#if i go physical i can get a friend to pick it up i guess??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kajibunny · 11 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ we're just friends! (or are we?) w/ the wind breaker boys ✧⋆⭒˚｡

✿ featuring: hajime umemiya, jo togame, haruka sakura, hayato suo, ren kaji ✿ fluff, mutual pining, hidden feelings (aaaa), suggestive for suo, a lil angst (with comfort) for kaji ✿ a/n: i guess by now everyone can tell that i’m very into the friends to lovers trope ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა~♡ it’s def my fav!!! and these wb bois are all perfect friend material, and ofc boyfriend material too! enjoy, cuties! ✿ wc: 2.3k

— you have a closely intimate friendship to the point that everyone around you thinks you two are dating, though you know you're not lovers (yet), but are definitely more than just friends.

ʚɞ umemiya

— sharing hello and goodbye kisses with each other.

ꕤ you and umemiya are the definition of 'affectionate', as your love languages both consist of physical touch. but maybe with each other, a little bit too much for just friends.

ꕤ the word "boundaries" did not exist to the both of you once you were within arm's reach of each other. you and umemiya give each other hello and goodbye hugs, sometimes cheek and forehead kisses, as a greeting, right? to be friendly. though he doesn't seem to do that as often to other people, or at all, even. just to you. only to you.

ꕤ he also loves cuddling up to you whenever he takes a nap on the rooftop, inviting you to join him in picking out some veggies that you two could make a meal together with.

ꕤ while you two were cooking together, you definitely gave off a 'married couple' vibe with the way you held the ladle up for umemiya to taste, the way he had pressed his palm to your back whenever he needed to pass through, the way he fed you with his own spoon and giggling while complimenting how delicious your cooking was, the way he wrapped his arms around you and hummed while he helped you wash the dishes. anyone who saw would have immediately bid their congratulations and would think you two are newlyweds.

ꕤ hiragi took one look at the both of you appearing all lovey-dovey, and the confusion of whether you two were dating or not made his stomach scrunch up in pain.

ꕤ umemiya calls you such adorable names when referring to you in conversation, too. his tiny bean, his ray of sunshine, his cherry blossom, it was always "his", as if you belonged to him. he was openly affectionate with you and was not afraid to show it.

ꕤ many guys also took a liking to you, but never attempted to even make a move or confess, because they were already under the assumption that you were umemiya's, seeing you two playing with each other's fingers and comparing hand sizes like you were made for each other. but how could that be, you and umemiya were just friends, weren't you?

ʚɞ suo

— you get a special seat (on his lap).

ꕤ suo just can't seem to keep his eyes and his hands off of you. you always have to be within his vicinity, or he's not sure how he'll be able to stand it.

ꕤ he sees you at the corner of his eye, after you have made your way back from the restroom. you and the other bofurin first years were at an izakaya, and the moment you returned, all of their eyes were glued to you and suo, as if they already knew something was going to ensue. you two have been friends for a long time, but the way you acted towards each other felt like you two have been lovers for a long time.

ꕤ suo was always up in your space, whether its pulling random pranks on you, inviting you to go out then paying for everything even though you tried to stop him (nothing can stop suo), visiting your home and leaving an endless supply of tea enough to last you a whole year - his excuse being it's there for whenever he comes over, and multiple instances which all prove that suo was no doubt a very clingy friend. not that you minded, anyway. you were used to suo and his antics.

ꕤ he had his ways of persuading you too (he is the master of negotiation, after all), and you just couldn't resist him, as you loved being around suo just as much.

ꕤ this time, he took advantage of your short absence and made himself comfortable in your chair, and wouldn't even move an inch. "hayato, that's my seat!" you exclaimed. "hm?" suo tilts his head. "you can just sit on my lap, then." he smiles, with that damn mischievous smile you know all too well. you tried to get him to move by gently pushing him back and forth but suo seemed to not have a care in the world.

ꕤ you can't tell whether suo is serious or joking sometimes, but nirei and sakura seems to have their doubts that you two are "just friends" as you both claim. "are you sure the two of you aren't dating?" nirei asks you. sakura blushes and lets you know his thoughts, too. "y-yeah...! you two are unusually close!" you always reply to them with an astounding "no!" but suo just laughs and does not affirm nor deny any of their claims.

ꕤ suo pulls you in close, making you sit on his lap regardless of your little outburst, and you weren't sure if it was hot in the izakaya, or if it's just you, but you certainly felt warmth overcome your body while it was pressed flush against his, his arms wrapped around your waist nonchalantly. "hayato!" you protested, trying to squirm your way out of his grasp, and pushing away all intrusive thoughts about his and your bottom halves being so close together, only separated by thin pieces of clothing.

ꕤ nirei, the most observant of the bunch (next to suo), points out that you even call suo by his first name, and that's another one of the reasons why you two seem like you're dating.

ꕤ with suo, everything seems to be a mystery. but in suo's perspective, it's all clear. he loves you, whether it's as a friend or as a lover, that's for him to know and for you to find out.

ʚɞ togame

— leaves everyone on read except you.

ꕤ togame just doesn't understand why people need to type out what they want to say, aren't calls more personalized? he didn't understand at all, until he met you.

ꕤ you were, to put it directly, a chatterbox in all forms. you loved to talk, regardless if it's chats, calls, or in person, you just yapped your heart out to him everytime, and he lives for it. he wouldn't miss a second of you opening your mouth and giving him a taste of your innermost thoughts. he absolutely adored talking to you, because it was you, and you were special to him.

ꕤ the shishitoren guys thought it was so funny and adorable whenever togame picks up his phone so quickly because he thought it was you calling, then scowls when he realizes it isn't, and immediately silences it and shoves it back in his pocket. this caused him to set a different ringtone just for you, so he could pick up on the very first ring.

ꕤ you were also the first reply he ever sent via sms, a simple "ok" to your long message talking about how you thought it was amazing that he won the town's annual eating contest for many consecutive years in a row and that you were totally ready to challenge him next year by stuffing your face with okonomiyaki and invited togame to join you and have some with you so you could keep an eye on the competition. he found your personality totally amusing, his face immediately lighting up with a gentle smile whenever you sent him messages.

ꕤ anyone who sees how happy he is while he rereads your texts over and over would interpret that as togame being totally, irrevocably, head over heels in love with you.

ꕤ he doesn't actually reply to anyone at all ever, but he wanted to share all his firsts with you, he just couldn't help it. you were captivating, witty in your words, and very very charismatic, bombarding him with the cutest and funniest messages everyday. of course, he doesn't mind at all and is always looking forward to them.

ꕤ you two stay on calls for longer than eight hours at a time talking about how each other's day went, and yet you wonder why people always think you two are dating. normal friends don't stay up until the break of dawn chattering for hours on end, expressing all the things they like about each other, do they? at least togame knows he wouldn't do it with anyone that wasn't you, as he valued his precious sleep time dearly, but as time went on, you became more precious and more dear to him than his sleep time ever could.

ʚɞ kaji

— play fighting like an old married couple.

ꕤ kaji is the type to never go down without a fight. needless to say, that also applies to you. but your fights with him were different, more banter adjacent, more affectionate and playful. only lasting for a few minutes.

ꕤ kaji had a huge soft spot for you, as even though you did irritate the heck out of him sometimes, somehow he still could not stay angry or annoyed at you for more than one second. he just couldn't resist the way you crossed your arms and huffed with your cute little frown. he thought you were the most adorable angry little thing he's ever seen and wanted to pinch your cheeks out of cuteness aggression and frustration, but he would never say it to your face.

ꕤ one time, you two had a heated argument because he said he could hear you just fine but wouldn't bother to take off his headphones. you argued that it was impolite and that you won't talk to him at all anymore if he does that again, and you two were at each other's throats, giving one another a piece of your mind, until kaji mutters a 'sorry', and you began to sob uncontrollably and let him hold you in his arms while he stroked your hair to comfort you because you two couldn't stand the intensity and tension of being angry at each other for long.

ꕤ you had your less serious fights too, like when you made him a bento box for lunch and you two had a picnic together with his vice captains. you fed him the food with your chopsticks, kaji teasing you by saying "it's bland." and you reasoning out that kaji was 'as salty as his tastebuds'. kaji then asked you if you wanted to have 'a taste of his fists', which ended up with kusumi and enomoto snickering in the background wishing that the both of you would just date each other already.

ꕤ whenever you two argued, your faces were so close to one another's that you were just a few centimeters shy from kissing, the tip of your noses touching. kaji had to hold himself back, a lot. like an insane amount. friends didn't want to kiss and make out with their friends, right? but kaji did. and you did too.

ꕤ his way of apologizing is by suddenly leaving a lollipop with you. he puts them in your bag, or places them in your pocket while you weren't looking. it was his little peace offering, one that you treasured and collected, accumulating dozens of them by your bedside table. kaji would gladly give up his last lollipop for you, and no one could argue otherwise.

ʚɞ sakura

— blushing wildly whenever you two are around each other.

ꕤ you and sakura always looked like you two were having a blushing competition. the littlest touches and the most minimal contact had both of your cheeks heating up in response.

ꕤ it was like sakura's blushing was contagious. ever since you two became good friends (if you could call it that, though it seemed to be more than that at times), being around him triggered a whole bunch of embarrassing and hilarious but sweet situations.

ꕤ you once dragged sakura off to his very first cherry blossom viewing in the park, and needless to say, with both of you being a chaotic (but cute) duo, it kind of felt like you were on a wild rollercoaster ride with him.

ꕤ you took a stolen photo of sakura while he was mesmerized by the falling pink petals. you thought he looked adorable, but sakura thought otherwise. he was a blushing mess and told you to delete them, but you said they were cute and that you were going to make it your wallpaper.

ꕤ sakura chased after you, and tripped over a stray cherry blossom branch, leaving you two in quite a suggestive position, sakura on top of you, pinning your wrist down with his hand. your cheeks were as pink as the cherry blossoms, and tried as you might, you couldn't keep your eyes off his lips. friends don't observe their friends with wanting eyes, do they?

ꕤ suo and nirei instantly noticed how huge of a klutz you were around sakura. they also noticed how curious sakura was about you, always (not so subtly) asking nirei how much he knew about you, or your likes and dislikes, then asked him not to tell you that he asked about you. but suo told you instead, because they were your biggest supporters and cheerleaders (and biggest shippers, of course) after all.

ꕤ on sakura's birthday, they made you hold the cake and surprise him, which was a huge mistake, because before it could even reach him, you slipped and fell over him. luckily, sakura had good reflexes and was able to catch you before you completely toppled over. some of the smushed cake ended up on his and your face, which you tried to wipe off as you apologized, but sakura dipped his finger onto the icing that got on your cheek and licked his finger. "t-the cake's not bad, i guess..." he looked away from your smiling face as you greeted him happy birthday in a sing-song tune.

ꕤ suo, being a menace, greeted sakura happy birthday as well as gave him a 'best wishes to the happy couple' greeting card, that sakura threw back at him like it had a virus on it.

ꕤ sakura definitely had a memorable birthday that year, but now that he thought about it, all of his memories that were memorable to him had one thing in common: you were in all of them. you, the greatest gift he could ever ask for on any and every occasion.

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wheresarizona · 5 months ago

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but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch.

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound.

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate)

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way.

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you.

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday."

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.”

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose.

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?”

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips.

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile.

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks.

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.”

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.”

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him.

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.”

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.”

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.”

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door.

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here.

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?”

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.”

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants.

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?”

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.”

“It’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?”

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?”

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.”

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen.

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?”

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.”

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?”

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay.” He nods.

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest.

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try.

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go.

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink.

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV.

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s.

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail.

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?”

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.”

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask.

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm.

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.”

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie.

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat.

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?”

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked.

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.”

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.”

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?”

Yep, with your father.

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.”

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right?

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?”

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.”

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV.

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer.

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again.

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.”

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame.

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…”

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.”

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat.

“A good something or a bad something?”

“A good somethin’.”

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching.

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced.

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.”

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m nosy.”

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No other reason?”

“Can’t think of any.”

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?”

“Nope.”

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression.

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.”

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again.

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile.

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?”

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails.

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.”

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.”

“Joel?”

His face lifts to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.”

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.”

“That is such a shame.”

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.”

“Why am I trouble?”

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.”

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses.

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps.

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.”

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits.

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?”

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.”

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head.

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?”

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.”

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.”

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.”

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly. You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.”

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly.

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else.

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.”

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with.

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had.

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?”

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.”

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core.

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear.

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast.

“Yes.”

“I can touch you?”

“Anywhere.”

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he purrs.

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching.

“Yes.”

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you.

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso.

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.”

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth.

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.”

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself.

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little.

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.”

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly.

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest.

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard.

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted.

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw.

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?”

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral.

His head lifts to look you in the eye.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.”

It makes you laugh, and he smiles.

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply.

“It should always be ladies first—may I?”

What a gentleman.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips.

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy.

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?”

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans.

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.”

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels.

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re fucked.

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are.

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside.

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.”

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him.

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.”

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked.

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his.

Why does that make you want him more?

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in.

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste.

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold.

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.”

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?”

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is.

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock.

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’”

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you.

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.”

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin.

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him.

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet.

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers.

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders.

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.”

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end.

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.”

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again.

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!”

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?”

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine.

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.”

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees.

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over.

He was right, though. It did fit.

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good.

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you.

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust.

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you.

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?”

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!”

“Am I fuckin’ you good?”

“Yes!”

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes.

“Look at me,” he orders.

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched.

He slows, his gaze on yours.

“You wanna be mine?” he asks.

“Yes.”

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers.

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it.

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?”

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release.

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.”

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end.

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it.

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move.

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all.

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both.

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy.

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair.

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says.

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.”

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies.

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.”

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.”

“It baffles me that you’re single.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.”

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes.

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.”

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.”

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether.

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?”

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs.

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall.

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel.

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake?

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms.

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?”

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.”

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit.

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips.

“I’m yours,” you answer.

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven.

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls.

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you.

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!”

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following.

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants.

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes.

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.”

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes.

“Go home, Tommy,” he says.

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.”

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.”

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.”

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.”

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!”

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup.

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump.

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.”

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy.

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.”

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains how annoying he is.”

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.”

“We have the house to ourselves?”

“We do—I walked him out myself.”

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk.

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth.

“Yes. No clue how.”

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you.

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes.

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.”

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants.

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.”

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni.

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother.

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.”

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?”

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.”

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor.

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.”

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.”

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?”

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling.

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.”

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.”

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles.

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.”

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.”

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?”

“Out.”

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!”

The door loudly closes as he leaves.

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak.

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.”

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?”

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.”

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.”

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.”

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation.

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.”

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...”

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?”

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.”

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“Alone?”

“I sleepwalk.”

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.”

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.”

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.”

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #wheresarizona writes #joel miller fanfiction

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endearng · 7 months ago

Text

Third time's the charm

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: During one of your movie nights with Spencer, you decide to, once again, take the lead. Or, you got cockblocked so often that you almost thought it wouldn't happen. WC: 3.1k Warnings: smut (nipple play and dry humping); reader thinks spencer might be asexual but he's just a shy puppy; they are desperate for each other; "ruined" movie night; virgin!Spencer my beloved. (I guess that's it. If I forgot something, please let me know!) A/N: Aaaand here it is! I didn't think I'd write smut so soon, hehe. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it - it's actually a sequel to Dearest friend, but can be read as a stand-alone. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist

"It’s nice we finally have some time for each other," you hummed in agreement. "Thanks for coming over," Spencer said.

"You don't have to thank me," you said, sitting down on his couch after placing the drinks you chose from his fridge on the coffee table. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you confessed. It got him blushing.

Spencer started one of your movies. It was your choice: you usually took turns picking out a movie to watch together whenever you had the chance, since neither of you were keen of going out that often and you didn't have much time outside of work. It was a fun opportunity to know more of each other through your personal taste, since he often chose foreign films about humanities and you, well, you made him watch Easy A, which got him talking about Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter.

After the movies, you would talk to each other about it, maybe mentioning a personal experience that you remembered thanks to a particular scene or a character's arch. Maybe you would kiss.

