bad.

“I’m glad we finally got to hang out tonight.” He said after a few moments of silence.

“Me too.” You replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean, I guess I haven’t seen you since you’ve been busy with Jieun.”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “True.”

"You never talked about her." You pointed out quietly.

He grimaced. "We don't really talk about her that often."

"Do you like her?"

"Who?"

You exhaled sharply. "Jieun. Do you like her?"

Johnny furrowed his brows. "Why do you ask?"

You hesitated, wishing you hadn't brought it up. "Well...you look pretty happy when you're with her."

He smiled briefly. "It's complicated."

"Are you two together?" You questioned. "Is that why you always sit with her during class?"

"Well, we're definitely close." He said simply.

And then, he was silent.

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” You blurted out. “Shouldn’t you spend time with her instead of me?”

He cocked his head to the side. “No, we’re not together.”

“Really?” You felt relieved. Thank god.

Johnny laughed. “Of course. We aren’t dating. We’ve slept together a few times but we’re not dating.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Good. At least he was being honest. You tried not to think about what kind of relationship they had. What kind of relationship they had had. But you couldn’t help but notice how they interacted with each other. The way they looked at each other. How they held hands.

“Was my best friend jealous?” Johnny peered at your face, a smile on his lips. “Because I could swear that you were staring at us.”

“I was not!” You denied. “There was nothing to stare at.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t try and deny it.”

“No, I’m telling the truth. There was nothing to stare at.” You insisted.

“Sure there was.” He grinned, taking another sip of his wine.

“Trust me. There was nothing.” You responded forcefully. “There was no reason for me to watch you and Jieun together. You weren’t kissing or anything.”

“Really?” His expression grew serious. “What if I asked you to kiss me right now? Would you?”

“Fuck, Suh.” You burst out. “That’s impossible. You know that, right?”

“But would you want to?” He persisted. “Would you kiss me right now if I asked you?”

“I…” You stopped.

How the hell was you supposed to answer that question?

This conversation was turning into something you never expected it to be. Was it really just a friendly request or something more?

And what would your friends say if they saw you two making out in the middle of the living room? If they saw you grinding against him on the couch?

“God dammit.” You groaned, slumping back onto the couch. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Hmmm?” He peered at you curiously.

“Why does this have to happen?” You groaned, trying hard not to panic. “What are you trying to do to me?”

He gave you a playful smile. “I'm not doing anything to you.”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Then why am I feeling this way?”

“Because you want me.” He replied simply. “Because you’re attracted to me. Because you can’t resist me. Because you feel something when I look at you.”

His confession sent shockwaves through your body. You sat motionless on the couch. Unable to comprehend what he just told you. Unable to believe him.

“Are you attracted to me too?” You whispered. “Is that why you keep looking at me?”

Johnny stared at you silently for several seconds. Then he grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He confirmed.

You gaped at him.

“Really?” You repeated hesitantly.

“I'm not lying to you.” He assured you. “I want you. I want you so badly that I can barely breathe sometimes. But if I tell you that, will you run away? Will you break our friendship because of this?”

“No.” You answered instantly. “No. I’d never do that. I wouldn’t even be able to think straight. Not to mention the fact that the guys would kill me.”

He chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“They know that I have a thing for you.” You admitted. “They see the way I look at you. They tease me about it all the time. I guess it’s easier for them to accept it if they knew that I’m attracted to someone who likes me back. Someone who I can be myself around. That’s why they won’t mind if we date. As long as I’m with someone who accepts me.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So…what should we do?” You asked tentatively.

He raised his eyebrows. “About what?”

“Um…this.” You gestured towards yourself. “This attraction between us. It seems like we both want it. So…is it possible that maybe we could…I don’t know…do something about it? Maybe meet up somewhere private? Or at least have sex. In my bed? On your couch?”

Johnny’s eyes lit up. “You want to have sex with me?”

“Fuck, Johnny.” You ran your hand through your hair, noticing his eyes on your tatted arm. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He murmured huskily. “Like I'm going to take you upstairs and rip your clothes off? Like I'm going to shove my cock inside you and fuck you until you scream?”

