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strang3lov3 · 3 months

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Bite Me

You learn two things on a particularly boring patrol shift - Joel loves to bite and you love to be bitten (5.3k)

Tags - 18+, smut, bite kink, lots and lots of biting, spitting, joel eats you out from behind because he's just in that kind of mood, brief ass eating, anything one can do with their mouth joel does to you, unprotected piv, creampie, not? gentle? sex, little dubcon bc joel is a maniac, little bit of blood, one (1) dad joke, skin tone is not described but bites and bruises in reader's skin are mentioned. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal for editing and @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal for encouraging this!! i love you all! A/N - thanks for your patience! I’m working on bigger things that are out of my comfort zone so enjoy this snack sized fic until dinner’s ready. I wrote this with my heart but most importantly my pussy, I hope that translates.

You and Joel are on patrol together at your usual post, an old two story house about an hour’s ride outside of Jackson. It’s early July, which usually means there’s more activity to keep an eye on as the summer warms; raiders, infected, strangers and the like. But not lately - there haven’t been any major threats, nothing to make your patrol shifts daunting like they usually are. It’s just been quiet and peaceful.

Boring.

So. Fucking Boring.

You’ve picked through everything in this house several times over and never found much. There’s no food or tools or anything useful, but there’s not even anything particularly interesting either. No paintings on the walls, no photo albums of old families to flip through as you like to do. There’s no books in the house either, apart from a few damaged by water and with torn pages, rendering them unreadable.

Joel used to get on your case about this, gruffly telling you to ‘Quit fuckin’ around’ and ‘Should be payin’ attention to your surroundings, not snoopin’ through shit that ain’t there’. But eventually, he got bored too. The surroundings never change, not much to really pay attention to, even for Joel.

There was one time Joel didn’t yell at you as you wandered off, and when you came back upstairs you found him sitting on a couch in the room with a big window, hunched over a coffee table, picking up and laying down playing cards. Solitaire.

You leaned over the back of the couch and tapped him on the shoulder, “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping watch?” you asked, teasing.

Joel turned over his shoulder and glanced at you, then turned back to his cards and continued playing. “Smartass,” he mumbled. “You gonna rat on me?”

“No. As long as you know you’re a hypocrite,” you replied before rounding the side of the old couch and sitting next to him. You watched him as he flipped through the deck a couple times over, then he sighed in defeat. “Did you lose?”

“Yup,” he answered, gathering the cards and shuffling them a couple of times. “You’re losin’ next, though. You’re gonna play with me.”

“I don’t know any card games.”

Joel looked at you incredulously, “Bullshit,” he said. A deck of cards was one of the most valuable things one could own post-apocalypse. Endless games for solo play and small groups of people alike. Not much else to do to pass the time, but then again, people stay busy in Jackson.

“Oh wait - yeah, I do know one. I know Go Fish. Do you wanna play that one?”

“Pass,” he answered. “I’d rather play nothin’ at all if that’s our only game. You know Crazy 8’s, don’t you? Gin Rummy?”

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna rectify that, then. C’mere.”

Joel taught you three games that night. The first being War, because it’s easy and luck based - something for you to dip your toes into. The next was Crazy 8’s and then finally, Gin Rummy.

You weren’t lying when you told Joel you didn’t know any card games, but only because you could never learn. You didn’t like the pressure of learning in groups, didn’t like the vague instructions being shouted at you. Euchre was particularly awful to learn, you were holding back tears trying to get through that game. But Joel taught you differently, he was gentle and patient and calm with an open hand of cards. He’d play fairly and wouldn’t take advantage of your inexperience. His patience paid off - after some time, he had a consistent opponent for card games and your patrols together became a lot less boring. Now Joel never has to play another lonely game of solitaire again. You play with him just about every shift now, when it’s quiet and there’s nothing going on. Your favorite games to play are Crazy 8’s and War, not much strategy involved in those but Joel enjoys them anyway.

After taking your usual spots together on the couch, Joel reaches into a pocket of his backpack, the one on the inside that fits his deck of cards like a glove. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath.

“What’s the matter?”

“No cards,” he murmurs, feeling around through his items and coming up empty. “Must’ve left ‘em at Tommy’s.” Tommy and Maria recently hosted a game night and invited a couple of people, Joel being one of them. And then Joel brought you along to be his partner in group games. Playing with him one on one made you feel special, but you liked that he took you along as his date of-sorts. He shot you secret little winks from across the table before clearing his throat and furrowing his eyebrows as he examined his hand.

“Oh,” you say. “So I guess we’re actually patrolling tonight, then.”

“‘Bout time,” Joel replies with a soft chuckle. “Maybe somethin’ of interest will happen, finally.”

“Oh god, don’t say that. I really hope not.”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, “Me neither.”

It’s nice to watch the sunset through the big window, very relaxing and beautiful. As the light disappears, the color in the room begins to fade and looks like television in black and white. Joel looks like one of those old-timey movie stars, he has the face for it. He stares out the window and twists the end of his mustache and you think that could play the criminally handsome villain. All dark and mysterious, with his sharp nose and inky eyes.

“Whatcha’ lookin’ at?”

Oops. Busted. “Nothing,” you lie. You don’t catch Joel’s smirk as you excuse yourself to go look through the house for the millionth time. Maybe there’s something to do around here that you’ve not seen before. Or a book, you’ll read anything - an instruction manual to a vacuum cleaner or a Cuisinart food processor even. Anything.

But there’s nothing new, nothing’s changed. Your fingerprints on cabinets and drawers from months and months before still sit in the dust. This place is fair and squarely empty. You sigh deeply before you return to Joel upstairs. “I’m bored,” you whine in his direction.

“Hi bored, I’m Joel.”

You could make waves with the power of your eye roll. “Are you sure you don’t have your cards?”

Joel rifles through his belongings once more and sighs. “Nope. Definitely at Tommy’s. God bless it.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’ll live.”

You don’t know that you will live, though. Death by boredom feels more likely. The minutes pass, but they feel like hours in the deafening silence. Joel makes no effort at conversation, which is very true to himself. He’s not much of a talker anyway, but leave it to Joel to sit in silence when even light smalltalk would make a world of difference in making this a less boring night.

Some minutes pass and you’re starting to get fidgety. You crack the knuckles in your hand, one by one by one which garners a look from Joel. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he murmurs.

You pick at your nails next, trying to even out some jagged and split edges. Joel looks at you again, glaring as you pick and pick. He fucking hates that sound. His chemistry teacher in high school used to pick at her fingernails during tests and it always made this awful, high pitched click, which was especially grating in the silence. The noise drives him crazy, like nails on a chalkboard. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit pickin’ at your nails, hon, that noise makes my teeth hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘makes your teeth hurt’?” you ask, still picking at your nails. You’ve almost got that one hangnail.

“Gives me the heebie jeebies, I don’t know–” Click. You got the nail. Joel shivers while gritting his teeth and groaning. “Knock it off,” he hisses.

“Okay, sorry,” you say. “I’m done.”

“Thank you.”

Peace and quiet once more. Joel’s bored too, but he doesn’t mind the insipidity of the evening as much as you do. He likes having the time to reflect, to slow down and collect his thoughts. He’s thinking about his day off tomorrow, what he’s gonna do. Probably harvest some vegetables from his garden, do a load of laundry and–

Click.

“What’d I just ask?”

You freeze where you’re at, the nail of one of your thumbs picking at the other, you’re caught red handed. “Shit. Sorry, Joel.”

“Uh-huh. Sit on your hands,” he commands.

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit on ‘em.” You roll your eyes as you wedge both of your hands under your thighs just like Joel asked and he nods in approval. “There. F’you can sit still for twenty minutes, you can have your hand privileges back.”

“You can’t take away my hand privileges, Joel. They’re hands. They’re attached to me.”

“I can, indeed. If ya do it again, you’re losin’ a finger.”

A baseless threat, but you know Joel means business so you do your best to sit still. Surely he doesn’t actually expect you to not move at all. You’re allowed to adjust, move yourself into a more comfortable position so you do, and then you feel the corner of your nail get stuck on a thread of your jeans. You pull your hand from under yourself to examine it, feel the irregularity. You’re trying to ignore it but you just can’t.

Pick pick pick.

Joel turns to your direction and in a swift movement, grabs both of your hands in his and squeezes, shaking you gently. “Enough,” he fumes, frustration in his voice. He loosens his grip slightly and you pull your hands away before you really do lose a finger, you fear that his threat did in fact hold water. “Hey,” Joel says, his voice softened. “That’s somethin’ we could do.”

“What’s something we can do?”

“Slap jack,” he answers plainly, nodding his head like he’s waiting for you to tell him you understand. You don’t.

“What’s slap jack?”

“You don’t know slap jack?” he asks. You shake your head, no. “You don’t know much, do you?”

“Hey,” you complain. Rude.

“Relax, I’m teasin’,” he says, “You know you’re a smartass. Now give me your hands.” Cautiously, you extend your hands towards Joel and he takes them gently in his own, “Flatten ‘em,” he says, “Like this.” maneuvering your hands into place so that your palms are facing the ground. He places his hands underneath yours, his palms facing the ceiling. “Ready?”

“I guess?”

Bam. Joel flips his hands on top of yours and slaps the back of your hands. “Joel!” you shriek. “That hurt.”

“Well don’t let me hit you, then,” he smirks. “That’s the game. You gotta move your hands before I getcha.”

You giggle. And Joel really didn’t hit you hard, you were just startled. The prospect of the game excites you. “Again,” you say.

