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agreeeeeeeeeee · 9 days ago

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I Hate It Here | J.P.

feat James Potter x animagus!reader

SUMMARY: As a bat animagus, you're used to spending time alone: a creature of the night that prefers quiet solitude over the bustle of Hogwarts life. But when one James Potter charges into your life, you start to wonder why you hated daylight so much in the first place.

CW: MDNI 18+, FLUFFFF (James is down so bad), multi-pov, injuries and blood, shy!reader, protective!James, fighting and mentions of reader being bullied, light angst, HEA

AN: bats and deer are known to be close collaborators in the wild, with bats helping keep insects away from the deer, and the deer making it easy for the bats to find food. inspired by “I Hate It Here” from Taylor Swift’s album The Tortured Poets Department.

masterlist

James’ POV

“Pads, what the fuck!” James shifted back into his human form, scrambling to drag Padfoot out of the massive blackberry bushes he’d launched himself into. The run had been quiet, almost peaceful, just the two of them out for a moonlight romp to blow off some steam from the day.

Then, of course, Sirius buggered that right up.

Padfoot yipped and whined, the thorns pulling at his onyx fur, and flopped onto the ground beside it with a dramatic grunt. He quickly shifted back into a disgruntled Sirius, checking over himself for injuries.

“I didn’t know they were like…pointy!” Sirius huffed, relaxing when he realized he only had a few shallow scrapes. “Just wanted a fucking snack—”

“Of course they are—what is that?” A high-pitched clicking sound interrupted them. James crouched down, peering into the thicket of brambles and ripe, midnight purple fruit.

Something tiny and velveteen was trembling in a knot of thorns, it’s squeaks of discomfort barely audible. A wing fluttered out, delicate and leathery, a bead of carmine dripping from a hole pierced clean through the taught flesh.

A wee bat was caught in the brambles.

“Shit,” James cursed, tugging his sweatshirt sleeve down over his hand and shoving his arm socket-deep into the loathsome bush.

“What are you—”

“It’s alright, I’ve got ya’—please don’t bite me, please don’t bite me.” James wrapped his hand as gently as he could around the little bat’s body, feeling it’s heart fluttering rapidly in it’s chest. “Okay, there we go. I’m just gonna—fuck, ow, sodding thorns.” James brought the critter out as carefully as he could, making a concerted effort to keep his fist lax despite the thorns snagging his sleeve and jabbing into his forearm.

Once he had it completely removed from the bush, he slowly uncurled his fingers. The bat lurched upwards, flapping it’s tattered wings once, twice, then plummeted. James dove forward, catching the little thing just before it crashed to the ground, and cradled it safely back to his chest.

“Is that a bat?” Sirius asked, stepping closer.

“Must’ve been eating some fruit,” James muttered to himself, peeking open his fingers to peer at it. It blinked at him, eyes wide and dark as obsidian, the grayish fur of it’s snout stained with blackberry juice. It was trembling terribly, heart going a million miles a minute, and James knew he couldn't just leave it here.

Sirius looked stricken. “Shit, I’m sorry, mate.” he stroked a finger across the wing draped over James’ knuckles and the bat writhed in his hand, clicking disdainfully.

“Should we take it to Hagrid?” James asked, wincing when it’s thumb claw scratched across his inner wrist, uselessly trying to flap the injured appendage. Poor little thing.

“Poppy, probably. Hagrid’ll squish it.”

“Good point. Grab my scarf, will ya’?” Sirius tossed him his scarf from their belongings and James wrapped it as best he could around the creature, effectively immobilizing it, tiny head poking out from the top of the bundle.

“S’kinda cute,” Sirius said, leaning closer.

The bat loosed a vicious hiss, and he recoiled.

“Nevermind, christ.”

As quickly as they could, they hurried to the infirmary, the swaddled bat tucked into the crook of his arm, pressed against his chest.

“Boys! What one earth—” Madam Pomfry rushed to greet them at the door, probably expecting the worst given their history. “What’s that?”

“It got caught in a blackberry bush, tore up it’s wings…” he carefully unfolded the blanket, expecting the bat to try and fly away again, but it seemed to have exhausted itself, lying limply in his hands, breathing hard.

“Oh, dear,” Madam Pomfry tutted, taking the bat from him and setting it onto an examination table. “You poor thing.”

“It’s actually a bat,” Sirius joked, and she swatted him as she rushed past to grab some supplies.

“Have you nothing better to do?” Madam Pomfry bit, returning with a tincture and some stitching supplies.

“You know what, Poppy, I actually do. C’mon James, I bet the kitchens still open—”

“I’m going to stay—if that’s alright,” he said, glancing at Madam Pomfry. “Just to make sure it’s okay.”

“Suit yourself. Stay gorgeous, Pop!” Sirius blew her a kiss before making a swift exit.

Madam Pomfry began cleaning the scratches and tears along it’s wings and soft belly, and James was shocked to see how docile the bat had become. Relaxed even when Madam Pomfry lifted it into her hand to place a clean towel underneath it.

It was rather cute, almost puppy-like as it blinked up at him, nose twitching from the strong scent of the tincture, ears flicking this way and that.

“Dearie, I think it would be best if you changed back,” Madam Pomfry said gently, stroking the bats head.

James looked down at himself, confused. “To a deer?”

Suddenly, there was a flash of magic, one James knew all too well, and then there was a girl sitting where the bat was moments before, his scarf draped around her neck.

He reared back, stunned that not only was the bat an animagus, but an animagus he knew.

“Y/n?” He gawked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Potter,” you replied.

“You-you’re—you’re a bat?”

“And you’re a genius.”

He blinked at you, completely dumbfounded. A bat tracked, he supposed. You were quiet, a loner. He couldn’t remember ever seeing you with more than a friend or two, and you’d never attended a party. Really, he only ever saw you in his afternoon Charms class and in the library in the evenings. You hardly ever spoke, wrapped up in your own world.

He always had the distinct impression that you hated people, and now, staring down the barrel of your glare, he was certain of it. But saints, you were gorgeous. Death glare and all.

It then occurred to him that he’d had his entire hand wrapped around you not even ten minutes prior, and went hot under his collar.

James couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at a loss for words, but here he was, staring slack-jawed like a complete idiot.

“Perhaps you should thank him for saving your from that bush,” Madam Pomfry prodded gently, taking your arm to examine the gashes riddled there.

“Wouldn’t have been an issue if he kept a leash on his dog,” you bit.

James winced, guilt curdling in his stomach even though there was nothing he could have done to stop Sirius. The cuts on your arms looked bad, a deep and angry red, dried blood mixing with the purple stains on your skin.

How could he make this right?

Reader POV

You fought to hold your glare, but the pained look in James’ eye was rapidly unraveling your resolve. Of course it was James fucking Potter that found you. The golden head boy of Gryffindor, in all his infuriatingly handsome and tender-hearted glory, saved your dumbass from crucifixion-by-blackberries.

You’d almost rather be crucified than sit there for another second. The lights in the infirmary were too bright, the space too open, too sterile.

Why couldn’t you have been anywhere else tonight? If you had ever believed in good luck, you certainly wouldn’t believe in it now.

“Thank you, James,” you acquiesced, unable to mask the bitterness in your tone.

James smiled at you despite your tone, because he never stopped fucking smiling. “Thank you for not biting me,” he said, looking down at his palm—still stained with blood. Your blood. Because he had his hand wrapped around you. His giant, deliciously warm hand holding you ever so gently…

“Ow!”

“Sorry, dear. Just a few more,” Madam Pomfry soothed, having made the first stitch while you were distracted. Distracted by James fucking Potter.

You needed to get a grip. Him saving you doesn’t change anything. Sure, you would have been forced to stay there for eternity, or skewer yourself shifting back. But he was still James Potter, the embodiment of everything you despised most.

You hated Hogwarts, hated the crowded halls and musty rooms and catty students. You hated the classes, which either moved too slow or too fast. You hated the professors, with all their snobbery and favoritism.

Thus, you hated James. Because he not only loved the school, but the school loved him back.

Graduation couldn’t come soon enough. No more morning classes, no more roommates, no more James fucking Potter.

James seemed to sense your discomfort, his dark brows drawing together in concern. “Are you alright, though? Really?”

“Fine,” you hissed through gritted teeth, a headache blooming behind your eyes so sharply it rivaled the stitches you were receiving. You squeezed your eyes shut. Merlin, it’s too fucking bright.

You tried desperately to disappear into your mind, that secret garden where it was always midnight, always dark and quiet and safe, and escape for a little while.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it then,” James said, sounding almost forlorn. Unsure in a way that was so unlike him, it made you open your eyes again. He shuffled on his feet, running a hand through his unruly black hair. “See you in Charms, then?”

You nodded, and he left without another word, glancing back at you a final time before the door swung shut behind him.

“James is a good lad,” Madam Pomfry said, giving you a pointed look. “Would do you well to let him in a little bit.”

You shrugged, and closed your eyes once more.

It wasn’t until you’d been patched up and sent on your way that your realized you still had his scarf wrapped around your neck, the smell of him, sun-dried laundry and cedar, lingering in your nose. You tucked it into the bottom of your trunk, telling yourself you’d take it to the be cleaned tomorrow morning.

The following afternoon…

You were dreading Charms, dragging your feet as you walked down the final corridor. You’d slept most of the day, your schedule being mostly afternoon classes, and the last thing you wanted to do was socialize.

Not that anyone talked to you, but still. Just being around other people was draining. Not to mention, James would be one of those people.

And sure enough, when you made your way into the classroom, you found James sitting next to your usual spot in the back corner, chatting animatedly with his friend Remus. The only one of his friends you found somewhat tolerable.

Of course, every other seat was taken.

James was dressed in his usual Gryffindor attire, a sweater vest and loosely done tie, white sleeves pushed up to show off the thickness of his sun-kissed forearms. Black slacks hugged his toned legs. Really, all of his clothes seemed just a fraction too tight over his Herculean build—saint’s sake you needed to get a hold of yourself. You were not interested in James Potter.

“There you are!” James chirped, and you groaned inwardly. You noticed the other students murmuring to themselves, wondering why James had taken an interest in you of all people, but James seemed oblivious to it. “How are you feeling?” He asked, pulling out your chair for you as you approached.

“I’m fine, a little sore,” you said, dropping into your seat and rummaging through your bag to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Goldenrod helps,” Remus said, giving you sympathetic look. “And chocolate.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, setting your books on the desk, and Remus shrugged, bidding you both farewell before walking back to the boys usual spot by the sunlit windows. It made your preferred corner look like a cave in comparison.

Flitwick dove into the lecture before James could ask anything else, to your profound relief.

But then—“I brought you these,” James whispered, sliding a tin across the table and under your nose. He seemed almost…nervous? “They’re, ah—they’re blackberry scones.”

Oh, no. You felt your heart swell in real time as you reached for the lid, a current of electricity flying through you when your fingers accidentally grazed his. “Why would you—”

“Ms. y/l/n!” Flitwick scolded. “Pay attention!”

You quickly pushed the tin away, heat scorching your cheeks. “Sorry, sir,” you squeaked, ducking your head back down to your notes. When the lecture resumed, you shot James a rueful glare.

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “They might be rubbish, I’ve never really baked before.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was this real life? James fucking Potter baked you scones? “James, you shouldn’t have—”

“I wanted to, as an apology for last night.”

“You don't have to apologize. I’d rather just forget it, honestly,” you admitted.

“Oh.” A flicker of hurt passed through his expression as he looked down, and you immediately regretted your blunt words.

You really were terrible in these situations, sucking the fun out of the room like a blackhole.

“Well, I’m glad to have properly met you,” he said after a beat, flashing you a toothy smile, dispersing the tension as quickly as it came.

You stared at him, perplexed. Your attitude had rolled off of him like water on a duck’s back. “Uh, thanks,” you said, painfully awkward, and stuck your nose into your book.

James’ POV

His palms were sweating, why the fuck were his palms sweating? And he couldn’t keep his hands out of his hair. And he wanted to keep talking, merlin, he felt like he could talk your ear off, but he held his tongue.

Talking to him seemed like the last thing you wanted to do, so he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to annoy you further.

You practically ran from him when class ended, and now, he was racking his brain for something he could have done to make you dislike him so much while sitting at dinner in the Great Hall.

There was something different about you, a depth in your eyes that piqued his interest. He was so used to people fawning all over him, tripping over themselves to talk to him, but you couldn't care less about who he was.

If anything, you seemed to like him less because of who he was. Which as driving him a little bit mad.

“You reckon he’s still thinking about that bat girl?” Peter muttered to Remus.

“Oh, absolutely. He was up at 5 a.m. baking,” Remus chuckled. “Spent the entirety of Charms today practically drooling all over her.”

“That's pathetic,” Marlene tittered, and it was enough to draw James out of his head.

“Fuck off, ‘Kinnon,” he said, flicking a chip at her.

“What's the obsession, anyways?” Sirius asked, his feet kicked up on the table, twirling his wand in his fingers. “It's not like you smashed her into a thorn bush.”

“No, I believe that was you,” James bit, avoiding the question, an ember of irritation flaring in his chest. He wasn't obsessed. Just…intrigued. “Have you even apologized?”

“To her human face? No,” Sirius said, looking a bit guilty. Then, he stood up on the bench, sweeping his gray eyes across the Great Hall. “I don't see her.”

“She's not here,” James grumbled, sounding more petulant than he probably should.

“She eats in the library,” Lily supplied.

James whirled around to face her. “How do you know that?”

“Because I pay attention to other people, you git.”

“C’mon, then. I have wrongs to right.” Sirius hopped down and grabbed his bag. James was already on his feet.

“You really shouldn't!” Lily called after them, but they were gone, Great Hall doors swinging shut behind them.