You moaned. Fuck yes. That's exactly what you want.

“Don’t you want to?” He pressed. “Don’t you want me to make love to you? To touch every inch of your skin? To lick your nipples and suck on your breasts?”

You bit your lip.

“Fuck. Please stop talking. Just fucking fuck me already.” You moaned, unable to contain your arousal any longer.

He smirked. “All right. All right. But just to warn you. I plan on treating you like the goddess that you are. Every part of your body is going to feel good to me. I’ll make sure you come over and over again.”

A fire ignited within you. This is exactly what you needed. Exactly what you wanted. The idea of getting fucked by him sent a thrill throughout your body. You loved hearing him say those words to you. Words that only a man like him could utter. And knowing that you wanted to have sex with him didn’t hurt either. It made you feel incredibly desirable.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.” Johnny said softly.

“Do whatever you want.” You replied breathlessly. “Just please. Make me cum.”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want.”

You nodded eagerly. A devilish grin formed on his lips.

He stood up from the couch. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you up from the sofa. With one swift move, he tossed you over his shoulder.

He strode quickly towards the staircase. You shrieked, clutching at his shirt tightly. You kicked your legs wildly, desperately trying to escape from his grip.

Johnny was much stronger than you realized. Within seconds, he had thrown you down onto your bed. With one quick movement, he jumped on top of you. Your heart thundered against your chest.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. Kissing you fiercely.

Your body responded instinctively. Your pussy throbbed, begging for attention. Your nipples hardened beneath your shirt, yearning for a hard squeeze.

As his tongue probed into your mouth, his hands slid underneath your shirt. Pushing it up and off your shoulders.

His warm fingers trailed over your skin. Sending chills throughout your entire body. His lips trailed down your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh. Every single movement was driving you wild.

Every stroke of his tongue and caress of his fingertips set you on fire. You were soaking wet, longing for him to take you. For him to fill you with his cock. To give you the pleasure you deserve.

The moment his fingers brushed against your nipple, you let out a moan.

You arched your back, thrusting your breast towards him.

He chuckled. “God, Y/N. Are you trying to kill me?”

He grasped your bra, tearing it apart with ease. Your nipples sprang free. He rubbed his thumb over them, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oooohhhh, Johnny.” You moaned.

He grinned wickedly. “Does that feel good, baby? Do you like it when I play with your tits? When I suck on your nipples?”

“Yessss.” You gasped. “More. More. Fuck.”

“Oh god.” He groaned, biting down gently on your nipple.

He continued to flick his tongue across your other nipple, flicking harder each time. Your cries became louder. You felt like you were going to explode. It took everything in you not to reach down and unzip his pants.

Instead, you threw your head back and wrapped your arms around his neck. Tugging at his hair as he teased your nipples. Moaning loudly whenever he touched your skin.

Johnny smiled. He licked his lips hungrily, giving your breasts one last slow suck before letting go.

Leaving you panting for air.

“I've got to be honest with you, baby.” He breathed, pushing himself up onto his knees. “You taste amazing. Better than anything I've ever tasted before. And there's nothing else I'd rather do right now than to spend hours tasting every inch of your gorgeous body. Touching you. Kissing you. Licking you. And slowly entering you. Until I fill you with my cum.”

“Mmmmm. Fuck yes.” You whimpered, your voice sounding like an echo in the empty bedroom.

“Now where were we?” He asked slyly. “Ahh yes, your tits. Did you want me to suck on them some more? Maybe eat you out while I played with your tits?”

“Yes.” You breathed. “Please. Oh god, yes. Please.”

He chuckled. “Anything for you, baby. Anything.”

Slowly standing up, he began to strip off his shirt. Each piece of clothing was removed with great care. His tattoos were displayed prominently. They looked beautiful as always. The sight of them caused you to sigh in appreciation.

Once his shirt was completely gone, he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on your stomach.

“That's better.” He whispered. “Now you're ready for me.”