You lay your hands out flat, Joel holds his underneath yours. He uses his fingers to tease your palms, tapping and tracing along your skin. Smack. Back in the same position once more, with your hands on top of Joel’s. He doesn’t tease this time, just smacks you again. A third time you lay your palms on his, and he teases again - fingers creeping on your skin, tickling and thrilling you. With every minor movement of Joel’s hands, you pull your hands back. “You’re flinchin’ an awful lot,” he teases. “S’usually against the rules, but I’m bein’ nice.”

“You’re gonna hit me!”

Joel shakes his head. “I’m not gonna hit you, sweetheart. Why would I do that?” Smack. You gasp and rub the backs of your hands, smiling at Joel with an open mouth. He beat you again. “You’re terrible at this,” he says.

“It’s my turn,” you decide, laying your hands out with your palms facing up. Joel places his hands on top of yours just like how the game goes. You flip your hands to slap his and hit nothing but air. He’s too quick. Settling back into place, you try again and Joel pulls away too quickly for you to slap him. It’s the same thing over and over again until you decide you're done playing. Offense and defense, you never win, only lose.

“You’re a sore loser, you know that? Card games too, you do not like to lose, do you?”

“I don’t - you’re just–”

“Just what?”

You’re not answering that. You know what the answer is, that he’s too good at these games and you’re not but you don’t need to tell him that, inflate his ego even more. “I wanna pick a game.”

“Be my guest. One that you can win, right?” You couldn’t slap Joel’s hands but you’re sure you could slap that stupid shit-eating grin off right off of his face right now. You just take Joel’s left hand and offer him yours. “What game’s this?”

You’re retaliating. He didn’t hit you hard at any point, but you’re gonna get him back. There’s not really a name for this game, it’s just something you used to play when you were a teenager. It’s on par with those other stupid teenager games, truth or dare and spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s the biting game.”

“Biting?” Joel looks at you incredulously.

“Yeah, biting. I bite your hand, you bite mine. See who can take it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice game,” Joel says.

“Well it’s fitting then, because you’re not a very nice man.”

Joel smirks, “No, ‘spose I’m not.”

“So, do you wanna play?”

You don’t even let him answer before bringing his hand to your mouth, fitting your teeth over the fleshy part of it - right in between his thumb and forefinger, where his unique bullseye tattoo sits. Joel follows suit, placing his teeth over your hand and letting them rest there. You feel the heat from his mouth, the softness of his lips. His teeth are blunt, threatening to sink into you and tickling your skin as he waits for the game to begin. “Ready?” you ask, your voice muffled by his hand. Joel nods, his big brown eyes sparkling in the low light. “Okay.”

You bite Joel, holding his gaze. His skin is salty and warm. Joel bites with you and you’re both rather tentative at first, biting the other gently. You take the initiative to bite him harder, “Mm,” he mumbles, surprised by the pain yet won’t go further.

“That's all you got?”

Joel raises his eyebrows at your challenge. He squeezes his eyes shut as he bites down, hard. In turn, you squeal and pull back, and Joel releases your hand in an instant. You shake your hand and rub the mark he left, laughing. “Motherfucker,” you gasp.

Joel turns on a lantern on the coffee table and takes your hand back to inspect it. “You okay?” he asks, tracing the marks in your skin. “You don’t have much of a pain tolerance.”

“It’s a sensitive spot,” you reply.

He makes an amused sort of expression at that, still rubbing your hand as he nods in response. The closeness in proximity, the peculiar intimacy of the game you and Joel have just played - it feels like something in the atmosphere changes, charged, the way the air feels before a storm.

Joel breaks the silence, “Bet you’re sensitive like that everywhere,” he whispers. “Should grow some thicker skin.”

“Joel–”

He takes your hand again, this time skipping that fleshy spot on your palm and instead bringing your wrist to his mouth. His mustache is prickly on your skin. Joel bites your wrist, and you can’t help but let out a little gasp, even though he’s gentle just like before. He increases pressure until you’re yelping again, but this time he doesn’t let you go. He watches you squirm, catching your lip in your own teeth as you writhe in pain. You exhale in relief when he loosens his bite, then shiver as he drags his teeth along your forearm and bites you there next, then moves up to your bicep. Each bite is harder than the last, including when he pulls the collar of your top away and bites your neck. The skin is tender and thin and it hurts, really fucking hurts as you whine in pain. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

Joel soothes the bite mark with his tongue which startles you perhaps more than his teeth did. “You can take it,” he whispers against your skin before searching for another part of your neck to bite. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it to the side, allowing himself access to you. You feel him open his mouth and bite down, but this time it feels good. Joel notices your reaction, feeling the vibration of your moan with his mouth against your neck. “You liked that,” he says, it’s not a question.

You’re at a loss for words. Breathing heavily, you pant, “Fu - Joel…”

“It’s okay. You can admit it.” Joel likes it too - all that flesh between his teeth. The marks of his teeth he leaves in your skin, the bruising that surrounds them - it’s his artwork, unable to be replicated. Nobody else has his teeth and nobody else has your skin. He’s not broken skin yet but he imagines the faint taste of your blood on his tongue, tangy and metallic mixed with the sweetness of your skin. Fuck, he could eat you whole. Make you hurt, oh, he’ll make you fucking hurt. He softly bites your earlobe next, “Feels good to hurt sometimes,” he purrs in your ear. The heat of his breath sends a shiver down your spine. “So I’m gonna keep bitin’, then. And you’re not gonna quit on me like last time. Are you?”

Despite the pain, the way it sort of intimidates you, you find yourself complying, nodding. You feel his mustache before his lips, his lips before his teeth, and finally his tongue, hot and wet. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced - salacious and erotic, frightening and tormenting, all at the same time. You feel Joel everywhere, in places he’s not even bitten or kissed or touched yet. God, you hope he touches you there.

Joel pushes your shirt up your body, his fingers brushing over you as he reaches behind you to unclip your bra. He pushes the straps off your shoulders, you watch as the undergarment falls into your lap. Joel taps your jaw twice, “Tilt your head back for me,” he instructs. He nips at your neck and collarbones before gently pushing you down on the couch, pulling your pants and underwear down in one movement before situating himself between your legs. You’re laid out for him, bare. His canvas to paint as he pleases. With darkened eyes, Joel pores over your body - he’ll hurt you here, pleasure you there, tease you somewhere else - the horizon is endless.

He begins with kisses down the column of your throat, cascading down your sternum. He moves over to one of your breasts and you know it’s coming, but it startles you anyway. He bites hard on such a sensitive part of you, “Shhh,” he coos, quieting you. With a strong, masculine hand on your other breast, he finds your nipple and flicks it, drags his thumb over it until it pebbles beneath his touch, effectively soothing your cries of pain and turning them into noises of pleasure.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck, Joel.”

“You’re doin’ good,” he tells you. “Doin’ just fine.”

You gasp when you feel his teeth around your hardened nipple, threatening to clamp down. He bites you gently, oh so gently, just enough to secure the bud in place for him to roll between his teeth. He brings his tongue into play then, swiping it over your nipple and circling it. After repeating the action with your other breast, his head travels lower, lower. Biting at whatever he pleases, kissing when he feels like it. He bites your hips - a sharp pain, and then your thighs - dull.

You can’t help yourself as your fingers find your sex, already so wet. You circle your clit a couple of times before Joel pulls your hand away, biting and sucking your arousal off your fingers. He replaces your fingers with his own, pushing two of his thick fingers inside you as he bites and nips at your thighs, sucking at your skin as well. His teeth, his fingers, all where you need Joel the very most - it all feels so good, so intense, you don’t quite know where pain ends and pleasure begins as he works his fingers inside you.You don’t know if he’ll bite you hard or soft, a small bite or a big mouthful of your flesh and you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin. He alternates between biting, sucking, kissing, licking you, using his tongue and lips and teeth to drive you wild, have you writhing and melting under him.

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your mouth, pushing them past your lips. “Suck,” he says, and you do, tasting the tanginess of your own arousal on your tongue. Joel takes your hips in his strong hands and flips you over on your stomach, then sits back on his knees. You hear the quiet rustling of his clothes, that discernable sound of his zipper being undone before his clothes are tossed on the ground. He bends one of your legs and leans over you to kiss and nip at your ankle, then the other, biting up your calves. He traces his tongue over the backs of your knees before he bites you gingerly, the action has you gasping and moaning. Joel chuckles against your skin. “Knew you were sensitive,” he murmurs. He kisses his way up your thighs, kisses your ass cheeks and bites where they meet your thigh. “Up, lift up, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, urging you to lift your hips. He finds his pile of clothes and bunches them beneath your hips, propping you up for him.

Joel parts your lips with his thumbs, spreading your sick folds for easier access. You feel his hot breath on your heat and you’re nervous, anticipating that blunt feeling of his teeth on your most sensitive place, but it never comes. Instead, his nose - aquiline and perfect, tracing up your clit, your flesh until he finds your hole, his nose buried in your most private place. He spreads your cheeks and spits between them, the saliva drips down, down. He traces you with his tongue, circling clockwise, then counter. “Fuck,” you whimper, pushing your hips back into his face as your nerves tingle. He kisses the sensitive area before traveling lower, his lips finally meeting you where you need them most. “Oh god,” you whine.

Joel dips his tongue into you, humming in pleasure as he does - he fucking loves it, the heat of your cunt and your sweet arousal soaking his face, and he knows that hours later he’ll still be able to smell you. He pumps his tongue in and out, delving into you. He drags the muscle through your folds, all wet and sticky with your slick before he finds your clit to lick and suck at that sensitive part of you.

He eats you voraciously like he loves it, passionate and determined as he savors you. The way Joel’s lips wrap around your clit, his nose in the space he just fucked, on his knees - this is what he’s meant for, what you’re meant for too. It’s obsession. He’s all fingertips bruising into your skin under his crushing hold, his tongue a relentless assault on your sex. You feel his salt and peppery scruff scratching your inner thighs and rubbing you raw. In the coming days you'll still feel him, skin burning as the hot water of your shower runs down your legs. You love it now, and you’ll love it then.