As they neared the library, James felt his skin start to heat, palms going clammy as his heart beat faster and faster. When they reached the doors, James nearly changed his mind, almost told Sirius they should just return to the Great Hall and leave you be, but his friend was on a mission.

Sirius pushed open the doors, startling the dozen students milling around at the front. “Any of you lot seen y/n?”

James felt his lungs shrivel in his chest. This was going to go badly, he could feel it.

“Padfoot,” he chastised.

“She's always back by the Forbidden Section,” a Ravenclaw offered.

“Cheers!” Sirius grabbed James by the elbow and dragged him through the crowd that had gathered and towards the Forbidden Section.

James had never felt so conspicuous in his life, and it made his skin crawl with aversion. Normally, he loved nothing more than being the center of attention, but he didn't want you to see him like that.

They rounded a corner, entering the darker, quieter part of the library, and sure enough, there you were. Curled up in an overstuffed armchair under a single, low-burning lantern, a book open in your lap and a scone in your hand.

You brought it to your lips, nibbling on the edge while your eyes drifted over the page, focused intently on whatever you were reading.

James had the strange realization that he'd very much like to be scone right about now, and felt his cheeks warm for the upteenth time that day. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the image from his mind.

“There she is!” Sirius called, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Though you quickly masked your surprise with irritation, lips pulling down into an adorable frown.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked, eyes flitting to James before quickly averting.

“We were, doll.” Sirius sauntered up to you, dropping onto his knees in front of your chair. You looked like you couldn’t decide whether to shift and fly away, or kick him in the teeth.

“Sorry to bother you,” James said, leaning against the bookshelf beside you. “Lily said you'd be here.”

“What, um, why exactly were you looking for me?” Your looked back and forth between the two of them, a small furrow forming between your brows, fidgeting in your seat.

“Prongs here was gracious enough to remind me that I hadn't properly apologized for hurting you.” Sirius patted James’ knee. “So, I am sincerely and deeply apologetic for body slamming you into an evil, evil bush.Can you ever forgive my inelegance?”

Your eyes widened, the color of you irises richer, more captivating in the low light.

Fuck, he was staring again.

“It's, uh—it’s okay, Sirius,” you said, glancing up at James again with a look he immediately recognized: help me.

Maybe you didn't hate him so much after all.

“Alright, mutt. You apologized, back off of her,” James said, sticking out his leg to push Sirius back a step. Your eyes melted with gratitude, and James’ heart lost its rhythm, beating slower as something foreign and liquor-sweet flowed through him.

“I vow to be more careful in my pursuit of late-night snacks.” Sirius stood up, crossing his heart.

“Just no snapping bats out of the air, yeah?” You said, a shy little smile lifting the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” Sirius promised, and you nodded.

“How'd the scones come out?” James asked, filling the small gap of silence.

You shot him another grateful look and holy shit, he could get used to that. “You only managed to burn some, so that's good.”

He smirked, thoroughly enjoying this more mischivious side of you. “I blame the ovens,” he said.

“Sure, James,” you chuckled.

He could jump for fucking joy. You laughed at his joke!

“That's impressive, considering it was the ass crack of fucking dawn when he made them,” Sirius teased, flashing him a malicious wink.

You pulled a face, nose scrunched up in faux disgust. “That's way too early.”

“Nocturnal type, hm?” James asked without thinking, mentally smacking himself. Of course you were a night owl, you were a bat for Godric’s sake.

“You could say that,” you giggled. “Most of my classes are later in the day.”

“Then you should study with us tomorrow morning!” Sirius said suddenly, and James groaned, ready to neuter him for being so uncouth. “We're going to meet here after breakfast to study for the Potions exam.”

“Oh, uh—” you started to pick at your nails, loosing your footing in the conversation as quickly as you'd found it.

“No pressure,” James added, seized by the need to alleviate your discomfort. “It’s just going to the four of us, Lily, and Marlene.”

“And Prongs will make more scones!” Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

It's decided; James was going to smother him in his sleep.

“Maybe,” you finally answered, avoiding James’ eye, and his heart sank.

Sirius nodded, apparently satisfied with how this disastrous encounter went. “Lovely. Now, if you'll excuse us, James and I have to, ah, hit the gym…for…Quidditch reasons.”

You raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie, but didn't comment. “Enjoy,” you said, sinking back into your chair and turning your attention back to your book.

James chased a cackling Sirius out of the library. “You're a terrible fucking wingman,” James hissed, smacking him on the back of the head.

“I know, that was god-awful,” Sirius snorted. “But, maybe you'll get to see her tomorrow? So not a complete failure.”

“Or, she’ll never talk to me again because I'm friends with imbeciles that send her to the infirmary!”

“I guess we'll find out!”

“Now, I'm actually taking you to the gym with me as punishment,” James glowered. He needed to work off some of this stagnant energy, too, his mind and body buzzing from that small interaction.

“No! Merlin, please—no!” Sirius cried as James hauled him by the hair down the corridor.

Reader’s POV

You lingered outside the library, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Were you really doing this? You couldn't remember the last time you hung out with more than a few people at a time, let alone in the morning.

But you couldn't deny that at part of you, a miniscule, insignificant part of you that barely garners mentioning, wanted to see James. And with James came his friends.

He'd been kind to you, saved you from certain stabbing, made you apology baked goods, the least you could do is show your face for one morning study session.

There was something about James that was hard to say no to. He was so genuine, so eager. Even you couldn't bring yourself to pop his optimistic bubble, no matter how ambivalent you felt towards most things.

He was making it very difficult to continue despising him.

You could suck it up for one morning to make him happy. And only because he saved you. You owed him. Not because you cared about him, his feelings, or his opinion of you.

Definitely not.

Before you could chicken out, you pushed through the doors and into the library. It was sun-soaked and bustling, energy humming along the walls and marble floors. The chandeliers cast rainbows across the space, brightening the countless rows of books. Dust hung in the air like glitter, and it was almost, almost pretty.

Already, your head was starting to ache.

It didn't take long to find James and his friends, James’ voice carrying across the quiet library.

“She gets headaches if it too bright! Help me or fuck off, Pads,” James said, his voice pitching with distress.

“You need to relax, James. Your stress sweat is stinking up the room,” Marlene teased.

“That is so not helpful,” James bit. “And I smell delightful, thank you very much.”

“Because you practically fumigated the dorm with cologne,” Remus retorted just as you stepped around the corner.

“I did not—y/n!” James nearly toppled off the chair he was standing on, dropping the robes he was trying to pin up over the window.

The whole group swiveled towards you, and your stomach dropped out.

“Morning!” They all chorused.

You managed a small wave. “Good morning,” you mumbled, kicking yourself for agreeing to this. What the hell were you thinking? You didn't belong here.

Then, James was beside you, dropping a brawny arm over your shoulders, the alleged cologne wafting over you like a summer breeze. Verdant and sunny. “I'm so glad you came,” James murmured to you as he lead you to an available spot on the less-sunny side of the table. His bag was sitting in the seat, though his stuff was cluttering the space directly next to it.

He'd saved the spot for you, knowing you'd prefer to be out of the sun.

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, butterflies tickling the underside of your ribs.

That's it, you've officially lost your mind.

James pulled the chair out for you and you sank into it, the shade enveloping you like a cool blanket, and you felt a little more at ease. The group immediately launched into conversation about classes and Quidditch, their ease quickly growing contagious as you worked on your Potions formulas. James was reclined beside you, apparently able to work on his essay while chattering endlessly, and you found yourself chiming in, laughing at his silly quips and lame jokes.

One study session turned into two, then three, then a week passed before you knew it. You'd spend the morning with them, studying in the library or common room, then James would meet up with you for dinner in the library after Quidditch practice, sometimes with Sirius and Remus in tow.

You hadn't given much thought to your new routine, brushing it off as a temporary anomaly, until Saturday morning, when you woke up two hours earlier than usual and realized there would be no studying this morning. A kernel of disappointment lodged in your chest.

You were starting to wonder why you disliked him, any of them, in the first place. They were kind, funny, and more welcoming than ninety percent of the other people you'd met at Hogwarts.

The kernel of disappointed grew into a boulder of guilt, crushing and cold, at the realization. Your comfort was a construct. You'd been so stuck in your own head, in your assumptions, that it hadn't occurred to you that maybe you were wrong. That maybe, way out of your comfort zone, you'd actually love it.

A soft knock sounded against your dorm door. You threw off your covers and wrapped the blanket around yourself before pulling open the door.

You were not expecting to see Lily Evans standing there dressed in shorts and a bikini top, a pair of sunglasses keeping her copper hair out of her face. She had a colorful bag slung over her shoulder.

“Morning, sunshine,” she chirped, smiling at you.

“Oh, uh, hey, Lily. What's up?” You pulled the quilt tighter around yourself. Merlin, Lily was beautiful.

“We're spending the afternoon by the lake and I was wondering if you wanted to join?”

“Who, ah, who’s going to be there?” You asked, tongue thick with anxiety.

“James,” she replied, green eyes glimmering. “And the others too, but who cares about them.”

“Well, I—I don't have a bathing suit—”

Lily pushed past you, dropping her bag onto your bed and rummaging through it before pulling out an adorable black bathing suit. “I had a feeling you'd say that. And before you start—” she held up a finger to shush your protests, “We can make it whatever size you need.”

“Lily—”

“Please? We really want you there. It's been nice having a sane person around,” she said, taking your hands. “And James was too shy to come here and ask himself.”

You snorted. “James Potter? Shy?”

“I know.” Lily nodded solemnly. “He's different with you—good different,” she clarified when your frowned. “He's baking, for Merlin’s sake.”

You giggled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Alright, you win.”

Lily grinned, clapping her hands together. “They're already there, so let's go!”

You quickly changed it the bathing suit and your one pair of shorts, fishing your sunglasses from the very bottom of your trunk.

“Oh, honey,” Lily purred, casting an appreciative eye over you. “He's going to combust.”

Embarrassment burned your cheeks, but deep down, you hoped she was right.

It was a gorgeous day, temperate and blue-skied, a rare, cloudless afternoon in Scotland. It seemed half the school was frolicking around the grounds, piled onto picnic blankets and playing football in the open fields, wildflowers dotting the hillside.

When your reached the edge of the lake, your traitorous eyes immediately found James.

Waist-deep in the blue water and sun-kissed, rippling muscles on display as he splashed around with Peter and Remus, dark hair slicked back and dripping onto his broad shoulders. He was practically glowing, a gilded God among scrawny teenagers, and your mouth went sandy.

Then, he saw you.

If you thought he was glowing before—Lily was right, the poor boy damn near combusted. His face shattered into an enormous smile, his glasses going crooked from the force of it.

“Y/n!” He called loudly enough to alert everyone in the general vicinity, throwing his arms out in surprise.

“Hey, James,” you laughed, giving him a timid wave. It felt like every eye turned to you, burning into your skin like the dazzling sunlight. “I'm just going to go set my stuff down,” you said to Lily, spotting a shady tree just by the water you could retreat to.

The tree was just wide enough to hide you from prying eyes, the shadow of its leaves a balm on your overheated skin. You'd only been outside for five minutes, and already you were floundering. Here you were, hiding away instead of running into the water with Lily, towards the fucking Adonis waiting for you.

“Hey, you.”

You jumped, whirling around to find James standing right behind you, rubbing a towel over his sopping hair. “Oh, uh, hey.” Merlin, he was even more beautiful up close.

“Lily dragged you out, huh?” He wrapped the towel around his waist, leaving his hair even wilder than usual.

“She did,” you replied, desperately trying to keep your eyes from wandering down his torso. “Said you were too much of a pansy to ask me yourself.”

James guffawed, head falling back on his shoulders as he laughed. “That witch,” he chuckled. “You didn't come just to humiliate me, did you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you are the center of the universe.”

“Your universe, ideally.” He flirted, and your stomach flipped, somersaulting with your lungs and leaving you a bit breathless.

Thankfully, a screech from Lily being thrown into the water by Remus saved you from having to formulate a response. You turned at the sound, and your gaze snagged on a group of fifth years ogling James, and glaring daggers at you.

One of the girls shielded her mouth with her hand, muttering something to her friend while her eyes flicked up and down your body, and they burst out laughing.

Anxiety coiled tight in your chest, skin suddenly too tight on your body, the bathing suit suffocating. Everything was too bright, too loud, too open—

“Hey,” James said gently, his hands finding your hips and turning so his body was blocking yours from the girls. “Love, look at me. What's happened?” He bent down, trying to catch your eyes as they bounced around from onlooker to onlooker.

Fuck, everyone was looking.

“Them,” you mumbled, voice pitched an octave higher.

James looked back towards them, brows furrowed, and you made a hiss of protest, grabbing his chin and turning his head back towards you.

“Don't look,” you pleaded, crossing yours arms over your chest to cover yourself.

His confused expression twisted in consternation, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Look at me.”

You couldn't, too focused on the others.

“Don't look at them, look at me,” he said, a little firmer, his grip tightening on your hips. Your eyes flicked up to his, finding them molten, burning, pupils wide and dark. “Do you want to be here with me?” He asked.

Tentatively, you nodded. Unable to lie to him when he was looking at you, holding you, like that.

“I want you here with me too. More than anything.”

“James—”

“If you want to go back to your dorm, I'll take you myself right now,” he promised, voice trodden with sincerity. “We will do whatever you want to do. Just say the word.”

We will. The two words echoed in your mind, as tangible and concrete as your bat sonar. Whatever you decided, whatever you wanted, he was with you.

“I want to stay here,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his eye so he knew you meant it.

“Would you like to swim, or stay here in the shade?”

You hesitated, then— "Swim,” you answered.

