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pearlessance · 4 months ago

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Moral Modification

Summary: When you decide to pierce your nipples, Joel Miller breaks his moral code to lend a helping hand.

Pairing: JacksonEra!Joel Miller/reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content MDNI, seduction, age gap(undefined), piercings and needles, nipple play, moral ambiguity, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, size difference

NOTE: this one shot was written for my bff joelmillersgirlfriend and all of the bolded words are titles of her fics over on AO3!! if you haven't read any of her work i def recommend going over there to check it out she's incredible. we also have a 3-part co-write we did on AO3 called False Pretenses! thank you to everyone for reading, love u all <3

[cross posted on AO3]

[masterlist]

You find it on a scouting mission.

Maria had sent you and Joel out in search of books to fill the shelves of Jackson’s overused library. It was a leisurely mission, moving slowly from house to house, searching through broken shelves and dressers and nightstands.

The blistering summer heat has you feeling exhausted by midday, and so the sun hasn’t even set when you pick a still-standing apartment complex and settle in for the night.

You drop your pack and flop onto the moth-eaten couch while Joel triple-checks every exit and every entrance in the tiny apartment he’d picked on the very top floor. He’s going at it again, glancing out of the wide windows with his rifle in hand, when you say, “If there was a way in or out, I think you would’ve found it the third time.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not a man of many words, Joel Miller. But he was certainly fun to torture with lewd suggestions.

“It’s real hot today,” you say. And it’s the goddamn truth—your skin is warm and your shirt sticks to the small of your back, and even though you’re wearing jean shorts the fabric chafes at your thighs.

He does nothing but grunt in agreement as a reply. Few words.

Though you try, you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you tell him, “We’d be a lot cooler if we took off some of these clothes, you know.”

Joel Miller is a good man. A really good man. This is why he pretends you don’t get to him, why he pretends to shrug you off as just a naive little girl whenever you brazenly flirt with him.

But you see it.

The way his calloused hands tighten around his rifle, the flush that creeps up his neck, the way he turns his head just enough to keep that smirk from out of view. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. But he leaves his spot at the window and joins you on the couch instead.

You set your legs in his lap and when he rests his hand on your calf you half expect him to push you away. But he doesn’t—his fingers linger, pressing into the tender muscle. “How am I ridiculous? It’s only common sense, Mr. Miller.”

His eyes catch yours at the name. He’s never directly said it, but you have a hunch that it does something to him, speaking to him as an authority. A part of you wonders if he ever thinks of you in the way you think of him, wonders if his mind is often filled with sinful, raw images. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t.” You do. Of course, you do. But you’re out here all alone and he’s sitting beside you and you can feel the heat of his skin against yours and he’s so big and warm and masculine. You want him, need him in a way you’ll never even try to understand. “Explain it to me,” you urge.

Joel leans his rifle against the arm of the couch and reaches up to rub the tension from his jaw. He smiles, one of those all-knowing smiles that makes your heart flutter. It’s a secret sort of smile, meant for just you and him. “You got any idea how old I am, girl?”

You shrug and say, “It doesn’t matter.” Because it doesn’t. “I like that you’re older. Besides, I’m not talking about that.” You are. “I’m talking about the weather. The heat. I’m going to take my shorts off.”

Slowly, carefully, you trail your fingertips over the curve of your chest, down the center of your abdomen. His eyes follow your every movement, pupils blown wide and jaw set firmly. His hand flexes around your calf, squeezing softly.

When you slip the edge of your pinky beneath the denim waistband his lips part. You trace the seam, from one hip to the other and back again, real slow. Joel watches you and you watch him, transfixed, thighs pressed together to abate the ache that forms between them.

For a moment, a single moment, you think you have him. You can see the temptation on his face, clear as day. You think you’ve finally cracked the eternal goodness and strength of one Joel Miller…but his hand covers yours the moment you reach for the silver button.

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and you feel a little like you’ve been caught red handed.

His fingers squeeze yours, but his touch is so sudden and electrifying that the faintest whimper erupts from your chest. You want him to touch you with those hands, to touch you everywhere. You want him to take all that you offer and more.

But he’s just so good. “Stop,” he says, breathless.

The hesitance is palpable. The strain in his voice. You know he wants you, can see the growing erection pushing at the metallic zipper of his jeans from the other end of the couch. You know it’ll only take a little more convincing, a little more of the delicious chase…but you want the final decision to be his. You want him to need it, too.

So you relent.

You stand to your feet and move towards the staircase in the abandoned apartment. But when you step between his thighs, you linger. “Did you check for any books upstairs?”

He shakes his head. “No. Don’t think whoever lived here before were much the readin’ type.”

“Yeah, well…didn’t think you were much the reading type, either. But here you are.”

Joel shrugs. “Not much to do at the end of the world. Helps pass the time.”

You knock your knee against his playfully. “You even know how to read, old man?” He chuckles softly and it feels like a victory. “Never seen you in the library.”

He spreads his legs further to give you more room, settling into the couch with his head tilted back. You know he doesn’t mean to look that fucking good doing it, but he does. Taking up all that space, commanding without even trying. It makes your mouth water, makes your skin prickle in every spot he allows himself to look. And then he says lowly, “I’ve seen you.”

It gives you pause. Because if he’s seen you in the library back in Jackson but you haven’t seen him, it means he notices you. Even when you’re not out here alone, even when you’re not urging him to touch you, even when you’re not trying. A seductive smirk finds your lips. “You gotta crush on me or something, Mr. Miller?”

Joel scoffs and shakes his head, turning away from you to hide the redness on his face that has nothing to do with the heat.

You giggle softly and decide to grant him a little reprieve. “I’ll be back,” you say, escaping the growing tension and focusing instead on the task at hand. “If they don’t have books, maybe they have something else that could be useful. Clothes or shoes or batteries or something.”

It only takes a few minutes before you realize what he meant when he said the past inhabitants of the apartment don’t seem much like the reading type. There’s not a single bookshelf to be found. Nothing on the walls, nothing standing in the spare room. There are three computers, though. Not that they’re worth anything now.

Still, you try your damndest to find something. Anything. You rifle through drawers and find nothing but a cracked and weathered bible, of which you have a thousand and one copies in Jackson.

The closest thing you find to a real book is a stack of magazines in the cluttered bathroom. All are covered in a thick layer of dust and most have images of sports cars on the front, but they’re worth grabbing, anyway. You’re sure Tommy or Greg or someone wouldn’t mind skimming through them, so you grab the whole stack and return downstairs to Joel.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the magazine on the bottom of the stack tumbles from your hands. And it’s not a sports car on the front page.