You’re moaning, babbling Joel’s name, begging him but you don’t know what for - For him to make you come and then to stop, because it’s too much. Begging him for more and less, the push and pull of it all. Joel smirks against your cunt, proud of the delirium he’s brought you to using just his mouth. His grip is still ironclad despite all of your grinding and wriggling, trying to right yourself like an insect on its back. He listens intently to your body and all the different noises you’re making, broken moans and those sticky, obscene sounds of your cunt being sucked and licked and lapped. When your thighs begin to twitch, your breaths become sharp and unsteady with your impending release, he doubles down on his efforts until you’re coming all over him, soaking him wet.

You’re a mess of hazy thoughts, barely aware as he’s pulling your hips back, pushing your chest down. With one hand, he rubs soothing circles on your lower back as he holds the other in front of his face and spits into it before wrapping his palm around his cock, throbbing and angry. He pumps himself a couple of times, the leaking tip rubbing against your ass. When he’s ready, he reaches for your neck with the hand previously rubbing your backside and forces you up. He bites your ear first, then fits the head of his cock into your entrance.

Joel offers no warning before burying himself into you inch by inch, splitting you in two. You whine as he fills you up, stretches and hurts you so nicely, he bites you harder the deeper he pushes into you. He doesn’t take time to let you get used to the ache, he knows you’ve come to love the pain he gives to you, because that’s what he’s made you do. Joel pulls out of you all the way and pushes himself right back in, harder and faster than before. “Know it hurts,” he says with your earlobe between his teeth, “But you gotta take all of it.”

Joel fucks you quickly at first, having already found the right pace and the right angle to make you squirm in pleasure. He wraps his arm around your torso and nudges your head to the side so he can bite into your neck again. You’re flush against his torso. He fucks you steadily - in, out, in, out. You keen into the sensation, losing yourself in it all - he’s hot and clammy behind you, his tuft of unruly pubic hair rubbing against you. You reach behind yourself and touch the side of Joel’s face where his graying curls are muttered against his skin, dampened with his sweat. Joel turns his head and bites into the fleshy part of your thumb. He’s a mess of curses and praises, telling you what a good girl you are between heavy breaths and sharp inhales, whispering fuck and Christ, sweetheart.

Without a warning, he pulls out of you and falls back on the couch, grabs you roughly by your arm and sits you on top of him. You’re face to face with him now, staring into his dark, hungry eyes as he pulls you down on his cock, fucking you apart. He eyes you up and down, and then his lips curl into a crooked smile. “Look at you,” he whispers, tilting your head down to look at your body. “You’re all marked up, sweetheart. What a goddamn mess. Tried to tell ya this wasn’t a nice game.”

He’s right. You look down to see your breasts covered in bites and dark bruises, the marks dotting your torso in the dim light. Some are swollen and angry, others not quite so. You see a bruise on your shoulder and think about what you can’t see, the bites on your neck and collarbones. “Let’s count ‘em together,” he purrs in a low tone. He fucks up into you, “One,” he grunts, “Two, three. Four. Jesus, sweetheart, you’re fuckin’ covered. But I ain’t done with you yet.”

Joel pulls you close to him, your chest against his as he thrusts into you. He brings his teeth to that place where your shoulder meets your neck and bites hard, harder than he has before. It hurts, truly fucking hurts and you cry out loudly, a choked sob escaping your throat. He’s broken skin. “Quit squirmin’, be still f’me. Breathe through it,” he instructs, finally tasting your coppery blood on his tongue. With each thrust he moans against you and his teeth sink deeper and deeper, but it feels worse than it is. You won’t scar, but he’ll be lucky if you do. “You’re doin’ so good. Know it’s a lot, I know. I know…”

He licks over the damage and brings his thumb to your clit as he does, pushing you back to examine your face. He wipes away the tears he expected you’d cry as he paints tight, steady circles into your clit, knowing it won’t be hard to bring you to the edge. He reaches up, pulls you close to his face and kisses you gently, tangling his tongue with your own in a way that makes you dizzy. “I gotcha,” he says, “Come for me.”

You’re right fucking there, aching for release as he rounds your clit with his thumb and rolls his hips into yours. Your breaths are shallow, your moans are broken and you’re squirming - so fucking close. Joel seems to know just what you need: he sinks his teeth into your plump, swollen bottom lip as he works you with those tight, steadied circles, all the while he fucks you deeply. And then you’re there, and god is it intense, the pleasure and pain. You taste your own blood as you come, breaking into pieces in Joel’s arms as powerful waves pleasure wash over you, rough and unrelenting like the sea during a storm.

Joel comes undone with you, loudly, with grunts and groans and other noises of pleasure. With wild thrusts, he paints your insides with his hot come before he slows to a still. You climb off of him and his come spills out of you and onto the old upholstery of the couch. Joel’s breathing heavily next to you, and when he catches his breath he looks at you with relaxed eyes, eyes that go wide when he looks at what he’s done to you. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling his shirt from under you and wetting it with water from his canteen. You catch your reflection in the mirror and see some of the bruises and bites he’s left on you, then you look down at the rest of your body. This time, with the light in front of you, you can see it all. Marks on your wrists, your arms, your chest and your hips and your thighs. You smile. He’s added so much color to you, his very own temporary tattoos. “I don’t know what came over me,” he says. He dabs the wet shirt over your bloodied lips and then your neck, his big dark eyes full of worry as he holds one of your hands. He rests it loosely on top of yours, sort of like that game from before. He doesn’t notice you begin to wriggle yours from beneath his. “Gotta get back and clean you up, bandage you and–”

SMACK. You hit his hand, hard. Joel looks flummoxed.

“Got you.”

When he realizes the game you’re playing, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “Nice one, smartass.” Joel lifts the shirt and examines the bite on your neck a little closer. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too bad?”

You shake your head no. “I got you,” you repeat, smirking.

“Yeah, whatever. You got me.”

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punkshort · 7 months

Text

weekend getaway

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: Joel whisks you away for a surprise Valentine's Day weekend.

Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat - reader is on BC) unprotected piv sex, fingering, size kink (maybe? Idk it's mentioned), soft!joel, some very mild allusions to pregnancy, oral (m receiving), panty ripping, cheesy because this is still a Hallmark-type couple so don't look at me

WC: 9.2K

Series Masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

tagging @morallyinept for your V-Day list consideration

"Any big plans for Valentine's Day?" your project supervisor, Kelly, asked over your Zoom call. You glanced at the clock on your wall - 4:30. Why did she always feel the need to ask questions and prolong a meeting right at the end of the day? And on a Friday, no less.

You anxiously jiggled your foot under your desk as you listened to the rest of the group detail their weekend plans with loved ones. When it was your turn, you tapped your spacebar to unmute.

"I'm going to dinner with my boyfriend and his daughter tonight," you said quickly, wanting the meeting to end so you could go get ready. As if on cue, you heard a key sliding into your front door and Joel stepped through, shooting you a cheesy grin. He was about to walk over and give you a kiss, but you held your hand up and discreetly pointed to your monitor, indicating you were still on a video call.

He nodded and instead went into your kitchen and opened up the fridge. You frowned when you realized he was still in jeans and a T-shirt.

"Why aren't you dressed? Where's Sarah?" you asked when he got a little closer, ignoring your co-worker who was rambling on about her weekend plans.

He just shrugged and winked before heading to your couch, not saying a word.

Your call went on for another fifteen minutes while you stared at the back of Joel's head as he flicked through the channels on your TV. What was going on?

"Are we not doing dinner tonight?" you asked as you slid your headset off and powered down your computer.

"We are, but it'll have to be on the road," he said casually, barely glancing backwards over the couch.

"The road?" you repeated, tilting your head to the side as you came over to stand next to the couch. He nodded and turned off the TV to finally look at you with a flicker of playfulness in his eyes.

"I'm takin' you away for the weekend," he said, grinning when your face lit up.

"What?" you exclaimed in disbelief. "I thought-"

"It was just to throw you off, I never made plans for dinner tonight. Tommy's watchin' Sarah all weekend, so it's just me and you," he said, pushing himself off the couch so he could wrap his arms around you. You tilted your chin up, brushing your lips over his softly as your arms snaked around his waist.

"I like the sound of that," you murmured, giving him another kiss and feeling his facial hair tickle your cheek when his lips turned up into a smirk.

"Better go pack a bag," he said, pulling away and tapping your ass, urging you towards your bedroom. You let out a squeak of excitement as you trotted into your room and grabbing a duffel bag, you began to pack your toiletries.

"Bring a dress," he said, leaning against your doorframe, watching you maneuver in and out of your bathroom, your hands filled.

"What kind of dress?" you asked.

"The red one. The one you wore to Sarah's recital."

"That one? But I have so many I haven't even worn yet," you said, scrunching your nose as you came back into the room, heading towards your closet.

"Yeah, but I really like that one," he said, coming up behind you, his hand finding a home on your hip as you shuffled through your clothes. You found it pushed to the back of your closet and pulled the dress out, showing it to him with your eyebrow raised and he nodded his approval.

"What else do you want me to wear?" you asked him.

"You know if it were up to me, it would be nothin'," he teased, and you giggled.

"Well, I hope you can make an exception, otherwise you're going to hate your Valentine's gift."

He groaned and felt himself stir below his waist when he realized what you meant.

"Hurry up and pack. We got a two hour drive and if you keep talkin' like that, we ain't gonna make it," he said, sauntering out of your bedroom, shaking his head.

You had been to Houston a few times in the past, but only ever with your family for shopping trips or to visit your aunt and uncle who lived out that way. But visiting the city with Joel felt like you were seeing it for the very first time. He always had a way of making something ordinary feel special.