He grinned, and one his hands skimmed across your hip towards your stomach. “That's a brave girl,” he cooed, and with a flick of his wrist, he popped the button of your shorts open.

Your mind went gooey as James helped you shimmy your shorts down your legs, letting them drop into a heap at your feet, tingles erupting over your skin in the wake of his hands.

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. Water’s cold,” was his only warning before he scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and charging into the frigid water with you in his arms.

“James!” You shrieked as he spun you, the heat of his body a sharp contrast to the bite of the water reaching your ribs.

“Couldn't let you talk yourself out of it,” he hummed, one of his hands coming up to smooth the hair out of your face. Droplets of water ran down your neck, making you shiver, and his smile widened.

“Just don't throw me,” you warned, failing miserably at sounding stern.

He scoffed. “You're crazy if you think I'm letting you go now, love.”

Then, a giant arc of water came crashing over the both of you, soaking you completely in a blast of cold. James tightened his grip on you, sturdy enough to keep you both upright under the onslaught.

You sputtered and wiped the water from your eyes, cursing, only to find Sirius doubled over laughing.

“Hold that thought,” James said, carefully setting you on your feet, the water reaching your chest. He shot a withering glare at Sirius, and the tattooed boy straightened, eyes glinting with challenge. “You're gonna regret that.” And James lunged, tackling Sirius back into the water with an echoing splash.

You wasted the afternoon in the water, splashing and horseplaying until you were shivering, toes numb and fingers crinkly, cheeks sore from smiling.

James wrapped an arm around your middle from behind, catching you mid-yawn, the setting sun and the cold sapping the last dreggs of your energy. “C’mon, love. Your lips are looking a little blue,” he murmured, resting his chin against your shoulder.

“Why are you looking at my lips?” You chided lightly, turning your head so your nose brushed his cheek.

He chuckled. “Can't help myself.”

You let him coax you out of the water and onto the plush grass, and stretched out on your towel under the tree you scouted earlier, letting the warmth of the sinking sun soak into your chilled skin.

James sat beside you, his back against the tree and legs stretched long. “Never thought I'd see this,” he said, quietly enough you weren't sure if he was speaking to you.

“See what?” You asked, tilting your head back to peer up at him, dappled sunlight kissing his tanned chest.

“You stretched out in the sun like a housecat,” he teased. “Sunshine looks pretty on you.”

Affection curled in your chest, simpering and saccharine. “Thanks, Jamie.” You inched up at bit, resting your head on his lap and letting your eyes flutter closed, basking in the drowsy decadence of it all.

His fingers combed thorough your hair, untangling the knots sewn by the water, and drawing you deeper into oncoming sleep.

“But you look stunning in the moonlight too,” he murmured, fingertip tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw. “My little night dweller.”

It felt like a dream, sweet and simple and golden, and you couldn't believe how different your life looked with James Potter in it.

“Tell me something awful about you,” you asked, twisting to look up at him.

“Something awful?” He smirked, dropping his arm over your waist, thumb grazing lazily on your skin. “I snore in my sleep. I put too much sugar in my tea. What kind of awful are you after?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

“I’d think you'd find plenty awful about me,” he ribbed.

“You'd think,” you hummed, turning your face away so you didn't melt under the radiance in his gaze.

Quickly, you were succumbing to James’ charm, being drawn closer and closer to his gravity, a lonely moon caught in the heavy orbit of the sun.

You felt helpless to it, and that scared you more than anything. You didn't want to need him, to need anybody. It was so much safer to be on your own.

But you weren't sure you wanted safer anymore.

James’ POV

After that day by the lake, James was hooked. Trailing your scent, your energy, your presence like a starving hound. He couldn't get enough of you, and you were kind enough to indulge him. Things hadn't progressed further than they did that day, lingering touches and loaded glances.

Normally, James would dive head first into the deep end, but he found himself wanting to follow your lead. Relishing in the quiet in between moments as much as the more charged ones, content to just be near you, savor you in whatever capacity you'd allow him.

He was just grateful you'd let him in at all. It felt like a gift, a glimpse at something secret and deeply rare, and it was not a blessing he was keen to squander by indulging in his usual hedonistic impulses.

He was happy to tread lightly, to let you step out of the shadows one bit at a time. Patience was never a virtue of his, but for you, he'd find the strength.

A week later, James was late to dinner, Quidditch practice having run well over. Sweat and dirt still clung to him, his training uniform uncomfortable against his balmy skin. But he was fucking starved, the gnawing in his stomach eating away at his mood.

The only thing getting him through was knowing that you'd be there waiting for him. He hadn't seen you at all that day, and it was wearing on him much like the hunger. Leaving him raw and wanting.

He went to push open the doors to the Great Hall at the same moment Lily came dashing out of them.

“Lils?”

“James! What took you so damn long?” She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the Hall. “I was just going to look for you!”

“Practice ran long, saints, Lily—what's up?” He registered the shouting in the next moment, Sirius’ booming voice echoing off the high ceiling. A crowd had gathered at the end of one of the tables, jostling and jeering. Slughorn was in the thick of it, trying to get between Sirius and whoever he was raging at with little success.

Then, James noticed you standing just behind Sirius, Remus hovering protectively at your side. You had a hand pressed to your mouth, the other arm wrapped around your torso. Tears were pooling in your pretty eyes, and the last shred of James’ patience severed.

He knew instantly what had transpired, had heard the mutterings in the hall, the gossip and the merciless chatter. He knew people were talking about the two of you, the Head Boy and Hogwarts' resident recluse, and he knew that it was wearing on you, despite the brave face you put on.

He just never thought anyone would take it this far.

He was across the Hall in a few long strides. He grabbed the bloke Sirius was screaming at by his hood and yanked him backwards, throwing him down onto the ground. “What do we have here?” James snarled, looming over the sniveling rat, his boot placed firmly on the pricks sternum to keep him from scuttling away. “Upsetting my girl, are we?”

“No, no! I, uh—”

“What happened, love?” James asked, looking over his shoulder to you, but you only shook your head, too upset to speak. His rage flared hotter. “Padfoot?” James tried again, turning to Sirius.

“Him and his buddies were crowding her, calling her mute—” Sirius voice broke, splintering with anger. “Asked if her tongue worked at all,” Sirius spat, glaring at the other two boys cowering behind Slughorn.

James turned his attention back to the roach under his boot. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your tongue out and shove it up your ass?”

“Fuck, Potter! It was a joke!” He sputtered.

“Let’s see if it was worth the laugh, then,” James cocked his foot back, kicking the kid sharply once in the side, then again in the kidneys when he curled up to protect his vitals.

Too fucking bad.

James kicked him a third time, pain shooting up his shin from the force, but before he could drop onto him, imagining ripping the fuckers tongue out with his bare hands, breaking his face open under his fists, a pair of arms wrapped around his middle. They pulled back on him with meager strength, trying to tug him away from his groveling victim.

He immediately knew it was you.

“Stop, Jamie. Please stop,” you whimpered, your forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. “It’s done. It’s over.”

His hand rested over yours on his abdomen, his breath coming out in jagged huffs. He hadn't realized he was shaking with rage until he felt your steadiness pressed against him. Trying to hold him together.

“He hurt you,” was all James could think to say, the crimson pulse of anger still throbbing at the edges of his vision. No one fucking hurt you.

“And you hurt him back,” you murmured into his jersey, clinging to him like you were afraid he'd lunge again. Hurting him wasn't enough. He needed to ruin him, throttle him, beat him so badly no one fucked with you ever again— “It's over.”

James drew a deep inhale, trying to focus at your warmth against his back, your willowy fingers clasped under his. “It's over,” James repeated, fixing the perpetrators with a warning glare. “So apologize, and stay the fuck away from her.”

They all nodded, muttering apologies while scooping up their groaning friend and hurrying out of the Great Hall. Only once they were gone did you release him.

James turned to face you, guilt churning in his stomach and an apology on his tongue, but you were already half-way down the aisle, wiping angrily at your cheeks as you stormed out. Leaving James standing there, feeling as filthy inside as he was on the outside.

No, no, no.

He knew he shouldn't. Knew he should let you go, give you space so you both could calm down. But he ran after you anyways.

“Y/n!” He shouted, running out into the hall and catching up to you in a few long strides. “Hey, wait—sweetheart, please—”

“I can't do this James,” you blurted, spinning on your heel to face him, and he staggered to a stop. “I-It's too much.” You shook your head as tears rolled down your cheeks, like you'd come to some sort of decision in your head. “I thought I could, but I can't—I tried, I—I’m sorry.”

His mind was reeling, too cluttered with anger and adrenaline and panic to find the words to make you stay. “Baby, don't go—” He reached for you, but you took a step back, then another. “We can do this—” His fingers brushed your hand the same moment you shifted, rocketing off through an open window, disappearing into the dark night.

“No, y/n! Wait!” He cried, but you were long gone, leaving his heart cleaved in two, his soul hollowed out. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, tugging hard at the roots of his hair. It wasn't enough. “Fuck!” He shouted, his fist connecting with the stone wall and making the nosy portraits scatter. Something cracked in his hand, but he could barely feel it over the agony in his chest.

“Prongs,” Sirius called, he, Lily, and Remus following him out onto the hall.

“I went too far,” James muttered, chest rising and falling rapidly, barely able to breathe through the crushing guilt. The sucking vacuum of emptiness you left behind.

“We all did,” Remus said gently. “Sirius whacked one of them in the head with a dinner plate.”

James loosed a wry chuckle, splintered and uneven, and shook his head. “I fucked this up, pushed her too far.”

None of his friends commented. The pity on their faces was answer enough.

“You can fix it, just—just give her some space,” Lily said, approaching cautiously. Like he was some kind of wild animal.

He stepped back from her, unable to bear their sympathy when he felt so wretched. “I'll see you later,” he muttered, turning on his heel and stalking away.

Reader’s POV

A week later…

Burrowed under your blankets, cocooned in the thick warmth of your own labored breathing, steamy from your countless shed tears.

You couldn't believe you had run off like that, skittish as a hare, spooked at the first sign of trouble. He'd stood up for you, damn near got himself expelled because some dip shits wagged their tongues at you.

But you couldn't escape the cloying tar pit of shame their words opened in your gut—what if they were right? What if all you were to James was a conquest? Another trophy for his display case?

It ate through you, sticky and dark and consuming, worsened by the guilt swimming through like a barbed alligator. Because how could you think that of him? How could you dismiss all you'd learned about his heart over the last few weeks so flippantly?

James wasn't like that, and he surely wouldn't have risked his Head Boy status for a meager hunt already halfway snared. He wouldn't treat someone like a consolation prize.

But…how well did you really know him?

Certainly not enough to expose yourself to the inevitable agony of trying to wrap your arms around the sun. He was James fucking Potter. He was everything. And you were bitter and lonely and lost.

You were better off here, saving all your romanticism for your inner life, rather than waste it on a fantasy.

“Y/n,” one of your roommates called gently, shaking your shoulder through the quilt. “You have some visitors.”

“I don't feel well,” you muttered petulantly.

“That makes two of you,” Sirius said, and your stomach dropped.

Slowly, you inched yourself out of the blanket, squinting at the golden sunlight filtering into the room. The air was decidedly cooler out there than in your little cave, and it stung your tear-scraped cheeks.

Sirius and Remus stood by your bed, the latter looking supremely uncomfortable.

“What do you want?” You asked, scrubbing a hand over your face to clear the cobwebs and crustys.

“Normally we wouldn't, ah, get involved,” Remus began, scratching the back of his head. “But—”

“But James is our best mate, and he's an absolute disaster,” Sirius cut in. “And clearly you aren't fairing much better.”

“So you've come to lecture me?” You bit, stung by his bluntness.

“No,” Remus said, glaring pointedly at Sirius. “We wanted to talk to you because—”

“Because we probably understand what you're feeling better than anyone,” Sirius finished.

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. “That’s presumptuous.”

“Perhaps,” Remus placated. “But we know better than anyone what it's like to be loved by James, and not really understand why.”

Your jaw clenched, a bitchy retort lashing at the backs of your teeth despite the glow his words stoked to life in your chest. James didn't love you. How could he?

Sirius sat on the edge of your bed, yet again completely unperturbed by your attitude. “James can be really fucking naive, and entirely too optimistic. Down right ignorant sometimes if I’m honest—”

“But he's also genuine, and loyal,” Remus interjected. “And it makes you want to, ah, redirect him, if you will.”

“You push him away because you don't think he understands what he's signing himself up for,” Sirius clarified. “Moons and I have done it at least a dozen times each.”

“And how is that relevant to me?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, like that would stop them from seeing into your heart further.

“Maybe it isn't.” Sirius shrugged. “Maybe you actually do think he's a brute and hate him for defending your honor in front of the entire school.”

Ouch.

You shot him a loathsome glare.

“Or maybe you're scared shitless by how loudly he loves, so you bailed to try and protect yourself,” he shot back.

“And to protect him from you,” Remus added.

You shook your head, fresh tears burning behind your eyes. You hated how right they were, and how pathetic it made you feel.

“Look,” Sirius said, softening his voice. “We just wanted to say that it's worth it.”

You looked back up at them, their faces blurred with salt water, as the fight rinsed from your body like grime from a window pane.

Remus offered you a handkerchief. “It's vulnerable, and it's messy, but it's worth it,” Remus said. “He’s worth it.”

Sirius nodded sagely. “You just have to trust him.”

“It's not him I don't trust,” you murmured, ringing the handkerchief in your hands, Remus’ initials staring up at you in delicate silver thread.

Remus gave you a sad, knowing smile. “You have to trust yourself too.”

“Alright, that's quite enough sentimentality for one afternoon,” Sirius said, pushing to his feet and ushering Remus towards the door.