His hands sliding your pants off. His lips kissing the insides of your thighs. Caressing your inner thigh with every kiss. Leaving you quivering with desire.

“Fuck!” You cried out. “Stop teasing me. Please. Just fuck me. Now!”

“Shhh.” He whispered. “Not yet. Not yet. There's still so much left to do first. Don't worry. You'll get what you need soon enough.”

Your hands dug into his hair, pulling his face closer to your pussy. You moaned loudly. The sounds of your pleasuring filling the room. His hot breath tickling your inner thighs. Your panties drenched with your juices.

Johnny looked up at you, his dark eyes darkened with lust.

“Look at me. Look how beautiful you are.” He said huskily. “Watch me taste you. Watch as I rub my tongue over your clit. See how good it feels. Know that I'm doing it to you. That I want to eat you out so badly.”

He gripped your hips, tugging you upwards. Opening his mouth wide. Licking your entire pussy, slowly spreading your juices.

Lapping at you slowly, teasingly. Going lower and lower until his tongue found your swollen clit. Pressing hard against it, rubbing his tongue in circles.

“Fuuuck.” You cried out. “Johnny! Johnny!”

“Such dirty talk, baby.” He said with a laugh. “Let me hear it. Let me hear you beg for me to make you cum. I want to hear you screaming for me.”

You clawed at his back, trying to pull his face deeper into your pussy. Screaming obscenities. Making animalistic sounds. Biting down on your pillow as he gave you all the pleasure you deserved.

Finally, his tongue plunged deep inside your pussy. Flicking over your clit in rapid succession. Sucking on it and flicking it. Pulling away occasionally to tease you. Tasting your juices. Giving you an extra burst of pleasure every time.

His pace increased rapidly. Pulling away for brief moments only to return immediately. Giving you even more pleasure than you expected. Soon you were trembling, nearing the point of no return.

It took everything you had not to lose control. Your entire body was consumed by ecstasy. Your pussy contracting rhythmically around his mouth. Pumping his tongue inside you, trying to keep yourself from coming. From exploding with orgasmic bliss.

But you couldn't hold it anymore. You began to cry out. Your body shuddered.

Sensing your impending climax, Johnny stopped sucking on your clit. He withdrew his tongue, but kept his lips firmly pressed against it. Keeping your orgasm contained.

His hands remained firmly on your hips. Tugging at your hips, forcing your body further upwards. You cried out as you tried to pull his face back into your pussy. Trying to force yourself to cum.

You came with a loud scream, your entire body tensing. Johnny followed your lead, groaning loudly as you pushed your pussy back into his face. Your thighs squeezing tight around his head, pulling him tighter against your clit. Your entire body trembling violently. Spasms racking your body. Bringing forth the most intense sensation you had ever experienced.

Suddenly, he stopped. Letting go of your hips. Sliding off your sweaty body. Standing up from the bed. Looking down at you.

“Baby, I know you came, but I'm not done yet.” He said quietly.

Looking down at your spread thighs, he smirked. He began to undo his pants.

You panted, waiting impatiently for him to reveal his erection. You knew what was coming next. You knew this would be the moment of truth. Would he be able to satisfy you? Would he actually be able to give you the satisfaction you were craving?

With one swift motion, his erect cock sprung free. Your eyes widened, almost as if you were surprised to see it. You hadn't been expecting it to be that big.

And you weren't wrong. His cock was absolutely enormous. Longer than any penis you had ever seen. Bulging with potential. You wondered if he could possibly fit inside you.

If he would hurt you.

But you know he wouldn't.

You stared at his cock hungrily, staring at it in disbelief. In awe. You reached out tentatively, touching it lightly. Fingers shaking slightly. Shaking as they traced their way along its length.

You felt the weight of it in your hand. Thicker than any cock you had ever felt. Fuller than any dick you had ever seen.

Before you could fully appreciate his massive erection, he grabbed hold of your wrist. Moving your hand to the tip of his cock.

“Just think about it.” He said quietly. “Imagine how amazing it will feel. Just imagine the sensations running through your body. Imagine how incredible it will feel to have this inside of you. How much more powerful it will be than any dick you've ever had before.”