Joel had booked two nights at The Houstonian Hotel, and when you first walked into the lobby, your jaw dropped. It was absolutely stunning and unlike any hotel you've ever stayed in before. The floors appeared to be all original hardwood, and the walls were designed to match: a dark paneling with a delicate wainscotting decorating the wood from floor to ceiling. Joel led you towards the front desk to check in, but your eyes were glued to the massive stone fireplace in the center of the room surrounded by cozy looking couches and chairs in front of the roaring fire. Your head tilted up to admire the exposed wooden beams and sparkling chandeliers when Joel got your attention.

"Did you want access to the gym or tennis court?" he asked again, pleased at how impressed you seemed to be with the hotel he chose.

"Huh? Oh, no thank you," you said, shaking your head and giving the man behind the front desk a smile.

"Joel, this place is incredible," you whispered, wrapping your hand around his bicep as you waited for the elevator. "You didn't have to go through so much trouble. I would have slept in your truck if it meant I got to spend time with you."

He grinned as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Yeah, but my truck doesn't have a hot tub or enormous bathtub, and I intend on getting you in both before the weekend's through."

You felt your cheeks warm as you giggled, glancing up at the numbers above the door, eager to see your room.

"Oh my god, this place is so beautiful," you exclaimed when Joel swung open the door to your room and ushered you inside. The wallpaper was patterned with broad vertical stripes in a shimmery silver color that matched the comforter and sheets on the king sized bed in the middle of the room, with pink and red rose petals scattered across the fabric. Opposite the bed was a flat screen TV mounted to the wall with a small chest of drawers right below and a dozen perfect, red roses in a vase on top. You were about to hurry over to the window and check out the view when Joel flicked the lights on in the bathroom, catching your attention and making you gasp.

The room was huge. There was the enormous, freestanding bathtub Joel promised, right in front of a floor length tinted window. Next to the tub was a spacious shower encased in glass, and behind you were two sinks and a mirror almost as big as the wall.

"Wow," was all you could say, your eyes still taking in the room, noticing a pink orchid on the sink and fern in the corner for the first time.

"You like it?" he asked softly, watching you closely. You swiveled around to look at him, your eyes still wide with shock.

"I love it," you said, still a little breathless. He grinned and stepped forward to wrap his arms around you.

"Good. Wanted to make our first Valentine's Day special," he murmured before leaning down slightly to press his lips gently against yours.

"Well, you succeeded because I don't think I want to leave this room all weekend," you whispered, bringing your hands up to grip the sides of his head for another kiss.

"Don't tempt me. I'll cancel the dinner reservation I made for tomorrow without thinkin' twice," he said, grinning against your mouth as you continued to pepper his face with kisses.

"So you're saying we don't have any plans tonight?" you asked suggestively, dragging your mouth down his prickly jaw, biting at his skin lightly as you went. His grip around you tightened.

"Just thought we could relax, knew we'd be gettin' in kinda late," he murmured, his eyes sliding shut when your mouth made its way to his neck, never growing tired of the way you made him feel.

"I know a great way to relax," you replied, your fingers inching up his chest as you continued to suck and bite your way down the column of his throat. You could feel his exhale tickling the top of your head, his breath quickening as your hands dropped down under the hem of his shirt. "Why don't we take that bath you mentioned?"

"Yes," he whispered, eyes still closed and leaning into your touch.

"Tell you what," you sighed, your mouth barely leaving his skin. "You go check in with Sarah, and I'll get the tub ready."

"Okay," he said softly as if he were in a trance. Nobody has ever made him weak in the knees the way you do, and he loved it.

Leaving Joel in the bedroom to call Sarah, you turned the water on, dipping your fingers under the stream until you found the perfect temperature, then turned your attention to the amenities that were left on the sink. Picking up each little bottle, you read the descriptions until you found bubble bath. Twisting open the cap, you sniffed the pleasant floral scent before dumping it into the water and swirling it around, trying to encourage the bubbles to form. Once you thought there was enough water, you turned off the faucet, allowing you to hear the end of Joel's conversation in the next room. You thought you heard him asking Sarah about an action movie you assumed she and Tommy were watching as you stripped down and slipped into the water, leaning back against the side and closing your eyes with a heavy sigh. The warmth combined with the heavenly scent soothed your muscles almost immediately.

This was absolutely perfect. You were constantly amazed by the way Joel treated you, but this weekend might take the cake.

You heard a noise so you opened your eyes, then grinned when you found Joel leaning up against the doorframe, gazing at you from across the room.

"Sorry, I got started without you," you teased, and although the bubbles hid your body from the neck down, the way he looked at you made you feel like he could see everything.

"This's gotta be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, still standing in the doorway. Then his eyes lit up when an idea occurred to him. "Can I take a picture?"

"What?" you giggled, taken aback by his request.

"You can't see anythin'," he assured you, stepping into the room. "I just wanna remember you exactly the way you are, right now."

"Okay..." you agreed hesitantly, watching as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then looked up to give him a smile. He clicked his tongue and lowered the phone a bit so he could look at you.

"I want a real smile," he said, and you snorted.

"That is my real smile."

"Nah, that's your polite smile. I want the real thing," he told you. You gave him your polite smile again, but this time he kept his phone up, knowing how to draw out what he was looking for.

"I love you, baby."

You felt the warmth in your cheeks and your smile stretch wide across your face. Your eyes shyly dropped down to look at the water and then you heard the shutter click on his phone.

"That's the one," he said proudly, looking at it quickly before setting his phone on the sink.

"Good. Now get in here."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin, and hastily undid his belt, watching greedily as he peeled off his clothes, one by one. You noticed with pride he was already having a reaction to you and he hadn't even seen you naked yet.

He stepped into the water with a hiss, then slipped his whole body underneath the bubbles, resting against the other end of the tub with a smile.

"Feels good," he mumbled.

"Not too girly?" you asked, scooting forward and scooping up some bubbles with your hands, then reached out to rub them into his beard, making him chuckle.

"Not at all," he said, still smiling as the bubbles you planted on his cheeks began to drip down into the water. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before he spread his legs under the water and beckoned you forward with his hands.

"C'mere."

You nimbly turned around so you were facing the same direction, then leaned back, resting flat against his chest. His hands squeezed your shoulders gently and then slid down your arms, dipping below the water. You hummed and rested the back of your head against his shoulder. His fingers danced across your skin underneath the bubbles, calloused palms dragging over your soft stomach slowly, and by now, the evidence of his arousal was pressing firmly into your lower back.

"You're so beautiful, d'you know that?" he whispered in your ear. His knees tucked underneath your legs, parting them and spreading them wide, holding them open underneath the water. Your pulse began to thrum faster when you realized what he was doing.

"Relax," he reminded you, feeling you tense up as his hand drifted further down. You exhaled shakily and closed your eyes, letting your muscles go lax as his hands massaged your hips, slowly making their way between your legs.

You gasped softly when two of his fingers found your clit. He began to draw slow, deliberate circles while his other hand snuck up and massaged your breast. His mouth left kisses all down the side of your neck as his fingers steadily worked just below the surface, building you up slowly in only the way he knew how.

"I love you," you whispered, eyes still closed but brows pinched and jaw slack as your breathing began to devolve into short pants. You were fairly certain you repeated it a number of times, I love you, I love you, but you were too lost, his fingers knowing what you needed better than your own ever could.

He might have said it back, you couldn't remember. His fingers picked up the pace between your legs while his other hand rolled your nipple expertly between his thumb and forefinger, and you found yourself gripping the side of the tub frantically as your orgasm hit you out of nowhere, blinding you and making you see stars somehow at the same time.

"So pretty... that's my girl... love how you say my name when you come," he mumbled.

You didn't even realize you were saying it, but you believed him.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, finally opening your eyes, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. His fingers slowed, then stilled, then gently pulled away, causing you to shudder, even though you were surrounded by so much warmth.

Once you managed to come back down to earth, you turned your head to the side, your lips latching onto his. He immediately deepened the kiss, his tongue delving inside your mouth, licking past your teeth urgently. His hand rose up, the splashing of water the only sound in the room, and gently gripped your chin, index finger and thumb pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks, prying your mouth open so he could feast.

You dropped your hand below the bubbles, your tongues still dancing, the grip on your jaw still firm and wet. Lifting your hips so your fingers could search underneath, you lined his throbbing length against your opening before slowly easing down.

The kiss stalled, open mouths hovering over the other as you each focused intently on him entering you, and only when you finally were able to accommodate his size and take him all did you both sigh with relief.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he whined as his fingers released their grip on your jaw. Your head fell limply against his shoulder but still turned to the side so you could look at him. "How are- shit," he cursed, his hips slowing down when water splashed over the side of the tub. "How are you still so tight? Goddamn," he groaned.

Your arm snaked up out of the water, reaching behind you, hand getting lost in his curls and pulling him down for a sloppy kiss as his hips rocked into you steadily from behind. You had no idea how he did it, but every time with him felt like the first time, and it always took your breath away.

"'Cause you're so big," you whispered against his mouth, knowing that answer would spark something in him. And you were right. His eyes flashed excitedly at the compliment and his hips moved faster, making you moan.

"Yeah?" he pressed, urging you to continue as he panted against your cheek. "Biggest you've ever had?"

"Yes," you admitted quickly, nodding your head, mouth agape as he nudged against that spot inside you that always made you come undone. "Oh god, Joel," you whimpered, trying to stave off your orgasm, knowing it was coming too soon after your first one.

Your legs began to shake as his knees pinned them to the sides of the tub, keeping you spread wide open as he thrusted into you, water sloshing over the sides and splashing your faces, but neither of you cared.