“His first match back is Saturday!” Remus called over his shoulder as Sirius herded him out onto the hall.

“We'll save you a seat,” Sirius said with a wink before closing the door behind him.

Their words echoed in your mind, ringing true despite the countless excuses you'd made over the last few days. Deep down, you knew Remus was right; James was worth it.

But could you love him the way he deserved with all your pessimism and anxiety and thorns?

Would it be so bad to try?

James’ POV

He didn't see you for two weeks after that, besides in Charms, where you kept your head down and refused to look at him. He returned to his usual spot beside Remus, wishing it was your warmth he felt instead of the afternoon sun.

Two weeks he sat in evening detention, staring out the windows and hoping to see your silhouette flutter past the moon. 14 days he was benched from Quidditch for his injured hand, remembering the way your soft skin felt under his rough palm. 336 hours he found himself without words, preferring the silence over pointless chatter. 20160 seconds he spent in his head, where you were still beside him, and you looked at him with fondness instead of fear.

Everyone was buzzing for his first match back on the pitch. But he felt disconnected from it all, like the James Potter they were talking about was someone else entirely.

He didn't want to be that James Potter, he wanted to be your Jamie.

He hoped the feeling would melt away once the match started, flying through the air always did wonders for his mood, but if anything, he felt worse. You weren't there to watch him, so what was the fucking point?

His mood reflected in his play, and so the match went on, and on, and on. In the sixth hour, the sun long ago set, the players were dead in the air, the stands listless. But Quidditch didn't stop until the snitch was caught or enough points were scored that losing team forfeited, and James hadn’t scored a single point.

His hand was aching, sore from disuse, and his captain was screaming at him. Even his friends looked disappointed, slumped against one another in their seats, where they hadn't budged for the entire game.

Something whizzed by, catching his attention. At first he thought it was the snitch, and lifted his hand to signal the Seeker, but then it flew by again. Zipping by like a little shadow.

He nearly fell off his broom when he realized.

You slowed a bit, fluttering around his head, the delicate breeze from your wings ruffling his sweaty hair.

“Hey, you,” he murmured, unable to stop the smile pulling the corners of his mouth. He reached out to touch you when you suddenly banked away, swooping down towards the goals.

You gripped the top of the largest hoop with your little feet, and dangled upside down from it, stretching your wings before wrapping them around yourself, like you were getting comfy.

The Hufflepuff Keeper spotted you and flew a bit closer, curious. James was about to shout for them to leave you alone when you loosed a wrathful hiss, flaring your wings, and the Keeper reared back, screeching about a flying rat.

“Potter!” King shouted at him, and he turned just in time to catch the Quaffle headed his way.

The Keeper was too distracted by you to guard the hoop properly, and James smirked.

“Potter scores ten points for Gryffindor!”

“Another ten for James Potter!”

“That's 50 points for Gryffindor, what a come back!”

The continued scoring seemed to re-energize the game, the crowd on its feet and roaring in approval. James couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a Quidditch match so much, and it was all because of you.

“And the Seeker catches the snitch! GRYFFINDOR WINS!”

James whooped and cheered with his team, but he was searching the sky for you, his heart so full he thought he might choke on it. It seemed you were gone, though, as he had a feeling you might be, the excitement and cheering too much for your sensitive ears.

He landed heavily on the ground, his muscles exhausted from hours of staying airborne, and straightened to greet the crowd of Gryffindors that were pouring onto the pitch. But as soon as he did, he spotted you racing towards him.

“You did it!” You cried, throwing your arms around his neck as your body collided with his, making him stagger back a step.

His mind short-circuited, struggling to process what was happening. You weren't gone, you were here and wearing his scarf and…hugging him? In front of the entire student body?

Did he fall off his broom and hit his head? Because this had to be a dream.

He dropped his broom to hold you properly, one arm looped around your waist, the other holding your head against his shoulder. He squeezed as tight as his tired muscles could, burying his nose into your neck and drawing a long, greedy inhale.

“Couldn't have done it without you,” he murmured, fighting back the tears of relief pooling behind his eyes. You were here. It wasn't a dream, or a fantasy. You were real, solid and beautiful and trembling in his arms as the crowd cheered, confetti raining over your heads as fireworks popped in the obsidian sky.

You pulled your head back, cheeks streaked with tears and gave him a wobbly little smile. “I'm so proud of you, and I'm sorry for what I said.”

He shushed you with a peck on the cheek, then another on your nose, temple, the corner of your mouth—Merlin, he couldn't stop himself.

“I want to try again,” you said through water-logged giggles, fingers curling the hood of his uniform. “Please, Jamie?”

“Of course,” he said, caving to temptation and pecking your lips. “I’m yours,” he mumbled against your lips, and you grinned, kissing him again. You tasted like nectar and moonlight. Sweeter than any victory. And he let himself indulge, setting you on your feet so he could kiss you harder, deeper, drown in your winsome little sounds as you finally, finally, opened up for him.

The shadow to his sunlight, the moon to his tides, the other half of his heart, safe in his arms at long last.

#james potter #the marauders #james potter fanfiction #marauders #james potter fic #james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders fic #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #james potter drabble #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #the marauders era fic #animagus!reader

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promptedwordsmith · 1 month ago

Text

When you make their favourite meal

Caleb

The moment Caleb stepped through the door, the rich, savory scent of braised chicken wings filled the air, stopping him in his tracks. His sharp purple eyes flickered with curiosity before settling on you, standing in the kitchen with a proud yet slightly nervous smile. His gaze softened immediately.

“You made this?” he asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from you.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. “I know you’ve been busy, so I thought… well, you always cook for me. I wanted to return the favor.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, taking it all in—the warm, homey smell, the sight of you standing there, the effort you’d put in just for him. A slow smile curved his lips, something rare and unguarded.

He stepped forward, slipping an arm around your waist as he pressed a slow kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “I hope you made extra, because I’m eating all of it.”

The table was already set, and as soon as you placed the plate in front of him, Caleb wasted no time. He took the first bite, and the instant satisfaction in his expression made you grin. His usual composed demeanor cracked, revealing something far more open, more boyish—genuine delight.

“This is perfect,” he said between bites, barely pausing. “I mean it. The sauce, the seasoning—you got it all right.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You really like it?”

He glanced up at you, giving you a look that said, Are you seriously asking me that? He reached for another wing, effortlessly devouring it before shaking his head with a smirk.

“Like it?” He gestured to his nearly empty plate. “I love it. Is there more?”

You laughed, already reaching for the extra batch you had set aside. “You’re unbelievable.”

Caleb’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the second helping, his expression unreadable for a moment—until he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You didn’t have to do this… but you did.” He met your gaze, his usual intensity softened by something else. “I like taking care of you. But it feels nice… being taken care of too.”

You squeezed his hand, and in that simple moment, Caleb understood—this was love, given back in the way he understood best.

Rafayel

The moment Rafayel stepped through the door, his nose twitched, and his eyes widened in delighted surprise. The scent of his favorite meal filled the air, rich and warm, something he hadn’t had in far too long. His usual languid grace disappeared in an instant—he was at your side within seconds, arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

"You made this for me?" he asked, voice muffled slightly against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright with something almost childlike. "You really made this?"

You laughed, pressing a hand against his chest to push him toward the table. "Of course I did. Now sit down before it gets cold!"

He obeyed—mostly—but not without making a show of dragging his chair closer, his expression full of mischief as he picked up his fork. He scooped up a bite, inspecting it dramatically, as if he were a food critic about to judge a five-star meal.

The second it touched his tongue, his face twisted.

"Did you… mix the salt and sugar up again?" he asked, setting his fork down with an exaggerated frown.

Your heart dropped. "What?! No, I— I was so careful this time—!"

His lips twitched. A telltale smirk flickered at the edges of his mouth before fully blooming into his usual grin.

You gaped at him, realization dawning, and then slumped back against the counter in relief. "You’re awful!" you groaned, throwing a napkin at him.

Rafayel merely laughed, catching it mid-air, before promptly ignoring it in favor of shoveling another bite into his mouth—then another, and another, eating like he’d been starved for weeks. "It’s perfect," he admitted between bites, his words slightly muffled. "Seriously, I could eat this every day. You should make it again. Like, tomorrow. And the day after."

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, though warmth bloomed in your chest at his obvious delight.

He only grinned wider, reaching over to tug you down onto the chair beside him. "Maybe," he teased, bumping his knee against yours, "but I’m your problem."

You rolled your eyes, but as you watched him happily devour every bite, you couldn’t help but think—if he wanted this every day, you’d be more than happy to make it for him.

Sylus

Sylus doesn’t look up immediately when you enter his office, his focus still locked onto the documents in front of him. He’s been working for hours, lost in his endless calculations and strategies, barely acknowledging anything outside of his own mind. But when you set the tray down in front of him, the scent of the meal catches his attention. His crimson gaze flicks up, sharp as ever, and then his brow raises—not in judgment, but in surprise.

“You made this?” His voice is smooth, laced with intrigue.

You nod, feeling slightly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. You could have ordered something, could have asked one of his many personal chefs to prepare his favorite meal, but instead, you went out of your way to make it yourself. The effort shows—not just in the careful arrangement of the dish, but in the tiny smear of sauce on your jaw, evidence of your time spent in the kitchen.

Sylus leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reaches out, taking your face in his hand. His fingers are cool against your warm skin, his grip firm yet careful. You freeze under his touch as his thumb brushes against your jawline, wiping away the stray bit of sauce.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it off.

Your breath catches. Heat floods your face, a reaction that only seems to amuse him further. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, deep and rich with satisfaction.

“How sweet,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, watching the way you squirm under his gaze. “You went through all this trouble for me?”

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “Of course.”

Something flickers in his expression—something unreadable, something softer beneath the usual arrogance. Without another word, he picks up the tray and sets his paperwork aside entirely, pushing it away as if it no longer matters.

He takes his first bite, savoring it, eyes flicking up to you once more. His smirk is subtle, but there’s a rare sincerity behind it.

"It’s good," he murmurs, voice laced with something softer, something real. "You have my full attention now, darling. Tell me—what else do I owe you for such a thoughtful gift?"

Xavier

When you arrive home after a busy day of shopping with Tara, the apartment feels unusually quiet. You make your way through the entryway, setting down your bags, and catch sight of Xavier asleep on the couch, his silver hair spread out messily across the cushion.

It’s rare for him to be so still, especially after such a long day, but he hasn’t stirred even when you entered. He’s usually alert—always on guard, always prepared—but today, he looks like he’s finally let himself rest. His chest rises and falls steadily, the soft sound of his breath filling the room.

You smile softly, your heart tugging at the sight. He’s worked so hard lately, his missions never-ending, always pushing himself past his limits. You’ve been wanting to do something nice for him—something small to show your appreciation for how much he does, for how much he means to you.

You quietly slip into the kitchen, putting your shopping bags aside, and start preparing his favorite meal. The scent of cooked food soon fills the air—the warmth of it feels comforting, almost like the home you’ve built together. The process feels like an act of love, each step taken with care.

When it’s ready, you pause and take a breath before returning to the living room. Xavier is still asleep, his expression serene. You walk over to him, crouching beside the couch and pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then another on his jaw, and one more on his forehead, each kiss soft, careful, trying to wake him without startling him.

His eyelids flutter, and soon, he blinks up at you with groggy blue eyes, trying to make sense of the moment. “Mmm…?” His voice is rough, and he yawns, reaching out with a half-smile that says more than words could.

You lean in and give him one last kiss before pulling away, quick and playful. He reaches for you, his arms still heavy with sleep, but you’re already standing, laughing as you help him up and gently push him to the table.

He sits down with a smile, his eyes still sleepy but grateful. You place the plate in front of him, and when he picks up his fork, he takes the first bite, savoring it as though it’s the most important meal of his life. His gaze lifts to meet yours, and his smile deepens.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice warm, eyes glimmering. “You’re so good to me, you know that?”

You smile back, heart swelling with affection as you sit beside him, happy to see him so content.

Zayne

The day had been longer than usual for Zayne. His normally composed demeanor had been tinged with a faint weariness, the weight of the long hours spent at the hospital starting to show in the slight furrow of his brow. You noticed it—how he seemed a little more quiet than usual, how he sighed a little more heavily when he sat down, how his eyes lingered a moment longer on the clock than on the charts in front of him.

You knew exactly what you had to do.

When you heard that his shift was nearing its end, you slipped into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for his favorite meal—a dish you knew would comfort him, a warm, homey meal he rarely had time to enjoy. The scent of simmering broth and spices filled the air as you worked, each movement deliberate, each step taken with the intent of giving him a small moment of respite.

By the time the meal was ready, the sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the city. You packed it carefully in containers, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you imagined his reaction.

You arrived at the hospital just as Zayne’s day was coming to a close. His office door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. He looked up in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your presence.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light, but there was warmth in it. “I brought you something.”

He blinked, his stoic expression softening as he stood up to meet you. “You didn’t have to,” he said, his usual calm demeanor laced with genuine surprise.

When you revealed the meal, his lips curved into a small but pleased smile, a chuckle escaping him. “Well, this is a first,” he teased, eyeing the carefully packed containers. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring me dinner at work.”

You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. "I hope it’s as good as you remember," you said, waiting for his verdict.

He opened the containers, his eyes lighting up with the familiar sight of his favorite dish. “You even got it right,” he murmured, impressed. Then, his teasing nature returned as he looked at you with an exaggerated frown. “But no utensils?”

You hissed in realization, scrambling for something to use, but Zayne just chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said, reaching into one of his desk drawers and pulling out a pair of disposable chopsticks. “These will do just fine.”

He dug in, the first bite making him pause for a moment, savoring the taste. “This is... perfect,” he said between bites, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “Thank you.”