Thinking about how large his dick would feel stretching your pussy open. Knowing that once he penetrated you, he would never leave. He would be inside you forever. Bringing you so much pleasure.

Giving you such pleasure. Satisfying you so deeply. Giving you what you needed. Allowing you to finally release all your pent up sexual tension. Giving you the ultimate sexual experience.

Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, you placed your lips against the head of his cock. Your tongue darting out. Drawing the warm liquid from his shaft. Overwhelmingly delicious.

Moving down, your lips parted. Your tongue sliding out of your mouth. Stretching out towards his cock. Swirling around it like a tiny tornado. Slickly coating his member with saliva. Getting him nice and wet. Allowing you to slide it further inside your mouth. Gently sucking on it, making sure to take it all in.

“Fuck.” He growled. “Oh fuck. You are so fucking sexy. So beautiful.”

Smiling brightly, you returned his compliment. Leaning forward, your tongue moved further into his crotch. Taking him even deeper inside your mouth. Tongue twirling around his thick base. Up and down the full length of his shaft. Playing with his balls. Feeling the resistance of his perineum.

Slowly moving back up to his tip. Taking him deeper inside your mouth again. Working your way down, taking him all the way to the bottom. Running your tongue along the underside of his shaft. As you slid back up to the tip, you sucked on it gently.

He groaned loudly, reaching out to grab hold of your head. Pushing you downwards so he could sink even deeper into your throat. Your nose pressed against his pubes, inhaling the musky scent. Sucking on his cock like it was a popsicle. Gagging a little bit. His thick length hitting the back of your throat with each movement.

Panting heavily, he held your head firmly in place. Gasping for air as he let out another moan. His dick pulsating wildly inside your mouth. Fluid seeping out of the end of his cock. Massaging your throat. Causing it to tingle pleasantly.

As he released his grip, you released his cock from your mouth. Pausing for a moment to catch your breath. Smiling happily at him. Proud of yourself for being able to handle his huge cock.

He smiled back at you. Reaching down, his fingers wrapping around your chin. Pulling you close to him. He kissed you passionately. Wrapping his arms around you. Holding you tightly. He tasted wonderful. His scent intoxicating. His warmth reassuring.

Gripping your ass tightly, he pulled you onto his lap. Sitting you down onto his hard cock. Watching as it filled your pussy. Slowly slipping inside of you.

Stopping halfway inside you, he gently lifted you up. Removing his erection from your pussy. Grinning as he laid you down on the bed. Positioning himself between your legs. His hard cock positioned at your entrance.

Pulling back slightly, he looked down at you. Seeing the desire in your eyes. Waiting for him to thrust his thick cock inside of you.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped your waist tightly. Slowly pushing forward. Delving inside of you. Feeling you wrap your legs around him. Tightening them around his body. Moaning loudly as he filled you completely.

Releasing his grip on your waist, he grabbed hold of your wrists. Placing them above your head. Hanging limply as he slowly fucked you. Gently pumping his cock into you.

Grinding your hips against him. Panting as you struggled to breathe properly. Wanting desperately to touch his cock, to stroke it. To watch it twitch in your hand. But he didn't allow you to do anything. He continued to thrust into you. Stroking his dick as fast as he could.

“Please.” You begged. “I need you to come inside of me. Please.”

Chuckling, he responded. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not just yet.”

His words spurred you on. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel his load splatter inside of you. Needing to feel his seed filling your pussy. Pouring into your body. And you would love every minute of it. Every single second.

He suddenly pulled out of you. Rolling over onto his back. “Climb on top of me. Put your tits in my face. I want to suck on them while you ride me.”

Lifting your ass, you quickly straddled his naked body. Hooking your fingers behind his neck. Settling yourself down onto his hard cock. You moaned loudly as you impaled yourself on him. Your hips bucking back and forth.