Instead, it’s a woman all dressed up in leather. She wears platform boots that reach her knees, adorned with heavy silver buckles down the front. Even though you were born not long after the outbreak, you’re not oblivious. You know what pornography is, but you’ve never seen anything quite like this.

You pick it up and put it on the top of the pile.

When Joel sees the small stack in your hand he asks, “Anything good?”

“Mm. Not sure yet.” You set the pile onto the floor beside your pack, nestle back into your spot in the opposite corner of the couch, and flip open the magazine with the leather-clad woman on the front, reading the title aloud. “Have you ever heard of a porno mag named Dreadnought?”

“What are you—is that—?”

“I’m just curious, Mr. Miller. Relax.” You lift your feet and put them back in his lap and discover he is anything but relaxed. You can feel the stiffness in his thighs even through the thick soles of your high-top sneakers.

“No, what? No, you shouldn’t—you should…”

You ignore his stuttering, flipping quickly through the pages. Most of them are filled with erotic images of women dressed similarly to the one on the front page. They each have a man in a curious, submissive position. But none of this interests you, none of it even surprises you, in truth.

Near the end of the magazine is where you find exactly what you’re looking for. The woman on the front page is in different outfits, one in leather, another in red lace. But it’s the third page of her feature where she’s completely naked. Her breasts are full and sit too high on her chest to be real, but they’re beautiful. Not for any reason other than those pretty silver barbells that are pierced through her nipples.

You lean up, tucking your legs beneath yourself, and show Joel the image. “Was this common? You know, like…before?”

His face is red and you think maybe he’s forgotten how to speak. Because no words come out, he just sputters. “Is…what…which part—are you…I don’t—”

“I’ve never seen anyone with pierced nipples,” you interrupt. “That’s what I’m talking about. Was it common?”

He seems to find himself. “Uhm…no. Not really, I guess. Why do you ask?”

You shrug and find yourself leaning into his side, flipping to the next page. There’s another image of the woman, and though she’s back in that red lace again, you can see the piercings pushing against the thin fabric. “It’s pretty,” you say. “I like it. Do you think you could do something like that still?”

“Well, back then they had people who’d do that sorta thing professionally,” he says. “But as long as you’re careful, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.”

You let it go, and the two of you ration what food you have left, deciding to head back to the commune within the next day or two. You fall asleep leaning up against him, head resting on his shoulder. And you know Joel doesn’t rest much outside of Jackson’s walls, always too worried about being found or threatened in some way. But halfway through the night, you wake covered in a thin layer of sweat, scorched by the warmth of his head against your belly.

At some point in your sleep, you’d shifted, laying on the couch on your back, and Joel must have followed you. His arms are wrapped around your waist and his torso covers your legs, body heat warming you to uncomfortable temperatures.

But you don't dare move. Instead, you slide your fingers through the soft tendrils of his hair and scratch softly at his scalp, smiling in the dark as he moans in his sleep.

Your luck the following day is much better. You stumble upon an old strip mall, and inside there’s a small, indie bookstore. Joel picks through the science fiction section, stuffing his pack with everything he thinks might be interesting. He finds a few children’s books and pockets those, too, while you browse the romance section.

Half the books are crumbling dust in your hands and the others have so much water damage they’re hardly legible, but you pick up what you can. While you’re rifling through the horror books, stashing anything written by Stephen King or H.P. Lovecraft, Joel comes up behind you and says, “You really read that kinda thing?”

“What, scary stuff?”

He nods, takes the copy of Carrie from your hands, and flips it over. “Yeah. Ain’t we got enough horror out there already?”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “It’s not the same,” you explain. You flick the corner of the book in his hands and go back to browsing the shelves. “ This you can turn off,” you try to explain. “If you get too scared you can just close the book. Have you ever read anything scary before?”

Joel shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Try it one day,” you say. “The best time is in October, though. Under the sheets with a flashlight, scared out of your mind. It’s so good, Mr. Miller.”

His jaw feathers as if there’s something he wants to say. But the words never pass his lips. He simply slips the book into your pack and remains silent as he watches you.

It takes a while, but eventually, you’re satisfied with your haul. The day is still early, and so you say, “If we head back now we could save some time. Get home before dark tomorrow.”

To your surprise, he agrees with you. The extra weight of the books has you feeling sluggish an hour into your journey back home, but you persist. And even though it’s significantly less hot today than yesterday, at least once an hour Joel’s passing you his plastic bottle and urging you to drink water.

It’s a sweet gesture, in truth. Joel’s got this innate instinct to provide for others, you know. You’ve seen it a hundred times, the way he just silently takes care of the people he cares about. Ellie, Tommy, Maria, you. You’ve observed him for long enough to know that he’s a protector, a nurturer.

The only problem with Joel taking care of you is how much you like it. It makes you feel soft and gooey on the inside, producing sordid images in your brain of repaying the favor on your knees. You think about Joel’s big hands on you often—in your dreams, even.

But…today is different because you can feel the weight of the magazine at the bottom of your pack. You can’t shake the image of the woman on the cover and that metal through her breasts, can’t get over how elegant and edgy and bewitching she looked. You begin to wonder how it would feel to have Joel touch you if you had the same body modification—would his calloused hands feel more intense, sensations heightened with the sensitivity? Would he be gentle and slow-moving? How soft would his tongue feel against your skin over the adornment?

He seems to sense your distracted thoughts. “You okay? Seem quiet.”

“Fine,” you answer a little too quickly. “I’m just…just hot is all.”

Joel reaches behind him for his water bottle again but you shake your head.

“No, no. Not like…not like that.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat, and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face but you don’t have the energy to tease him about it. Not when you can’t stop thinking about his fucking hands. “Let's, uhm…let’s find someplace to rest for the night. Sun’s startin’ to set anyhow.”

“Yeah, that’ll be good.” As long as you stay six feet away from him. As long as you can keep your godforsaken hands to yourself. As long as he doesn’t look at you too long or ask too many questions or grunt an answer.

You find yourself praying, hoping to keep yourself from any further embarrassment, hoping to fight off that ache that seems to have made a home inside your belly. You cross your fingers at your sides and hope God’s got a private channel open for young girls with an insatiable desire for rugged, older men.

It feels like divine interference when you crest the hill of the street you're walking on to discover a run-down tattoo parlor. It still stands in perfect condition apart from the crumbling siding. Windows dirty but intact, door closed and stagnant.

A distraction will work.

And it looks sturdy enough to rest for the night. You know Joel will circle it a hundred times before he’s satisfied, but you think eventually he will be satisfied with it. “Didn’t people do piercings at tattoo shops, too?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, they did. At most of them, anyway.”