He offered you some of the meal, but you waved it off. “I already ate,” you said with a smile.

As he finished his meal, he stood and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I really appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, he was off, rushing once again to tend to a patient, but not before giving you one last glance—his eyes filled with a warmth that stayed long after he had left.

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liviawildrose · 2 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

take yourself seriously. every inch of you. every dream of yours. every damn thing.

this isn’t just a pep talk; it’s a full-on life shift. if you’re not taking yourself seriously, no one else will either. i’m actually kinda irritated how us women in general don’t value ourselves enough cause bitch it’s a privilege to have a woman in your life like please, we have the power to create a life inside our bodies so best believe we also have the power to change our entire lives. it’s you versus you, babe, and it’s time to step into the main character role you’ve been putting off. here’s how you shift the vibe:

1. start by loving yourself to the fullest

every single inch of you deserves to be loved and respected by you. you want someone to love you? you want people to respect you? start by loving and respecting yourself first. how you treat yourself sets the tone for how others treat you. the mirror won’t smile unless you do. seriously like what’s stopping you from loving, cherishing and prioritising yourself? it’s your body, mind and soul ITS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO TAKE UTMOST CARE OF IT.

take your body seriously. work out, not because society says so, but because your body carries you through this world. strengthen it, nourish it, adore it.

do workout, stretching and yoga to strengthen your body. eat good quality food, healthy food to nourish your body and speak words of affirmation to adore that work of art aka your body. cause why the fuck not? go to a dermatologist, gynaecologist, dentist etc get your check ups done become the most hottest version of yourself. this will keep you strong and healthy ensuring a healthy and fulfilling long life while achieving your body, beauty and physical goals would be just an added benefit (the best possible benefit is your body will thank you when you’re old cause all this workout, yoga regular check ups led you to age like a fine wine without any health concerns)

take your appearance seriously. it’s not about vanity it’s about self-expression and confidence. dress like you care, because you should care. look in the mirror and know you’re that bitch.

do yourself a favour and stop following trends and start becoming more you, pro tip start wearing clothes and makeup according to your venus, rising or mid heaven to suit you better, take your skin care, body care, hair care seriously too. take your time to understand your style, your self care routine. understand your body type, face shape and get clothes that suit you, understand your skin and get skin care that suit you and your skin concerns, understand your hair type and develop a great hair care routine too. do you colour analysis and understand which colour palette suit you the best. START TAKING YOUR APPEARANCE SERIOUSLY.

do your colour analysis done for free with the help of chat gpt

understand your body shape and proportions to dress accordingly

figure out your face shape and get your haircut, eyebrows, eyelashes done accordingly (even getting the best shades or reading glasses)

understand your hair porosity and hair type (even your scalp type) and your hair issues to buy hair products accordingly

understand your skin type and issues you’re facing to buy skin care products accordingly

understand you body too, sometimes you face is oily type but body is dry (like me) so different products

experiment and see what suits you over time (another reason to start using journal, check if certain products are actually showing results if not replace) even certain workouts

2. take your goals seriously

whatever you want to achieve, treat it like your life’s purpose, because it is. no one else will believe in your dreams until you do. stop waiting for validation from the outside.

take your career seriously. what are you doing every day to move the needle forward? no more procrastinating or making excuses. schedule your time. commit to your craft.

become the best at everything you do, dedicate time to becoming better everyday single day. become addicted to getting better becoming the top 1% develop a mindset of getting better everyday single day. keep developing your crafts your passion and practice daily

take your learning seriously. every book, every lesson, every skill it’s building the future version of you. treat your studies, hobbies, and passions like they’re sacred, because they are.

one thing that i’m doing these days is taking my learning seriously, be it academic and school stuff but also watching youtube videos on manifestation and learning better my top recommendation for understanding manifestation better is this channel called nero knowledge. now the thing all of his videos are long videos surpassing 30 mins average easily but that’s one way up putting it i’m trying to get my attention i’ve lost to short term 1-2 mins content back (and you should do it too) learn new skills, cooking, baking, new language, or whatever seriously why? cause this will help you get better as a human and as a player in the game of life. no skill is a waste or not that great like someone told “cooking is not that great of a skill” but guess what it is. you can use this skill to feed yourself but also this is such a flex skill it’s a patriarchal world unfortunately and just because we as women hate it doesn’t mean the patriarchy will go away. knowing how to cook is a survival skill which is important for both the genders but for some weird reason when women do it it’s “hot” and “ domestic” so let’s just use this skill to use and throw men and society in general. similarly drawing is a skill that you can use to show off too. skills is not just about learning language or coding etc

3. curate your reality like it’s your personal museum

your life is your masterpiece. everything you consume; what you eat, what you watch, what you listen to, who you hang around is shaping your reality. be intentional about it.

• what are you watching? is it inspiring you or draining you? binge less nonsense and more content that pushes you to grow.

again, if you haven’t made your mindmovie, please make it. ask chatgpt to make you a beautiful story where you have everything you desire and read it every single day. listen to subliminals. watch long form educational content like nero knowledge. be very intentional with whatever put in your brain. i’m not even kidding. your brain will shape your reality, so be very intentional. with whatever things you say to it, movies you watch, songs you listen to. everything. also be very intentional with your friends and people you surround yourself with because they can also influence you a lot. you are the average of five people you spend your most time with so be very fucking intentional.

• what are you eating? fuel your body like you care about living long enough to see your dreams come true.

as i mentioned earlier, eat your food intentionally and eat your food. if you’re planning to lose weight, eat food accordingly, if you’re planning to gain weight, eat food accordingly. (make a meal plan and get a nutritionist too if needed) if you’re like me who wants to become a singer, stop eating ice cream and stuff that will affect your throat. eat your food like your medicine or you have to eat medicine as your food. be intentional with your food as well. don’t eat unhygienic food either eat home-cooked food. and if you’re eating outside, make sure that the food is hygienic and the ingredients are also good quality being very mindful with whatever the heck you are putting in your body my love.

• who are you around? energy is contagious, babe. surround yourself with people who make you want to level up, not stay stagnant.

i’m not saying, cut off all your friends. but i’m saying that distance yourself at least with people who are not ready to grow. people who are way too comfortable in their own comfort zone. and people who are not ready to see anyone else grow. people who constantly put other people down. and people who try to undermine you. be friends with people who want to grow. if you are at a certain level get friends who are also at your level, but are willing to change. or get friends how are at higher level than you who can help you grow too. and is that means you have to cut ties with your old friends it’s okay

4. respect yourself enough to show up

it’s not about perfection; it’s about consistency. every single day is a new chance to prove to yourself that you’re worth the effort.

• wake up earlier. give yourself time to breathe and plan before the world starts pulling you in every direction.

half of the game is literally to show up every single day. most of us fail to do so. consistency is what matters the most. so show up every single day respect yourself. don’t disrespect yourself by showing that “oh i am just a lazy bitch.” no, you’re not. respect yourself enough to show up every single day. for example you respect your professor and that is why no matter how drained you are, you will still show up to the class or at least hand in the work on time because you know that professor have the power to deduct or increase your marks just like that in your life, the professor is all your goals and in order to please this professor (goals) you need to show up every fucking day so that the professor aka your goals, give you the results that you want

• set boundaries. protect your peace. say no to what drains you, and hell yes to what fuels you.

respect yourself enough to set boundaries and protect your peace, no matter what. this is actually the very first step of levelling up and i have mentioned this in the first steps. have enough courage to say no to things, people and circumstances that are not aligned with who you wanna be and the goals you have. for example, if a friend asks you that or do you wanna drink? say no. especially if you’re like me, and you wanna become a singer, alcohol damage your vocal chords, and i cannot take that risk. start saying no to plans that do not align with your goals and the person you are trying to become. it’s a way of showing respect to the person you’re trying to be. again if your show respect to the person you’re tryna become or the reality your chasing you will not have it, your actions and beliefs should be in alignment with the reality you seek

• prioritize self-care like it’s non-negotiable. rest, hydrate, and treat yourself kindly.

again i’ve mentioned this earlier too in the first steps so please read that, no matter how much you train and hustle you need to give yourself enough time to recover even athletes do this after intense training, they do spend some time recovering so that they muscles and overall stamina get used to everything. if you’re only working like a robot and you refuse to give yourself time to rest, it’s not gonna work. moreover, it’s not healthy. give yourself time to rest. hydrate and do self-care. treat yourself, kindly. as i mentioned in my become your own mother blog. you have to become a mother to your own self, who says. “i want you to work hard, because you deserve a better life” but also a mother who says “you should rest and take some moment to relax because you’ve worked hard and you deserve it” it’s all about balance. even in my game of life blog, i mention fun and recreation category, because having fun and treating yourself kindly, relaxing all these things matter too. because you just can’t keep on working and not have fun and relax in your life. that’s not how i want you to live this life. i want you to hustle hard and the party even harder.

5. start dating yourself

no, seriously. treat yourself like the love of your life.

• take yourself on solo dates. dress up, and go somewhere that makes you happy.

ask yourself, when you’re in love with someone what do you do? you try to become better to get their attention (my sister aka me changed her entire music taste to get validation from this guy, yeah i know embarrassing) but seriously you take care of the way you dress, what you post on social media, your words etc. so now put that same “im obsessed with you” energy towards yourself. workout get a better physique FOR YOU, better your conversation skills FOR YOU, score good marks FOR YOU, become rich FOR YOU.

• journal your thoughts and dreams like you’re getting to know someone deeply because you are.

start journaling, shadow working etc to understand yourself better cause that’s exactly what you’d do if you’re the love of your life, understanding yourself your flaws, your dark side, your patterns, your attachment style etc why? cause you love yourself. do scrap book journaling to honour your life. paste photos of your achievements etc (i’ll make a post about my journals too) but y’all got the idea. start journaling you thoughts and feelings, you don’t need a “how was your day?” text to write about your day in your journal

• spoil yourself. don’t wait for someone else to buy you flowers or treat you to nice things. do it for yourself.

stop letting life happen to you, go live your life yourself, go audition alone, go start a business alone do things alone and be okay with that, if you do have a friend who is in this journey of growth with you together that’s great but please don’t wait for a man or a friend to start living your life be okay with doing with on your own and as well as in a group

6. heal for the little you inside

your inner child is still here, waiting for you to show her the love and care she deserved

just read become your own mother. i have explained this topic in detail. but seriously, one way to honour yourself is to honour your inner child too

7. your energy will mirror back to you

the way you treat yourself is the way the world will treat you.

• if you neglect yourself, people will neglect you.

it starts with you, babe. how you show up for yourself sets the standard for how others show up for you. if you don’t take your boundaries seriously no one else will. if you’re not putting effort in showing up for yourself no one else will, that is why one way to manifest your dream life (your dream reality) is by wearing what your alter ego (your higher self would wear) i have written about alter ego in first steps and the game of life so read it if you’re new here

• if you don’t respect yourself, people will disrespect you.

as awful it may sound, but you have to earn your respect. why do you think your professors will take you seriously? if you don’t score good marks it’s not like they will treat you like a piece of shit, but they won’t take your opinion seriously because you haven’t improved yourself enough for that yet i’m not even kidding. if you really wanna be heard, you have to do something that is remarkable. i know it’s a hard to swallow and it might feel like what the heck?. everyone should deserve respect equally. and that’s true. i agree with you. i personally would never look down on someone just because he or she haven’t done something remarkable, or they aren’t as rich or pretty. i would never do that, but that is not the same case with how society thinks if you wanna step up, you have to do things and show the world that: yes, i am capable. for that, you have to respect yourself enough to take the first step in order to achieve greatness. and then people would respect you more because the energy you’re putting will mirror back to you.

• if you don’t take your dreams seriously, no one else will.

i mean, seriously, just start taking your dreams, seriously. no one else will take your life, your dream, your looks, your income, seriously, if you don’t. it’s not like other people owe you success. you have to do that. you have to become your own knight in the shining armour. and change your life completely. because if you’re not taking your dream, seriously, why will anyone? you have to take initiative. you have put yourself up there. and get that bag.

8. stop waiting for permission

you don’t need someone to tell you it’s okay to go after your dreams. you don’t need a cheerleader to remind you that you’re worthy. you have to affirm it to yourself, every single day: “i am capable. i am worthy. i am doing this.”

• stop hesitating. the perfect moment will never come. just start.

for example, i want to become a singer. but that doesn’t mean that i will wait for a label to notice me and change my life upside down. no, i will start making covers. i will start practising my craft, i will email managers and people in that field to notice me because it’s on me. i have to do that. i’ll have to do the research and look up for any audition. and by the time, i am gifted with a perfect moment or opportunity i will be ready to snatch that opportunity because i kept on levelling up my skills, so when the opportunity comes, i will be more than qualified for it.

• don’t wait for external validation. be your own biggest hype squad.

there are gonna be days. no one is gonna hype you up, and you have to do that. actually, you have to do that every single day. if you wake up early and get your morning routine done give yourself a pat on the back every. single. day. tell yourself, “i’m so proud of myself.” you studied for three hours? give yourself a pat on the back. like come on, if no one else gonna appreciate you, you can! you can appreciate yourself every. single. day. and yes, every single day, i’m not exaggerating. i want you to keep on hyping yourself up every fucking day. and i’ll keep hyping you up too because i love y’all

9. get 1-2% better every day

you don’t need to overhaul your entire life overnight. just focus on being a tiny bit better than you were yesterday.

• drank one more glass of water? better.

• walked an extra block? better.

• studied for an hour extra? better.

those small wins add up, babe. before you know it, you’ll look back and barely recognize the person you used to be. it’s me vs me

10. make yourself proud

this is your life. your story. your masterpiece. stop living like you’re a side character and start owning the spotlight.