"Need you to come," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm close, baby, need you to come. Can you- fuck, can you come for me?"

"Yeah," you whined, then gasped when his hand unexpectedly dove under the water to find your clit again. It took no time at all for him to draw another orgasm from you, this one much faster than the first, but somehow even more powerful. When you clenched around him and cried out his name, fingers slipping through his wet hair, he couldn't hold back any longer. Your body sagged against him as he thrusted slow, long strokes, groaning as he came deep inside you, pulling your hips against him roughly until his body stilled and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Shit," he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead into your hair. He began to soften inside you but he wasn't ready to move just yet. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you close against his chest until the water began to cool and he felt goosebumps prickle your skin.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, and you nodded sleepily.

He drained the tub and wrapped you in one of the two robes that hung on the back of the door, taking the other for himself before pulling the comforter back, disregarding the rose petals on the bed.

You slid underneath the soft, cool sheets, still wrapped in the fuzzy robe, completely uninterested in unpacking and finding pajamas. Joel curled up behind you, his arm snaking around your waist and pulled you tight against him.

As he felt your breath deepen and slow, he was confident that he had never been more content in his entire life than he was in that moment.

The next morning was lazy and slow. For once, neither of you felt compelled to start the day. There was no urgency about running errands or getting to work or keeping up with Sarah and her busy schedule. When you woke, after murmuring Happy Valentine's Day against each other's mouths between kisses, you sleepily discussed options for breakfast, both of you scrolling on your phones, scanning menus for nearby cafes before ultimately deciding on room service just so you could lounge in bed a bit longer.

Sitting perched on top of the crumpled comforter, rose petals still haphazardly scattered about, you put your trays in the middle of the bed, picking off of each other's plates and taking a quick picture of the heart shaped pancakes before devouring them. He reached forward to collect some whipped cream from the corner of your mouth with his thumb and you fed him a strawberry, giggling when he gently snagged your finger tip with his teeth to suck the juices that stained your skin.

"Give me a real smile," you teased him, holding your phone in front of your face and biting back a laugh at how silly he looked, still clad in the plush hotel robe, revealing a generous amount of his tanned chest, with a pile of rose petals balancing on top of his messy curls.

After you snapped a couple pictures, he lunged forward and yanked your phone from your grasp, rose petals fluttering down around you as you giggled. He pinned you into the bed and smothered you with kisses as you writhed underneath him, acting like you wanted to get away but you couldn't imagine anywhere else you'd rather be. Rolling off to the side, he held your phone up above your faces and started taking pictures: a blurry, off-centered one, one where you were both smiling and kissing, another where you gently sunk your teeth onto his earlobe and he pretended to be in pain.

You couldn't have imagined a more perfect way to wake up on Valentine's Day.

"What are we doing today?" you asked him as you pulled on your sneakers once you both finally relented and decided you should at least see the city a little bit before you had to leave tomorrow.

"There's some great museums, thought you'd like to pick one. There's always the zoo or the aquarium. Or we can just walk 'round-"

"Museum sounds perfect," you told him, standing up on your tiptoes to give him what was likely the millionth kiss in the past twelve hours.

"Then I got us reservations at some fancy Italian spot two blocks over," he said, squinting down at his phone while he walked, leading you to the elevator. "Here's all the museums downtown, pick the best one," he said, handing you his phone and pressing the button for the elevator.

"The best one?" you repeated with a laugh.

"Y'know what I mean," he smirked, stepping forward into the elevator and pushing the lobby button.

You decided on the science museum, thinking maybe you could find Sarah a cool souvenir while you were there. She had recently taken an interest in Ancient Egypt and you noticed they had an exhibition on the topic.

Although the museum was a ways away from your hotel and the air was frigid, you still chose to walk. Hand in hand, you strolled together down the street, admiring the tall buildings and bridges in the distance.

When you walked past a coffee shop, Joel ushered you both inside to warm up and get some hot drinks to hold before you reached the museum. When the barista asked what you wanted, Joel answered for you, telling him your favorite drink, rattling it off from memory as if it were his phone number, and you smiled.

You had each finished your drinks right before reaching the museum. Tossing your empty cup into a nearby garbage can, you dropped your hand to your side, fingers seeking his out of habit, always looking for a reason to touch him. As you watched him gaze up at the enormous dinosaur skeleton that greeted you in the front lobby, you wondered how on earth you got so lucky. With so many people in the world, how was it possible you found him? Was it fate? Destiny? But at the same time, you wondered why it took so long to find each other. You each could have saved yourselves so much pain with past lovers, but maybe you both needed to feel that pain in order to fully appreciate what you have now.

"Sarah's going to be so jealous she missed this," you murmured as you slowly strolled through an exhibition about space.

Joel tried to pay attention to the endless stars and galaxies above your heads, but the dim overhead lighting accentuating your perfect features kept drawing his gaze.

Your hands linked together loosely, he followed you around the dark room, watching as your eyes sparkled and the corners of your mouth twitched into a smile when you saw something especially beautiful. He glanced around the nearly empty exhibition before tugging on your hand, spinning you around in surprise and pulling you against his chest. His free hand came up to pinch your chin, tipping your face up to his and pressing his lips gently against yours.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," you replied with a teasing grin.

He watched as you entered the Ancient Egypt exhibition, dropping his hand so you could pull out your phone and take pictures. You smiled down at the screen, your thumbs tapping away quickly, far quicker than he ever could, as you texted his daughter some pictures with a message that included the words we miss you, happy Valentine's Day, kiddo.

"Which one should we get her?" you asked him in the gift shop, turning around to hold up two books. He took his time examining each one while thinking about how sweet you always were with Sarah. She never told him outright, but he could tell she looked up to you, and while he and Tommy did their best to give Sarah everything she ever needed after her mom abandoned them, he always knew he couldn't give her everything, no matter how hard he tried. But seeing his daughter with you over the past few months, he could already tell you were giving her something she always craved: a strong, warm, maternal presence in her life.

"This one," he said finally, putting the other book back on the shelf.

"I hope you don't mind if I wait til after dinner to give you your gift," you told him, walking down the street together, one hand linked with his, the other gripping the plastic bag that carried Sarah's book.

He suddenly remembered what you alluded to while you were packing and he turned to you with great interest.

"Can I get a hint?"

You giggled, your cheeks beginning to warm even though the air was cold.

"It matches the dress you picked out for me."

He groaned, mentally trying to divert the rush of blood literally anywhere else other than between his legs.

When you got ready for dinner that evening, Joel leaving you to your own devices in the luxurious bathroom, you dug through your duffel bag, fingertips searching for the small, black bag you had hidden the bright red lingerie in. Double checking the door was locked, you pulled out the delicate material, rubbing the small roses that adorned the fabric between the pads of your fingers. Stripping down, you carefully tugged the underwear over each leg, your hips swaying side to side until the lace covered your lower half. You gave the string bikini strap a little snap before pulling the matching bra on, clasping it and adjusting the straps before looking in the mirror.

He would be able to see right through the lace, and the thought of his reaction thrilled you.

You slipped into the red dress he picked out and you checked your hair and makeup once more before putting on a pair of heels you hadn't worn in months that you knew would make your calves ache later, but it would be worth it.

Stepping out of the bathroom quietly, you managed to get a glimpse of him before he heard you as he was bent over the dresser, tilting his head slightly to check his hair in the mirror and you thought you'd never seen him look more handsome. He caught your eye in the reflection and smirked before turning around, dragging his gaze up and down your body appreciatively before stepping towards you and enveloping you in his arms.

"You look perfect," he whispered in your ear, his lips nipping at the side of your neck, and if it weren't for the lipstick you had just applied moments ago, you would have left your own bites on his skin.

"Just gotta put on my tie, then we can go," he said, pulling back, but you grabbed his hand.

"I like it better without," you told him, your fingers coming up to fix the collar of his crisp white dress shirt, then falling to undo the top two buttons, your finger nail scraping gently at the newly exposed skin before running your hands down his shoulders and picking off a small piece of lint from his black blazer.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk.

Before leaving the room, he pulled out his phone and flipped the camera so he could take a selfie, standing behind you with one arm around your waist, his chin nuzzled against your neck, he murmured I love you and once you flashed that real smile of yours, he quickly snapped the picture.

"This place is beautiful," you said, fairly certain you had said it at least three times now, but it was true. The lighting was dim, creating a soft, intimate atmosphere that invited hushed conversations and quick kisses amongst the candlelight.

"Glad you like it," Joel replied, his arm stretching across the white linen tablecloth, fingers tangling with yours next to your empty plates. Your waiter came by silently to scoop up the dirty dishes and refill your wine, but you had hardly noticed. The way the candlelight danced across his face kept you so entranced that you had to force yourself to look away or else you might find yourself sitting on his lap in front of the whole restaurant.

His thumb stroked your knuckles as you glanced around, trying to clear your head. It appeared the whole place was filled with couples just like you: happy and madly in love. You smiled to yourself when you saw an older couple feeding each other tiramisu, your eyes continuing to drift across the room until they stopped on a beautiful woman with warm, brown skin and hair who happened to be staring right at you. When your eyes met hers, she quickly looked away, turning her head back to her date.

"You know why I asked you to wear that dress?"

Joel's voice brought you back to the present. You turned back to him with a smile and shook your head.

"The night you wore that was the night I realized I was in love with you," he said, eyes dropping shyly to the table for a moment before meeting yours again.

"Sarah's recital?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Yep," he said, leaning forward a bit more. "Knew that night I was a goner."

You giggled and he smiled, about to tell you how much he loved your laugh, but you spoke first.

"For me, it was the afternoon I helped you wrap presents," you said, feeling your cheeks warm from both the wine and your admission. Your eyes flicked around the restaurant and found that same woman looking at you again, but this time she didn't look away. It was dark and difficult to see, but you thought she looked familiar.