The thought seems to cross Joel’s mind the second you look at him. “Do you think I could…?”

“Maybe. Let’s see.”

You follow behind him as he approaches the building. He uses his knife to wedge the door open, and the two of you wait and listen for any approaching sound.

There’s nothing, though. Nothing but stale, empty air, and a whole lot of dust. You stick by his side for the first two rounds of inspection, as is your routine. But when he goes back in for a third, you decide to take a look around yourself.

In the front of the parlor, there’s a big, circular desk that sits atop the black and white tiles on the floor. The walls are painted maroon, and there’s a neon yellow leather couch near the door. You can only assume it’s where people would sit to wait, but the leather is smooth beneath your fingers even after all this time sitting unoccupied.

There are six smaller rooms behind the desk, each set up similarly with a blackout curtain and a medical-looking chair in the very center. In one of the rooms, there’s a binder flipped open, and as you begin to turn the pages you realize it’s an art portfolio.

For a moment, you wonder about the person who’d drawn all of these designs. How old were they when they drew them? Did they have tattoos themselves? Are they still alive, out there somewhere still creating art?

People in Jackson still get tattoos, you know. But not as often as you think it might have been before the outbreak. You trail your fingers lightly over the next page. It’s an image of a glass half-filled with amber liquid, some sloshing out of the side. Below it, the words Tennessee Whiskey are written in cursive.

“Should be good.” His voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. When you turn to face him, Joel’s got his rifle slung over one shoulder and he’s leaning against the doorframe, curtain pushed to the side. “Help me barricade the door?”

The two of you spend the next ten minutes moving furniture around the parlor, setting it all in front of the entrance. It’ll be harder to leave in the morning, you know. But you know, too, that a barricade like this means that Joel’s feeling too exhausted to spend another night pacing and you’re happy to give him the assurance of safety he needs.

When you’re done, he spreads out on the leather couch and you put your pack beside his. “Joel?”

He turns just his head to look at you.

You sift through the books in your pack and reach towards the bottom, pulling out the magazine that’s plagued your every waking thought. “I’m going to pierce my nipples, I think.”

For several seconds, he doesn’t say a word in response. He just swallows hard and when his eyes leave yours, trailing down your neck, he squeezes them closed before they reach your chest. But you know, you know, even without any words, that he’s thinking about it. That he’s thinking about you, forgetting his morals for a single second.

It isn’t until you stand to your feet and start towards the closed-off rooms, magazine in hand, that he finally speaks up.

“Be careful,” he says. “I don’t want you hurt.”

You smirk at him over your shoulder. “Is that the Mr. Miller version of saying, I care about your tits?”

He snorts incredulously, but a chuckle follows shortly after, erasing all of your earlier embarrassment.

It doesn’t take you long to find the materials you need. In one of the cases you pry open with your knife, you choose two matching silver barbells with dainty, white diamonds on each end. You use a cloth to clean off a tall mirror in one of the rooms, and there’s a bottle of isopropyl alcohol that you use to disinfect both a steel surgical tray and your hands.

You discard your shirt and bra, laying them in the chair in the middle of the room, and flip the magazine open to further observe the woman in the image. Thankfully, you find a drawer full of individually packaged needles and take out several just in case.

Sterilizing your hands with the alcohol again, you align the jewelry over your nipple, inspecting the placement and maneuvering it until you’re satisfied. You rip open one of the packaged needles with your teeth and sterilize it too for good measure.

Carefully, you orient the needle just right, inhale until your lungs ache, and when you exhale—

“God fucking dammit!”

You can hear his footsteps before the sound of his rifle, and then comes his voice. “You alright? What happened?”

Your exhale is somehow shakier than your hands. “I’m okay, Joel,” you say quickly. You knew it was going to hurt, you’re literally piercing a needle through your flesh. But you didn’t expect it to be so excruciating. It stings even now with the needle pushed through, completely still.

He stands in the doorway, rifle lowered and pointed at the ground. Through the reflection of the mirror, you can see him glance around the room, looking at everything but you. “Are you sure? Maybe you shouldn’t. This could be dangerous, you can wait until we’re back home and—”

“And have someone else pierce my nipples? Yeah, Joel, I’m good on all that.” You pick the jewelry up, sterilize it again, and breathe slowly as you push it through. This part, while uncomfortable, is a world easier than the piercing itself.

You twist on the tiny diamond ball at the end of the barbell and admire your work. It’s perfectly straight, much to your surprise. And though it’s just a small change, it makes you feel as entrancing as the woman in the magazine.

There’s no blood, which you take as a good sign. And as the seconds tick by the pain subsides and is replaced with a dull throbbing instead. It hurts, but it’s bearable. The only problem is that as you try to line up the second needle, your hands tremble too much to keep it straight.

Even though you try to take deep breaths, try to shake the tremors from your hand, nothing works. And you can’t just have one, can’t just leave this task unfinished, and so you gather your courage and turn fully towards him. “Joel? I need your help.”

You’ve never seen him quite like this, you think. There’s no flush to his face, no chagrin or hesitance or resistance. All of his morality seems to be replaced with a dark desire, a need unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

Immediately you know this is the Joel Miller he’s tried so hard to hide from you. Only glimpses of this terrifying man have slipped through the facade, each one smothered quickly by restraint.

Yet here he stands, hungry eyes swallowing you up, tracing the outline of the jewelry without remorse.

“I can’t…my hands are shaky. I need you to do the other one.”

His hands twitch at his sides. And even though you now know he longs to touch you just as much as you want to touch him, his words tell an entirely different story. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “It’s not…it’s not right. Shouldn’t even be seein’ you like this. Too…too young. Too sweet.”

The southern accent in his voice is thicker now than you’ve ever heard it. Deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. “Please, Mr. Miller.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours. He pins you with that intense stare of his and you suddenly can’t move, can’t breathe. Flickering flames gather low in your belly.

“I promise I won’t try anything. I’ll just stand here. I just need you to…to push the needle through. That’s all.”

It takes him a second, but he nods. “Alright…alright. I, uhm…okay. Yeah.” He nears you slowly and you feel crowded. You can smell the salt and sweat of his skin, can feel that warmth even though he doesn’t yet touch you.

You pour the alcohol over his hands and hand him another packaged needle. “Here,” you say. “Just do it as straight as you can, and once the needle’s in I can do the rest.”

Joel peels apart the packaging and takes the needle between his fingers. He discards the plastic and you can hear each of his ragged breaths echo in your ears. Slowly, experimentally, he reaches out and presses his fingertips just below your ribcage and it makes you moan.