• take yourself seriously because you’re worth it.

i think i have explained this quite a number of times throughout the blog. but I’ll say it again. take yourself seriously. take your thoughts seriously. take your mental health seriously. take your body seriously. take your mind seriously, your spiritual beliefs seriously, your presence seriously, your ideas seriously every single thing i mean it every single thing seriously and get rid of anything that is trying to come between you and your goals (your dream life)

• work for your inner child, your future self, and the person you’re becoming.

be intentional with everything you do, the people you hang out with if the same people have hurt you or you’re inner child get rid of them. if these people will affect your future and your future self, basically, the person you’re trying to become get rid of them. similarly, if a thing or particular circumstance is affecting you, please get rid of those things. be intentional with how you talk to yourself and the things you listen, to the videos you watch, the food you eat, the songs you listen to, all of them should align with the person you’re trying to become. start aligning yourself in the same frequency as your dream self i.e your future self by wearing clothes that she might wear, by talking and watching videos that she might watch and basically embody her habits, believes and mindset. while doing all this, keep working on your shadow self (do shadow work) and healing your inner child simultaneously. (healing is a daily practice)

• every single thing you do for yourself now is setting the foundation for the empire you’re building.

also, the same thing be intentional with whatever you’re doing. if you wanna become a millionaire, your habit should look like one. if you are trying to become a good person, a loving person, your habits should look like one. If you’re trying to become a singer, your habits should look like one. It’s all in what we do daily and our habits literally.

if you want to join me on this journey of becoming my higher self. please comment, like, reblog, and follow let's embrace the glow of together.

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carnalcrows · 2 months ago

Text

HOW TO STEAL A MAN (AND HIS GROCERY LIST)

pairing: gi-hun x top male reader

synopsis: When Gi-hun’s late-night cat-feeding routine attracts a stalker with a cart full of cat food and questionable social skills, chaos—and maybe romance—ensues.

content warnings: 18+, top male reader, stalking, blowjobs (reader receiving), missionary, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, reader wants to get gi-hun pregnant asap, age gap (reader is in his 20s and gi-hun is in his 40s).

word count: 2.2k

A/N: ty anon for the request!! i had fun writing this one

Seong Gi-hun’s life wasn’t glamorous. Every evening, after whatever sorry excuse for a day he’d had, he stopped at the corner store, bought a packet of cheap cat food, and made his way to a run-down alley to feed a scruffy stray. It was the one bright spot in his life, and he looked forward to it more than he cared to admit.

What he didn’t know was that someone else looked forward to it too.

That someone was you.

You first noticed Gi-hun a few weeks ago while wandering through the neighborhood. At first, you thought he was just some random guy lingering in the alley, but then you saw him crouch down and pour food into a chipped saucer. His voice was soft as he spoke to the stray cat, coaxing it to eat.

It was... oddly endearing.

From then on, you couldn’t help yourself. You started following him—not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little creepy)—but you were curious. Who was this man? Why did he care so much about a stray cat?

Your fascination grew, and soon, watching him feed the cat became part of your routine. But you wanted more than to just watch. You wanted to talk to him. To know him.

One evening, as you watched Gi-hun walk into the corner store, you got an idea. A foolproof, albeit slightly unhinged, plan. You hurried inside ahead of him, grabbed every single packet of cat food off the shelf, and went to pay, ignoring the cashier’s confused look.

When Gi-hun arrived at the pet aisle, you lingered near the exit, pretending to browse.

“What the…?” Gi-hun muttered, staring at the empty shelf. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and turned to leave, only to almost bump into you.

You were standing there with a massive bag filled with cat food packets.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you said, pretending to be startled.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re the reason the shelf is empty?”

“I feed a lot of strays,” you said innocently, though the amusement in your voice probably gave you away.

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You think I could buy one of those off you? There’s a stray I feed every night, and now I’m empty-handed.”

You pretended to think about it, then smiled. “I’ll give you one… if you let me come with you. I’d like to meet the cat.”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your request. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t scare it off, okay?”

That’s how it all started.

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into a routine. Every evening, you’d meet Gi-hun at the corner store, walk with him to the alley, and sit on the curb while the stray cat ate. Over time, you learned bits and pieces about him: his failed marriage, his gambling problems, and most importantly, his love for his daughter, Ga-yeong.

“She’s all I have left,” he admitted one night, his voice soft.

You nodded, unsure what to say. It was clear how much he cared for her, even if he didn’t always show it in the best ways.

As weeks passed, you also got to know Ga-yeong, who was surprisingly cool for a kid. She started teasing her dad about how much time he spent with you.

“Are you two dating yet?” she asked one evening, smirking as she watched you and Gi-hun prepare dinner.

Gi-hun spluttered. “W-what? No! We’re just friends.”

“Sure, Dad,” she said, winking at you.

You laughed, enjoying how flustered he got.

One rainy evening, you were at Gi-hun’s apartment again, helping him cook dinner. The kitchen was small and cramped, but it felt cozy with the two of you working side by side.

As you chopped vegetables, you glanced at him. “You know, you’re not half bad at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased. “You’re full of surprises.”

Gi-hun smiled, but when he noticed you staring, his brow furrowed. “What? Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” you said, setting the knife down. “I just… I’ve been wanting to do something for a while now.”

Before he could ask what, you stepped closer, your heart racing. Gi-hun froze like a deer in headlights, his hand awkwardly holding a ladle full of stew.

“What are you—”

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him.

At first, he didn’t move, his eyes wide with surprise. But as you pressed into him, his shoulders relaxed, and the ladle clattered to the counter. Slowly, tentatively, he kissed you back, his lips warm and soft against yours.

It started gentle, careful, like he was afraid to mess it up. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. He leaned into you, his hands nervously gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You smiled against his lips, enjoying how hesitant he was, even as his breathing grew heavier.

“Relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his. “You’re doing fine.”

“I—I don’t—” he stammered, but you cut him off with another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent.

Gi-hun let out a muffled sound of surprise, his hands fumbling as they slid up your back. His inexperience was endearing, and it only made you want to kiss him harder.

Somehow, the two of you ended up pressed against the counter, the dinner long forgotten. Gi-hun’s hair was an absolute mess from your hands running through it, and his cheeks were flushed a deep red.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Good,” you said with a grin, leaning in to steal another kiss.

The smell of burning stew eventually snapped the two of you out of it, but not before you got one last, lingering kiss. As Gi-hun scrambled to salvage dinner, muttering curses under his breath, you leaned against the counter, watching him with a satisfied smirk.

“I like you,” you said casually, making him freeze mid-stir.

He turned to look at you, his expression somewhere between flustered and incredulous. “You think?”

“I know,” you corrected. “And I think you like me too.”

Gi-hun sighed, his lips quirking into a small, shy smile. “Yeah... maybe I do.”

You laughed, reaching out to tug him back toward you. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mouth found his once more, and you slowly lifted the man onto the countertop. He yelped in surprise, and you used the opportunity to slide your tongue, relishing in how he tasted.

His hands gripped onto your shoulders, while you held his waist, steadying him. You slowly trailed butterfly kisses from his jaw to his neck, stopping at his Adam’s apple before lightly nipping on his ear lobe.

Gi-hun was still quite unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, not having engaged in such…activities for far too long.

“You do want to do this right? We can stop the moment you tell me to,” you said to him, your tone soft. After a second of pondering, he gripped your shoulders with determination, and latched his mouth right onto yours.

You took it as a sign to continue, and slowly broke away the kiss to close the stew before continuing to have your way with him.

You slowly picked him up from the countertop and carried him to the couch, revelling in how surprised you were. Carrying those giant bags of cat food was worth it.

You laid him on the couch gently, its base creaking with the sudden weight. Gi-hun hastily pushed your pants down, tugging at the strap for a few seconds before it made way. Your cock sprang out, hard and leaking.

His eyes widened, and he looked up at you. Your eyes were soft, letting him know that this didn’t have to continue if he didn’t want it to.

Before you could say anything, he licks a stripe across your length, savouring the musk emitting from the base. You let out a groan, gripping onto his hair–but not too tight; not yet.

You let him experiment with your dick, leaving small kisses along the underside, while his hand moves up to clutch your balls, heavy with your seed. He wonders to himself on how your cum would feel inside him, and the thought makes his ears burn a bright red.

“Don’t take this long darlin’, wanna please you too,” you mumble, wanting him to speed up just a little bit.

He slowly wraps his pretty lips around the tip of your cock, making you let out a garbled moan. His mouth was just so, so warm.

“Breathe through your nose baby, that’s it,”you cooed, watching him struggle to take your length all the way.

He slowly bobbed his head up and down, savouring the precum hitting the back of his throat. Your moans were getting louder and louder, to the point where you had to muffle the noises with the back of your hand. The walls of his house were quite thin.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to swallow you whole. Your grip on his hair had gotten significantly tighter, as you push his head to take you all the way. His garbled mumbles did nothing but send vibrations straight up your dick, turning you on even more.

“So good f’me baby, I’m almost done,”you groan before releasing your grip on his hair and pulling out of his warm throat, before ejaculating all over his face.

He looked up at you in shock, his face a mixture of tears, sweat and semen. It truly was a sight to see. Your dick stood right back up.

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, you quickly turned him around on the couch, his ass up towards you.

You pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, to reveal his tight hole, clenching around the cold air. He hissed when he suddenly felt a finger at his hole, slick with lube (where did that come from).

“This might hurt a lil’ bit,” you said before slowly pressing your finger into his hole. His back arched with the intrusion, the pain mixed with the pleasure going straight to his cock, the tip red and weeping.

You slowly added another finger, watching as his ass practically swallowed them whole as you pumped them in and out.

After adding a third finger, you deemed that he was prepped enough to be fucked. He already looked out of it, that was a different thing altogether. His shoulders were slumped and his elbows were the only thing keeping him upright.

You positioned you cock at his entrance, and slowly slid in, groaning at how tight and inviting his hole was, as if it was made just for your dick.

Gi-hun let out a loud moan, it was almost pornographic. He had never felt this full in his life– your cock was almost ripping him in half!

You bottomed out all the way to the hilt, and you slowly started to move, whispering dirty nothings in the older man’s ear.

“How does it feel, getting fucked by a man half your age, hm?” Gi-hun could only blabber at this, his brain could no longer form coherent words as his mind was so focused on how your cock was hitting the right spot with every. single. thrust.

You felt his hole mould into the shape of your cock, and every time you hit his prostate, his moans got more high pitched. One of your hands caressed his stomach, and you were surprised to find his belly bulging with every thrust. He squealed when he felt it, his brain was feeling so empty.

“Y’know Gi-hun, your daughter must be quite lonely, considering that she is an only child. Wanna give Ga-yeong a sibling?” you teased, to which he could only moan, his head filled with the thought of you making him pregnant with your seed. The thought didn’t seem too bad.

To this, you lifted him up and sat on the couch with him on your lap, his back to your chest. You lifted his legs up in such a way that every single time you lifted him up and dropped him back on your lap, your dick would hit places he didn’t even know existed.

He threw his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head with the vigour of your thrusts, fucking into him like you were an animal in heat. At this point, it really felt like you were trying to get him pregnant. A man couldn’t biologically get pregnant, but all rational thought had flown out the window, and who said you couldn’t try?

As your thrusts started to stutter, you knew you were at a climax, so when Gi-hun came with a cry, painting his abdomen white, you pushed into him all the way to his imaginary womb before coming undone with a loud groan, painting his gummy walls a pearly white.

You kept your cock in him for a while, letting him relax. His hole clenched and unclenched around your dick, while only spurred you on even more.

Gi-hun turned around to face you lazily, but with surprise, as he felt your cock harden in him once again.

“We can’t stop yet love, I need to give you a baby after all,” you smirked before pushing Gi-hun back down onto the couch.

He was fucked.

And somewhere out there, a stray cat was probably wondering why its dinner was late.

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strang3lov3 · 2 months ago

Text

Throat Coat

Joel doesn’t make your sore throat feel better, but he does make it worse.

Tags - smut, one shot, dark daddy!joel, rough blow job, facefucking, deep throating, cum swallowing, kissing, hitting/swatting, abuse, dubcon, daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, thick n girthy (legal + unspecified) age gap, controlling!joel, Joel is all mean and grumpy and short with you, sexy comforting father figure!Joel, Joel feels guilty for hurting you and cries a little, so he babies you and you milk it just a little. you deserve it. hurt/comfort, dark fluff, non-graphic descriptions of illness (sore throat + strep), tommy makes an appearance...planting some seeds here... ;) 3.6k words A/N - heddo! if you're sick rn I’m hugging you. And if you’re not sick, you will be and I’ll hug you then too. Wash your fuckin' hands ya beautiful freaks

“Set the table f’me, pumpkin.”

Joel’s voice is low as he watches you slowly get up from where you sit on the couch, pausing in place to no-doubt roll your eyes before shuffling toward the kitchen. You don’t look right - you’re dragging your feet and your eyes are droopy, there’s a big pout on your lips. Shoulders are slouched forward like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world upon them. Brows knit in some kind of upset as you move lazily, and Joel’s jaw ticks as you let the cabinets slam shut instead of closing them gently, like he’s asked you to do.

After setting the plates and the forks down at yours and Joel’s respective seats at the dinner table, you fill two glasses with water, bumping into Joel and splashing him as you move through the kitchen. “Hey - watch where you’re goin’, kid,” he gruffs, shaking his head as he bites his inner cheek in frustration. He narrows his eyes at the way you don’t say anything. There’s no sorry, no excuse me. Joel makes a note of this. “Gonna be one of those nights, huh,” he grumbles.