"Ah, so sad, pathetic men do it for you?" he asked, raising a playful eyebrow, and you laughed.

"Maybe," you said, your eyes drifting over to the woman again, who was now involved in what appeared to be a serious conversation with her date.

"Don't make it obvious, but does that woman in the black dress look familiar to you? I can't place her and she keeps looking over here," you said, tilting your head to the side so he knew what direction to look. He sat back in his chair and let his gaze slowly and casually drag around the room before he stopped on the woman in question.

Joel didn't blink. He forgot how to breathe. His grip on your fingers tightened while his throat began to squeeze shut, unable to look away. It was like he was seeing a ghost, and in a way, he was.

"Joel?" he heard you say, but your voice sounded so far away.

"Uh," he stammered, unable to form any coherent sentence.

"Are you okay? You look pale," you said, sounding concerned, and he finally tore his eyes away so he could look at you.

"That's..." he paused and took a big sip of wine. "That's Sarah's mom."

"What?!" you whispered, eyes wide as you tried your hardest not to look at her again. Now you knew why she looked so familiar: you had seen an old picture of her and Joel on Facebook when you first started dating.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"I-I don't know," he said, letting go of your hand so he could rub his eyes. "Long time. Years. I had no idea she was even still in the damn state."

"Do you want to go? Maybe we should go," you said, lifting your arm to catch your waiter's attention, but he stopped you.

"No. We ain't leavin'. This is our night, I'm not gonna let her ruin it."

"She can't ruin it," you said, locking eyes with him. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her use her napkin and stand up, heading in your direction.

"Okay, she's coming over here."

"What?" he whispered, seized with panic.

"It's fine. You're fine, Joel," you said firmly. He nodded and swallowed, focusing on your voice to keep him grounded. When she approached your table, you looked up and forced a smile.

"Hi, I'm Char," she said with a smile of her own, reaching out her long, thin arm to shake your hand. Joel stiffened in his chair, his muscles feeling so tight it was starting to hurt.

"Hi," you replied, taking her hand and giving her your name before shifting your nervous smile in Joel's direction.

She looked at Joel as well, giving him an awkward wave and he tried to smile, he really did, but he felt frozen.

"Can we talk?" he thought he heard her ask. He shook his head, absolutely not, but your hand reached out for his and gave him a gentle squeeze, grounding him once again.

"It's okay, go ahead," you told him. His eyes shifted between the two of you, completely at a loss. You gave him a warm smile, a real smile, and nodded encouragingly.

"Five minutes," he said, and he wasn't sure if he was talking to you or his ex, but it didn't matter.

Begrudgingly, he stood, dropping his napkin on his chair and shooting you one more glance before he followed Char out of the dining room and into the more brightly lit hallway that led to the hostess stand and front door. She turned to look at him, mouth opening and closing, struggling to find the right words.

"You look good, Joel," she said. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You too."

She chewed her lower lip and glanced around, and Joel could feel his patience already running thin.

"What do you want, Char?" he asked, wanting the question to come off angry but he just ended up sounding tired.

"I wanted to... I don't know. Apologize," she said, dragging her eyes back up to him. "I shouldn't have left you like that. It was wrong."

"Us," Joel corrected her, raising his eyebrows. "You left us."

"Yeah, of course," she said with a nod. "You know what I mean."

Joel bit his tongue and glanced down at his shoes, wishing nothing more than for this conversation to end so he could be with you again and forget this ever happened.

"You seem happy. Your girlfriend is pretty, how long have you been together?"

"Few months," he said, looking back up at Char once again. "I am happy. She makes me happy."

"Good. That's good..." she replied, trailing off and looking down at her hands. Splaying her fingers, she held them up, showing him her ring. "I'm married. That's my husband in there," she said, the word husband getting caught in her throat. "We're, uh... we're expecting," she added, dropping her hand to rest on her stomach. "Just found out a few weeks ago."

"Oh," Joel said, blinking in disbelief. "Congrats."

"Thanks," she said with a small smile. "How's work? How's Tommy?"

"How's-" he scoffed and rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, growing agitated. "How about how's Sarah? Your daughter?"

Char took a deep breath, falling silent.

"She's doin' great, by the way," Joel continued, his jaw clenching. "She's on the honor roll, got a real talent for the violin and she's already lookin' at colleges. She's kind and honest and smart-"

"Okay, Joel, message received," she replied, holding up her hands in defeat. "I'm not allowed to move on, but you are."

"She's your fuckin' kid, Char," Joel bit back. "You don't move on from your kid."

"That's not what I said, stop putting words in my mouth!"

"You didn't need to," he said, glancing down at her stomach briefly. "Do you ever even think 'bout her? On her birthday, does she cross your mind at all? Is your baby gonna know they got a sister?"

Char's eyes filled with tears as she looked away guiltily.

"Y'know, I think I'm done here," he said, his voice suddenly growing calmer. "Thank you," he said, catching her eye. "I'm glad we talked. Cleared up a lot of questions."

He turned away and headed back into the dining room, back to you. Back to the woman who, in only three months, had treated his daughter with more love than her own mother.

You saw him approaching your table and you straightened up in your seat, trying to read his face. He sat down and gave you a smile, then reached his arms across the table to take both your hands.

"Everything okay?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, everythin's great," he said, staring deep into your eyes, still smiling. You gave him a disbelieving look and he chuckled. "I mean it. That-" he nodded in the direction of the hallway, "nothin' to worry 'bout. Couldn't be happier," he said earnestly.

You examined him closely as a slow smile spread across your face.

"What? I swear," he said, grinning.

"I know," you replied. "Because that's your real smile."

"You sure you don't wanna talk about it?" you asked him as you stepped off the elevator. The two of you had stood your ground and stayed at the restaurant, ordering another bottle of wine and a dessert to share, each of you refusing to bring up the topic of Sarah's mom until now, when the alcohol was making your head swim and your lips loose.

"Mhm, I'm sure," he said, leaning against the doorframe, blinking a few times and trying to focus on opening the door. "Nothin' to say that I already didn't know. Besides," he pushed the door open and looked at you with a smirk, "I ended up with who I was meant to be with."

"Charmer," you teased, feeling your face flush as you walked into the room and flicked the light on. You had barely made it three steps into the room before his hands circled around you from behind, pulling you close against his chest. Dropping your purse on the nightstand, you leaned back into him with a sigh.

"Do you want to open your present now?"

You felt him smile against the back of your neck.

"Yes, please," he mumbled.

Butterflies swirled in your stomach as you stepped away. Turning around, you gave his chest a gentle shove and he instantly obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide, still wearing that black suit that made him look way too good. Your palms dragged up his chest and underneath his blazer, fingers curling around his broad shoulders and down his back so the jacket slid down in a pool around his waist. He watched you, hardly moving an inch, his breath coming quicker the longer he waited, loving and hating the anticipation.

"I really like this suit on you," you murmured, nipping at his earlobe while your hands made their way down. Gripping the fabric of his shirt, you tugged with both hands, pulling the material free from his pants. "But I think you deserve to be a little more comfortable."

He nodded, the wine and his insatiable need for you making him docile and quiet. He watched in a daze, barely blinking, as you turned around and slowly unzipped your dress, glancing once over your shoulder with a playful smirk. A very selfish and cruel thought popped into his clouded mind as he watched you, one his sober mind never would have allowed through. Why couldn't he have had Sarah with you, instead? You're so beautiful and perfect and sweet, you never would have abandoned them. You would have been a great mother. So patient and giving. Then another insane thought occurred to him as your dress began to slide down your body.

You still could be a great mother. And he could make that happen.

His lips parted, the words on the tip of his tongue, but fortunately the logical part of his brain took over: stop, too soon, don't say that, you're drunk.

He swallowed the words down, his mind losing focus on that random, sudden urge and fixating instead on the red, lacy lingerie you had hidden under your dress all evening. He let out a pained whimper when you turned around and he realized he could see right through the material, your perfect breasts and warm slit available for his gaze to devour.

He must have forgotten to speak, although the thoughts in his head were so loud, he could have sworn you'd be able to hear them. You looked at him shyly and shifted your weight from foot to foot.

"Do you like it?"

He dragged his eyes up to your face, his jaw slack and the hardness between his legs becoming incredibly uncomfortable. How could you possibly think he wouldn't like it?

"I love it," he said, voice low and heated. "I love you."

You grinned and stepped forward, standing between his legs, your fingers slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt while his hands roamed up and down the backs of your thighs, still hypnotized by the lingerie you bought just for him. Nobody else got to see this.

His hands drifted up to your hips, calloused palms dragging over the delicate material, his fingers slipping underneath the straps on the sides and giving them a playful snap. He dropped his hands so his shirt could join his blazer, then quickly found your soft skin once again. It was a miracle he remembered to breathe as his hands made their way up your stomach to cup your breasts. He marveled at the way you responded to him: breath hitching in your throat, thighs squeezing together, lower lip pulling between your teeth.

You gave him another gentle shove on the chest, and he fell backwards with a grunt, fingers itching to touch you but you were just out of reach as you began to undo his belt, then the zipper on his pants before tugging them down to his ankles. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing while you pulled his pants all the way off.

His eyes flew open in surprise when he felt your hot exhale over the fly of his boxers, warming his aching length, making him twitch. When you pulled his waistband down and took him in your perfect mouth, he groaned so loud he had to remind himself there were other people in the hotel. You smirked up at him, watching his jaw tense as he tried not to lose control, and the mere thought of him coming undone like that because of you made your knees weak. You loved that feeling. You recklessly chased that feeling, eager to see more, hear more, feel more to the point where his fingers had got tangled in your hair, gripping and pulling a little rougher than he meant to as he gasped your name.