He pulls away immediately as if he’d been burned by your skin. “You said you wouldn’t—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Hold on.” You try again to catch your breath to no avail. “Let me close my eyes. I’m sorry.”

Joel nods, jaw feathering as he clenches his teeth. But you do as you say, closing your eyes and trying to convince yourself it’s not Joel touching you. It’s someone else. The same person who drew everything in that portfolio.

But when he does touch you again, his hands are warm and calloused and big and familiar. You know it’s Joel. Your Joel. The brooding man of few words. The too-good man who cares about you, who lets you sleep even though he never does, who gives you his water to guarantee you stay hydrated.

His hand moves upwards, palm pressed flat against your ribcage. It stops just below your breast as if he’s feeling the weight of it in his hand and you wonder if he can feel the hammering of your heart behind your sternum, too.

You don’t have time to think about it for long, though. Because his thumb slides across your nipple, hardening it into a peak, and all you can think about is the fact that he’s touching you. He’s touching you and you want more, want to feel him on every inch of your skin.

This time you’re able to hold back your moan, but only barely. It’s more like a whimper that gets caught in your throat instead. But he doesn’t pull away, and soon his other hand joins in. “Should I…uhm,” he clears his throat. “Should I count, or…?”

You shake your head. “No, no. Just…just do it. Please.” The words are desperate for a whole new reason. Your hands tremble even more at your sides.

The biting cold of the steel reaches you before you feel the pain. You try to breathe through it but the second one is somehow even worse and obscenities fall from your lips at the agony. It hurts so badly that you don’t even register as Joel slides the jewelry through and screws the diamond onto the barbell.

Ultimately, it’s his voice that cuts through the fog.

“Hey, hey. Shh. Hey, c’mon. Finished. Look at me, pretty girl. Open your eyes.” You do because that thick, southern drawl is more enticing than anything you’ve ever heard. You’d follow it anywhere, you think. Do anything it asks. “There you go. Atta girl.”

His words make your mouth water. You want to taste them. Joel’s hands are still on you, holding your hips, pressing into the exposed flesh. It’s all you can think about until he turns you away from him, forcing you to look into the mirror on the wall. “Oh my God.”

It surprises you a little just how much you love them. It makes you look powerful, like you are the one who belongs in a magazine.

“They’re perfect, Joel.”

“Did it hurt too bad?”

The question is so insane that it makes you laugh. “Are you kidding? It was awful. I don’t even know what to compare it to to try and explain it.”

He laughs too, a deep, throaty chuckle that brings a smile to your face. “Well, you have my sincere apologies, little lady.”

When you turn back to face him, you ask, “What do you think? Do they look good?”

You know you said you wouldn’t torture him, but the look on his face is so sweet that you can’t resist. “They’re real pretty,” he says. “They, uh…they suit you.”

“Think so?” You look up at him through your lashes, trying your damndest to look as desperate for him as you are. “Hurts a little,” you tell him, pressing your thumb gently over the center of your nipple, the one you’d pierced on your own. “Right here.”

He sees right through your false pretenses. You watch him swallow, watch his eyes darken. “Careful, little girl,” he warns, voice low and gravelly.

The name makes you squirm beneath his catastrophic gaze, thighs pressing together. He catches the movement—and you realize you want to be anything but careful with this terrifying, powerful man. Of course, you don’t heed his warning. “Might help if you kiss it better, you know.”

“S’that right?” You nod and a sinful smirk pulls at the corners of his full lips. He leans down and you can feel the scruff of his beard brushing the side of your face. Against your ear, he whispers, “You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, sweetheart.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it, and yet you can’t fucking resist. You’ve never been able to resist him. “Then show me.”

And just like that, his resolve withers. The cord snaps and the good Joel you know vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing but this hungry, desperate man behind. He grabs your waist and hauls you up against him, legs wrapping around his hips on instinct.

Your chest presses against his but the pressure is bliss, fighting off both the ache in your breasts and the one between your legs. He swipes everything off the metal table in the corner. Alcohol and needles and portfolio all crashing to the floor.

Joel sets you atop it and his mouth hovers an inch above yours, breath fanning across your cheeks. “Last chance, little girl,” he says.

He’s giving you an out, you realize. One last opportunity to escape him. You lean up and press your lips tenderly to his instead.

It’s answer enough for him.

Joel’s mouth moves greedily against yours. One hand rests against the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other holds the nape of your neck. His tongue slips into your mouth. He tastes like honey and whiskey and sunlight. You could drown in it, you think. But Joel doesn’t linger for long.

He trails open mouthed kisses down your neck, your chest—-and when he flicks his soft tongue across your nipple, your back arches and you forget how to breathe.

“Joel,” you say, voice needy and desperate. “Touch me. Please touch me.”

His hands flex against your skin, still holding himself back. You don't understand—can’t he feel how much you want it? Can’t he see it on your face, in your eyes? “I want to,” he admits.

You grind your hips against his and the sensation of the bulge in his jeans against your center has you shaking. “What’s stopping you?”

A self-deprecating laugh bubbles out of his throat. He presses his forehead against yours, kisses the tip of your nose gently. “You make me crazy, pretty girl.” His hand comes around your throat, cradling your face. With the rough pad of his thumb, he traces the outline of your lips and says, “You make me feel like I’m eighteen again.” His hand travels lower, down your neck, knuckles dragging between your breasts. “Like I’m some little boy who gets a hard-on over a bra strap.” Lower, down your belly, between your ribs. “Or these fuckin’ shorts, baby.”

Everything aches for him. Every cell in your body has been lit aflame beneath his touch, longing to feel his hands, his tongue, to feel all of him. “Joel,” you say. “Please.”

He kisses a trail that follows the path of his hand, but this time he stalls at your breasts. “Sound so fuckin’ pretty when you beg,” he mutters against your skin. And then he’s kissing and sucking and biting marks into the softness of your breast, leaving proof that he was here, evidence of his affection. “If I touch you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“I want you to,” you say. “ I think about it all the time.” Your head falls back, hips rolling against his, seeking out any sort of friction you can find. “God—I dream about it. I want you inside me.”

His eyes darken as he looks up at you.

A man of few words. This time it’s him who reaches for the metallic button. He pops it open in one smooth movement, tongue lapping over the metal barbell through your nipple. You can feel each pass over the sensitive flesh down to your toes.

He wriggles his hand into your shorts, deft fingers finding your clit easily. You let out a lewd moan at the commanding way he just takes —as if he’s right where he’s always supposed to be. Right where you want him, right where you’ve needed him for all these years.