Which was a problem. Well, not a problem, but, you see, you didn't have much time together other than going to each other's houses and out on a few dates, which were your favorite: Spencer often found the most beautiful, cozy places to take you, like coffee shops, museums, bookshops and libraries, followed by a nice dinner at a local restaurant. It was during one of those dates that something gave him the nerve to touch your hand. Holding hands quickly escalated to having his hands around you at all times possible, and it got to the point where you nearly had to peel off of him when he got too comfortable and you sadly had to leave to do something. These moments of physical touch were making you go insane, thinking about making a bolder move on him, but you thought that maybe he wasn't ready. Plus the fact that you seemed to be interrupted whenever things got too heated.

If you had a nickel for everytime you and Spencer had to stop right before you got intimate (in any way, really), you'd have two nickels, which isn't much, but it's weird that it happened twice. It was like the universe (more like Hotch and the gore that surrounded the team) were set on a mission for you to never have sex again. Besides that, more extreme thoughts plagued your mind and told you that maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. It often made you go home feeling a little bit insecure.

You knew that it was better to assume, but you were only human. After some pep talk with yourself on the way to his place, you convinced yourself that you would have to have this conversation with him, sooner or later. You thought so hard about this that you even came up with the possibility that he was asexual — you were fine with it if he was, obviously, because being with him made you feel whole. Still, you wanted, you needed to get this off your chest before you exploded with assumptions and unrequited feelings. Unrequited desire.

You decided to try to be subtle. Scratching the back of his head with your nails lovingly, you both watched the movie. "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you. You could see the goosebumps on his arm, that must have been the trigger for the question coming out of his lips. You gave him a soft smile.

"It's called affection, pretty boy," you kissed the tip of his nose. "And I don't intend on stopping anytime soon."

You kissed his left cheek when he turned to look at the TV screen.

Then, you turned his head gently to kiss the right one. He glanced between your eyes and your lips, so of fucking course you were about to kiss him, but you decided to tease him a little and pecked the tip of his nose and gently kissed his forehead instead. He breathed out a laugh. Ticklish. It made you wonder where else he would be sensitive.

Stop, you slut of a brain.

When you were about to kiss his lips, you withdrew your face from his, smooching his cheek instead. He sighed, oblivious to your real intentions, impatient and utterly, stupidly in love with you.

Oops. There goes your heart. Out the window. Taking your judgment with it.

"Spence?"

"Yes?"

"Can I do something?"

"Yes," he answered. "You know can do anything, baby."

"This is a very dangerous thing to say to a girl who has the feelings I have for you," you said, grinning. His expression morphed into one that almost looked like sheer panick.

You slowly moved to straddle his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you if he wanted to, his legs trapped between yours. You sat yourself on the top of his thighs. He watched every movement feeling like the world stopped and there were the both of you, moving in slow motion, movie long forgotten behind you. His breath hitched when he came to his senses and noticed the position you were in, now that you've done what you had. "Is this okay? It's more comfortable than kissing you like… well, that," you laughed softly.

"Yes. I-It's perfect," he breathed out, hands finding your waist.

You lips finally met his in a kiss that had both of you sighing. You found out that Spencer was a really good kisser — and you were proud to be the one with whom he practiced kissing to perfection —, your lips easily falling into a passionate rhythm. Gasping for air, you pecked him on those perfect lips that were red and puffy from all the assaulting you were doing, but he quickly pulled you in for another, this time, sloppier than ever, encouraged by your own boldness. He was french kissing you. Fairly used to it, but not with the intensity of it, you groaned in welcomed surprise, hands finding the nape of his neck and getting a grip on them, not so gently as you normally did. You pulled his hair down, breaking the kiss, lips tingling and lungs screaming for air. He smirked, feeling smug at the state he left you in.

You rose slightly from his lap, still holding his head and looking straight into his eyes. By holding yourself slightly above him, the pendant of your necklace grazed his chin, like he had imagined many times after watching you fiddle with it. God, it was finally coming true, having you in his arms and intending to let you do whatever you wanted to him and him only, the way that it should be ever since the day you met. You nearly made him go insane, pulling you closer to his body than you ever were, acting like a desperate madman. You smiled down at him and kissed him again, more feverishly than before, trying to tell him through that kiss that you were his. Biting his lower lip and earning a fucking moan, you sat yourself down on him again. You felt his bulge against your clothed core and the light contact made you feel lightheaded.

You were so caught up on him that it almost made you forget you needed to talk to him first. Unfortunately, as you tried to catch your breath and to find the right words to speak, Spencer felt his insecurities creeping up on him. Despite knowing it would be best to talk to you, he felt like voicing it out loud would push you away from him — which he didn't want. He was very comfortable with the indecent small distance between your bodies.

He was fidgety. You knew you needed to address this because your boyfriend wasn't the best at voicing his needs — you remember and giggled internally at how you had been the one to knock on Spencer's door asking him to put an end to your suffering by telling him how you felt. Heh. Kudos to you.

"I wanted to talk about this with you," you murmured, now feeling his kisses peppering the skin of your neck. You knew how much he was hiding from you because he wouldn't stop moving and it was very distracting, but if you didn't speak, it would be the end of you. "I'd ask if you were okay with me and you like this, about taking further steps, shit." You moaned when he fucking bit you and kissed you right after.

He pulled away from you, hands flying up to the back of your head. Foreheads touching, eyes locked in yours. "I want it. I want you, I mean. Been wanting you for some time now—a very long time, yes." He strongly shut his eyes closed, most likely working up the courage to say something. "But I don't want to... disappoint you," he finished, sounding insecure.

Not on your watch.

"Me too, Spence. God, I want you so bad," you answered, unable to look away from him, who now looked down, paying close attention to the rising and falling of your chest. "Hey, look at me, please," you pleaded. His eyes met yours. Oh, those maddening eyes... "Believe me when I tell you, baby, I want you. And if you don't want to do anything, you don't have to. I won't push you, of course. I just wanted to have a conversation with you before, because setting boundaries is important and consent is hot—" he laughed quietly. Making jokes was your go-to way of making situations lighter and he was glad for it then. You smiled when you noticed the sound he made. "And I'm also positively certain that you wouldn't like to have our first time on your couch."

"My first time," he revealed. softly. Eyes not meeting yours.

Oh.

You didn’t falter. "It doesn't change much, baby. I still stand for what I just told you," you assured him, "I want you to enjoy yourself, Spence."

Looking back into your eyes, he declared, "And I want you."

"You can have me," you answered, "You already have."

"You'd need to guide me. You know, hands-on activity. Because I’ve never done it before…" he trailed off.

"Lucky for you, I'm great at teaching."

His grip finds your waist, lips anxiously waiting for yours — and when they touched to mold perfectly in another breathtaking kiss, he felt complete. Like nothing bad could ever happen in the world just because you were in it. His past, his insecurities, the awful things you both saw on the field, nothing mattered. Looking at you, touching you, was a nearly an out of body experience. The things you got him thinking by just kissing him. And he thought his insecurities would get the best of him. Jokes on them, you exist.

You look at him through hooded eyes. "I've never felt like this before. I feel... tingly," he confessed, lovely smile on his face, eyes blinking.

"You're feeling good, handsome," you answered, glancing at his dazed eyes.

A beat of silence. Swallowing second thoughts. "Can you make it better?"

"Is that a request or a challenge?" You asked, grinning.

"A request." He answered shyly, hiding his face on your neck, peppering kisses on your skin. You were going to explode.

"Oh, don't talk to me like that," you shivered, feeling absolutely lost, "I might spoil you and give you everything you want," you sighed.

"Let me have it, then," he answered, voice muffled by your skin.

"I'm all yours, Spencer."

He had the audacity of blushing as his fingers played with the hem of your shirt. You smiled at him. In this state, if he asked for you to run naked around town, you probably would. It was dangerous, to say the least. Softly, yet desperate, the words left his lips. "Can I take this off?" He sucked in a breath. "Please?"

"Yes, pretty boy, you can," you answered. "You can have anything. I thought I already said that."

"Yes—You did. You did," he breathed out between needy kisses across your skin, getting rid of your shirt in no time.

At first, he was mesmerized by the sight in front of him. He hadn't seen many naked (or semi-naked) women in front of him, but you were something out of this world. The bra you were wearing matched your skin tone and pushed your breasts together and there was the fucking necklace, almost mocking him by being constantly so close, too close to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. The view was almost overwhelming by itself. You looked at him, but he couldn't possibly come up with the words that would describe you in that moment. Words had failed him, nothing else in his mind but you. The tool he used to communicate, to access the world and how it shaped reality, to comprehend the mind of another person, to get to know others... He had nothing left. Except from the pulsing of his boner against your clothed pussy, that is.

Just like that, IQ of 187 slashed to 60, Emily Prentiss said, once. Funnily enough, when you passed by wearing a sundress.

Unable to talk but, oh, so able to use his hands, they traveled up to your breasts with a featherlight touch, which didn't stop him from feeling your heartbeat. He let his hands trail over the soft and sheer fabric of the bra you were wearing. Finding your nipples, his touch got more intense. He licked his lips. His actions made you shudder and sent a spark of excitement to your sex. "Pretty," he said. "So, so pretty, my girl."

"Do you like it?" You asked, breathless from a little touching. Pathetic. "I got these thinking of you. Wanna look pretty for you, Spence."

"You are," he said, looking into your eyes, his own foggy, hands reaching to touch your neck. "You're pretty all the time, it's so unfair to me," he murmured. "I really like them on you, but… can I take ‘em off?"

"Yes. You can do anything, Spence."

Spencer wanted to burn the sight of you, in that slightly disheveled state, in the back of his mind so he could remember it forever — not that he would have a hard time trying to remember anything. Nevertheless, he did everything so slowly, almost as if trying to tattoo on the tip of his fingers the softness and temperature of your skin. He inhaled deeply, consumed by your floral-scented perfume and lifted his hands to unclasp your bra. His fingers curiously, but unhurriedly, lowered each of the straps. Like opening a gift that had been so carefully wrapped he didn't want to ruin.

But did he wanted to be ruined by you.

The sight of your bare chest was marvelous, to say the least, and he timidly grazed his fingertips against the exposed area, eliciting goosebumps and a soft whine. His mouth watered, thoughts simply reduced to the need of having you in his mouth. The striped pattern on the soft skin of your breasts around your nipples were faint, barely there, unless if you took a close look at it. It goes without saying that he was blatantly gazing at your bosom at this point.

Pupils dilated, he looked up at you, hungrily, drawing his face closer to you, curls tickling the skin of your collarbone. He inhaled your scent, mind blanking. Tortuously dragging his lips on your skin (and unintentionally smearing some of his saliva on you, he was drooling, after all) as a silent request, the necklace brushing his forehead slightly. The grind of your hips against his answered his plead to taste you.

"Oh—you're so, so good to me, princess," you moaned when he finally wrapped his lips against the nub, playing with the other.

You felt almost overwhelmed with the attention you were getting and the reaction you were having to said attention. Your underwear was sticking almost uncomfortably against your core and you felt yourself aching for some relief, aching for him. So, as Spencer worked his hot tongue on your tits, licking, softly biting, sucking, making a mess on and of you, you busied yourself by chasing the relief you both desperately wanted. The solace it provided you both with was exhilarating and made you feel dazed.

Steadily rocking yourself against him, you earned a few grunts. "You're making a mess of me, pretty boy," you murmured as he switched his attention to the other boob.

"Give it t'me—I want it, I deserve it," he breathed out, body aching with lust, cock pulsing against your covered clit. His words only fueled the fire inside you, the coil in your lower stomach threatening to snap at anytime now.

"Yeah, you do, my boy," you breathed out, pulling the hair on the nape of his neck, nearly tasting your orgasm, "gonna look so pretty when you come for me, won't you, baby?" Both hands gripping your hips, mouth never leaving your skin. You sure would be bruised by tomorrow, but this, this was definitely worth it.

"Yes—Yes, I will," He whined. He fucking whined.

"Tell, me—ah—where do you want to cum, baby?"

"Shit—" until then, you were sure that was a word you'd never hear him saying, let alone that freely. "Gonna—Shitshitshit," moaning out your name.

That's when it hit you that he had cummed his pants. It was such a fat load that it had seeped through both his underwear and his slacks — which prompted you to reach your own high with a moan of his name directly into his ear.

Both of you feeling dizzy, you slump against him, feeling his arms wrapping your frame as you rested your head on his shoulder. You both took deep breaths, the only sound in the room. Well, besides the movie you both totally ignored.

"I can't get up right now... My legs feel wobbly," you chuckled. "Are you okay, Spence?" You asked, looking at him when you didn't get an answer.

"Yeah, 'm fine," he answered, "I mean, I'll be fine as soon as I recover from you."

You laughed sincerely, "From me? What have I done to you?"

"You gave me what I wanted, you spoiled me, you broke me," he said, a silly smile adorning his pretty face. You pushed him playfully. "I can't even explain what I'm feeling right now. My brain has stopped working ever since you straddled me. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, babe."

"Wrong answer. You're so gonna keep doing that to me, so you'll definitely be trying to killing me from now on." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #spencer reid x you

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malum-forev · 9 months ago

Text

Unexpected

“I can’t believe people actually fall for these kinds of things,” Bucky scoffs, flicking one of the drooping petals on the flower arrangement. “Ridiculous, right?”

He looks over at Sam, wanting some kind of backup from his partner, only to receive a shrug in response. Bucky rolls his eyes, having flowers delivered to the compound seemed so overplayed in his mind.

“No self respecting woman could actually want to date someone who outsources something like giving flowers.” Bucky mutters, his fingers itch to look at the card to see who they’re from. And more importantly, who they’re for.

“Can’t say I agree with you on this one Buck,” Sam leans back on the conference room chair, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. “Flower delivery is a normal thing in the modern world, not that I expected you to know. You’re not exactly the romantic type.”

He tries to not let Sam’s comment bug him, but it does. A lot. Back when he was alive the first time, Bucky was over the top. So over the top that some women’s knees physically buckled when they saw his gifts and acts of love. Sure, some of the things he only did to get into their pants but who cares, they were romantic nonetheless.

Bucky tries to concentrate on your detailed plan for the mission but he’s done this a thousand times and could quite possibly complete this recon mission in his sleep and more importantly, the flower debacle is still present. The plastic vase sitting in the middle of the conference table taunts him. The folded card underneath it was basically begging for him to take a look.

He lingers after the meeting, saying some excuse about wanting to look over the documents when really, his curiosity is what’s keeping him seated.

In his defense, your floor of the compound rarely gets any deliveries, let alone “romantic” ones. At least what people now think is romantic. Apart from Sam, himself and you, the other people on the floor are either married or forever alone. Leave the cheesy displays of affection for the lower level agents, the ones who still get the hots from one look.

Bucky looks both ways, making sure no one catches him as he slips the card from under the vase and reads it.

Thought of you today. Have a nice week.

“Nice week? What a loser.” Bucky blows raspberries, throwing the card back on the table.

“Can I help you with something, Barnes?” Bucky jumps up in his spot as he hears your voice coming from behind him.

“Just reading this extensive report,” Bucky lifts up the corners of the papers. “Great to know you have so much spare time.”

To say you and Bucky have a complicated relationship is an understatement. You think he’s a reckless agent that gets away with everything just because he was Captain America’s friend and he thinks that you aren’t reliable on the field because you second guess everything. Match made in heaven, right? Not a single mission you’ve been on has resulted in the two of you being civil. It always ends with a catfight and both of you trying to one up the other one.

“I don’t have time for this. Right now all I want is to go home and get some rest before we have to leave in a couple of days.” You roll your eyes, picking up some of the extra copies for the other agents you’re taking on the mission before grabbing the flowers from the table.

“Are those yours?” Bucky’s voice pitches up, like he can’t seriously believe someone sent you flowers.

“This is exactly what I don’t have time for.” You huff, leaving him behind in the conference room, wishing he’d just drop it. But knowing Barnes, and hearing his combat boots smack on the floor behind you, he won’t stop.

“Who is he?” He raises his eyebrows, walking next to you, covering the elevator buttons with his hands so you can’t press either button.

“Barnes,” You warn. “I’d rather not spend any more time with you than what’s required for my job.”

“Me neither,” Bucky nods. “So, if you can just tell me who sent you the flowers we can go on our way and not talk until we absolutely have to.”

“Does it matter who they’re from?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Of course it matters, I’ve never known you to like someone enough to give them your work address. I’ve never known you to like someone, period. So, yes, it matters.”

“Why would I tell you?” You quickly press the arrow pointing upwards as Bucky gets distracted with his dig at your non-existent love life. “So you can go and tell him what a big mistake he’s making?”

“That, and maybe I just want to know if he’s a real life breathing man.” He shrugs as you get in the elevator. “With eyes and ears and all those things one would need to know you really.”