Johnny gripped your breasts, tugging on your nipples as you rode him. Squeezing your nipples hard. Twisting them as you slammed your pussy down on his dick. Slowly increasing the speed. Riding him faster and harder until he felt the familiar pressure building up inside of him.

“Hang on baby. Hang on. I'm going to come. Oh god.”

Moaning loudly, you brought yourself closer to climax. Johnny's dick pounding your walls relentlessly. Your whole body shuddering uncontrollably.

Feeling his climax building, Johnny wrapped his arms around you. Holding you tightly. Ensuring that you remain steady. Bringing you closer to release. Kneading your breasts, milking them roughly. Pleasuring them until you were completely overcome by pleasure.

Your orgasm ripping through your body. Crashing down upon you with relentless force. Sweeping you away into an ocean of pure bliss.

He moaned loudly, holding you tight. Panting heavily as he came inside of you. Your pussy gripping him tightly. Keep his semen within you. Silencing his lustful thoughts. Pushing them away, allowing him to rest peacefully.

Holding you closely, he watched as your climax slowly faded away. You lay on his chest, your breathing still erratic.

“So good.” You breathed softly.

“So fucking good.” He agreed. “That was the best. The absolute best."

"The best sex I've had in a long time." You let out a small laugh. You heard the front door of your apartment opening and closing, hearing voices talking about Johnny's coat and shoes. Someone, sounded like Taeyong, laughing at how you and Johnny finally fucked.

"I can hear you guys!" You yelled.

Johnny chuckled. "So I guess the guys are right outside, and they know exactly what happened."

Groaning, you buried your face into Johnny's shoulder. "I can hear Renjun and Haechan asking me all sorts of questions."

Smirking, Johnny spoke. "We can just tell them that the hot tattooed people are finally a couple."

"A couple?" You asked, lifting your head up. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Well, I originally came to see you tonight because I was on a mission." He laughed. "Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?"

Laughing loudly, you hugged him tightly. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Johnny."

Letting out a sigh of relief, he relaxed against you. "Thank god."

He mumbled, resting his head against yours. Breathing in your lovely scent, he listened to the sound of your heart beating. "This is the first time I've been with someone I really care about. So I don't want to mess it up. It has to work."

Snuggling against him, you smiled. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out together."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Yes." You answered, curious to hear what he was going to say.

"I love you." He told you. "And you need to know that."

"I love you too." You mumbled, running your fingers through his messy hair. "Forever."

He closed his eyes, biting his lower lip. A mischievous smirk appeared on his lips. He looked down at your tattooed sleeve, running his finger over a sunflower one. "I really love this design. What does it mean?"

You chuckled. "Sunflowers remind me of you."

Johnny froze, looking down at your tattoo.

You were shocked to see tears forming in his eyes. But you didn't have time to worry about it because he immediately placed a tender kiss on your lips.

Your heart fluttered wildly at his actions. Never had you felt so alive.

So happy.

So loved.

You hugged him tightly.

"Remember when you used to tease me about getting tattoos?" He asked you, giving you a sheepish smile. He caressed your cheek. "Remember when I told you I wouldn't get another one unless you joined me?"

"Yup." You nodded. "What happened to getting one with me?"

"I eventually got it with Taeyong and Yuta since I wasn't sure whether you wanted one with me or not." Johnny explained. "I'm still waiting to get one with you."

"What if I gave you the tattoo?" You offered, tracing his shoulder tattoo. "One of my designs so it's like you're taking me with you anywhere you go."

"I would love to be inked by you." Johnny whispered, turning his gaze towards you. "Anywhere you want."

Your breath hitched. This is exactly what you wanted.

You could only imagine the gorgeous tattoos you would create together. They would be so incredibly beautiful. A masterpiece. You would cherish them forever.

It would also make you feel special. Knowing that no matter where you went, Johnny would always carry part of you with him. Always be thinking of you. Remembering you. Cherishing your creations.

You didn't know how you could express how grateful you were for his words. Or for him choosing you. Loving you. Being with you.

All you knew was that you were going to treasure these feelings for as long as possible.

#nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct smut #nct johnny #johnny #johnny suh #johnny seo

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