Joel kisses a path across your sternum, mouth giving the same tender care to the opposite breast. He slides his fingers through your wetness, gathering your slick and using it to circle your clit. “M’gonna take care of her, sweetheart,” he says. “Gonna make her feel real good, s’that alright with you?”

His words are filthy and obscene and you love it. You’re nodding quickly and saying, “Yes, Joel, yes.”

A cold shiver passes through you as he rises back to his full height, towering over you when he takes a step back. “Let’s get these off,” he says. Joel helps you shimmy both your shorts and your panties down your legs until you’re sitting there in front of him completely naked. He’s still completely dressed and it makes you feel small and minuscule beneath the weight of his predatory stare.

He places both hands on your thighs and pushes them apart, spreading you open. And then he drops to his knees and lazily strokes his fingers through your wet heat. You can feel the chill of his breath against your clit and your fingers find the outgrown tendrils of dark hair on instinct, trying to pull him closer, wiggling your hips to the very edge of the table.

“Needy girl, hm?” He laughs softly. It’s not malicious but rather adoring, and you wonder how it is that someone so strong and authoritative can make you feel powerful and cherished in the same breath. “S’okay. I’ve got ya.”

And then his tongue is on you and it feels like heaven. So much better than you’d ever imagined, ever dreamed. His scruff scratches at the inside of your thighs as he slides his tongue through your pussy. Joel groans against you like this is more for him, and the vibration of the sound pulls staccato moans from your mouth.

He slips two fingers into you easily, encountering no resistance. You’re too wet, too eager to have him inside you. You whimper his name as he sucks your clit into his mouth, hands pulling tight in his hair. It feels so good it’s almost too much—but he seems to know what you can take more than you do.

Joel looks up at you from between your thighs and you can see the palpable hunger on his face. You think maybe he’s wanted this for longer than you, maybe he’s somehow been even more starved for this than you once thought.

You can feel your orgasm creep down your spine, inferno building and building, settling low in your belly. You try to tell him, to warn him—but then he hooks his fingers inside of you, pressing against that sweet spot and—

“Oh, God—God, fuck—Joel, I—!”

“S’alright, baby, go’head. Cum for me, oh—yeah, that’s it. There you go, sweetheart.” His voice is so gentle, a stark contrast to the assertive way he moves his hands, pulling from you everything your body can give. The southern accent is thick as he talks you through it. “Feels so much better now, huh? Y’look so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. So pretty when you’re all full’a me.”

Your thighs tremble even as you begin to come down, trying to catch your breath, holding onto his arms to ground yourself as he stands back to his feet, thick cords of muscle sturdy beneath your shaking hands. And he’s right—it does feel better now, but as he eases his fingers out of you and you watch him lick them clean, your pussy clenches at the sight. It’s better, it is… but when it comes to good and moral Joel Miller you are insatiable.

A deep, rumbling groan reverberates in his chest when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him towards you. Your slick stains the bulge in his jeans, darkening the denim material. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, big hands running slowly up and down your smooth thighs. “Shouldn’t be doin’ this…shouldn’t be takin’ advantage of you. Such a little thing, don’t know what you want.”

The answer comes quickly. “You, Joel. I want you.”

You reach for his belt and he watches your nimble fingers undo it, pulling the leather through the metal fastening. He hisses when you reach into his jeans and pull him out.

He’s bigger than you thought, and wrapping your hand around him completely is a troubling task. You’re not sure he’ll even fit but it makes your mouth water, makes your swollen clit pulse with need. “Please.”

“I can’t, baby. Believe me, I want it, too, but I…you’re too good for me. Too—” He stops when you slide the head of his cock through your pussy, coating him in your slick. You watch the movement together and this time it’s Joel’s hands that shake. He curses under his breath, admiring the way he fits so perfectly.

“Just a little?” Your own voice is hardly recognizable in your own ears, needy and deprived. You slide his cock back up towards your clit and it catches at your entrance. You both gasp in tandem. You love Joel and all his goodness but right now you want the worst of him. You want all of him.

He nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Okay…okay,” he says to himself. “Just a little. You sure? You’re positive you want—?”

You line him up and shift your hips forward, words fading into nothingness. It’s just a little like you promised, but the stretch is so delicious you find yourself wanting more. More, always more—you think you could die without it.

Joel pushes in further, a little less than halfway, and then pulls out slowly. He groans and you feel like crying. His cock is covered in your wetness and when he pushes back in you think this just might be enough to make you cum a second time.

It’s filthy and obscene and you love it. You love him. He reaches down and circles your clit with his thumb, fucking you slowly, eyes locked on the place you’re joined. “You’re so big,” you whimper.

You can feel the tension in his shoulders and you do your damnedest to smooth it out with small, massaging motions. He touches you just right but you want it to feel good for him, too.

That heat of an orgasm begins to build again. A low, incessant thrum between your hips.

“I have to,” he mutters so softly you hardly hear him the first time. “I have to, baby. I’ve gotta feel you. I’ve gotta…” And then he eases his cock into you to the hilt without any warning, filling you so full it hurts. The invasion stings but your body adjusts quickly, making room for him in the same way your heart has. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel him shudder as he breathes the word fuck into your skin.

“Oh my God—it’s too much, too much—!”

“You can take it, baby. C’mon, spread your legs wider. I know s’alot,” he praises, circling your clit a little faster now. Your slick drips down your thighs, into the dark hair between his hips. “You got it, sweetheart. See? There you go.”

He pulls out just to sink into you again. This time there’s less pain and more divinity and your nails dig into his shoulder through his flannel as you adjust to the size of him.

Joel uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you deep. He sets an unrelenting pace, hips grinding against yours with each thrust. It’s so much and you’re so full of him in all the best ways. When you moan into his mouth you can feel his lips turn up at the corners, a predatory grin saved just for you.

The sounds are filthy and echo in the room, an obscene symphony of devotion. You’d let him do anything right now—anything.

He picks up the pace, hips snapping against yours. All you can think about is how right this feels, how you were made for him, how well he fits inside you.

A low grunt filters through his teeth and he says, “Fuck, baby. You look so pretty. How’s it feel? Tell me. Use your words.”

“S’good,” you whimper in response. Your brain is mush and your thighs become a vise around his waist, pulling him in impossibly deeper. “So good, Joel, don’t stop. Please don’t stop, I’m—I’m close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum again already, hm?” He pushes his palm against your belly, thumb still gently stroking your clit. And the pressure of it feels so intense you let out a whine of bliss. “Yeah, you are,” he whispers. “Can feel her squeezin’ me. S’alright, baby. Wanna feel it.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge of bliss, and he fucks you through it. Stars blind your vision and your ears fill with static. But you can hear Joel though, can hear him and feel him deep inside you through it all.