“Great, thanks for the motivational talk I so didn’t need.” You flip him off as the doors close.

-o-

Your head bounces against the side of the plane as you go through some turbulence but you try not to let it disturb you. But it’s something else that wakes you up, or rather, someone else.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that he works somewhere in the compound.” Bucky drops his body in the seat next to you, his loud voice making your eyes snap open.

“I’m resting before the mission,” You narrow your eyes at him. “And having you talk to me is messing that up.”

“You’re not disagreeing.” Bucky hums.

“The only reason I haven’t flipped you over and dislocated your shoulder is because you have somehow gotten on Sam’s good side and I don’t want him giving me his disapproving father look.”

“Just tell me.” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes are looking straight into yours.

“Tell you what?” You throw your head back with a groan.

“Who the flowers are from.”

“You’re still on that?” You quirk one eyebrow.

“You never answered it.”

The questions seemed to have died down once you closed your eyes again but Bucky popped up whenever you expected him least.

You rummage through the office of the suspect that had just been killed. A doctor that was once Hydra had been trying to replicate the super soldier serum, the animal testing had been positive and a couple of dog sized rats still lived in his office.

“Can you tell me what area he’s in?” Bucky leans on the doorframe and the sudden sound has you bringing your gun to his forehead.

“I could have killed you just now,” You heave. “And I wish I would have, I think death is the only thing that’s going to stop you from asking all these questions.”

“You could just answer.” Bucky shrugs, looking both ways, making sure no one’s around.

“Why do you want to know?” You huff.

“I want to know who’s romancing you.” Bucky acts like he doesn’t care, but the truth is that he’s spent the last few days with you and only you on his mind.

The thought of you dating someone that does the bare minimum makes him frown. He’s never given a second thought to your dating life but if he had to rack his brain, Bucky would assume that you would date someone who’s competent enough to handle your wit and your moods, someone who gets your strength and doesn’t try to undermine you, someone who can handle the emotional baggage that comes with this job and doesn’t judge you. Someone who will hand deliver flowers to your apartment to show you he likes you, instead of having them delivered so that everyone thinks he likes you.

“Why do you care about my love life all of a sudden?” You snap at him and it actually stops him in his tracks.

Bucky stares back at you with half a breath sucking in his lungs.

Love.

You actually said the word love.

Nothing’s ever happened between you two (except for that night the two of you spent cuddling together after neither of you wanted to sleep on the floor, but you swore you’d never speak of it again), but you’ve been a constant in Bucky’s life for years. And he doesn’t deal with change very easily.

If you’re so freely talking about having a love life, as opposed to what? a like life? Get yourself together Barnes! he scolds himself, that means that soon enough you’ll be bringing this mediocre boyfriend around the tower, which means he’ll have to practice his “I’m trying to act like I care what you’re telling me” smile in the mirror while he’s bumped into the guy while you’re still getting ready because lord knows you love to take your sweet time getting ready! And that means that he’ll have to get a tux for your wedding because who would be stupid enough to not marry someone as intelligent and beautiful as you, and that means that you’ll take a leave for your honeymoon but knowing you, work will follow you to said honeymoon. You never stop working and Bucky’s warned you about your body taking a toll after all those years.

“You’re one to talk.” He remembers you rolling your eyes at him the time he said it.

God, your eyes. He’s going to miss your eyes. In the morning, you’ll look at him from over your boiling hot coffee cup. Bucky knows that you like to drink your coffee before the sun goes up because, in your words, I want to have at least a couple of minutes to myself before the world needs me. He’d never admit it to anyone but he sometimes acts like he’s had nightmares keeping him up at night just so he can share those quiet moments with you.

And after the tsunami of memories he won’t share with you anymore subsides, another wave comes crashing in. Soon you’ll be retiring, Bucky’s seen you with Morgan. It’s clear you want kids of your own some day. And you sure as hell won’t be having them when someone like Bucky Barnes is your partner. Bucky knows he’s a risk, he wouldn’t judge you if you thought it too.

“Okay, we’re done here. I’m leaving, White Wolf hot on my heels.” You speak into the chip, making him snap out of his thoughts and return to Earth.

“As always, thanks for doing nothing, Barnes.” You laugh, slapping Bucky's shoulders as you pass him.

Bucky’s lungs burn as he runs alongside you down the corridor, trying to make up for all of the air he didn’t get as he spiraled.

-o-

Bucky is up and it’s not because he heard the door hinges creak as you came inside or the slapping of your heels on the old wooden floor. It’s because he hasn’t been able to sleep since you left.

He acted tired and fake yawned all the way to his room as you passed by, all maked-up and perfumed, when in reality he spent the rest of the night trying to decipher a video game someone recommended.

Bucky’s verdict: I’ve been to war, I don’t need to play make believe.

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds coming from the kitchen. You opened the fridge door and took a glass bottle of sorts out. From the cork popping, he figured out you were taking out your favorite wine.

Bucky walks quietly towards the kitchen, not wanting to startle you.

You gasp as you turn around, cork in your mouth and wine glass filled to the brim in your left hand.

“I thought everyone would be asleep by now.” You spit the cork into the trash, lowering your face so your hair fans over your features.

“Nightmares,” Bucky mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing at your unusual mannerisms.

“Well, now you know who was out here.” You walk past him. “Goodnight Barnes.”

But before you can leave, Bucky holds your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You try to release from his grip but you know you’re no match for the vibranium arm.

Bucky lifts up a trembling hand to your face and moves away your hair. Your normally bright eyes now look dull. Red blotching around your irises and black ink running down your face.

“You’ve been crying.” Bucky’s jaw tightens.

“Thanks for that, Sergeant Obvious,” You scoff. “You’ve discovered my secret. I’m a living, breathing woman with feelings. I know they make you uncomfortable because you don’t have any but I do.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m a person and as much as I would like to be as robotic as you are, sometimes people do things that hurt me.” You roll your eyes. “Next time I have feelings, I’ll make sure to take care of them before I enter the tower so you won’t be bothered.”

“Why are you crying?” He hisses, shutting his eyes before he sees red. “Who made you cry? Tell me a name and I’ll have them killed before dawn.”

“What?”

“No one makes my girl cry.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to understand what Bucky just said. The man who’s constantly bothering you and making your life quite impossible is threatening to kill someone just because you shed a couple of tears?

Bucky runs his hands down his face. “We’re wasting precious time here baby, just give me a name and I’ll do the rest.”

“You don’t care,” You tell him but his expression doesn’t change. “You’re not supposed to care. Why do you?”

“The other day, when you told me about the flower idiot, I may have realized something.” Bucky lets out a deep breath. “You’re my partner on the field but you’re much more than that in here.”

Your hand shakes as Bucky takes it and presses your palm flat on his chest.

“I’m thinking of you when I wake up, hoping I catch you before you get ready. You’re on my mind when we’re training because I want to teach you everything I know, and I want you to teach me how you twisted the agent’s arm and dislocated his knee at the same time. Most of the times when we’re out on missions I’m reckless because I want to keep you safe. I don’t care what happens to me, you’re what needs to be taken care of. At night I dream of you, and then I wake up feeling hollow.”

“You’re too good for me and I know that but that doesn’t mean that some jackass can take you out and then make you cry. If that’s the standard then I’m way above average, baby.” Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. “And I know you don't want me because, who would? But-”

You slam your lips on his, stopping him completely.

Both of you are starved for touch, wanting to explore every inch of the other. His hands roam your body as yours get tangled in his hair.

Heavy breathing takes over the kitchen as you separate.

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” You rest your forehead on his.

“Why did it take you so long to kiss me?”

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour@hallecarey1@aorifukuzawa@sammyssm@alana4610. @mrsjobarnes@vicmc624@unkasworld@theroyalmanatee@almosttoopizza@cjand10@cremebruleequeen@buggy14@jasminocano.@isabel-ffl-xoxo@wintrsoldrluvr@kandis-mom@12345sebby@tittittoee @unaxv. @teambarnes72@angelicrexi@she-wolf09231982@wilsons-striped-ties@tmb510@capswife@pono-pura-vida@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes@tatianah26@drewsuncrustable@minmiin1d

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joelsbloodyhands · 1 month ago

Text

Man vs. Bear

Millionaire!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel does everything in his power to get back something of sentimental value to you that your ex discarded like it was nothing.

Warnings: no outbreak, discussions of emotionally @bus!ve ex, mentions of types of emotional/psychological domestic @buse, mentions of controllative ex, mentions of smoking and alcohol, crying, reader is sad but Joel is gonna fix everything, protective!Joel, vengeful!Joel, mentions of blood, physical harm (haha guess who that’s for, hint read the first warning), fluff, reader has gender neutral pronouns, reader has no visible disabilities, Ellie and Sarah are 7 & 8 in this, if you don’t like adults with plushies get the hell off my blog ⛔️ we all protect our inner child here.

Dividers by @uzmacchiato 🧸

“Why are you crying, sweetheart?” Joel turns the corner to your bedroom and sees you sitting there on the edge of the bed, face in your hands and your head shaking when you turn from him.

You had just returned home when he called.

Your new apartment getting some used to.

Joel had been a friend of yours for a while.

Quite often, your own work collaborated with his company and through a mutual friend, Frank, you started a more friendly relationship.

Simply platonic, nothing more.

Or so you thought.

“Darlin?”

Joel sits next to you carefully, not wanting to intrude in your moment of emotion. He knows you well enough to know you don’t normally cry in front of people, usually feeling uncomfortable with the idea of expressing your outbursts publicly for fear of being coddled.

“What happened? Did that asshole give you back all your stuff?”

“I guess,” you sniffle, eyes red and lips puffy.

Joel’s eyebrows furrow, his heart pacing.

I guess isn’t good enough for him.

Joel doesn’t like working without absolutes. Either that asshole gave you everything you had and everything that belongs to you rightfully or there was going to be a problem.

“What’s missing?” Joel eyes the boxes scattered around your bedroom, one with books half pulled out and stacked half-hazardly by your bedside table.

You’re silent, your eyes distant and welling with tears.

“It’s stupid,” you harshly rub a sleeve against your face causing Joel to wince and take your hand in his own.

You look down at your small palm engulfed by his large warm fingers, rubbing soothing circles into your wrist. You lift your gaze and meet soft brown eyes, searching your own blurred vision like he was ready to travel to the underworld to take the tears away.

“It can’t be stupid if you’re so upset, honey,” Joel says, his voice low and gentle.

Your face is hot but at this point you’re not sure if it’s from how long you’ve been crying or the fact you can’t stop thinking about Joel’s calloused fingers grazing your skin.

You look away from him, deliberating telling him and ultimately you do with the thoughts that at this point it can’t hurt. There’s nothing that can be done about it now anyway.

“When I um, when I went back to the house, I went to our- his room and I used to have well, my childhood plushies on my side of the bed but…” you drop your gaze, the lines between your brows tightening.

Joel has seen this look before.

You’re angry with yourself.

“I asked him where they were and he told me I took too long that he just threw them away along with some of my other things!” Your voice gets louder with the growing anger you’re feeling and Joel gets it, his own teeth are grinding behind the thin line of his lips as he listens.

“Did he say exactly where he “threw” them?” Joel asks, his brain already scheming.

“Not at first,” you huff, “but then I picked up a glass from the side table and threw it at him.”

Joel fights a smirk from his lips. Now is not the time to be visibly attracted to that.

“He said he might’ve thrown them in the garbage or he might’ve sent them to a thrift store. He wouldn’t tell me which. He’s such a prick, Joel,” your eyes are welling up again and Joel squeezes your hand, “he just stood there grinning like he was happy he’d found another way to break me.”

“No, baby,” Joel shakes his head, his eyes intent on you when you meet his gaze again, tears falling down your cheeks, “he hasn’t broken you and I’m gonna do everything I can to find them for you.”

You shake your head exasperated.

“Joel, fuck knows where they are. Knowing him he definitely threw them in the trash. They’ve probably been incinerated somewhere.”

You’re hiccuping now and Joel can’t handle it.

The pain on your face is too much to bare.

“My Grandmother got me those plushies when I was a baby. I’m such an idiot. I just got so caught up in getting out of that fucking apartment that I forgot the two most important things in there.”

You’re beating yourself up and Joel’s had enough.

“What do they look like?” He asks, his body itching to find out as much as possible, rush to another room and call every contact he knows to track them down.

“One is a brown wolf and the other is a panda bear. They’re really old. The panda is more blue and white because of how faded the black is and my wolf is a little skinny and has one leg shorter than the others. He needed new stuffing and I had to stitch his leg back on a few years back when the cotton wore away.”

Joel knows you’re rambling because of how sad you are, reminiscing about your childhood friends but he listens just like he always does. He doesn’t play around when it comes to what matters to you and the more you go on about the intricacies of your old soft pals, the more fuel Joel has to find them.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” you let out a heavy breath, your fingers loose in his, “maybe I need to let them go. I’m only giving him what he wants by reacting like this.”

Joel squeezes your hand again and he wants to hold you, reassure you that he will find them at all costs, even if he has to have this bastard of an ex of yours kidnapped and interrogated to find out what he did with them. Down to every last detail.

But he lets you stand, watches you take slow breaths to steady yourself and start gathering the rest of your books in the open box in front of you to put them away.

Joel joins you, quietly requesting you guide him to stock your apartment with your treasures. Anything he can do to help and he will.

After all, he was also the one who found this apartment for you. Paid the full cost himself and linked the monthly bills to his account.

Not that you knew any of that of course.

As far as you were aware, this was one of Joel’s bachelor pads he was letting you occupy for as long as you needed.

He knew you wouldn’t move in otherwise if he offered to buy the place but you’d saw the ad online and showed it to Joel. He made up some lame story that it actually belonged to him and he was going to sell it but that you could live in it while he was waiting for a buyer.

Now he had you asking if there would be any showings that you needed to be aware of.

More lies.

However, Joel had a plan.

One that involved him confessing his feelings for you.

One that involved keeping you here, safe and supported regardless of whether you reciprocated his romantic feelings or not.

Friend or lover, he would take care of you.

That asshole had treat you like hell and Joel was glad to see you rid of him.

He wanted to give you the best. Everything you could ever desire and this would be a good starting point.

Come rain or shine, Joel would bring those childhood plushies back to you, no matter the effort or the cost.

“Joel, what the fuck is this?”

Joel rolls his eyes, a gruff response already huffing past his lips as he listens to his assistant, Tess mock the list she’s now reading through.

“Something for Sarah and Ellie?”

To be honest, he gets that Tess might think that and not that Joel thinks any which way of an adult having plushies, it would just make the request go ahead a lot easier if he complies.

“Sure,” he mutters, “for Sarah and Ellie.”

“Riggght,” Tess mumbles, her lips whispering each bullet point from the text Joel had sent earlier, “so what they lost a couple of their favourite toys and you’re trying to get them back? Bet you were the one who lost em in the first place-“ she laughs.

“Tess, focus,” Joel shakes his head, his brain doing overtime thinking about everything that needs to be done. “I need you to contact every garbage disposal unit in town and every thrift store with the description provided and tell them what we’re looking for.”

“Ookay,” Tess releases a heavy breath on the other end, “and what are you gonna do?”

Joel’s lips press into a fine line, relaxed with concentrated anger, “I’ve got something I need to handle and then I’ll join you once I’m done.”

“Noted,” Tess says, her tone taking on its more motivated edge, “I’ll get right on it.”

The apartment you lived in before was cheap and convenient but he knew you hated it.

It barely had any windows and the front window to the lobby was smashed in and covered over with mesh.

The street itself was busy and loud, a main route for the city traffic to come piling through. You never looked like you got a good nights sleep, forever seeming tired.

Joel knew all of this just from the outside.

Truth be told, that ex of yours never let a single one of your girlfriends in and Joel had an inkling that when your ex first heard of him, you probably lied and said he was married or dating one of the other girls.

He was an utter complete control freak.

Emotionally abusive.

Just the mention of another guys name and he would flip a switch.

Joel fucking despised him the minute he saw him.

He may have been good to you once. Your heart was too pure. You must have seen something that resembled sunshine once upon a time but whatever that was fizzled out as soon as your ex trapped you within these crumbling walls.

Joel grimaced at them now from the backseat of his car. His driver having pulled over and parked, now lingering silently from the front seat.

“We doing this or what?”

Joel turned his head towards the eager voice.

“This the place?” Tommy raised a brow, his head peering past Joel and through his window.

Tommy had invited himself along for more than just the car ride. He loved you just as much as Joel did and it irked him to know you’d spent almost five years cooped up with a complete prick.