You’re sulking in your chair now, making no effort to even glance at Joel as he brings the hot dishes to the table. Arms crossed, eyes fixed on the wood grain. Joel serves you first, a large helping of green beans and potatoes, an even larger helping of chicken. “I can already tell just by lookin’ at ya that you ain’t eaten enough protein today,” he grumbles, eyeing you. “Gonna be a peach for me, aren’t ya?”

“Mm,” you hum, the noncommittal noise dripping with defiance. You hate when he reads you like this. His unique ability to pinpoint your mood or your attitude, your state of being. Uncovering the things you seek to hide. Joel knows you better than you know yourself in some ways, and it’s as infuriating as it is validating at times. He understands you, all of you, and he’s always there, filling in the gaps of what you don’t tell him. You can’t get anything past Joel.

Joel serves himself next and begins eating, shoveling bite after bite into his mouth. He’d worked up quite a fierce appetite today, spending his time shoveling snow and doing other arduous housework while you sneakily evaded your own chores. You poke a little at your food with your fork, scraping the metal along the porcelain while ultimately deciding that you don’t want to eat. You push your plate away and lay your head down in your arms on the table.

Joel’s hand lands firmly on your bicep. “Nuh-uh. You sit up at the table. What’s the matter with you?”

You groan as you reluctantly pull your body up, head throbbing with the action like a heartbeat. You can feel blood pumping in your face, a pressure behind your eyes and nose and forehead so awful you feel like your face could melt right off. “M’not hungry,” you grumble, voice thick with discomfort.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second. Yes, you fuckin’ are,” Joel says, spearing a green bean with his fork. “I know you are, so don’t even try it. You’re gonna eat, ‘cause I already know what’s gonna happen: s’gonna be bedtime and you’re gonna be whinin’ ‘bout how your stomach hurts ‘cause you didn’t eat enough at dinner and who’s gonna have to fix you somethin’?”

“No one,” you mutter.

“Me,” Joel corrects, without missing a beat as he shoots you a warning glare. “Now you get to it. An’ I wantcha eatin’ everything that’s green on that plate, do you understand me?”

“Fine,” you sigh, dragging your plate back towards you. You pick up your fork but instead of actually eating, you just maneuver the food around on the plate a little. The green beans are cut into smaller bites, potatoes shoveled into a neat little pile. The occasional scraping sound your fork makes against the porcelain makes you wince, but you ignore it. Just killing time.

Joel serves himself a second plate of food, fork hovering over his plate when he pauses and notices that you’ve still not touched yours. “What’d I tell you? Or are ya waitin’ to eat it cold?”

You shrug, earning another cold look from Joel. He doesn’t like when you waste your food, and his patience is wearing thin. “I just don’t feel so good,” you tell him, sniffling softly. Your throat’s been scratchy all day, and you can’t breathe too well. You feel awful.

Joel drops his fork and leans forward, chair creaking with his shifting weight. He presses a calloused hand against your forehead, and the added pressure actually soothes your throbbing pain, just for a moment. His fingers travel down your face and with practiced ease, he presses two fingers just under your jaw, feeling your lymph nodes. “Feel fine t’me,” he says, pulling back.

Not the response you were looking for. “Daddy…” you whine, elongating the word in a bid for his sympathy.

“Mhm,” Joel hums, a knowing lilt to his tone. You claim to be sick a lot when you’re simply dehydrated or attempting to get out of something. “Heard this one before,” he says, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest. “You’re not pullin’ one over on me. I know you, pumpkin.”

“I’m serious,” you argue.

“So am I. Drink your water f’ya feel so bad. That’s your problem, sweetheart, you’re never drinkin’ enough water. I tell ya a hundred times a day to hydrate yourself.”

“B-”

“M’not havin’ this argument,” Joel cuts in, voice firm. He’s right, too. Nine times out of ten you’re poorly hydrated, which is usually the reason for when you feel like crap. Dehydration is certainly playing a role today, too, as much as you hate to admit it. “Drink.” He snaps and points to your glass, watching how you roll your eyes as you take it, just to needle him a little. “And adjust that fuckin’ attitude a’ yours, ‘fore I adjust it for you. S’that what you want?”

“No,” you mumble into your glass. You drink about half the water, then set the glass down and stare at Joel pointedly.

“Keep goin’. Drink it all, kiddo,” Joel urges gently, taking himself down a notch as his voice loses its edge. You obey him, finishing the glass. “Good girl.” You smile a little, just a momentary little curve of your lips. The praise feels good. For as stern as he can be, Joel is quick to let go of anger. Patient, to a point. But not always. “Bet you’re feelin better already, aren’t ya?”

“No,” you whine, though Joel is right that the water helped. Can’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing that, though. “I still feel like shit.”

“Watch the language,” Joel scolds, anger renewed. “Y’feel like shit ‘cause you’re tired. Spendin’ too much time watchin’ that goddamn TV. And I know you’ve been sneakin’ down here to watch it after bedtime. Did it last night too, didn’t ya?”

“N-”

“Don’t even try it,” Joel bites, his glare pinning you in place. A warning.

“Yeah…I did,” you admit. He’s right again. “But I’m serious, Joel, I really don’t feel good.”

“Tough,” he says, no sympathy in his tone. “Let it be a lesson to ya. Take care of yourself and you won’t feel so bad. Now you quit your cryin’, sit up straight, and eat your damn food, or so help me god I’ll shove somethin’ else down your throat of yours. S’your last warning,” he adds as he stares you down. Eyes still fixed on you, he raises his brow and points at you, “Don’t make this a bad night, now, pumpkin.”

“You’re not f- you’re not listening,” you seethe, frustration bubbling over. You plant your elbows on the table and bury your head in your hands to stand your ground, refusing to back down. It’s his short temperedness to your stubbornness, your oppositional defiance. Things work out better for you when you listen to him, and you know this. But you can’t help yourself but to buck him anyway. Joel always tells you that he gives you an inch and you take a mile.

“Oh, s’that’s how we’re doin’ this?” Joel snaps, and you’re in for it now. “Fine.” He grabs you by the forearm in a bruising grip and yanks you out of your chair, forcing you over the table. “Go ‘head, keep fuckin’ testing. Watch what happens.” He pulls down your pants and panties unceremoniously, giving you less than a moment’s notice before he smacks your ass, hard. His large hand on your head, pressing your face into the wood so hard that the pattern of the grain will be imprinted on your cheek. You cry out as he slaps your flesh, each hit worse than the last. He leaves you bruised and raw by the end of it, sniffling as the sting bites your skin. Usually he rubs you to soothe the ache...

…But not tonight. Tonight, Joel pushes you to the ground, knees scraping on the hardwood floor as he drags you where he wants you. Eyes wide, mouth open as your bottom lip wobbles. Joel palms his growing erection, momentarily massaging himself over his jeans before unbuckling his belt. He tosses it on the ground, that metallic clanging sound piercing your ears. He unzips his jeans next and pushes them just enough down his thighs to free his cock, fully hardened now. He holds it menacingly between his thumb and his first two fingers, heavy balls sitting above the waistband of his boxers.

Joel reaches forward and tangles a hand in your hair, looping his fingers around the strands to pull them tight. “Open,” he barks. You part your lips a little, and Joel fits the thick, blunt head of his cock between them. “That ain’t enough,” he says, slapping the tip against your bottom lip. “Wider. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

After you open your mouth wider for him, Joel begins sliding himself down your throat. He’s met with a little resistance as you pull back, wrapping your hand around the base of him in attempt to temper the force of which he fucks your mouth with. Joel slaps your cheek, “Don’t,” he warns, and pulls your hand away.

He forces himself down your throat entirely, the hand on the back of your head keeping you still even as you gag and choke on his cock. You’re panicked, pulling back but Joel holds you firmly, unwavering in his strength. “Stay,” he says. “You’re fine. Breathe through your nose.”

You open your jaw and your throat, surrendering to it as Joel begins fucking your mouth, drawing in and out of your mouth inch by inch. Tensing up makes it worse, makes it hit you harder. He tastes salty today, smells headier than usual. His graying patch of pubic hair scratches your nose, and if he fucks your face any harsher it’ll rub your skin raw.

Joel grunts loudly, growling your name and a series of words that he doesn’t let you say. None of it feels pleasant for you, not that you can vocalize that. His cock’s down your throat, further irritating what’s already scratchy and sore. You feel so…used.

You’ve told Joel that before, that you feel used when he does things like this to you. He says he understands, but it’s not supposed to feel good. It’s a punishment. It’s discipline, and he disciplines you out of love. He loves you, pumpkin.

Joel fucks your mouth with abandon, and you can’t control those choking, gurgling noises you make. Drooling all down his shaft, down his balls. Your eyes start to water before you cry freely, not that Joel cares. “Cry all ya want,” he grunts, and you whine in discomfort. Joel ignores that.

You have to hold his twitching, meaty thighs for stability as he moves your head back and forth on his cock repeatedly, clutching him tightly. Your jaw aches with the ferocity of how he moves, ferocity that borders on violence.

“Look at me,” Joel pants. “Look at Daddy.”

He strokes your cheek tenderly for a moment, a brief reminder that he loves you, even if it hurts sometimes. Still fucking your face, Joel reaches between his legs and cups his balls, squeezing them a little as your throat pulses around his length, tongue massaging that thick vein that climbs the underside of his cock. “Almost there, pumpkin. Be good for Daddy. Stay like that,” he groans, signaling release is near.

You whimper as his cock twitches in your mouth, and with a few more hard, deep thrusts, Joel feels that warm, sticky feeling. His balls tighten, his muscles tense and release as he lets out a deep, guttural groan, pulling out of your throat to paint your tongue in his come. “Swallow it,” he instructs softly, pulling back the rest of the way. A bit of come spills down your lips and onto your chin.

Joel’s chest heaves with heavy breaths, watching you swallow his load. Your cheeks are hot and sweaty, hairline damp with glittering sweat. Joel drops to his knees then, joints cracking while sinking to your level. He pushes his stray come past your swollen lips, “Lemme see,” he says. “Show me that tongue, pumpkin.”

It’s routine. You always take what Joel gives you, always. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and that’s when Joel sees it. The angry redness, the swollenn tissue, the white sores on the back of your throat. His breath catches, a quiet gasp escaping him as his face softens in an instant. He whispers, voice thick with guilt, “Oh shit, kid. Fuck. You weren’t lyin’.”

“Told you, Daddy,” you reply, feeling both hurt and validated.

Joel nods, clenching his jaw as regret floods his face. “Yeah, you did,” he murmurs, guilt filling every corner of his mind. You really did tell him, and you told him multiple times. “Did I make it worse?” he whispers, holding your face in both of his hands, rough thumbs caressing your skin as his eyes search yours. Hesitant to answer, you pull away from his gaze.

“You can tell the truth,” he urges, and his voice is both soft and insistent. “You won’t be in trouble. Cross my heart, baby girl.”

You pause. Finally, you admit it. “...Yes,” you whisper.

Joel’s face crumples. “Daddy’s so sorry, kiddo.” His voice cracks. “I really am. I shoulda listened to ya. C’mere, pumpkin.” His hands fall to your shoulders before he pulls you into a tight hug, and it takes you no time at all to hug him back just as tightly. This is all you wanted - his warmth, his comfort.

After holding you there on the kitchen floor for a while, Joel sniffles and presses kisses to the top of your head, one after another. “With me,” he says, and his voice sounds thick. He doesn’t let you see the tears he wipes away as he leads you to the upstairs bathroom.

Joel sits you down gently on the lidded toilet, opens the bathroom vanity and pulls out an old Walgreens thermometer, the once-bright red paint all but worn off. He washes it with soap and hot water, then brings it to your mouth. “Open up,” he says, cradling your jaw tenderly in his hand. “Goes under your tongue.”

You open your mouth and lift your tongue, wincing when Joel slides the thermometer into place. “Ow,” you whine. “You poked me.”

“I apologize. Was an accident, baby,” Joel murmurs, adjusting the thermometer. “Close your mouth and keep it there a minute.”

You wait in silence as the device takes your temperature, and it makes a quiet, rhythmic beep when it’s done. Joel pulls it from your mouth and squints, jaw dropping a little as he reads the tiny number on the tiny screen. “Shit,” he mumbles. “Lemme see your throat again.” You open your mouth wide for Joel, and he tilts your head back and faces you toward the light so he can better see, a worried furrow in his brow. “Mmm…m’wonderin’ f’ya don’t have strep throat,” he says with concern. “We’ll keep an eye on it, though. You tell me if you start to feel worse, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Joel eyes you, wondering how you could’ve caught something like this under his watch, especially when he’s not been sick lately. “How’d you get sick, huh? Been sneakin’ outta the house? Got yourself a boyfriend you ain’t tellin’ me about?”

“No,” you insist, and Joel doesn’t fight you hard on it. It was mostly a joke anyway.

“Maybe Uncle Tommy brought it in when he stopped over to check on ya the other night,” Joel says. And he might be right. You don’t have a secret boyfriend you’ve been kissing, but…

Uncle Tommy did visit not so long ago. Joel was on an overnight patrol shift and had felt nervous leaving you home alone, as he so often does. He’d asked Tommy to swing by to check up on you.

It was late when he entered through the back door, walking in on you curled up on the couch, a romance novel in your hands. Joel says he knows what goes on in those books and doesn’t like you reading them. You gasped, “Fuck, Uncle Tommy!”

Tommy wore that disarming smile of his. “Language,” he chastised, with no real anger in his tone. You scrambled to get back upstairs, but Tommy waved his hand. “Ain’t gonna rat you out,” he said, taking a seat next to you. His eyes twinkled as they dropped to your book, “Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing.” You shrunk under his curious gaze.

“Mm-hmm,” he smirked, taking the book out of your hands to inspect the cover. “This certainly ain’t nothin’.”