“Ohh, that’s it. Good fuckin’ girl. Pretty little thing’s just fuckin’ dripping all over me, feels so good. You feel so good.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, his rhythm falters. You can feel his cock pulse inside of you as Joel falls off the precipice. His head rolls back and the muscles in his forearms flex around the prominent veins. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you know you’ll never see anything as beautiful as this big, powerful man weak for you.

He’s panting when he slowly pulls out of you with a hiss. Sweat dots his hairline and that flush on his neck certainly seems like it’s staying for a little while longer. He’s beautiful, you think. Crafted by the hands of God himself, made with imperfect grace.

When he looks up at you he smiles in the way he always does, like the two of you share a secret. And maybe now you do. A sinful, dirty secret that’s all yours. You laugh softly and he mirrors the sound, helping you back to your feet.

You hold his shoulders for balance as he helps you back into your shorts. And when he hands you your bra and t-shirt, you’re starkly reminded of the dull throb in your breasts and think better of it before putting them on. “I think they might be too tight. I’ll look around and see if I can…”

Before you finish the sentence, he’s unbuttoning his red flannel and tossing it to you. He wears a light brown tshirt underneath, the arms just a little too tight on his biceps. He looks so good that you want to take him between your legs again even with the sweet ache that lingers. “Here,” he says. “Take this.”

You do. He helps you with the buttons and it’s too big but gives your new body modifications room to breathe and heal. You ask him how it looks.

“Better on you,” is his short response.

When you begin to fall asleep on the yellow leather couch later that night, all wrapped up in his arms, Joel presses his lips to your forehead and says, “When we get home, I wanna read that book of yours. Carrie, was it?”

You shift at his side, turning your head up to look at him. “You’re not gonna wait till October, like I said?”

Joel shakes his head. “You got any idea how old I am, girl? I’ve got no time for waitin’ till October.” He’s quiet for several seconds. And then his voice is nothing but a whisper as he says, “No time waitin’ on this to be right in the eyes of others, either.”

And you can feel the heat behind his words, can almost hear the unspoken meaning. No time for waiting until you’re older, no time for waiting until the perfect moment. Your mouth pulls into a wide grin. “Are you asking to go steady with me, Mr. Miller?”

With a scoff, he runs his hand playfully down your face and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says.

When he kisses you, you make a promise against his lips. “I’m yours, Joel.”

He doesn’t say much in the way of a reply, your big man of few words. But he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

It’s more than enough.

#joel miller #ao3 fanfic #pearlessance #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ao3 writer #joel tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou #joel miller self insert #smut #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #fluff #jackson era joel

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courtingchaos · 2 years ago

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It’s Just a Question

A/N: Back on my bullshit. I’ve had some really hard times with my normal writing while also finding myself in some shitty circumstances. So this is how this came about. Just a lot of feelings. Technically plus sized reader but you can do whatever you want.

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Am I pretty?”

“What?” Eddie sprays toothpaste on the mirror, he’s so quick to ask.

“Am I pretty?” You scrunch your face up over and over, drawing your eyebrows down and crinkling your eyes. Purse your lips and frown deep and finally look over at him staring at you, toothbrush hanging from his mouth and arms braced on the countertop.

“Are you pretty?” He reiterates with a deep sigh. “Of course you are, you’re gorgeous. Especially right now when your hair matches mine and we look like two electrocuted cotton balls.” He’s not flippant but he’s definitely brushing you off.

You aren’t done though. “I’m serious, and I’m not asking if you think I’m pretty. Am I pretty like…Anne Hathaway.” You pull down on your cheek and watch it bounce back, albeit slower than it did when you were 20.

“Well…you don’t even look-no.” He stops quickly and spits in the sink and rinses his toothbrush, viciously shaking his head the whole time. “This is a trap and I refuse.” He says as he leaves you in the bathroom.

“Eddie it’s not a trap it’s an honest question!”

“This is like the worm thing and I’m not doing that again!” He yells over his shoulder before closing himself in the bedroom to get dressed for work. You sigh and turn to look at your tired reflection. Your perpetual eyebags answer your question for you, and your dusting of sun damage yells it louder from the mirror.

Not pretty, subliminally average.

Standing in line at the grocery store, Eddie slumped over the handle and picking at stray grapes, you ask again only this time with a visual aid.

“Okay, I mean like this.” You shove a copy of Rolling Stone under his nose, a new pop star gracing their cover in something sheer and tight. “I meant pretty like this.” You say quietly next to him. He chews on another free grape slowly, staring at the cover and tilting his head. He doesn’t move, just slides his eyes way over to give you the look.

“You’re prettier than her.”

“What about Juno Temple?” You quip back.

“She’s shorter than you. And British, doesn’t count.” He quips right back. You huff and shove the magazine back in its slot.

“You’re not understanding me.”

“No, I am. You’re just not listening to me.” He pushes the cart up a spot and continues his easy lean. “You’re pretty like…that.” He searches the newsstand by the register and points at a baking magazine, perfectly circled apple tart dusted with sugared cinnamon and you bark a loud laugh.

“A tart Edward?”

“Don’t twist my words. I said you’re pretty like that.” He smiles, pops another grape in his mouth and starts tossing things on the conveyer belt.

Pretty like a baked good.

He’s elbow deep in the shelf of succulents, looking for something called a ‘Black Rose’.

“I know it’s in here, there’s four dead ones up top.” He’s pushing little green teardrops to the side to find his prize, a loud ‘Ha!’ when he whips his hand out, holding the little plant by its little container.

“It’s so tiny.”

“Yeah and in like six months it might not be.” He gives you a cheesy smile and sets in the cart with your other potential house plant failures. Somehow he’s managed to keep a giant flat pot of succulents alive for almost a year and every time you go to the plant store, he adds another.

“Okay, what’s its name.”

You hum at him, tapping your finger along the cart when you get distracted. A willow of a woman walks in, hair shiny like water and flowing over her thin, petite shoulders. She looks like she’s on a mission, perfectly manicured hand pointing her in the right direction when she heads for a batch of bright zinnias. Her smile painted a bright coral like the plant she picks up and places in her cart, three more following and off she billows to the next aisle full of ivy. Eddie saw it the moment you stopped listening to him listing off names. The swivel of your head and then the tapping of your finger ceasing, knuckles going white around the cart handle. He watches you watch her and he knows the question is coming before you turn back around with that frown hewn into your forehead.

“Like this.” He holds up the small succulent, barely formed petals burnished a deep purple in the afternoon sun.

“What.”

“Pretty like this.”