Tommy was the first person to refer to you as family, confirming in Joel’s mind that he saw you the same way and then some.

“Yeah, this is it,” Joel responds, his eyes narrowing back to the side walk.

“How d’you wanna do this?” Tommy’s voice lowers and Joel has to bite back a grin at the uncaring way he feels about roughing up your ex in his own home.

Joel would make it hurt. Payback for all the years the little fucker had spent torturing you.

“I have some words to say to him first and then I’ll let you have at him,” Joel turns his head back to Tommy who nods satisfied.

If there was one thing Tommy was always good at, it was starting a fight. God only knows the amount of times Joel got called to the police station to bail him out. Only this time, his little brothers want for emotional release wouldn’t be wasted.

“Alright, let’s get it done,” Tommy steps out the car, slamming the door behind him.

“Go for a drive around the block and come back in thirty,” Joel instructs to his driver; a young twenty something whose family had worked for Joel for years.

“You got it, boss,” the kid replies and Joel steps out the car, looking up at the one rare window to the dark apartment above.

Joel’s heart pounds.

He told himself the drive here that he was doing this for you but it was just as much for himself too. He wouldn’t let another man walk all over you again. Whether Joel was breathing or not, he would make sure you were safe.

“Well?” Joel sits with his legs rested on his desk and his phone buried between his chin and shoulder.

Rolling tobacco between his fingers, he ignores the dried blood still present under his finger nails, too eager to know if Tess has made any progress.

“So far, nada but I’m waiting for some responses,” she replies and Joel’s eye twitches at the sound of Tess’s fingers click clacking on her keyboard on the other end.

He sighs, licking the paper of his cigarette and securing it.

You’d be frowning at him right now if you could see him.

He promised to quit and he’d reduced his smoking to almost a complete stand still but with all the excitement earlier, Joel needed to take the edge off before seeing you.

“This is important, Tess,” Joel puts the cigarette in his mouth and lights it, throwing the lighter across the table harshly and placing a finger on his temple.

He hears her scoff on the other end.

“Can you not just buy them new ones? Kids usually get over this sort of stuff. I mean how many toys do they have-“ Tess rambles.

“This is not something that can be replaced,” Joel sharply responds, his voice raised, silencing his assistant on the other end with a harsh tone.

He intakes a breath, steadying himself and flexing his fist on his thigh.

“Not everything can be replaced. I need them found and if they’re not found, it’s going to make someone- I mean Sarah and Ellie very unhappy and I can’t accept that,” Joel taps the ash from his cigarette as he speaks uneasily.

Tess is still silent a minute until she sighs through the phone and the noise in the background disappears, her voice coming in clearer.

“I understand, Joel. Give me a couple of hours and I swear I’ll find them.”

Joel smiles, smoke escaping past his lips.

“Thank you, Tess. I’ll await your call.”

He hangs up, leans his head back, taking another drag and blowing out smoke to the ceiling above.

He thinks of you and what happened earlier.

Unfortunately for your ex, Tommy had brought his lucky knuckle dusters.

When Tommy was done with him, Joel leered over the young man, his eyes taking no notice of the blood joining the other unknown stains in the carpet surrounding where your ex was splayed out.

The whole time your ex chanted about how he never hit you. That he never laid his fists on you, not once. Though physically hurting someone wasn’t the only way to torture a person and Joel knew you suffered every day you spent with this piece of shit.

Constant texts asking you where you were, an absurd amount of missed phone calls while you were trying to work. You left your phone at a technician once to remove a spy device that had been installed. You hadn’t said anything about where it might’ve come from because you already knew and when Joel found out, he knew too. It was no question. Constantly telling you what to wear, berating you for your choice of clothing, your makeup, your hair and the things you liked. He complained about your friends and got on edge every time he heard a masculine name being mentioned.

The little shit was clearly insecure as hell that you would leave him but that’s on him, not you. You don’t deserve to be at the end of his problems constantly being projected onto you.

And Joel told him all of this.

Joel told him how little of a man the fucker was and then let his brother beat him.

Three years of hurt reduced to one hour of abuse.

It didn’t feel like enough of a punishment but Joel would show him how it felt to really hurt. He would show him your pain translated into a fist being pummelled into his face repeatedly.

Tommy delivered.

Joel asked him about your plushies. The dumb kid said he’d sent them out in the trash after all.

He texted Tess immediately.

At least it would help take the focus away from anywhere else they might’ve ended up.

Joel told the brat that if he told anyone what happened, Joel would make sure he’d disappear in the night. That he would send someone to take him away and no one would ever find him again.

Thankfully, the bastard believed him and rightly so because Joel doesn’t just talk the talk. When he makes a promise, he sees it through.

The sound of Joel’s phone vibrating in his pocket woke him from his racing thoughts that the tobacco was failing to drown out.

Considering something a little stronger, he eyed the decanter of whiskey on his desk before skimming his eyes over your name on his phone screen.

He smiled and clicked answer, your voice like music to his ears.

You were more soothing than any substance Joel could ever partake in.

“Hey, darlin,” he greeted, voice soft just for you.

“Hey Joel,” you replied and he could hear the tiredness in your tone.

“You okay?” Joel asked, his brows furrowing wanting nothing more than for Tess to deliver good news so he could see you smile.

“Yeah, long day. I just wanted to hear your voice. Is that okay?”

Joel swore you had a way of melting his frozen heart. He had once thought only his daughters had that capability until you came along.

“Of course, baby.”

Little does he know your heart skips a beat at the pet name leaving his lips as it does every time he speaks to you.

“You still at work?” Joel stubs out his cigarette into an ashtray, quirking a brow at the sound of rustling papers in the background.

“Yeah,” you release a heavy breath, “just finishing up.”

Joel looks to the clock, reading 7:30pm. You were meant to clock out hours ago.

His face falls.

“Darlin, have you eaten today? You’ve had dinner, right?”

He hears you sigh and can picture you running a hand down your face.

You sound stressed.

“Not yet but I will just as soon as I get home, I promise.”

Joel meanwhile having put you on speaker phone finishes a text to his driver to wait outside for him.

“How about I come get you right now? We can go get dinner together. How does that sound?”

He hears you chuckle on the other end.

“Why did I have a feeling you would say something like that?” You’re smiling on the other end, cheeks practically hurting.

“Any excuse to see you, sweetheart,” Joel bites his inner gum, excited and eager to be with you. “How about sushi?”

“Takeout?” You ask in a nervous lilt.

Joel hums in confirmation, “Your place?”

“It’s still a little messy,” you say in small voice.

“Gotta christen it somehow, honey. First dinner in a new place,” Joel teases.

“Mm, it’s not new though. You’ve eaten dinner in there before, surely?” You’re puzzled on the other end.

Joel’s confused a minute before remembering what he had told you about the place being his.

“Oh yeah, of course but this is a first for you, right? It’ll help you settle in,” Joel grimaces.

“Yeah you’re right,” you nod on the other end and Joel releases a silent breath.

“Be there in five?” Joel’s already by the door, pulling on his overcoat.

“Can’t wait,” you say sweetly and Joel practically swoons, almost missing a step on the staircase as he ends the call with you.

“We got em, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t think he’s ever heard Tess sound so proud before in her life and she once had to practically organise a fucking ark to send some cattle to a farm he owned a few states over, after he bought them a couple years back.

Joel shoulders sag in relief, he pinches between his eyes with a toothy grin, “I fucking knew I could count on you, Tess. You got them with you?”

“Damn right. You weren’t kidding when you said they were old. They look a little worse for wear, Joel,” she cringes, looking over the dirty bears with concern.

Joel scans the office building they’ve pulled in front of, tapping a message to you to let him know he’s out front.

He keeps an eye on the door while he talks.

“How bad are they? Any tears? Any lost limbs?”

Tess laughs on the other end, loud too.

Joel meanwhile is as serious as if he was conducting a full debrief on a wounded soldier.

“Christ Joel, you’re talking about them like they’re real but nah mostly just need a good clean. One of them is barely a plush at all, hardly has any plump to it.”

Joel has no idea Tess is holding your wolf by its foot like it’s diseased, her face scowling at it.

“Yeah…actually if you could fix that I’d be grateful,” Joel thinks aloud, conscious he’s still waiting for you.

“Uhh…I’m not much of a textiles kind of gal but I’ll do my best. You want me to drop them off in a little bit once they’re ready?” Tess asks.

Joel’s eyes light up at the sight of you tugging the building door open, your eyes wincing at the heavy downpour of rain that’s just started.

“Yeah, but uh, shit, yeah I forgot. I need you to drop them off at this address.” Joel types your apartment address and sends it across in a text.

“You bought another place? Okay. No worries. I’ll be there.”

“Just leave them by the door and drop me a text. I want it be a surprise, ya know?” Joel smiles at you when you meet his eyes through the window, running to the opposite side to escape the rain.

“Sure, be there soon,” Tess confirms and hangs up.

Joel shoves his phone in his pocket and reaches his hand forward just as you’re buckling your seatbelt, moving wet hair from your forehead.

You beam at him, dimples creasing and sending Joel’s heart crashing against his rib cage.

“Hungry?” He manages, his hand seeking yours to squeeze it affectionately.

“Starving,” you squeeze his hand back.

Sushi went down a treat.

Even if you did scold Joel for trying to buy all your favourites with the excuse of stocking your fridge with leftovers.

To his surprise, you both ate on the bed, complaining that you needed comfort, already jumping into pyjamas and making Joel slip into a T-shirt and sweatpants to relax.

Joel encouraged you to talk about your day. Partially to keep the attention of the events of his own day but mostly because he needed to know every moment of your life when he wasn’t in it.

You were just in the middle of telling him a story about someone “accidentally” sending over twenty requests to print a kinky fan art of some fictional bounty hunter at work when, Joel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He distracted you by presenting a plate of chocolate mochi from the kitchen and excusing himself towards the bathroom only to detour to the entryway, opening the front door to find a panda and a wolf sitting slouched against the wall.

Joel picked them up, becoming still a moment as he looked them over.

Tess had done a fine job.

They were clean and tidy. Your wolf had some fresh stitching from where it looked newly stuffed. A little blue bow stood out on the panda possibly a little improvement added by Tess.

He’d remember to send her a thank you present later.

“Joel?” You call for him and he turns and locks back up, walking back to your room with the plushies hidden behind his back.

When he enters your room again, you’re licking chocolate powder from your fingers looking at the way Joel’s arms are shielded behind his back. Your brows knit together curiously.

“What’s going on?” You ask, grabbing a napkin and wiping your hands while you stare up at him from where he stands in front of you.

He smiles and kneels down, making your eyes go wide.

Then he presents your lost friends and your eyes dart down to them in shock.

“Managed to get the gang back together again,” he smiles warmly at you and your hands tremble when you reach for them.

“Joel…”

He urges them into your arms when you hesitate to take them from him. Joel watches the tears crowding at your waterline.

“How?” You gasp, running shaky fingers over them, admiring the new touches and smiling at the renewed plumpness of your wolf.

Joel releases a heavy breath.

It seemed no better time to do this than right now.

After the day he’s had and the way you were on his mind every second of it, he needed you to know how he felt.

Joel places his hands on your knees and your eyes meet his.

“I would do anything for you. I hope you know that and if you didn’t,” he looks to the way you clutch your treasured childhood toys to your chest, “I hope that this proves that I will do anything to make you happy. I’d go to hell and back for you and repeat the process a thousand times over just to see you secure and safe.”

You blink back more tears meeting your jawline and running down towards the neckline of your shirt. Joel runs the back of his fingers up your neck gently and you let him.

You let him wipe the tears away.

“You matter to me in more ways than I ever know how to show sometimes but if you’d let me, darlin, I’d like to show you. I’d like to show you how much you mean to me,” Joel takes in a breath, “I’d like to show you how much I love you.”

“Joel…” you cry, your lips trembling, “but this is everything,” you shake your plushies against your chest, “you didn’t judge me and you- you got them back for me. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t do that.”

“There’s more that I could do,” Joel’s hands find your face, his body closer to yours now, crowding you at the edge of the bed.

“I want to be yours, baby and I want you to be mine.”

Your breath hitches, his thumbs soothing your hot skin.

“I want to give you everything and I already started. This apartment is yours. I bought it for you. I’m sorry I lied but I wanted you to have something that was completely yours and I had the means to give it to you.”

You smile, your eyes evading his as your cheeks flush. You had a feeling it was too good to be true. You had a feeling Joel may have never previously owned the building to begin with but it wouldn’t have surprised you if he did.

“When I saw how sad you were when you lost these,” he drops his hand from your face to pinch the ear of your panda plush, “I knew I could get them back for you and I knew I’d do anything to do it. I never want to keep the truth from you so I’ll be honest and say I even interrogated the little shit to find out exactly where they were.”

Your eyes widen with awe, “Joel, you-“

“I had to and I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times. I’d fight a fucking army, baby, I’d do it because I love-“

Your lips crash against Joels.

He’s so taken aback to start with until he feels your fingers moving through his hair and instinctively, his palms graze over your hips and press up against your lower back to keep you held against him as close and as tightly as possible.

You pull back, taking in the smitten flush across Joel’s face when he meets your eyes.

It seemed you had an ability to surprise him too.

“I love you too, Joel.”

A year later…

“And they never belonged to the girls to begin with?! How am I only finding this out now?!” Tess exclaims, downing another glass of red wine in a long gulp, her voice raising louder above the music being played.

You giggle and Joel rolls his eyes.

He eyes the rings on your fingers for the hundredth time that night.

He leans down and places a kiss against your temple.

Married.

And Joel is prepared to fight death to make sure you never part.

You giggle again and raise a brow at Joel, “what did you tell Tess?”

Joel looks towards the dance floor at your wedding reception finding the small tail of a blazer and a golden dress skirt weaving in and out of tables, laughter carrying over the sounds of feet dancing and two familiar soft animals clutched in their palms.

You follow his line of sight, laughter bubbling in your throat.

You meet his wink and grin, “well technically, it’s not a lie now anyway.��

#millionaire!joel Miller x reader #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller x you #Joel miller fanfic #Joel miller fanfiction #TLOU fanfic #TLOU fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #joelsbloodyhands writes

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whoopsyeahokay · 2 months ago

Text

Cuddle Bug

summary: a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. AU - everyone is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍃

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch. No surprise there. The guy needs cuddles like flowers need sunlight to thrive. Always has. Being a ghost for 40 years exacerbated that need, and now that he's a real boy again, he can't help himself. Wally sits too close, hugs hello and goodbye, touches arms and knees when he's telling a story.

It's just that much more amped up when it comes to you.

He was affectionate before you and he became inseparable. Lightly grazed your hand when he walked beside you, found every excuse to tackle you when he tried to teach you football techniques. Ajay and Charley stood there like extra wheels even though it'd been Wally who'd rallied everyone to the field.

What? Your giggle's so damn cute! No way was Wally going to be able to focus on anything else!

Besides Charley's just as bad when Yuri's around, and Simon can't even function when Maddie gives him the eyes. So, everyone can suck it as far as Wally's concerned.

During group activities, Wally would find a way to sit next to you. Would squish his long limbs between you and Maddie and give you a bright, boyish grin. Sometimes he'd stare Xavier down until he got the hint and scooched closer to Nicole at the lunch table, leaving a gap that Wally could settle into beside you. His arm around your shoulders and his knee touching yours. Totally innocent.

Wally brought your favorite snacks to Game Night, established himself as your personal chauffeur despite the fact that you lived closer to Simon and Rhonda, and loyally helped you filter clothes when you and the girls went shopping. Yes. He'd made himself one of the girls just to spend time with you. Don't look at him like that; it worked, didn't it? 👀

Since accepting him as your boyfriend (he grins so big, his cheeks ache), Wally's dependence on your touch, warmth, shape against his, has increased a hundredfold.

You sit on the picnic table before the first bell, chatting to Maddie and Claire about something Wally isn't listening to, his arms around your waist, upper body slumped between your legs, head resting on your thigh as you rake your fingers through his thick hair. Oh, he could die all over again and be the happiest of ghosts just for this. Not that he wants to be a ghost again. Not unless you're with him this time. Which would require you to die, too, and that's a terrible thought and he's never going to tell you about it. But the sentiment remains. Wally doesn't want to do anything without you, ever.

He managed to convince the secretary to put him in all your classes, pouting and pleading his case that he'd been dead since 1983 and, "it's so traumatic coming back, she's the only thing I have that feels real...please?" A tactic that he should stop abusing, but it worked on all the teachers when he requested to be sat next to you. Every time a teacher caved, Wally would fold into the desk beside you, beaming like a winner. And who cares? Mina and Ajay, and Charley and Yuri pulled the same doe-eyed trick and got what they wanted, why couldn't Wally do the same?