“I know, but–”

“You’re not in trouble.”

Tommy smiled kindly at you, dark eyes sparkling and warm. You’ve always found him handsome, handsome like Joel. Pretty in the same ways, age softening his features. You like his freckles, his long, black hair.

“M’just checkin’ in. Don’t get to see enough of ya, you know that?”

“I guess,” you said quietly, looking down at the pages of your book. You always have a hard time looking at him. He’s so…something about him feels like trouble. He makes you breathe funny, but not in a bad way. Not always.

Tommy tilted your face up then, ran the back of his knuckle across your cheekbone. “Whatcha shy for?”

You didn’t know what to say. Tommy knew the truth and chuckled, kissed your cheek to make you even more bashful. “S’okay f’ya got a crush,” he whispered, tracing your lips. Tommy kissed you then, just a small one. Just to hear you gasp and feel you squirm, that little moan you let slip as he stole the breath right from your lungs.

“I’m not supposed to–”

“I know, I know. You ain’t supposed to do this, not supposed to do that. Your daddy’s got you on a tight fuckin’ leash, sweetheart,” Tommy said, caressing the side of your face. “But I ain’t gonna tell your old man nothin’. An’ you don’t need’a tell him nothin’ either, hm? Joel doesn’t need to know everything that goes on with you, honey. S’okay to keep things secret, sometimes.”

“I still want you eatin’ something tonight,” Joel tells you, tucking the thermometer away. “I’ll heat up some soup. Will you have a couple of bites?”

You shake your head, pouting. “But I already said I’m not hungry.”

“I know,” Joel replies softly. “But ya gotta eat. Please, kiddo? Bet it’ll make your throat feel better. Do it for me, pumpkin.” Joel pokes your face a little, flutters his fingers around your neck and chin, tickling you. Teasing. It makes you giggle.

“Stop!” you laugh, pushing his hand away. “Fine. I’ll eat.”

“Attagirl,” Joel says.

He tells you to get changed into pajamas and downstairs, to get comfortable on the couch. Put on whatever dumb, girly movie or show you want on the TV. You follow orders, and Joel meets you downstairs with extra pillows and blankets clutched under his armpits. He makes you nice and cozy, then heads for the kitchen to clean up and prepare you that soup, which’ll be lighter on your stomach and easier on your throat. It’s just a matter of heating it up, as it’s jarred and ready to eat. Simple veggies and broth.

Joel sits next to you on the couch and feeds you a spoonful, your favorite bowl in his hands. You love the little pattern on it, chili peppers dancing on the porcelain. You wince upon taking the first bite, “Too hot,” you complain.

“Then I’ll blow on it.”

Joel blows on each bite of soup as he feeds you, the warm broth soothing your burning throat and clearing up your sinuses. “Thank you.”

“One more bite,” he tells you. “Last one.”

“You said that last time.”

Joel smiles. “Think I’d remember sayin’ somethin’ like that, pumpkin. One more, now.” You finish the last bite of soup, then roll your eyes when Joel gives you a new glass of water to drink. “I know. Your old man’s the worst, ain’t he?”

“He is,” you mumble, but you take the drink anyway. Joel seems pleased, happy. He tells you that you can stay up late tonight so long as you rest tomorrow, but you don’t make it past 8:30, asleep in his lap as he strokes your hair and listens to your rhythmic breathing.

more of this joel here

i hope you liked! if you enjoyed, please leave me a comment or send an ask. your words keep me motivated to write. thank you <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #joel x you #dark daddy!joel #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fic #joel miller imagine

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canthelpit0 · 10 months ago

Text

Intimate

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k +

In wich: matt has a borderline obsession with cock warming

Warnings: smut, cock warming, p in v, use of y/n, 1st pov, praise kink, name calling (slut), pet names, unprotected, creampie

(A/N: English is not my first language! Also this song has like barely anything to do w the plot, I just feel like that’s the vibe. This is sort of like a blurb. Hope you guys like it <3)

One of the considerably weird things Matt is into is: cock warming.

I clench at the thought trying to focus on my history homework.

I’ve known Matt for practically all my life. We’ve always been close and no conversation between us was ever awkward.

Matt didn’t seem like the type to be into that sort of stuff. But one day, when, we were hanging out and cuddling like we were normally, I felt a hardness at my butt.

When I turned back to look at him he was blushing. Matt had his arms wrapped around my waist, spooning me.

After I asked him what that is, he responded with a question. “Can I..?” He trailed off and I wasn’t catching on to his train of thought.

“What? you want to fuck?” I huff rolling my eyes…not that I would be against it.

“No.” He said defensively squeezing my sides. “Can I just put it in?” Matt asked shyly.

I paused, But eventually complied. With the duvet being over us it shouldn’t be too awkward. He shuffled out of his sweatpants and pulled mine down too.

And before I knew it his finger was inside of me and I was wet.

After a few moments I felt the head of his dick press against me before feeling his entire length slide into me.

I never thought he’d be into that, but even further, I didn’t think that I’d like it too.

I shift feeling the angle change.

“Y/n/n, can you stop moving.” Matt huffs, his words sounding passive aggressive. He puts one of his hands on my hips to prevent as much movement as possible, his other hand still clutching his phone.

I clench again at the tone of his voice, slamming my pen down.

Ever since that day, when this first started off, I started to sit on him more often. Whether it was while we were cuddling or just mindlessly hanging out. We’re not necessarily friends with benefits tho.

I guess he just likes the feeling… but so do I.

It was bad, like we hung out so much Chris and Nick started to make joking remarks about it.

About us hanging out so much that is, not the… whatever we’re doing.

Like it was so bad that practically every time we were alone somewhere private, I was probably sitting on his dick.

It feels so intimate and good, and if we still have time after, he’ll rail me.

But I’m saying that when we’re at home doing homework, I’m sitting on his lap. Or when cuddling or sleepovers. Or even when we go get fast food to eat in the parking lot at night. I’ll climb over the middle console and sit down on it.

I was never a skirt person, but I started to wear skirts more often just for the easier access.

I could go hours just calmly sitting on it.

But sometimes after a while I would get frustrated.

I try to grind into him, Matt still holding me in place as much as he can.

“What? You wanna get yourself off on my dick?” He huffs. His grip on my hip gets harder making me whine, while his other hand still holds his phone.

He’d been scrolling through TikTok and various other social media while I was trying to get all of my homework done.

And it’s been probably over an hour now and I was getting frustrated from all the homework. doing math first was definitely a mistake.

And while on a normal day I would be fine with the intimacy and wouldn’t be trying to get myself off, the homework today was frustrating. And since Matt was already balls deep inside of me, I might as well.

He leans over putting his phone on my desk. With the movement his hand on my hip loosens giving me the opportunity to start to slightly ride him.

“Fuck-“ i sigh. I lean forward on my arms, trying to get as much friction as I can, both on my sweet spot and also my clit.

I hear Matt’s low groan. And suddenly his hands are on my hips again, holding me in place.

“Y/n I swear, i will make you cum over and over again until you’re seeing fucking stars if you don’t fucking stop right now and go back to your homework.”

His tone is authoritative and so hot. Why was he saying that like it would be such a bad thing anyway.

“Matt please.” I whine.

Sometimes Matt would get frustrated and fuck me while I wasn’t even paying him any mind, and sometimes it was the other way around.

He huffs letting go of my hips. Matt leans back as he just watched me and my every move.

I let out a shaky breath once again, leaning forward more to lift myself better.

“Fucking slut, getting yourself off on your best friends dick.” He rolls his eyes in exasperation.

His hands go to my waist, assisting my movements now instead of stopping me.

“If you cum I’m still gonna Make you warm me.” He warns his tone assertive.

Matt holds me in place for a few seconds and scoots the chair back. I sigh leaning forward, using my forearms to prop me up, before starting to ride him again.

His eyes were heavy lidded, his mouth dropped in a silent moan while he watches me.

He somehow seemed way less sensitive than me. But I can literally feel the knot starting to tie In My stomach just waiting to snap.

By this point I was panting and Matt was letting out some heavy breaths too.

“Fuck- Matt, Matt” I whine his name my voice pitching higher as i keep getting closer.

“You close baby?” He breaths out keeping his hands on my hips for stability.

I let out a sharp breath letting my head drop forward as I keep up the angle and speed up in order to reach my climax faster.

“Yeah.” One of my hands go down to my clit to rub it, resulting in my other arm having to hold me up alone.

“Come then.” He demands, his voice sounding cocky. I can hear him breathe heavily and bite his lip to keep quiet.

With his hands tightening on my hips, I feel the knot in my stomach snap.

I let out a loud moan, piercing through the, otherwise, mostly quiet room.

I sit down again my pussy convulsing around his cock.

I sigh, trying to calm down again. Matt’s hands rub my sides, holding my back to his chest and mumbling sweet nothings into my ear.

“You good?” He asks after I mildly catch my breath. I lean more into him, my eyes fluttering closed as I mumble an agreement.

“You gonna go back to your homework now, or…?” He trails off waiting for me to answer.

“No” I breathe out and slightly look over my shoulder to make eye contact with him.

He lets his huge grin take over his features. He picks me up gently, making me wince, to wich he whispers encouraging praises into my ear.

My back makes contact with my bed. I sigh at the feeling of the soft sheets under me. And I watch as Matt hurriedly takes off his shirt.

I was still wearing my mini skirt and a long sleeve shirt, but Matt didn’t look like he was going to take them off. The access was easy, so really, why do the extra work.

Matt rubs my lower stomach, while his other hand holds his dick. He glides it up my folds before slipping it back into me. I whine at the feeling throwing my head back into the mattress.

I’m still sensitive from my previous orgasm and also from the hour of cock warming’s

It wasn’t like he wasn’t sensitive too. I could see him physically hold back from releasing right then and there.

Our eyes stay locked while he starts to rock his hips against me. I can feel him hit that spot in me that makes pure euphoria shoot through my entire body.

Despite not being labeled, it always felt so intimate with Matt.

Maybe it was because most of the time it was literally just cock warming and nothing else. But sometimes, when it did come to the actual intercourse - penetration type of thing, it still felt intimate.

“So good for me baby.” He breaths out. Our eyes stay locked, my mouth dropped in quiet moans.

“Fuck- you like being filled?” He chuckles. His hand stays on my lower abdomen, pressing down slightly to feel himself.

I close my eyes briefly trying to respond, but the way his hips snap into me, and the way he still manages to make this feel sensual, has my head fuzzy.

“Fuck..” Matt breaths out his eyes staying locked on my face. “Too fucked out to answer now?”

All I can do is whine out his name and moan loudly, and he takes pride in that. I know he does. I can see it in his eyes.

“You wanna be fucking full all the time, don’t you baby?” Matt taunts, somehow speeding up even more.

I clench around him my legs going stiff at the constant and heavy stimulation.

Matt notices and readjusts, picking up my legs further so they’re on his shoulders before he picks up pace again.

“Close” I whine out, I can feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter by the second, threatening to snap anytime now.

“Good girl” he hums. Matt’s fingers find their way towards my clit as he starts to vigorously rub it.

“Oh god-“ I moan loudly throwing my head back, my eyes shutting tightly as I try not to get overwhelmed, even tho i already am.

“Eyes on me.” Matt speaks lowly also panting. His movements pick up pace getting more rough and messy, indicating that he’s close too.

My eyes snap open, immediately meeting his. And as soon as they do, I feel my body convulse, my orgasm washing over me like a wave. But despite that, I try to keep my eyes on Matt as best as I can.

“So pretty.” He breathes out harshly and before either of us know it, he gives me one last thrust and fills me up.

I pant, trying to catch my breath. I feel a thin layer of sweat coat my skin, but despite that, I love this feeling.

This post orgasmic state was sending me into almost as much euphoria as the sex itself.

I watch through lazy, heavy-lidded eyes as Matt sits up straighter, moving my legs from off of his shoulders.

“You wanna clean up or sleep like this sweetheart?” He asks tilting his head. Matt was trying to contain a goofy smile.

“Just..” I trail off and let out a breath. Damn I didn’t realize just how out of breath I am.

“Just lay down.” I breathe out.

He licks his lips his eyes wandering from my face to my body and how it’s still clothed.

“You wanna sleep with clothes, or…” he trails off. Matt’s eyes come to meet mine again with a playful glint.

“Matt, I don’t care” I say exasperated.

“I wanna cuddle?” He says like I said we wouldn’t. I huff a slight laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation at hand.

Matt huffs trying and failing to hold back a smile. He gently and slowly pulls out in order to not hurt me. But I still wince from the over stimulation.

He pulls the skirt back down and than reaches for the zipper. He pulls the skirt off tossing it to the floor carelessly.

He then reaches for my long sleeve shirt. I sit up slightly so he can take that, and my bra also off.

Now being nude under him, he looks satisfied. He hums in approval and wordlessly lays down next to me, before I feel his arms go around my waist.

“You think you can warm me, baby?” He whisper sweetly into my ear. I feel a shiver run down my spine from his tone of voice. My eyes shut I take in his silk like words.

“Corse.” I breathe out pushing my hips back into him to tease him.

Matt chuckles lowly. I feel his length slide through my folds. Still being soaked in our combined juices, it was fairly easy for him to slip back in, not that it didn’t make me moan.

I felt way too sensitive, but like hell would I ever say no to this.

Matt chuckles at the low moan I let out. He has his arm spread out so I can lay on it his other arm around my waist. “You do like being full?” He asks in fake shock.

“You were the one that started this tho?” I question right back not moving at all. Simply keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the closeness and intimacy.

“Touché.”

Masterlist

A /N: sorry for being gone for so long guys. Schools been overwhelming. But yeah, I hope you guys liked this. Requests and asks are open & feedback is always appreciated 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

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