“You don’t even-“ You scoff and cut yourself off, heavy eye roll directed at no one while you turn away and sulk by the snake plants.

He doesn’t tell you, but he names it after you.

The Big One happens during the summer. Chrissy is engaged, and her new belle and her decide to have a joint bachelorette party, everyone invited. You know Eddie’s people, all these random characters drawn together through something you don’t quite understand. You meet Chrissy fiancé and she’s just as bubbly and sweet as Chrissy herself. Eddie gives them your gift and drops a kiss on Chrissy’s cheek and it barely bothers you.

They’d dated just out of high school. 15 years ago and before Chrissy had realized why men just never hit the spot. She floats around her party and you hang around behind Eddie while he walks the two of you around in conversation. At some point you’d gone past your standard three (3) drinks and the mango seltzers are starting to make you a little resentful.

Thankfully you catch it, excuse yourself to the bathroom and give yourself a stern stare in the mirror.

It’s not your party.

They’re just friends.

It’s not about you.

…Is it ever?

There’s a reason you stop at 3 lately, that rolling black pit of self loathing feeds on bubbly things and it’s feeding on a blonde tonight.

So when you come back you sit at a table by yourself. You tuck your hands under your thighs and admonish yourself for how wide they are. There’s a tug of war happening between your self pity and your self depreciation, a tear balancing on your lashes while you roll the wet eyes under them. Eddie finds you bent over your phone and all you can think about is how wide your shoulders must have looked from that far away.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“I had to uh, go to the bathroom.” Your pause gives you away, just south of tipsy, and Eddie smiles, his big hand sliding under your chin to hold it between his fingers. A move that usually has you melting into his palm, but tonight?

You tug your head away and he frowns. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think I need to be here anymore.”

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m just fine. I’m gonna get an Uber home, you stay.” You stand up and hate the feel of your clothes on you. Your hair feels too heavy and the makeup you spent an hour on is suddenly sticky and tacky and wasted on you.

“No, we’ll leave together.” Eddie has concern all over his face. He tries to give you a hand when you obviously stumble and you slap it away.

The fight only starts when you start crying, unable to control your emotions anymore. You spend the whole ride home feeling sorry for yourself, saying the most inane shit Eddie’s ever heard.

“You can’t ask me to compare you to Chrissy. That’s not fair!” He laughs humorlessly when you ask him who’s prettier. “One, it was 15 years ago! Two, I’m not doing this anymore!” He yells and it shuts you up. He can hear the click of your jaw with how quick you stop yammering on drunkenly about your thighs.

“If you want to play that game, let’s look at your past relationships, huh?”

“What relationships Eddie?!” You scream back at him. There’s a part of his being that can feel the backslide into the terrible habit of yelling to get his point across. Picked up from his father and quelled at every turn, but today you drag it out of him.

“Oh don’t start with that shit again.”

“You mean all the guys that fucked me in the dark?! Or do you mean the ones that pretended not to know me in public?”

He gets to your apartment in record time, slamming the car in park and scrambling to hold your seatbelt buckled before you can run out.

“Let me out.” Your face is red from crying and from hatred and from loathing.

“No.” He says quieter but with finality. You stare at him, waiting for him to move his hand but he won’t, keeps his fingers locked around yours.

“You’re drunk, and you’ve been in a bad mood lately.” He knows he knows he knows that was the wrong thing to say. It spilled out of his mouth before he could throw the net out for those errant words and you give him the meanest smile he’s ever seen on your face.

“A bad mood?” You nod your head like you’re agreeing but he’s bracing for impact. “A bad mood. Tell you what, when I have a fucking roster of groupies and easy boys behind me, then we can talk about my bad mood.”

“You’re mad because of people I’ve slept with?”

“Look at me Eddie!” You scream and it breaks on his name, the sob you’d been swallowing for an hour finally surfacing. “I don’t fucking look like Chrissy and I sure as fuck don’t look like Steve! You still have that picture of that stand in drummer on your profile you fucked around with! Every single one of them is-fuck! Stunning!” You finally wrench the seatbelt out of his hand and free yourself. “I look like a fucking joke when you take me places. You think I don’t see people staring?” Another mirthless laugh before you kick the door open and wobble your way out. “Make someone else laugh, Eddie.”

He watches you stomp off inside and slap the button for the elevator. There’s enough time he could get out and follow you in and upstairs and finish the yelling match and maybe get you to see straight.

But he doesn’t. His grip tightens on the steering wheel so much it creaks. He feels on the verge of tears and when you disappear behind the closing doors he punches his door and drives home too fast.

The doorbell rings and Eddie answers it without thinking. You look small in your hoodie, your hair damp and braided over your shoulder. He’s so used to you standing tall with him, a sturdy pillar he can lean on instead of always having to be the support. To see your shoulders pulled in tight makes his chest ache.

“I’m sorry I haven’t answered your texts.” You say quietly.

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

“God don’t-“ you wipe at your eyes and stare at your feet. “Don’t apologize to me. I shouldn’t have gone off the fucking handle like that.”

“Maybe, but you’re obviously feeling some kind of way that you aren’t telling me about.”

“It’s the normal shit, Eddie. I just let it get to me.”

He holds the door open wider and nods his head over to the couch. “You wanna tell me about it?”

You don’t, not really. It’s going to go the way it always does with you explaining a life long loathing and the few times you see daylight out of the pit it holds you in.

“I shouldn’t have started that pretty shit.” You shake your head and clutch the pillow tighter around your middle. Eddie sits on the other side of the couch, long legs tucked up under his chin and you wish you could fold in on yourself like that. There must be a twist to your mouth or a shift of your body because Eddie sighs deeply.

“You know you don’t have to ask me that.”

“I know, but that’s not what I was asking anyways.”

“What does it matter?”

You shoot him a puzzled look. “I mean, I just want-I’d like to know if-“ you start and stop and Eddie just waits until you stop floundering.

“If I think you’re pretty, what does the rest matter?”

“It just does.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you hide it behind your fist. Eddie catches it, of course, and crawls over to you, grabbing your quivering chin and making you look up.

“I can’t undo a lifetime of self loathing in one afternoon, but I can definitely help cut through that shit one compliment at a time.” He gives you a gentle kiss and feels the smattering of tears hit your face, his thumb coming up to wipe them away. He cradles your face till you bury it in his neck and quietly cry for a while.

You loose count of how many sorry’s you give him and he finally tells you enough with a smile. He gives you his phone and tells you to order dinner and he disappears for a few minutes in his room.

Later, after food and more talking and a quiet nap spent curled up against Eddie’s side he asks if he can take you to bed.