On Fridays, everyone piles into Wally's high school best friend's living room—Rodney now Wally's legal guardian for reasons—to have movie marathons. There's trivia to guess the movie. Winner gets one veto and can insert their own choice, but there's three movies in total so pick wisely! They figured out awhile ago that Wally sometimes (always) lets you win trivia when it's his turn to play his lineup. You never veto anything, equally as eager to watch what he opts for. It drives Simon and Ajay insane.

He takes over a whole couch, the three-seater, sprawls long-ways and tucks you between his legs, your body draped over him like a blanket as he wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for anything. He traces patterns on your back, cradles your head against his chest, soaks up the physical contact like a sponge after years of ghostly numbness.

In the school halls, Wally keeps his hand on your hip. He kisses your head and cheeks and jaw. Doesn't care who sees because you're his girl and he'll do what he wants, thank you. He's proud that you call him yours and wants to show off who his heart belongs to. This one! This one said yes!

You're in his lap more than your own seat when the group descends upon Max's Diner after football games (that, no, Wally doesn't participate in. That era is firmly in the past and he'll never don a jersey again; sorry mom, God bless, rest in peace). His hands are all over you as you engage Rhonda in conversation; on your thighs, waist, back, hips. Anywhere and everywhere that's still appropriate in public. His head under your chin, eyes closed as he listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady, the rhythm matching his.

Wally rolls over in his bed, crushes you beneath his weight as he plays dead—knock on wood that that won't happen again for many years—and tries to stifle his laughter when you struggle to reverse the position. Eventually, he showers your skin with kisses, nudges between your thighs and laces his fingers with yours, pressing his smile to yours before kissing you deeply.

The sex is amazing, but nothing beats the afterglow when he has you pliant and sweet, curled into him on your side, your face in his chest, his hand on your lower back, whispering how much he loves you as you doze. Call him codependent, but Wally doesn't want to spend even an hour without you. He isn't a lost puppy, knows how to behave like a man. He just spent too many years being forgotten that he still has trust issues.

And you don't mind. You welcome it, in fact, and that makes Wally feel safer than he ever has. It makes it easy to ignore the looks people give you and him when you agree to go somewhere, "only if Wally's invited, too" because you and he are a package deal. And he does the same for you. Obviously, not for the same reasons, you're perfectly fine being alone, it's just that Wally's not ready to experiment with your absence just yet. Maybe never will be.

Rodney's long since accepted that Wally's room has become your room. From married and childless to married with several formerly-dead teenagers and their SOs, Rodney and his wife have accepted their homebase status like champs. They treat you like family—you have a house key for the rare occasion Wally isn't with you after school—and acknowledge that Wally can't sleep without you without suffering.

He stays curled around you all night, kisses you awake, big hand trailing from your waist to your hip as he nips the top knot of your spine and grinds his morning wood against your ass. God, you get him hard so easily, Wally sometimes thinks he should get checked out. You hum then sigh then turn in his arms, hook a leg over his and press yourself against him in exactly the right way.

Through half-lidded eyes, Wally gazes at you. Licks his lips as he rocks his hips slowly and watches your expression go from sleepsoft to wanting. You like how that feels baby? You want it inside you? And he kisses you deep and thorough, rolls you onto your back to fit between your legs, groans when one of your hands squeezes his ass through his boxer-briefs.

He needs to be inside you yesterday, loves how you feel, tight and wet and hot around him. Soft touches turn hard, light sweeps of lips turn to teeth and tongue and fresh bruises on your neck. Wally loves to taste you first, to prolong his pleasure by giving you yours, his tongue delving into you and sucking your clit gently; deliriously slow because he can't get enough.

It's not until you're begging him so pretty for his cock that he finally lets himself fuck into you, so hard and sensitive his brain explodes upon fitting deep inside you on the first thrust. A refrain of fuck, yes and oh God baby, you feel so good fills the room—sorry Rodney—the headboard smacking against the wall in time with Wally's hips. Throughout, Wally holds you like something precious, kisses you like salvation, breathes you in like he can't live without you.

He makes sure you come first before he even thinks about letting go, the sensation of you shaking apart around him ripping his own release right from his core. Wally licks into your mouth, moans like a beast, and then, one two three more stunted thrusts and he goes still. Hazy eyes hold yours and you can see the depth of his emotion for you. At least, he hopes so. How he'll treasure you forever. He'll never love anyone as much as he loves you. That's a promise and a threat and he smiles a lazy smile at you as you begin to giggle.

"What's so funny, baby?" Wally nudges your cheek with his nose.

"Nothing, I promise, I'm just...really happy." You tell him and he moans in delight.

"You don't feel suffocated or claustrophobic like Rhonda said you would?" Wally asks, a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, even if he doesn't usually feel that way about how reliant he is on your proximity. You've never given him a reason to feel anything but safe and happy and loved, but still. Rhonda knows how to hit bone even when she means well.

You shift, forcing Wally to look at you, your hands cradling his jaw, "Never. I will never, ever want this, us, to be anything but exactly how it is. I love having you all over me."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." And you grin, a warm little thing, "I like sharing everything with you. It's nice. My very own witness to my life."

Wally kisses you again, another slow, deep, sentimental gesture; everything he feels poured into it, before he settles down on top of you, careful not to crush you, his head above your breasts and his eyes fluttering closed. Relaxed. Sated. Safe.

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch, and, in this second chance at life, he's profoundly grateful to have found someone fluent in it.

🍃___________fin.____________

youtube

(Marshmallow Miles)

also on AO3!

if you liked this, you may also enjoy Fifty Seven.

fluff. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you.

#milo manheim #wally clark #school spirits #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fluff #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #flashfic #oneshot #Cuddle Bug

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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You knooooowwww... >.>

The only difference, technically, between a school in the Zone? And on Earth? Is the American government won't recognize your Zone diploma...

Not accredited. But like..... I'm JUST SAYING? If you didn't try to pass your school off as some Big Ivy League type? Pulled the "oh yeah, you'd never have heard of it, it's local." And the COMPUTERS say it's legit?

How many people will dig deeper?

If you legitimately have the knowledge, you legitimately have the knowledge. Not YOUR fault you left out the whole "extra-dimensional" part. It makes folk nervous! And nervous folks get stabby.

So like? If you were ALREADY planning to "Move" as you euphemistically put it? Talked it over with your VERY concerned folks and friends? Who do NOT like the look of the steady but concerning rise of Anti-Ghost Powers That Be? Who finally put their foot down and reminded you that you are a TEENAGER and it's NOT your responsibility to fix the world?

Well...

Fuck those guys, I guess. You'll miss the old house, but Team "Taking our ball and going literally anywhere else" makes some good points. Why ARE you putting up with this?

And honestly, you've never SEEN your dad have so much fun. Him and the Reality Realtor just sorta... Vibe. Himbo to Himbo communications. Smatters of advanced physics. Fudge. It's great.

They move the portal. Collapse the old one in a way that makes it impossible to recover or recreate. You... kinda don't want to ask. They had that "mad scientist glint" in their eyes.

And while everyone's checking out brochures to different realities? You? Head off to the nearest College. It's the Zone, so technically you could go to any of endless billions. But you'd like your education some time this century.

Cue! Danny Fenton! Entering?

Academia's wet dream. A sprawling CITY of a college. Where the classes are on EVERYTHING and the price is FREE. People have Obsessions okay?? They NEED to teach. Debate and discuss! Study! Right papers and read them! It's been going on a while! And what happens when you find a subject that's NOT covered?

YOU COVER IT!

It's like if New York was a College. Good fucking luck find the dorms. Sleep on the floor like the rest of us, you casual.

Danny was Not Prepared ™.

He loves it though.

Classes on aeronautics next making the perfect sandwich, shoved next to historical basketry, stacked above alien slam poetry. But only on Tuesdays! Ever shifting. Breaking his Fenton Born Adhd in to a fine PASTE to be smeared upon bread. Happy mental stimulation chemicals go Brrrrrrrr

If it wasn't wildly inappropriate, he would LICK IT to claim it as his then wrap around it and gaurd like a territorial cat. He thought he HATED school! Turns out he just hated high-school. College though? College, or at least ZONE College, is fuckin AWESOME.

He's sit in SO MANY random classes just cause.

Picked up and dropped them at a whim. When they no longer sparked joy. He's been a flighty bitch and for once? No one CARES. No one says "you HAVE to commit and stick with this FOREVER once you choose this" and? It just? It's so FREEING! He's learned so MUCH!

He's probably gonna come back!

Which? Is how a deeply, DEEPLY weird aerospace engineer from supposedly bumfuck NOWHERE, end up working at Wayne Industries. He's.... a lil crazy behind the eyes. Ha ha... CONCERNING ™!

Dude sleeps on the lab floor. Has weirdly spotty knowledge. Can be an unprecedented genius one second and not know who the current president is the next. Doesn't know what DAY it is. Forgets to eat. Tried to make a fusion reactor out of the break room toaster before Sandra from accounting distracted him with pictures of her cat.

It's like he wanders through life blissfully unaware that he is both terrifying and about three seconds from killing them all. Then FUCKING TRIPS because he forgot to tie his shoelaces again.

Who hired this man?

WHY!?

I mean, we KNOW why. Probably to put him on a watch list. But? He's like a terrifying murder puppy! Built like a tank! That's stoned out of its mind half the time. And have you HEARD his college stories? That CAN'T be legal. Was this guy raised in a cult!? Aaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!????

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing #Zone College Au

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wosospacegirl · 3 months ago

Text

And they were roommates - part 4

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: kissing!!making out!! idiots falling in love!! team banter!!!

Word count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

You can read part 1 here and part 5 here

Kyra thought that last night had been a product of her dreams. She had kissed Y/n, her long-time friend and roommate while watching ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’. And when she woke up, she was cuddling with Y/n, which made everything even better.

Kyra’s arm was spread out on the mattress while Y/n slept on top of it, mouth slightly open as she breathed quietly. Her cast was on top of a pillow and her other–and good – leg was intertwined with Kyra’s. Kyra didn’t want to get out of bed, especially when Y/n’s sleeping face looked so cute, but it was 6:30 in the morning and both girls had a big day ahead of them.

The girl enjoyed a few seconds of Y/n’s warm body against her, but before Kyra could say anything, Y/n began to move slightly, pushing her face closer to Kyra’s body until she was lying on her chest, her left arm hanging on Kyra’s shoulder.

The physical touch was welcomed by Kyra. She gently ran her hands over Y/n’s scalp. “Good morning,” Kyra said in a hoarse morning voice.

“Hmm,” Y/n murmured, not opening her eyes, feeling the softness of Kyra’s shirt against her cheek. “What time is it?”

“Almost 7.”

“Too early, wanna sleep more.”

Kyra stroked her cheek. “I know, but you can take a nap after we get back from Arsenal, yeah? You have physio today.”

“I forgot about that,” Y/n said, finally opening her eyes to look at Kyra. “You’re pretty, did you know that?” she said smiling, still a bit dazed from the deep sleep she had been in.

Kyra blushed slightly, but hid it with a grin “Is that why you kissed me yesterday? Because I'm pretty or something?”

“Yeah… or something.,” Y/n said, kissing Kyra softly on the lips.

Kyra froze for a moment, but quickly melted into Y/n’s kiss.“We're just doing this now, aren’t we?” Kyra asked, smiling. “I mean, I'm not complaining.”

“What? Kissing? I guess so if you still want to.”

“Great, I do, I wanna do it a lot.”

“A lot?” Y/n giggled. “Won't even make me work for it” she said teasingly.

“If your leg wasn’t broken maybe, I might not be so nice,” Kyra said, tapping her chin. “But since I'm still your caretaker, then yes, you get free kisses.”

Y/n smiled, cupped Kyra’s jaw and brought her face closer, their lips touching. and Y/n deepened the kiss, neither caring if the other had morning breath or not.

“You’re the best caretaker, ever” Y/n whispered against Kyra’s mouth.

“Glad you like it, I might put it on my resume for when I retire,” Kyra said. She hesitated at first, but gently placed her hands under Y/n’s shirt, feeling the skin on her waist. “So I can get a job afterwards, or whatever.”

Y/n shook her head and kissed Kyra some more. “No, I don’t wanna share you with other sad and injured footballers, I just want you for myself.”

“So are you admitting you like having me around?” Kyra said.

“I mean, you give great kisses and you always remind me to take my medicine, so yeah, maybe I do.”

Kyra loved hearing that she gave great kisses. The thought of being complimented by Y/n made her brain go fuzzy. It was quite an overwhelming and new feeling. So Kyra turned to what she knew best: jokes.

Kyra pumped her fist dramatically in the air “Yey! Would you mind repeating that again?” She picked up her phone and opened a recording app.

“Oh fuck off,” Y/n pushed the phone away, laughing. “We were having a moment.”

“Sorry, couldn't help myself, let’s just kiss some more,” Kyra said before filling Y/n’s face with kisses.

They didn't talk about it.

They didn't talk about any of the kisses they had shared. They hadn't mentioned whatever it was they were doing, not because they didn't want to, or because it was awkward, it was just because it felt normal. As if they'd been in this domestic routine for ages.

Kissing Kyra; telling her she was pretty; cuddling up with her at night…it was all normal, comfortable and serene. Their routine didn’t change, they continued to do the same things every day, except they kissed.

Y/n was always very focused on football. So focused that she simply did not care about other things, like romantic relationships. She put everything she had into football because she knew it was up to her and no one else. She didn’t really open up to people, especially those who weren't her friends, so it was hard to build any type of romantic relationship.

However, after all these weeks of living with Kyra, she’d realised that her friend had meant a lot more to her, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. It felt good to finally let go and relax, to put football and her long-standing fear of vulnerability aside for a moment.

This wasn’t Y/n’s first time being with someone, she had one-night stands before, but they’d been very…awkward. In the mornings, she and random girls Y/n had met in London’s nightlife would dance around ‘good mornings’ and ‘see you�� or even ‘we should do this again’. But it was all very superficial, as it had to be.

Y/n was not sure what Kyra thought of their thing but she seemed to enjoy it. Y/n didn’t want to put a label on it. She just wanted to kiss Kyra some more, cuddle with her through the night and overall just enjoy their little domestic, and pretty much, ordinary life.

They didn’t have to rush into it, or overthink it. Just live in it for a while. There was no big elephant in the room that needed to be discussed. There was just Kyra and Y/n, and she was grateful for that.

After a few minutes of lying in bed and doing nothing, the girls left the bed and went to the kitchen to start their day.

“You can add the mushrooms and onions now, but let it cook before you add the salt and pepper” Y/n said. She sat on the kitchen counter while Kyra stood by the stove, wearing Y/n's apron with the saying ‘I love stirring things up’. It looked cute on her, but the size wasn’t right.

Y/n made a note to buy an apron just for Kyra. She didn’t really enjoy sharing her things. Red flag, yeah.

Kyra had a frown on her face, if Y/n hadn't known they were only making omelettes, she would have thought Kyra was being sent off to war.

“I hate cooking,” Kyra muttered, stirring the mushrooms uninterestedly.

“We can't live off of cereal for the next months to come,” Y/n said, without looking at Kyra, concentrating instead on the recipe book in her hand. “Can you also chop the spinach for me when you're done?”

Kyra grumbled so that was a yes.

Y/n took the eggs and the bowl that were already on the counter and started beating the eggs with a whisk.

Y/n loved to cook. It was one of the most therapeutic things for her. She loved cooking for herself and for others. She took pride in eating something and being able to explain, step by step, what she had done and what ingredients she had used.

When she got injured the doctors had told her that she wouldn't be able to stand for long periods of time, so cooking and baking was promptly removed from the list of things she enjoyed, but couldn't do, along with football and morning runs.

This was the first day she had cooked since the injury. She had tried cooking standing up in her crutches but this had led to her falling over while trying to pick up ingredients from the pantry. She had cried her eyes out of anger before Kyra found her on the floor, a mess of tomatoes and beetroot down with her.

She felt frustrated and pathetic, but there was nothing she could do about it except accept that she was fated to eat Kyra’s bad food for a while.

A few weeks after that incident, she tried another strategy, the one she was doing right now: sitting on the counter while giving instructions to Kyra, but, of course, she got frustrated again because Kyra couldn't follow instructions and Y/n was too much of a control freak, so she gave up cooking one more time

However, something had happened between Kyra and Y/n–they kissed! Y/n hoped that since they shared quite a few kisses, they could successfully share a kitchen as well, so she tried cooking again.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Y/n shouted from the other side of the kitchen.