"Slow down," he whispered, his voice strained. "Baby, please-"

You released him with a pop, watching with fascination and excitement as his sweaty chest rose up and down rapidly, his eyes screwed shut, deeply focused.

"Sorry," you said, your tone implying anything but. He finally opened his eyes to look at you, kneeling on the floor between his legs, hair a mess, lipstick smudged and he had to resist the urge to ask for another picture. "Scoot up," you told him, and he obediently dragged his body backwards so his legs no longer bent over the edge of the mattress. You slowly crawled on top of him, leaving chaste kisses along his thighs, then hips, stomach and chest until you found his lips.

You moaned softly when your clothed heat dragged over his stiff length, your hips taking on a mind of their own as you rocked back and forth slowly, reveling in the sensation. You lifted yourself off of him, your hands reaching down to pull down your underwear when he stopped you.

"Leave it on," he said huskily, then his finger tucked underneath the band as he slowly traced the edge of your panties, his smooth fingernail gliding along your skin until he reached the apex of your thighs. He hooked another finger underneath the soaked fabric and he pulled them to the side, then glanced up at you.

The heat and hunger behind his stare sent a bolt of excitement through you. Unable to hold back any longer, you reached down and notched him at your opening, then slowly sank down, mouth open and brows pinched as your body stretched to accommodate him, then letting out a quiet ah when you were finally fully seated.

"So pretty," he murmured repeatedly, his eyes raking all over your body as you began to roll your hips, somehow only noticing now for the first time the little roses embroidered on the lingerie. His fingers dug into your sides, guiding your movements as he stared down at where you were connected and he thought this is true happiness.

Your hands fell forward onto his chest, pressing down for leverage as you picked up the pace, your eyes squeezing shut and your breath coming in fast little pants. Your arms pushed your breasts together and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to put his mouth on you. He craned his neck upward, his mouth latching over a clothed nipple and you cried out when his teeth grazed against the sensitive nub a little too hard.

The lace felt soft against his tongue but was beginning to irritate the base of his cock as the material tried to shift back into place. He laid flat once again and in a heated moment without thinking, he dipped the index and middle fingers of both hands into your panties and gave them a forceful tug. You gasped and stalled your movements when you looked down and watched him pull the destroyed underwear from between you with a grunt.

"I'll buy you new ones," he said, his hands returning to your hips, urging you to continue. You giggled and picked up where you left off.

"No need, they were yours to do with what you wanted," you said, biting down on your lip when he gave you an animalistic groan.

His hips began to buck up into you, matching you thrust for thrust as you both began to lose yourselves in one another.

"Joel," you whined, trying to warn him, trying to tell him it feels too good, I love you too much, this weekend was too perfect, but all you could manage to do was chant his name. It didn't matter, though, because he knew. He was thinking the same things and he wondered if anyone else in history had ever loved and understood someone the way he does with you. Surely not, because how on earth would anything ever get done if everybody got to experience a love like this?

"Keep goin'," he muttered, his teeth clenching as he felt his stomach tighten. You bounced up and down faster, a thin sheen of sweat coating your chest, making you glow.

"Ohmygod, Joel, I'm close," you rasped, eyes boring into his. He nodded, his fingers gripping your hips so tightly and slamming you down over and over until you gasped then let out a low moan, your legs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up while you rode out your climax.

"Fuck!" he yelled, spilling himself inside you moments later. His hips thrusted upwards, pushing himself as deep as he could until he slowed, then came to a stop with a small whimper.

You collapsed tiredly onto his chest, the lace from your bra rubbing against his skin while his arms wrapped around your middle, holding you close.

"I got you," he mumbled into your hair, both of you panting for breath. After a moment, you pressed slow, languid kisses against his shoulder, trailing up his neck until you found his lips.

"Thank you for my present," he said, his voice low and rumbly in his chest. You giggled and, with shaky legs, pushed yourself off him and rolled to the side, clawing weakly at the sheets that housekeeping tucked in way too tightly until you could slip underneath. He stood up with a groan and disappeared into the bathroom, only to return a minute later with a damp washcloth and two bottles of water.

"Here," he said, holding one out to you. "We drank a lot of wine, you're gonna have a real bad headache if you don't drink some water."

You took it and he pulled the sheets back to clean you up. As you unscrewed the cap and watched him, you couldn't keep the smile from your face.

"Sarah was so lucky to have you, you know," you said, taking a sip of water, and he looked up at you in surprise. "Because you're so caring and patient. You always look out for everyone. You're so understanding and easy going, especially after everything you've gone through. That must have been so hard," you said, furrowing your brow while playing with one of his curls. "And you did such a great job, Joel. You're a really, really good dad."

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat as he continued to look at you, watching you play mindlessly with his hair, having no idea how impactful your words just were and how badly he needed to hear that.

"Thank you," he whispered, and you smiled.

"Let's go to sleep," you said, yawning through the last word, but he insisted you drink the rest of your water before he turned out the lights and snuck into bed behind you, pulling you close.

Even though you weren't Sarah's mom, you were in their lives now, and that's all that mattered.

"Hey, wake up," Joel was saying in your ear. You frowned, then winced as the inevitable hangover set in in the form of a monster headache.

"Ouch," you whispered, your throat gravelly with sleep. He chuckled and nudged a cold water bottle against your arm, making you shudder.

"Here, this'll help. I got some ibuprofen on your nightstand and breakfast is on the way up."

Cracking an eye open, you forced yourself to slowly sit up against the headboard and looked around the room. Your clothes were still scattered over the floor but it appeared Joel had tried to at least move them out of the way a bit. He was sitting next to you, still shirtless, hair a mess and looking a little under the weather himself, but when you asked if his head hurt, he denied it.

"What time is it?" you mumbled, searching around for your phone before you realized you had left it in your purse, which was next to the medicine you had yet to take.

"Ten," he said, tapping your arm to draw your focus off your purse and back onto him. "Move in with me."

"What?" you sputtered in shock.

"Move in with me," he repeated, a smile stretching across his face. "I want you to live with me and Sarah."

"B-but Joel, I just signed a lease to an apartment like, a month ago," you stammered, looking back down at your purse and fishing out your phone.

"How long's the lease?"

"Six months," you said, plugging your phone into the charger before turning back to him.

"Okay, so five more months?" he asked, and you nodded slowly. "Then you'll move in with us?"

"W-what- where is this coming from? We talked about this on New Years-"

"Yeah, I know, but I woke up today and looked over at you and realized I wanna be able to wake up next to you every day, not just sometimes," he said, scooting closer across the bed so he could hold your hand.

You thought about it for a moment, completely taken aback and your head still pounding. When you opened your mouth to answer, a knock at the door interrupted you.

"That's breakfast, hang on," he said, holding up one finger to you as he shrugged on a robe and greeted the waiter. You swallowed the two pills he left for you and chugged the water as you thought about your answer in the brief minute you had alone.

"So?" he urged when he came back into the bedroom carrying a tray of food and coffee. He seemed to anticipate your hangover because it was mostly toast and jams with some scrambled eggs for protein and a little bit of fruit.

"Did you talk about it with Sarah first?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at you, his gaze softening for a quick moment before reaching out to cradle your face in his hands. He pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, trying to express how much it meant to him that you thought of Sarah so often before he pulled away.

"Not yet, but I got a feelin' she'll love it," he said with a grin before he handed you a plate with some toast. "She wanted you to move in when we were in New York, remember?"

"Yeah, but you should still talk to her about it," you insisted, taking a tentative bite of toast.

"I will," he promised, watching you eat slowly for a moment. "So, is that a yes?"

You felt your heart flutter as you nodded your head, giggling when he excitedly lunged forward for another kiss.

Once your hangover wore off, the two of you explored the city for a few hours, then made sure to check out the hot tub in the hotel like Joel had wanted before heading home, all the while the two of you wearing matching smiles plastered across your faces.

Your real smiles.

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sticky-sugar · 1 month

Text

ask you something. (iwaizumi hajime x reader) chapter one

>> you grow up with a lot of questions, and hajime learns to answer them <<

tags/cw: very very slightly suggestive, a little unhealthy/codependent if you really stare at it with both eyes open, iwa realizes some things about himself and deals with friendship guilt, innocent reader

masterlist || chapter two

it starts when he’s seven.

“haji,” you say, reaching over and trying to put another block on his tower. you topple over, bringing the whole thing down. he just helps you sit up and starts the tower again while you finish your thought. “can i ask you something?”

you and that question.

“mm?”

“have you ever held hands before?”

“with oikawa,” he mutters plainly, very carefully stacking the red blocks together because he likes them that way. you’re both sitting in the backyard of your house, the spring breeze soft as it passes through the grass between you.

“with ‘kawa?” you ask, leaning close. your eyes are big and wide, and hajime wonders — in a brief moment of maturity — if you’ll have them when you’re older, too. if he’ll like them when he’s big, or if he just likes them now because he’s small and you’re smaller.

“for school,” he says. “buddies hold hands.”

“i know,” you pout. “i’m starting buddies soon.”

the buddy system, hajime thinks. you mean the buddy system, but you just call it ‘buddies’. he usually lets it go when you don’t know things.

“i’m scared to hold hands,” you say, stacking a small pile of blue blocks together messily.

“what’re you scared for?” he asks roughly. he makes you cry sometimes, when he’s too mean. he doesn’t mean to be, but his mom tells him he yells a lot.

“i dunno!” you say, your bottom lip wobbling tellingly. “never done it before.”

he clicks his tongue against his teeth, setting his block down and reaching over. he takes your hand, clammy and smaller than his, and holds tight. his frown is deep and frustrated.