Kyra stopped putting whatever spice she was adding to the food and looked at Y/n confused, holding the spice jar in the air.“What? You told me to add salt and pepper on it after it was cooked!” Kyra said, defending herself.

“That's not pepper, that's paprika!” Y/n pointed out, hands down her face. “Now our omelette is ruined!”

“No, it's not,” Kyra made a face. “It's just paprika, not cocaine. We can eat it just fine.”

“Here, pass me the eggs,” she demeaned. “Are they frothy already?”

Y/n took the bowl from the counter, and put it behind her, trying to get out of Kyra’s reach. “We're not putting my eggs on that. I hate paprika, it makes everything taste horrible.”

Kyra was silent for a moment, her face stoic. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why the hell do you have paprika if you hate it, then?” Kyra questioned.

“You can't be a real cook and not have paprika in your kitchen.” Y/n shrugged.

Kyra tried to take the bowl from her again, but Y/n was quicker and got it out of the way, holding it to her body for dear life.

“I'm being serious! Maybe we can throw the anions, mushrooms and spinach mix away and you can make it again, using the right and correct seasoning this time.” Y/n suggested.

“You want me to chop the onions again?!” Kyra said with a gasp. “I just cried, chopping them.” She pointed at the onions as if they had hurt her.

“Maybe you can try wearing sunglasses this time?” Y/n pointed.

Kyra didn't respond. The girl just turned away and opened one of the upper cupboards, taking out three boxes of cereal with one hand and two bowls with the other.

She placed the cereal boxes and the bowls next to Y/n and pointed At each box. “Do you want Coco Pops, Raisin Oats or Weetabix?”

Y/n stared at the cereals, disgust on her face. “What?!”

“Cereal. Which one do you want?” Kyra pointed at each of the boxes again, repeating its brand name.

“I don't want cereal,” Y/n said, more sassy than she liked to admit it.

“Well, but I do,” Kyra said, picking up the Coco Pops one, and pouring it into a bowl.

Before taking a spoonful, she took a step closer and kissed Y/n on the nose, then packed her on the mouth. "You're way too bossy in the kitchen–my cortisol levels are through the roof,” she explained, taking a bite of her cereal.

Y/n pouted defeatedly, picked up the Raisin Oats and poured it into her own bowl, without saying a word.

Kyra tapped the spoon against the bowl in her hand. “Wow! That's actually so good,” Kyra said mouth=-full.

“You say that as if you haven't done this every day for the last week,” Y/n said grumpily, taking a spoon of her raising. It tasted so processed.

Kyra shrugged. “Well, at least your Raising tastes better than paprika anyway.”

Y/n and Kyra could share kisses and a house, but they couldn't share the kitchen, or even the same cuisine taste.

Kyra and Y/n arrived at Arsenal half an hour before the training. Which was plenty of time for Y/n to say hello to all the staff members and Win on her way in. Y/n didn’t realise how much she had missed the people she used to see every single day. All the staff members made sure to tell her how much they missed her too and wished her a recovery.

Y/n felt strange at first. In the changing room, everyone was wearing their training kit, and boots and had their hair up, ready for training, everyone except for Y/n, who stood in the middle of the room, and couldn't help but feel like the odd one out, even though all the girls assured her that she was still very much part of the team.

It was still difficult to be surrounded by such amazing players, and friends, while Y/n had only just learned how to walk on her crutches without stumbling.

“Look who's here!” Leah was the first to see Y/n, greeting her with a hug. “How have you been? Giving that pest over there a hard time?”

“Always,” Y/n said, winking at her captain.

“Y/n! I didn't know you were coming in today.” Alessia said, being the next one in line to give Y/n a warm welcome.

Y/n hugged Alessia as she waved at other teammates, who were just as happy to have her back, even if it wasn't for playing or training.

“Kyra didn't tell you that I've been cleared to start physio with our physiotherapists here at Arsenal?” Y/n asked, turning to look at Kyra, who was sitting on the bench, putting her boots on.

“I did tell them!” Kyra said, defensiveness in her tone “But they didn't believe me.”

“Easy there, little pest,” Steph said behind Kyra, patting her on the back. “This is what happens when you think it's funny to make up stories, and now we don't believe you when you tell the truth.” Steph walked past a stunned Kyra, coming to greet Y/n. “But it doesn't matter anymore because Y/n is actually here!”

“Bloody hell! Is this still about the loose screws?! Have some mercy and let it go!” Kyra said, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

The team laughed at Kyra and for a few seconds Y/n felt what she used to feel before her injury, a sense of belonging to the people around her and to her club… After all the girls chatted with Y/n, they left the changing room and headed onto the pitch, leaving only Y/n, Kyra and Alessia still chatting, just like old times.

“And then Kyra tackled Renéé to the ground, can you believe it?!” Alessia said, having just finished telling her the story of how Kyra was responsible for getting Renée–aka their head coach–in the infirmary a few days ago.

“She told me to treat her like any other player,” Kyra mumbled. “I felt bad though, but she said she wasn’t angry.”

“I would give anything to see Renée get tackled,” Y/n laughed.

“I think Steph actually got it on video,” Kyra said.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Really?!”

Kyra smiled. “Nah, I’m joking.”

“I hate you,” Y/n muttered.

Alessia interrupted the two girls by putting one arm around Y/n, but not quite leaning over her so that Y/n wouldn't lose her balance. “Did you know I’m gonna be your physio-buddy today?”

“I fell hard on my shoulder yesterday, Mary wants to have a look at it.” She added.

Mary was Arsenal's upper body physiotherapist. Y/n wouldn’t be doing any sessions with her, instead, Clare would be the one to keep up with Y/n's injury. But both physiotherapists did the physical therapy in the same room, so Alessia and Y/n would spend the whole morning together.

Alessia led Y/n through the door of the changing room, heading to the opposite direction of the pitch, where the physio room was. They quickly noticed someone walking behind them.

Alessia smiled softly, “Aren’t you doing drills with the team today, Ky? Or do you also have an appointment with Mary too?”

Kyra blushed slightly as she shook her head. “No, I don't have an appointment. It’s just that–” Kyra turned to Y/n. “–don’t you want some help? I always help you walk around and… I can stay with you and Alessia during physio today too, I’m sure Renée won’t mind.’

“Thanks, Ky, but it’s ok.” Y/n looked down at her crutches then at Alessia and smiled softly at Kyra. “Lessie here will help me, you don’t need to worry about me now, just focus on your training.”

Kyra listened to Y/n but didn’t move. Kyra had spent most of her free time with Y/n. The only time they had been apart since her injury was when Kyra was at training, so it felt strange not to be by Y/n’s side when she could.

She knew Y/n would kill her if she ever knew how much Kyra was worried about her and her injury all the time. Y/n absolutely didn’t like people fussing over her, so Kyra was having a particularly hard time today.

She needed to give Y/n some space away from her, maybe it would do her some good, and make her feel more independent too.

“I'll keep an eye on her, Kyra, ” Alessia said, placing a comforting hand on Y/n's back. “Don't worry, go on, if anything happens I'll come get you, yeah?”

Y/n smiled and Kyra a thumbs up, reassuring her that she could leave

Kyra just nodded her head, a small smile on her face as she turned around and walked away.

Y/n would be fine. Why wouldn't she be fine? She was only doing physio, for God’s sake. Kyra thought, a mix of emotions on her mind as she left the two girls alone.

“She seems very concerned about you,” Alessia said. “Did you fall or something? When Leah was injured she fell down the stairs of her house, remember?”

“Yeah I do remember that, I was the one that had to come to her house to help her” Y/n said. “I fell too, twice actually, once in the bathroom and once in the pantry a few days ago,” Y/n pointed to her crutches. “I still haven't got used to using them.”

“Was Kyra the one who helped you?”

“Yes, she was very nervous, but she didn’t wanna show it,” Y/n continued. “So she just kept saying I shouldn't try to kill myself trying to walk on my own because people would think I died because of her.”

“I think she was trying to hide how much she cared for you with her jokes,” Alessia said. “Did you know Clare and Mary had to ban her from getting into the physio room because she kept interrupting the other girls ’sessions to ask about your injury, and if there were any kind of new treatments around.

Y/n stopped and laughed at Alessia. “She did that? That’s so Kyra honestly.”

“Yes, but I think her ban was lifted a few days ago,” Alessia said jokingly as she opened the door to the physio room and helped Y/n to one of the therapy tables.

Thankfully the room was empty, so Alessia and Y/n were able to talk about whatever they wanted freely.

“It’s a little funny watching you and Kyra,” Alessia said, putting up a chair next to Y/n’s table. “I think we’re so used to seeing her acting as a menace and treating her like a little sister that we get a bit shocked when she acts more responsibly.”

“It’s adorable, really,” Alessia added.

Y/n smiled, thinking of Kyra’s soft face. “Yeah, she is.”

Y/n almost blurted out that she had never seen Y/n as a little sister, especially now. Y/n and Kyra weren’t exactly hiding that they were…kissing? snogging around? But Y/n still didn’t want to talk about it too much. It still felt too intimate. It was something that belonged to them.

“Kyra’s been treating me really well,” Y/n continued. “I mean she always jokes and teases me a lot, but she’s also very patient when I’m mad about my injury, and she always drives me around, so that’s a plus.”

Y/n wanted people to see Kyra the way she saw her. Not just someone who plays around, but also someone who’s very caring and generally loving.

“Well, I'm glad to know you have someone like Ky on your side right now.” Alessia smiled. “It makes me worry less about you and her, I feel like you act as her voice of reason sometimes. ”

“Please, I don’t need more people to worry about me, I promise.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “This whole recovery is going slower than I thought it would be but I’m just learning to be patient.”

“You’ll get there,” Alessia said reassuringly.

“Now please let’s talk about something other than my stupid injury, please!” Y/n said dramatically, making Alessia laugh.

“Ok, so let me tell you what happened in the tunnel in our last game–” Alessia started the story, and both girls were busy while waiting for physio to begin.

“I'm never coming back here again,” Y/n mumbled as she sat on the bench, wind in her face, watching her teammates do running drills on the pitch. Physio had taken up two hours of her and Alessia’s morning and it was hard; Y/n even considered just cutting off her leg and leaving it there.

“Yes, you're,” Leah murmured from her side, drinking her water and watching her surroundings “Physio honestly sucks but you’ve just gotta do it, mate” The captain shrugged. “It’s good that you’re feeling pain, it means your nerves aren’t screwed up.”

“Yeah, but it fucking hurts!” Y/n complained, crossing her arm “

“Breaking a bone hurts, what made you think growing them back wouldn't,” Leah said condescendingly.

“Have people ever told you how much you suck at supporting others in need?”

“Have people ever told you how annoying you are when you whine?” Leah bit back.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Hey, share your water with me, I left my bottle in Kyra's car.” Y/n made grabby hands, but Leah shook her head rather dramatically.

“Ew, no.” Leah said, “I hate sharing water, grab one from the cooler.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at Leah, signalling at her cast. “Could you please get me some water, then?”

Leah complained all the way to the cooler and back, but finally handed Y/n her water bottle. “Are you like this with Cooney-Cross at home too?”

“Like this what?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her cold water. Damn, she was thirsty.

“Demanding,” Leah said teasingly, taking the spot next to Y/n again.

“I wasn’t at first. I didn’t like asking for help,” Y/n answered, her eyes searching the pitch for Kyra in the pitch. “But she cracked me.”

“I think you cracked her too,” Leah said nonchalantly, watching Kyra as well.

“What?” Y/n asked, turning her head to Leah.

“She’s different.” Leah continued. “She’s not acting so much like a pest lately, she’s been more responsible, less reckless on the pitch too.”

Y/n didn’t answer.

“I wonder if it’s because of you,” Leah added.

Wow, Leah, always the straightforward one.

“She’s a young player, we’ve all been like that once,” Y/n said, trying to steer the conversation, sensing something suggestive in Leah’s voice, but not wanting to give in to Leah, not.

“I wasn’t,” Leah said proudly.

Y/n laughed sarcastically. “Oh yeah, because you were always so calm and collected.”

“I beg your pardon? I have the least yellow card ib from this team,” Leah bit back, rolling her eyes “Anyway, I’m just casually, very casually, letting you know that I’m sensing something different in Kyra.”

Y/n didn't answer again.

“So I’m just leaving the door for this conversation open,” Leah continued, trying to sound chill, but Y/n had known her for a few years now. The captain had thought this whole conversation through. “If you ever want to talk about it, I mean, I’m here.”

Leah honestly could give two shits about other people’s lives, so Y/n was rather amused by Leah’s way of showing that she was interested in her life and in whatever she had to do with Kyra’s change in behaviour.

“Is this your way of trying to be casual? Because you failed, bro.”

Leah furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m just trying to be a good friend. Alessia told me I should be more welcoming, and more…emotionally available, so this is me trying. If you prefer my old version I can bring her back”

“Please bring back my old Leah,” Y/n said, playfully putting her palms together as if in a prayer.

“What happened between you and Cooney?” Leash asked bluntly.

This was the Leah she knew.

“Nothing happened between me and Kyra,” Y/n said. “We just got closer, we’ve been sharing a house for the last one to two months, in case you don’t remember. ”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was the best Y/n could tell Leah right now.

Y/n and Kyra weren’t even dating, but Y/n couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if they disclosed whatever they had going on to the team. It wouldn't be anything new, it was very normal to date with your teammates.

Arsenal itself had a lot of couples that were brought together through the club, it wasn’t something unusual. But of course, when new couples formed the dynamics of the team changed a bit.

If they started dating, would people stop seeing Kyra as their little sister? Would the team stop seeing Y/n as this tough player who only had eyes for football and maybe a nightstand here or there?

When she thought about it Y/n realised that she really didn’t care about what her teammate thought about it. When Viv and Beth started dating, everyone just moved on with their lives, it was the same with Katie and Caitlin.

Y/n and Kyra just weren’t the type to make a big deal about it, they would probably just notice the shift between them and accept.

“I’ll pretend to believe you if you tell Alessia I tried doing the whole talk your feelings out with you,” Leah mumbled next to her, pulling Y/n out of her thoughts.

“So Alessia was the one who sent you, then? That little minx was with me the whole morning, she could've asked me.”

Leah shrugged, getting up from the bench and starting to warm up. “She didn't want to intrude.”

“So you intruded on her behalf?” Y/n asked, finding the whole situation funny.

“Yeah, I mean, you get closed off sometimes and it’s hard to reach out to you,” Leah said, more firmly now.

“It takes one to know one,” Y/n said, smiling at Leah.

Both women had been friends for a very long time. But the friendship between Leah and Y/n was different, they didn’t text every day, and they didn't plan to meet every week.

It was the kind of friend shared by two reserved people who enjoyed their privacy but still knew they could always count on each other

Y/n and Leah had the same faults, they were proud, stubborn and overly independent. So they knew each other, they knew how the other reacted to the world. And of course, they knew how hard it was for them to open up.

“Well, you know where I live if you ever feel like talking about why your eyes haven’t left Cooney for a second,” Leah patted Y/n’s back before running back to the pitch.

Maybe people would realise that she and Kyra were together sooner than she thought. Especially since Y/n was bluntly staring at Kyra while she played.

So what if she actually cheered a little when Kyra scored a goal?

| PART 5 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

#woso #woso fanfic #woso appreciation #woso x reader #arsenal women #kyra cooney cross #arsenal fanfic #women soccer #and they were roommates #matildas

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rebelspykatie · 11 months ago

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Part 2

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #again I promise this will have a happy ending #feel free to yell at me #angst #the comfort is COMING I swear

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the-librarby · 13 days ago

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FANCY SEEING YOU HERE III

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

I heart girlhood and first kisses.

Part one Part two Part four

It had been a month since that eventful first day, and Dante had gotten very comfortable in your presence. He dropped by with seemingly no rhyme or reason, every time you tried to assign him a case he would just wave it off. Apparently busy with other work.

Not only did he physically disturb your work hours, but he somehow got ahold of your work number.

When the landline rings, you pick it up without thinking, “Devil May Cry,”

“That’s it?” The voice crackles due to the poor speaker, “No, this is Y/N speaking, how can I help you?” A familiar voice mocks.

You lean back in your chair with a grin, crossing your leg over the other— you better get comfortable this is going to be a long call — and squish the receiver between your cheek and shoulder.

You hum, “Maybe you should be a receptionist, you’ve got the voice for it,”

“Oh yeah? What else am I good at?” The cocky grin is apparent in his tone.