“what’s so scary about this?”

you stare down at your joined hands, and then you look up at him with a big smile.

“nothin’, i guess!”

you scoot by his side and hold his hand for the rest of the playdate. he stacks blocks with one hand.

—

“haji, can i ask you something?”

he glances up at you through his lashes, grunting his acknowledgement while he works. he’s got to finish his homework before oikawa calls, because he knows the annoying little shit will come around eventually to rope him into practicing in the backyard.

“have you ever hugged a girl before?”

you do that a lot. since that first day in your backyard, you’ve done it. you ask what it’s like to have a seatmate in school, what it’s like to share food with a friend, what it’s like to have a playdate at a classmate’s house. most of these things you asked years ago, in elementary school. you ask things he doesn’t even think to worry about, but he doesn’t find it odd that you worry. you’re a worrier – he’s always known that.

he’s in his third year of middle school now, nearly in high school. you don’t ask about childish things anymore like seatmates and making friends.

one day, sometime last year when you were starting at kitagawa daiichi, you realized that hajime’s a boy and that you’re a girl. the questions had changed then, and he’d had a feeling that middle school and puberty were changing the way you saw the world but not him. not really.

to you, he’s still haji, even if he is a boy. ‘boys are weird,’ you’d told him once. ‘i don’t understand them.’

he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he doesn’t understand girls, either, and that knowing you doesn’t change that. because he gets the feeling that you don’t think the way other girls think.

you ask about things that everyone worries about when it comes to issues of boys and girls and things that change between them. the difference, hajime thinks, is that no one else asks them. not so blatantly the way you do.

but he knows that you’re innocent, and he worries that if he tells you it’s weird to ask, that you might never ask again. that you’ll worry silently, and – while he’s always known you’re a worrier – he’s never known you to be silent.

so he lets you ask, because he likes helping you not worry. he likes that you’re innocent, because it feels like he knows more. that he can be the one to help you know more, too.

because even though it’s weird to ask, hajime had never found it weird that you ask.

“we hug all the time,” he mutters, running through his fractions like busy work. he’s still rough, but he’d gotten more patient with you. it’s easier to be patient with you than it is with other people, even with your never-ending stream of questions.

“no, i know that,” you say, and he can see you chewing on the end of your pencil. he reaches over blindly, pulling the eraser from your mouth with a quiet ‘that’s not good for you’. you just sigh, dropping the pencil in the spine of your workbook and letting it fall shut. “but we hug like friends.”

“we are friends-”

“you know what i mean!” you pout, giving a small tantrum that makes him smile at his fractions. “have you ever hugged a girl in a way that’s not like friends?”

he gives in finally, sighing loudly and tossing his pencil down, too. his fractions worksheet is done.

“no, y/n. i haven’t hugged a girl in a way that’s not like friends.” he shrugs. “i don’t even know what that means.”

“you do!” you argue, pulling out your phone. you pull up a video, an episode of one of those cheesy romance dramas you like so much. “you do know how boys and girls hug, dont’chu?”

when you hit play, he watches the guy on the screen wrap his arms around the woman’s waist, pulling her close, a love confession yelled into the wind. she throws her arms around his neck and shoves her fingers through his hair, crying.

hajime blinks, leaning away from you when you pause the video and look at him expectantly. “don’t we hug like that?”

your deadpan makes him feel a little dumb. he doesn’t like feeling dumb around you.

“no, haji. we hug like this-” you lean forward, throwing one arm over his shoulder and one around his torso. it’s awkward, considering you’re sitting on different sides of the little table in his room. “or like this-” you move both arms around his waist and forcing his up to your shoulders. “or like this!” you give him a one-armed side hug now.

“what’s the difference?” hajime says, pulling away and pointing at your phone. “they hugged like that, too.”

“ugh, never mind,” you say, throwing your phone down and going back to your workbook. he feels frustrated that he doesn’t understand. that he hadn’t helped you.

“alright, fine!” he snaps, shoving his body away from the table and standing. “c’mon, up- up, up!”

you scramble to stand, eyes wide. “what-”

“c’mon, hug me-” he says, gesturing you toward him. he does it again when you don’t move, impatient and annoyed. “hug me, damn it!”

he was too rough with you again. your eyes betray it, even when you don’t let him know, and your lip wobbles. but you step toward him, anyway, so he tells himself to be gentle with you now. a calming sigh and a reminder of what you are to him is all it takes for his jagged edges to melt away.

when you set your hands carefully on his shoulders and slide them around his neck, he realizes that, no, he’s never hugged you like this.

he closes the distance between you, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist. he pulls you in, flush to his chest, and bends slightly to accommodate your height. your hands touch hesitantly to the back of his head, and then your fingers are in his hair. he can feel your heart beating against his chest, steady and strong but a little nervous.

he feels a little nervous, too.

—

“haji,” you whisper in the dark. hajime swallows hard, because you only say his name like that when something’s about to change between you. he’d faced away from you on purpose, the two of you cramped up in his twin-sized bed.

“can i ask you something?”

it’s the middle of the night, in his third year at seijoh. he’s going to america soon, and he knows you’ll follow him. you follow him everywhere, and he waits patiently – eagerly – for you to do so.

he’s just won another game, just before playoffs are set to start. you’d greeted him and the rest of the team outside the locker rooms, your arms thrown around him and a squeal of excitement in his ear before he’d even noticed you were there.

mattsun had made a joking pass at you, asking if you’d be so kind as to give him a congratulatory kiss. oikawa had delivered a brutal punch to the taller man’s arm before you could react, telling him to leave you alone.

hajime wonders how oikawa had known he’d been upset with mattsun’s unserious crack.

he’d brought you home with him, asking under his breath if you wanted to stay the night. you’d done it often, ever since your first year at seijoh when you’d asked if he’d ever had a sleepover with a girl. he hadn’t had it in him to tell you then that the two of you had slept at each other’s houses since you were kids, that you’re a girl and he’s a boy — because he’d known that that wasn’t what you’d meant.

“sure,” he grunts. he probably could have stayed silent until you’d assumed he was asleep, but there’s a part of him that knows what you’re going to ask and an even bigger part that wants you to ask it.

“have you ever kissed a girl before?”

his heart shouldn’t jump the way it does, but it does anyway.

“no.”

“oh.”

you’d learned at some point, without him telling you, that asking things like this isn’t socially acceptable. he’s not sure if maybe you’d mentioned it to your girl friends and they’d interrogated you about it, but recently your questions don’t come in questions.

they come in silences.

but you still ask him, anyway. and there’s a terrible, evil part of hajime that preens when you do, because it means that you’d decided asking him is worth it, society be damned. that, even though you’d never ask anyone else, you’d always ask him.

that part of him likes when you ask. it feels like a secret, this habit that you have of coming to him for things you aren’t supposed to. he likes it. he craves it, waiting for the next time you discover something you want to try.

it’s terrible and evil – hoping that, as you grow up, the things you’ll want to learn about will be grown up, too. that you’ll want to learn about grown up things with hajime.

terrible and evil. something as simple as a kiss feels terrible and evil, because he doesn’t want you to experience this first with anyone else.

so he turns, hearing the question in your silence like he always does.

you’re facing him, staring right at him with wide eyes. your bottom lip is trembling, but not because of him. it’s because you’re nervous, like there’s a terrible and evil part of you that knows it shouldn’t be him, too. that iwaizumi hajime is a friend, nothing more.

but if you’re going to try something, then you’re going to try it first with him. you’d always been that way.

when hajime props himself up on one elbow and stares down at you in the dark, you flatten your back to his mattress. a thought flashes through his mind, seventeen years old and characteristic of guys his age, of you in his bed, flat against his mattress in ways you shouldn’t be.

he should be the one to make the first move, because that’s the whole point. it should be him that guides you.

but this is his first kiss, too. and he’s nervous as fuck.

so he just stares down at you, swallowing hard and hoping you can’t hear how loud his heart is in the dark silence of his bedroom.

when you reach up slowly after a moment, wrapping one arm around his neck and letting your other hand, trembling and cold, sit on his bicep, he feels less bad about letting out the most embarrassing, shaky breath he’s ever drawn.

your mouth is soft and makes his brain go fuzzy with static. he hopes his lips aren’t chapped and that he isn’t bad at this.

your tightened grip on him and the way you shuffle marginally closer are terrible for feeding his ego. his desire to keep doing this, to keep being your first.

he sets one nervous hand on your waist, and your lips part for the sole purpose whispering ‘haji’ against his when he does.

this isn’t how things are meant to be between friends, but he’s so fucking happy they are. and he has no clue if you’re allowed to know that.

—

a few months later, you ask if he’ll go on a fake date with you, just to show you what dates are like. just in case, you say, and he knows you mean while he’s gone next year.

just in case things change again in the year he’s apart from you.

he doesn’t like that, but he shoves it aside in order to give you the best first date you’ll ever have.

and then he walks you to your door, like a gentleman should. he tells you that boys shouldn’t try to kiss you on the first date, that they should be respectful and not push your boundaries. because the moment you’d said ‘just in case’, he’d realized just how awful boys can be, and he’d wanted to warn you of those boys. boys like him, who don’t tell you what’s on their minds while you’re on dates with them.

but he’s leaving in two weeks, and you’re looking at him like he doesn’t count as one of the boys that shouldn’t try to kiss you. because he’s never counted. he’s never been one of those boys you couldn’t understand. because he’s always been haji.

so he kisses you anyway, with the same breath he’d used to tell you that boys who do this are terrible and bad. and you kiss him back, arms around his neck and chest pressed to his and his name on your lips, whispered and full of so much more than just his name.

hajime realizes he’d do this all over again — again and again, every time you ask, no matter how much he shouldn’t.

—

he leaves for california. you follow him a year later. things have changed.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime

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