You roll your eyes, “Being a pain in my ass,” your eyes flick to the clock display on your computer, “Aren’t you on a mission right now?”

Dante hums in confirmation, “I found some downtime, just to check in on you,”

Check ins, that’s what Dante liked to call this.

“I’m just as fine as I was yesterday, Dante,” you reply, “If I didn��t know any better, it sounds like you care about me, sweetheart,”

The rumble of his laughter over the speaker makes you inhale just a bit deeper, “Yeah, yeah caught red handed.”

You found it hard to navigate this dynamic with Dante. You expected the flirtatious conversations to die down but as you got more acquainted, if anything, it’s just amped it up. You’re certain it’s just the demon hunter’s nature, and not anything personal, which is fine by you. The last thing you need is to complicate this working relationship even further.

“You there, darling?” He questions, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You lean forward in your seat, moving the computer mouse to wake the screen back up, “Yeah, here,” you respond, “How’s the mission going?”

“So boring,” he complains, “Don’t make me talk about it, any plans tonight? Tell me it’s something fun,”

You laugh, “Going out actually,” you choose to ignore Dante’s dramatic gasp, “Calendar finally lined up, so I’m getting some drinks with some friends,”

Dante lets out the most wounded sound you’ve ever heard, “What! You never go out—”

“Not true!” You interject.

“—The one time you’re doing something fun and I’m not even there to see it!”

You frown, “Who said you would be invited anyway?”

Dante scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous, doll, of course I would be there,”

You hum in reluctance, “No, I don’t think so. Pretty sure I sent all the invites out already, guess yours got lost?”

“I find it funny that you think you could stop me from seeing you.” He assures.

You gaze up at the ceiling, shaking your head in disbelief. You turn in your office chair, now facing the window behind you, the cord follows and wraps around the chair.

“Guess you’ll just have to sit this one out then,” you sigh.

“I’ll find a way,” he hums, “Keep your phone on you.”

Even miles away you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched by him, a constant shadow over your shoulder. The sun is starting to set across the buildings outside, you search every rooftop and can’t find a single sign of a soul.

“Sure,” you spin back around to face your computer, “Better let you get back to your mission, I know you work so hard,” you coo.

Dante sighs, “Think of me when you go out tonight, alright doll? Because I’ll be thinking of you,”

“Goodbye Dante.” you fluster.

You hang the phone up with a click. In the silence of your office you groan, dragging your hands down your face is exasperation.

It was later in the evening when you stepped into the bar you were meeting your friends at. In the corner you can see them waving you over, a grin breaks out on your face. Cheers and greetings are shared, you can feel your shoulders relax. This was needed.

“I need a drink.”

Resounding agreements are met with your statement.

Time starts flying by, and you’re starting to forget what drink number you’re on but it’s fine, you got it handled. When you approach the bar, a guy next to you starts chatting. It’s polite and civil, he’s definitely cute, but when he starts pulling his phone out your mouth opens on autopilot.

“Oh, thank you, but no thanks,” you raise your hand placating.

The guy looks a little wounded— you grit your teeth in embarrassment— but doesn’t comment. Your friend punches your arm as he walks off, her eyes are widened.

“Why did you ditch him? He was so cute!”

You shrug, making your way back to your table, “I don’t know, wasn’t feeling it,”

Another girl chimes in as you sit down, “Wasn’t feeling what?”

“This cute ass guy just asked for her number and she shot him down!”

“Politely!” You interject.

The table is looking in your direction, one girl hums conspiratorially, “Someone we don’t know about?”

You choke on your drink, “No!” It’s not convincing, “No, there’s not,”

“Bullshit, your face is red! Who is it? Someone from work?”

The girl beside you tilts her head, “Your shady receptionist job? That would be interesting.”

Okay, so maybe your friends don’t know the full details of your job. It’s not because you don’t trust them, it’s just because this job is meant to be temporary, and honestly you don’t want them to worry about the people you work with.

Like Dante. Your heart pangs for a second at the thought of his name. That makes you pause.

“Oh my god, it’s definitely someone from her shady receptionist job,”

You automatically become defensive, “There’s nothing going on at work,” it doesn’t feel like you mean it, “I mean, nothing can happen anyway, it’s work,”

You shove down the sadness you feel saying that out loud, it’s not something you can deal with right now. When you look around the table you can see the sympathetic looks from everyone.

You groan and chug the rest of your drink, “Another round?”

You’ve definitely lost track of the amount of drinks you’ve had now. You’re laughing at every little amusing thing that comes across your path, and your friends laugh at how slurred your speech is. You’re just about to enter a different bar when your pocket starts to buzz.

“Wait,” you take a wobbly step back and dig into your pocket, “I gotta take this,” you murmur distractedly.

When your friends start to protest you wave your hand at them, “No s’fine, go in, I’ll be like, five minutes?”

You turn your back to them as they walk in, the phone in your hands looks a bit blurry and it takes you a couple tries to hit the accept button but eventually you get it.

“Hello?” You chime cheerily.

A chuckle rumbles through, “Just how drunk are you, doll?”

You frown, “Don’t,” you reply accusingly, “Don’t call me that, only Dante calls me that,”

“Really? He your boyfriend or something?” The voices teases.

You pout, “No, he’s—” you hum in thought, “Uh, a friend,”

Really, how else could you explain Dante to a stranger?

“You don’t sound convinced,”

His voice is deep, you muse, “What are you? A therapist?” A frown creases your eyebrows, “I definitely can’t afford that,”

The voice over the line laughs, it makes you feel warm, “Where are you?”

You scoff, “M’not giving my address to a stranger!”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

“Sweethea—” you gasp loudly suddenly, “Dante?”

“Bingo,” Dante laughs, it’s so familiar how could you not recognise it?

“Dante!” You repeat, in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are so gone,” he comments amusedly.

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement. Slowly, on unsure legs you walk over to the edge of the pavement to sit on the curb outside of the bar, “I miss you, where are you?”

Dante is going to tease the fuck out of you tomorrow for this. But right now you are not sound of mind to care, or even realise what you are saying. Sitting on the concrete beside a parked car, you watch as other drunken groups stumble and laugh up and down the street.

“On a mission remember?” He muses.

“Oh yeah,” you respond, fingers loosely holding your phone, “How is the mission?”

“That really what you want to talk about right now?”

Your response comes out quick, “If it keeps you on the line,”

The a brief choked noise and pause, you think you hear a quiet curse— fucking hell— in the background, but it’s drowned out by the traffic.

“Where are you?” Dante repeats.

“Huh?” You swing your head around, squinting your eyes at the bar sign out front, “Some bar, Night lounge or somethin’”

“I’ll meet you there,”

You laugh, “What? You’re like—” you wave your hand in gesture, “Somewhere far away,”

“Don’t move, got it?” He ignores your comment, “See you soon, doll.”

You barely say goodbye before the line ends. You stare at your phone in confusion for a moment, what did he mean? Your sluggish mind can’t fit the pieces together, so you shrug it off. Standing up, you dust off your outfit and make your way inside the bar. The girls are urging you to catch up, having missed out on a few rounds.

You completely forget about the phone call.

Hours later, you blearily look at your phone. The clock displays 2:00am. You push your way off the dance floor, leaving your friends behind. Everything is becoming stuffy and you need space, it’s a clumsy exit but you manage to shove your way out. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, you make one last shove this time accidentally hitting someone square in the chest.

“Sorry,” you slur, hands up in defence.

A bigger hand circle your wrist, the other hooking under your chin to tilt your head up, “Just the person I was looking for,”

Slowly you blink to take the man in, black fitted top, broad shoulders, and long silver hair. A grin breaks out on your face, “Dante!” You cheer drunkenly, wriggling your hands out of his grasp and wrap them around his neck. You feel his arms curl around your waist.

Your cheek is smooshed against the juncture of his shoulder and neck, “You made it,” your murmur, “How did you find me?”

Dante looks down at you quizzically, about to respond when you’re suddenly tugged back by your shirt.

“Y/N!” Your friend shouts, “You can’t just run off like that!”

She starts to apologise to Dante on your behalf, “I’m so sorry, she’s drank a lot tonight—”

You hiccup on your laugh, “Don’t apologise,” you poke hard at Dante’s chest, “This is Dante,”

Your friend frowns, “Dante…?”

“From work,” he supplies.

Your friend frowns, looking between the two of you. Dante’s hand is resting comfortably on the small of your back, your hand turning from an accusing point to a splayed hand on his chest.

She raises her eyebrow, “Dante,” she repeats, “From work,”

“That’s me, Dante from work,” he nods.

Another girl from your group comes up, “What’s going on?” She shouts.

She jabs a thumb in your direction, a grin now on her face, “This is Dante from Y/N’s work,”

She gasps, “The Dante?”

Dante’s now starting to feel confused, the two girls in front of him are scrutinising him in his spot. He smiles politely, and lets them look. You on the other hand, are completely taken by a wave of sleepiness. Unaware of the looks exchanged, you slump into Dante’s side.

“Need home,” you murmur.

Dante leans down, hovering closer to your face to hear better, “What?”

You groan at the movement, every shift welcomes a new wave of dizziness, “Need to go home,” you force out.

“Well, Dante from work,” your friend interjects, “Think you can handle this one?”

If you were sober, you’d be more aware of the current stare down that was happening. It’s more than a simple question, Dante was facing a test of loyalty right now, and honestly, it was kinda terrifying.

He answers without doubt, “Yes, I can handle her,”

You crack your eyes open when you feel warmth wrap around you, “Bye Y/N,” kisses are pressed to your cheeks, “Get home safe, and text me!”

You mumble your goodbyes, lots of I love you’s are exchanged before Dante wraps his arm around your waist and leads you outside. Once you step out into fresh air, you sigh. It feels so good to be outside.

“Alright, let’s get you home,”

You slump your head against his shoulder, letting Dante lead the way because your legs are not working right now.

“I wanna take my shoes off,”

“You can’t take your shoes off,”

You cry worriedly, “Are they glued to my feet?”

Dante looks down at your frantic face, shaking his head, “No, we’re walking home, you can’t take your shoes off right now,” he clarifies.

You sigh in genuine relief, the split second reality of not being able to take your shoes off outweighs the minor pain they’re giving you for now.

“Would you cut my feet off if they were actually stuck?” You wonder aloud.

Dante frowns, “No, I would not cut your feet off,”

You tilt your head, “How would you get them off then?”

Dante is unsure of the direction of this conversation, he knows you’re just rambling but the accusing look in your eye makes him think you’re not going to let this go.

He sighs, “Cut them?”

You gasp, “But these are my favourite!” You kick your feet up as to show them off, but you start to topple backwards from the sudden weight shift.

Dante easily swings forward until you’re straightened up again, “I don’t know,” he hums, “Guess I would have to force them off, they’d have to unstick at some point.”

You smile, satisfied at his answer. The streets are starting to get a little quieter as you walk away from the bars, it’s nicer like this, you can hear the cars driving past and a quiet ringing in your ears from the loud music earlier.

Dante’s mind floats back to what your friends said, “Do your friends know me?”

You hum questioningly, thinking back over the blurry events of tonight. After the phone call you went back in the bar, your friends were sitting at the table urging you to catch up on drinks. No wait, something before that.

“Who were you talking to out there?”

“Dante,” you answer simply.

“Dante?” They emphasise, “Who is Dante?”

You shrug, “From work? He’s so annoying,” you roll your eyes, “Keeps calling me all sorts of names, doll, sweetheart, my love,”

While you’re rambling your friends eyes widen, the whole table shocked at the revelation you’ve just spilled.

“Y/N, my darling,” you scrunch your nose, “You know he likes you, right?”

“What?” You scoff, “That’s impossible,”

“Why?”

That made you pause. Why was it impossible again? Something about boundaries and lines interfering.

“Oh my god!” Hands slam on the table, “It’s him! The guy that nothing can happen with!”

Gasps resound around the table, but your head is spinning. Before they can ask you anymore questions you head for the bar.

“You’re the guy,” you say.

“The guy?”

You huff, waving your hand, “The guy,” you emphasise, “From work, where nothing can happen, because you’re from work,” you tag on the end, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Now Dante can read between the lines. In this case, the line is very obvious in your oversharing confidence. A line that should not be discussed right now. He knows. Your apartment building is coming into view, Dante recognises the familiar entrance steps and railing.

“Something you want to say to me, darling?” It’s cruel to ask in your state, but he can’t help it.

You stop abruptly in your path, Dante looks down at you as you turn to him, a determined look pinning your facial expression.

“Yes,” you accuse, stepping closer, “How dare you,”

Dante smirks, “How dare I what?”

You point a finger waving it between him and yourself, “Act like this,” you gesture, “You’re not my partner,”

The drunken words are not eloquently said, but he understands. He steps closer, you tilt your head up to continue facing him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, suddenly serious.

You frown, “This is so not fair,” you reach your hands up to cup his face, “You can’t look at me like that,”

Dante would put money down to see what you see in him right now, “What do I look like?” He whispers.

Your thumb grazes gently under his eye, “Not how a friend should look at me,”

He glances down at your lips, “Will you forgive me in the morning?”

His abrupt question confuses you, “For what?” You smile in amusement.

Without warning he leans down, causing your hands to slide down to the back of his neck. Your eyes widen in anticipation, he pauses close to your face, giving you a chance to back off.

“I swear if this is a sick joke, I’ll kill you Dante.” you promise.

Hands grasp your hips, tugging you flush against chest. Seconds later, Dante’s lips are on yours. It’s gentle, is what your foggy mind can comment on. Your hands reach up into his hair, gently curling into the strands, him groans in response with deepened the kiss. One of your hands travels down his chest, feeling for the hem.

Before you can get your fingers underneath, you feel the world spin before your back hits something hard. The kiss breaks, and when you open your eyes and look around you can see you’re leaning against the brick all of your apartment building.

Dante’s heavy breathing matches your own, he shakes his head with a smile, “It’s time for you to go to bed,”

You ignore him, tugging him closer by the loops of his belt. He moves forward without a fight, you lean up to kiss him once more. Dante feels weak in this moment, he can’t say no, not when your fingers are curled around his pants like that. When your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, there’s only a warning hum. A cautionary, don’t. With a smile against his lips, you breach under, letting your finger tips glide over his hipbone. You don’t get much further until a hand grasps your wrist.

“You’re breaching out of bounds territory,” Dante warns.

You grin, wriggling your fingers that are still trapped under his shirt, “Let me in,”

Dante smiles in amusement at your boldness, “No,” he counters.

Your mouth drops in shock, as if not expecting that response, “You’re so mean,”

His hand drags yours out, “You already knew that,” he winks.

You pout, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. Your slightly smudged mascara affects Dante in a way he didn’t know could, his thoughts are starting to drift too far. Thoughts of you in this outfit, on your knees on your bedroom floor, choking around—

He blinks the thoughts away. He needs to stop this.

Gently he tugs you off the brick wall, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment entrance. Getting the hint, you fish out your keys.

You look at him one last time, “This is real right? I’m not imagining it,”

Dante chuckles, “I would be a fucking fool to pass you up,” he leans forward for one more chaste kiss, his hand cups your face, “Text your friends that you’re home, before they think I killed you,”

You laugh, “I will,”

He leans again, finding it hard to part from your lips but he manages to pull away one last time, “Call me in the morning?”

You hum, leaning against his hand as you peek your eyes open, “Afternoon okay? I’ll definitely feel like shit tomorrow morning,”

Dante smiles, “Deal.”

#dante sparda #dante x reader #dante x you #dmc dante #dmc fic #dmc headcanons #dmc netflix #dante sparda x you #dante sparda x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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book 7 chapter 11 part 1 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 11 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 192 to part 211, covering Jack and Ruggie’s dreams. You can see my comments on Leona's dream here!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

xbsbdkshwkw AZUL FAINTED WITH HIS EYES OPEN FROM THE FALL… This guy keeps taking the Ls early on in this update cuz he also got reminded that Idia recorded him in his own dream shouting “KRACKEN SHOT” which is very embarrassing.

Silver and Azul are able to change into their school uniforms without Idia’s incantation. Apparently Silver mastered the magic of changing clothes because he was so often oversleeping for class and had to prepare quickly for them. This shocks Sebek, who has yet to master this kind of magic. (Maybe it’s also a consequence of him being a first year?? 😂)

They briefly discuss how Silver looks like a prince when he’s riding his horse; Azul saw him in a Magicam cut of the Equestrian Club. Previously, we knew from Riddle’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes that the brown horse he rides is named Vorpal. Here we get confirmation of Silver and Sebek’s horses—Samson (a white horse, sharing the same name as Prince Phillip’s steed) and Tempest, respectively.

LMAO Idia complains about how athletes get so much attention, meanwhile nerds like him aren’t ever given that or fawned over or called princes. IDiA W3 gET IT… YOU COMPlAIN AbOUT CHADS 😭

They have landed in front of the gates of NRC and run into Jack there. He seems to be rushing to the colosseum…? Let’s follow him!!

OKAY

JACK HOWL YOu’RE oN MY ShiT LiST OTL YOU KNOW Ehat tHIS GUY DREAmed ABOUT???????!!!?!?!!?! It’s the year after their instaloss to Diasomnia in the interdorm tournament (don’t ask me why Malleus and Leona aren’t off at their internships at this point, dream logic I guess???). Dream!Leona has gathered all odds Savanaclaw in the colosseum to train so this year they can take Malleus and beat Diasomnia head-on, no tricks. HE EVEN GiVES A N OPTIMISTIC SpEECH AbOUT THE POWEr oF TEAMWORK TO RALLY EVERYONE… and declares he’ll be the next “king” 💀 Such overwhelming confidence… JSCK DRWAMED Of a DORM LEADER thAt PLAys BY THE RULES AnD IS 💯 ConFidENT IN THEMEKvES…

Grim is so grossed out seeing this version of Leona that he wants to wake Jack up right the fuck now 😭

AzUL YOU ASSHoLE???? He acts all fake surprised about “the incident” that happened at the intetdorm tournament and like bro had no part in instigating that stampede.

They start to formulate a plan to wake Jack up, but are worried about dream!Leona since Leona irl is a very strong mage, the darkness posing as Leona could be even stronger than usual. But at the same time we can’t risk casting a spell that’s too strong ourselves or it might call Malleus’s attention. They suggest to use Azul as a clincher since he would theoretically have access to all the magic he stole irl in the dream. Surely one of those could help?

Jack scores against the defense, Ruggie. While the Savanaclaw students are going over his play, Yuu and friends stroll up (including Idia vis a full body projection). Grim tells Savanaclaw they’re Team Ramshackle here to play them!

Ruggie says there’s no point; their team is made up of weaklings! But then Azul gives his OWN speech about how Octavinelle and Ignihyde are always dead last in magift tournaments and this time they really trained hard because they wanna be better 🥺 and besides, isn’g magift a game of wits and not brute magic/physical strength??? This catches the attention of dream!Leona who agrees to the play. He considers fellow dorm leaders worthy opponents, and also had a bone yo pick with Sebek and Silver. (Also??? Sounds like Ignihyde got their asses beat by the Pomefiore team in this year’s interdorm tournament.)

HEKP THIS mAn HE’S SuFFERINNNNG 💀 Azul is really out of it so he calls for a time out. Idia takes this opportunity to make fun of him again for being tired now when he was the captain of Golden Trident in his own dream. At least Sebek is nice and offers Azul some water.

Sebek messes up and the frisbee goes out of bounds?? WYat THE FuVk dream!Leona goes over and helps Sebek up after he’s fallen… “Oh, so Jack has made a senpai he can truly respect.” “Oh, the REAL Leona wouldn’t do something so noble like that.” GROSS GROSS GROSS GET IT OUTTA HERE 🤢

Oooh, interesting?? Ortho reasons that when you’re excited, you’re more likely to be influenced by emotions when making decisions; they’ll take advantage of the exercise high everyone on to break through to Jack. He and Jack end up flying out to space as they’re squaring off in magift; when Jack realizes how far he has flown up, he’s shocked. Don’t they need oxygen to breathe here?! It’s here that Ortho reveals this is all a dream to him.

Jack is so shocked by the news that he wakes—and then falls out of the sky?! Silver immediately runs to protect everyone. Idia uses the Dream Form Change to forcibly swap Ortho to his Cerberus Gear and Jack to his Dorm Uniform, which help to cushion the blow of their crash landing. Then dream!Leona comes over to check on Jack and decides to bench him.

The darkness tries to deceive Jack, but he actually punches back and refuses to be tricked. bcdbbsksks He cries a little and goes on about how he was so inspired by watching Leona play on TV he’d watch it over and over… only to be disappointed by reality. Jack goes a little overboard though, he starts attacking US too, thinking we’re fakes as well.

Jack quickly comes to see reason and stops trying to deck us. Sebek still seems salty at Savanaclaw for what they tried to pull in book 2 and again reminds Jack of those injustices, saying he won’t forgive them. To his surprise, Jack admits wrongdoing and says it’s only natural some people would still hold grudges and choose to not forgive them. Sebek is so shocked by the fact that honest people like Jack exist in Savanaclaw. Aw… baby’s having his prejudice challenged…

Mentioning this for the Jack lovers: Jack pets Grim on the head and praises him!

LMAo????? Jack grabs Silver’s arm to travel with them and is shocked by how it looks slender but actually you can tell he has trained a ton by feeling it!

They land in Sunrise City in Sunset Savanna. Everyone tells Jack about Dream Form Change, which he says is a spell that looks like it’s from an anime his kid sister watched before. Jack has a had time saying the spell because he finds it embarrassing, but he’s eventually goaded into it (especially by Sebek, who tells him to chat it with his whole damn chest).

Beastman lore!! Apparently beastmen are considered a genus and all beastmen come from Sunset Savanna; over time, they migrated to other parts of the world, especially to some colder locations northward. Jack’s family is included in this, as well as Sebek’s. His grandfather apparently used to live in the wetlands of Sunset Savanna. I guess it just goes to show that no matter how different their individual practices and beliefs… they have common roots.

While they’re admiring the statue of the lion prince in the center of Sunrise City, they notice no hyenas are among the gathered animals. They suggest that maybe the statue was made before the King of Beasts united all animals; the hyenas used to live in their own place called the Land of Shadows.

They review some Sunset Savanna lore, including how difficult it is to unite beastmen of different kinds and how there's a pushback against development due to many beastmen wanting to respect nature. Sometimes the disputes can become violent, and it's all over the news. SHOCKINGLY, Idia has a moment of clarity and realizes that this must be why Leona chose the internship he did at a mining and energy company 😭

Everyone begins to suspect the dream is Leona’s but right then Ruggie rushes by them, declaring that he’s late for school. Jack is surprised that Ruggie is in glasses because in Savanavlaw he would brag about having good eyes.

Ruggie cuts through the market to get to school on time; he seems friendly with the folks and many of them offer him free food. Jack remarks that Ruggie is seen as a hero in his hometown, so maybe this explains the NPCs’ behavior. Apparently he is also an honors student in this world.

Anyway, Ruggie arrives at Ivory Cliff! It seems this school doesn’t exist irl; it’s only in Ruggie’s dream. Most of it is beastment, and over half are hyenas.

Grim watches Ruggie and mobs A and B eating food and leaps in to get some!! (Azul apologizes and lies that Grim is his familiar, lol) Sebek chides Grim for doing this, but then his own stomach growls, giving his own hunger away. He of course denies his hunger—but Ruggie says it’s okay and invites them all to eat!! The local children come to their campus just to have food too. Ivorycliff Academy was built in honor of the three hyenas who served the King of Beasts. They used to be do starved that they could cry, so the school is dedicated to feeding the hungry in the spirit of solidarity.

BRUH 😭 YOu’RE KIDDING ME… In his dream, Ruggie’s dad never left him… He came back for his son with a fortune he made from working. Ruggie also bought a new car for his granny and never has to be hungry again. Jack wonders if it is really right to take away happiness like that, but ultimately he decides he doesn’t want to see his senpai living a false reality.

Ruggie shows them to a school donut stall with all-you-can-eat toppings. He dumps everything onto a single donut and calls it the "Ruggie Special". The owner drops the lore that in the universe of this dream, apparently LEONA built the school.

According to donut lady, Leona graduated last year and came back after graduating to strengthen his country. He has established several schools and even magift teams. Among young people in the Sunset Savanna, Leona is supposedly also more popular than the crown prince.

Ruggie runs off to class and we stay behind to eat. Donut lady turns to darkness and attacks us, so we beat it back.

Everyone thinks it will be hard to wake Ruggie since he has never met Leona in this reality and doesn’t have any memories of NRC, his club activities, etc. There isn’t much for him to emotionally react to.

WHAT THE HECK is this a Mufasa movie reference in Twst 😭 Ruggie and some mobs talk about a sequel (that’s a live action prequel, I think??) about two characters who are enemies but were actually friends in their youth. Or maybe they’re just talking about some other Lion King prequel I’m not aware of???

J kb bajabakan ahaGayatwHAT

Azul tosses coins of different values which attracts Ruggie’s attention. He has the unique ability to tell the value of a coin just from the sound of it, a skill which Azul learned about from observing Ruggie when he worked part-time at the Mostro Lounge.

Anyway, Ruggie tells mobs A and B to go home without him so he can hunt the coins in peace.

Azul carelessly tosses 500 madol (~5 USD) into the fountain. Ruggie wants it so badly he dives in and starts digging around wildly in the water for the coin. AND AZUL JUST KINDA STANDS THER E TAUNTING HIM LIKE, "OoOOoOoOoh you want that coin so badly, Ruggie, your body moved on instinct BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF, BE GREEDY, GET THAT COIN" (NOT AN ACTUAL TRANSLATION, but in the spirit of what Azul actually says).

I assume this is what the Ivorycliff Uniform Ruggie groovy depicts... Bro's tripping and having a cosmic experience all because he spotted A COUPLE DOLLARS.

Nooot sure how to feel about this as a narrative device. On one hand, it's funny and definitely demonstrates Ruggie's shamelessness. On the other hand, I can see why some may see it as distasteful or humiliating because Ruggie is already so destitute irl and yet here they are using him scrounging around for a few dollars as comedic bit.

Mobs A and B return to check on him. Ruggie starts obsessing to them about how you can buy extra or fancy food like the shrimp gratin set for 500 madol!! Which confuses the mobs because all the food at Ivorycliff is free.

On instinct, Ruggie starts reciting what I assume is true of NRC: basic buffet foods are free, but extra foods are an extra cost… uniforms are free but if you ruin the first set then you need to pay for extra ones… etc. Ruggie points out that Ivorcliff uniforms are sucky anyway, with a light color like this, even a little bit of dirt stands out! Night Raven College uniforms are black, so it’s so convenient! Wooow, what a callback to book 2 💀 Ruggie complained about the RSA uniforms being hard to clean back then too…

We beat the mobs up~

Ruggie falls ot his knees and has a good little cry 😭 but then he recovers and says he’d better be paid a good hourly wage for all this trouble cnbdjssbjsks He agrees to join us because “Well, I wake up Leona-san every day so this is literally no different than my usual routine” though he also admits his success rate is like 60-70%.

dnensjsbahsjajw RUGGUE’S On MY shIT LIST TOO. HOW daRE HE… Bro says he’s going to wake up OUR king now, that he doesn’t want to follow a false king.. ARE YOU FR 💀 JE’S TAlKING AbOUT zbsvsjabskshFd;,,,/;~~\4!’ansnjahVb,dDDGfgGJjkJSDgabakaojrr a kKNBD gbmmkojnkFSAAQWVNmkoggDFFHvjkkp OTL

PAUSE TO STARE AT RUGGIE'S CRYING FACE BECAUSE WHAT THE HELL I FEEL LIKE I'M STARING AT A KICKED PUPPY

And so…! They’re off!!

This update ends up Ruggie’s dream concluding. Next time (on the 29th), it’s time for us to wake up Leona!!

asdbkhlfbyofqeyg80eg8qegppf OKAY. I WAS NOT EXPECT THIS AMOUNT OF LEONA GLAZING IN THIS UPDATE 🤡 Like, GOOD LORD was there a lot of it... I sort of expected it in Jack's dream since he idolizes Leona, but I was not expecting it to come up in Ruggie's dream too. Even though it doesn't seem like Ruggie has met Leona in the universe of his own dream... the dream world still created lore about how Leona successfully graduated and made the decision to come back and better his country, especially for the destitute hyenas like himself 💀💀💀 WHICH JUST GOES TO SHOW THAT EVERYONE IN LEONA'S DORM RESPECTS HIM AND BELIEVES HE CAN LEAD THEM TO A BRIGHTER FUTURE IN THIS ESSAY I WILL--

ASDBKLHABIYOFAYFQEIBAF STFU ME, THIS UPDATE ISN'T ABOUT HIM.. .. . . . ....... . . . ... . .. . . . . . . LET'S TALK ABOUT JACK AND RUGGIE.

I think this update was one of the funnier ones by far. I'm on Grim's side, it was very unnerving to see a helpful, reliable Leona that plays by the rules and is a good sportsman... but at the same time, it's only to be expected of Jack. Since book 2, he's made it clear he looks up to his dorm leader and wants to be able to put his faith in him. It was nice to see everyone acknowledge how a Leona that doesn't hold back is a genuine threat and how this is the version of him that Jack wants to see realized. It's cute how Jack has this pure want to play with Leona and wants to see him as an idealized leader... Definitely puppy-coded behavior.

Something else I really appreciated about Jack's dream is the logic that went into waking him up. It was really a tag-team effort by Azul and Ortho and, unlike previous updates, I felt like the previous OB boy's presence was a Nothing addition to the cast and didn't contribute much. But Azul uses his smooth talking to convince dream!Leona to play against them, and then Ortho isolates Jack to knock some sense into him. I liked that Ortho, the robot, used cold, hard facts to reason his way to a situation where Jack was more likely to react with strong emotionality. Azul becomes useful again in Ruggie's dream, where he single-handedly wakes the guy up with some spare change he had on hand www

The exchange between Sebek and Jack was great, but I wish it had been extended... It feels like they added it to help with Sebek's character arc of overcoming prejuidice about non-fae, which is fine! But I think it should have been carried over into Ruggie's dream (in that section where they talk about different beastmen in the savanna). Like... it would tie together so well if Sebek had a moment of just "............." in indicate that he's thinking about what was just said, about how different beastmen, despite their differences, all originated in the same place. It would show us that he's slowly realizing, little by little, to accept non-fae.

I think Jack attacking us was an interesting beat to include, especially with all the theories swirling about how the Savanaclaw update will be the one to shake up the formula. Perhaps this is a preview of what's to come in Leona's section??? It proves Ortho's point that you're more likely to think and act with your emotions leading you rather than logic if you're already hyped about something. (In Jack's case, he was still coming off the caution and the high of beating back dream!Ruggie and Leona.)

I felt very similar to Jack in Ruggie's dream, doubting whether or not it was morally right to rip someone away from their happiness--especially considering all that Ruggie has gone through. Little guy was so devastated to find out the truth too... When I think about it, he's gone through so much tragedy in his life. His mom's dead, his dad left him, he grew up destitute and having to scrape by, he had to get LITERAL GARBAGE (depicted in the manga adaptation) to survive some days. It's no wonder why the people in his hometown call him their hero, it's a miracle that he lived this long and managed to get into a prestigious school. I think Ruggie's dream also highlights that he's not JUST greedy because he's greedy. Ruggie clearly cares about other people living well too (something alluded to early in book 4), because why else would Ivorycliffs casually offer free food to everyone and anyone? Why else would he spend tons of cash to buy his grandma stuff? He's thankful for what he has and wants to give back to the community that supported him. The supportive community is also generally reflected in his dream, specifically the market he passes on his way to school.

Ultimately, I do think it's for the best that Ruggie was roused awake because um... HEY, THE WORLD IS GOING TO END. Coming to that conclusion also speaks a lot about Jack's character: above all, he values honesty, even if the truth hurts. Excellent carry-over from book 2 (where he was the whistleblower), honestly.

One thing I wished they had expanded on was the relation of hyenas to other beastmen. It’s implied they are second class citizens, but it’s never clearly stated why that is other than “oh they live in a place that lions didn’t rule”. I would have liked more historical context for that discrimination; it would have helped to flesh out the world.

Overall, liked this update a lore more than the previous ones. I don’t know if I can still say this after the second part comes out (because I’ve usually had the most criticism for how the OB boys’ dreams ate handled), but so far I’m surprised by Jack and Ruggie (in a good way). Fingers crossed for the 29th! 🤞

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Leona Kingscholar #Yuu #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Azul Ashengrotto #Ruggie Bucchi #Savanaclaw #Grim #notes from the writing raven #book 7 chapter 11 part 1 spoilers #jp spoilers #Jack Howl #Ortho Shroud #Idia Shroud #Ignihyde

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