“Sure grampa.” He smiles at your humor, an improvement to the tears earlier. He gets you out of your Sad Clothes and you quickly get under the blankets. He wants to say something but he knows to start small.

Starts with the lights off and sheds his clothes before crawling under the blankets from the foot of the bed. It makes you laugh and wind your legs around him, a win in his book. He kisses up your legs leaving a wet trail from your ankles to your thighs before you feel your face growing hot the closer he gets to your center. When you think he might pull your underwear off he doesn’t, instead kissing up your soft stomach to your breast and it isn’t until his curls spill out from under the blanket that you can hear him murmuring against your skin. Chanting “beautiful beautiful beautiful” and laying down “I love you’s”. His nose runs along under your chin while he kisses up to your ear “so pretty so perfect”. He runs his hands up into your hair and hold you in place while he hovers, warm brown eyes staring lovingly into yours.

“You have no idea how lucky I am.”

“Eddie…”

“No, don’t start.” He kisses you long and slow and it makes you tear up in a good way. He notices them hanging in the corners of your eyes and kisses those away while you laugh at him, watery and light and he knows he’s winning. It isn’t long before he’s got you trapped under him, legs tugged up around his hips so he can fuck into you slow and deep, his fingers still carding through your hair and keeping your eyes on him.

“So good for me.”

“Keep your eyes on me baby.”

“Just me and you.”

You couldn’t close your eyes if you wanted to, anchored to his stare and his touch and the way he whispers at you such sweet things. He kisses you deep when he feels you tightening around him. Thighs pulled tight around his hips, hands grasping for his shoulders to hold him tight to you while you spasm and gasp around him. He follows soon after, dropping his head down to nuzzle into your neck.

“Sweet girl.”

“Always so good to me.”

“Love you so much.”

Eddie lets you unwind from him before he lays on his back beside you.

“Can I show you something?” He pulls you in next to him so you have to drape over his chest, tattoos swelling under his deep breath. He holds his phone over your heads and finds the photo album he was looking for. You catch a glimpse of one of you and start to turn your head into his chest before he tuts at you.

“What did we just talk about?”

Instead you give him the benefit of doubt and let him scroll through. He talks about all the photos he has of you and why he kept them. Why he took them or got them from Robin or Nancy or one of the kids on one of the many outings. He’s got pictures of sunsets and really good food and flowers and his succulent pot. There’s a skyline in the rain from a green room he was in that he tells you reminds him so much of you. Says something about composition and the rain and how it comforts him like you do and if you weren’t wrung out you’d start crying again. He scrolls for a half hour explaining every photo and why they’re all you or remind him of you and how he finds you in the things he finds beautiful.

“So yes, I do.” He grabs your chin and you melt into his touch as he pulls you in for a soft kiss. “I think you’re pretty and beautiful and stunning and I will remind you every day.” Another peck before he cradles your head against his chest.

One day, maybe, you won’t have to remind yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eddie thinks you’re pretty and that’s all you need, but today you know it for sure and feel it for sure and it’s enough.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Comfort #My Work #My Fic #Eddie Munson smut

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fandomwritingbit · 8 months ago

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Sweet girl pt.6

Dbf William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

Synop: Your parents are throwing a neighbourhood party, you're looking forward to it. It's too bad you're going to miss all of it.

Warnings: smut, oral, taking of virginity, public sex, coercion, corruption and manipulation. William is pretty evil ngl.

Imma just link to the masterlist, this series is getting well too long lol.

A/n: I've never written cherry-popping before I hope this is okay. This is so far from my experience it's hard to believe it'd be the same even lmao. Also my writer's block has been so fucking bad recently, I need all the slack you're willing to give.

It sounded great when your parents first put it to you: a barbeque a few weekends from now, the whole neighbourhood invited to enjoy some good food and sunshine. The perfect excuse to flaunt a gorgeous lavender dress you bought months ago, it caught your eye on a sales rack, a perfect flowy fabric that clung to all the right places. Your size, a match made in heaven. You can’t help but shiver with the thought of how William will react to it, handsy is the word that springs to mind, not that you are against that.

The day of, you step into that dress, the fabric soft and almost soothing around your body. It’s hot today and you’re glad for the lightness of the material, though you think that maybe the heat on your face is from anticipation. He’s all you think about, the danger of him asking you to touch him with your dad barely 10 feet away, the beautiful feeling of his fingers inside you tearing an orgasm out of you like nothing you've had before, the nights you’ve spent calling him and getting off. You’re addicted to all of it and it has your fingers dipping into your panties at any given opportunity.

You pad downstairs about ten minutes before people are set to arrive, finding your mum and dad hurrying around. “Oh you look lovely, sweetie.” Your dad says in passing, carrying an overly big bowl of salad towards your dining table. It was full of all kinds of buffet bits, but enough space left for guests to contribute things, as tends to be customary. Right now the amount of food seems over the top, but you know that once things get going your house will be full of everyone with a tie to the community.

…

And you were correct, your house is swarming. People in the living room, the dining room, outside, all chatting and greeting neighbours that ‘they really should see more often’. You’re herded around groups of people by your mum and dad, introductions and re-introductions said to what felt like hundreds, but was likely only twenty or so. You are as polite as you can, smiling through small talk about your education and how much you’ve changed since last year, but your heart’s not in it, your eyes are constantly flicking around for William. It should be easy to spot him, he's a tall enough fella, but your searching keeps turning up empty.

Your glancing around the room is interrupted by a squeaky, “Oh my god, y/n?” You turn to where the voice is coming from, instantly recognising the girl of your age who was squeezing past your dad to get to you. “I haven’t seen you since… school.” She pulls a face at the word ‘school’ which you commiserate with, you can’t place this girl's name but the mention of school makes you frown. Your manners are important to you but it doesn’t take a genius to realise that if you haven't seen someone in years, there’s most likely a reason why.

“Yeah… It’s been a long time.” You agree, giving her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. In the middle of this awkward interaction you clap eyes on him and your heart jumps in your chest in such a ridiculous way you pray it doesn’t show on your face. He’s talking to a bloke you know from three or four houses down, a small smile on his face that has an air of amusement like he’s laughing internally at the gentleman’s expense.

You are almost physically pulling away from this conversation but the lass doesn’t stop talking, oblivious to your lack of interest as she tells you all about her cosmetology school and her apprenticeship. You just don’t have the rudeness in you to walk away so you grit your teeth and ride out the conversation, eagerly watching William out of the corner of your eye.

It takes so long trying to get her to leave that by the time she’s got out her phone and is part way through finding you on instagram, William is slinking out of the room. The moment she’s done, you brush her off with a polite see you later, leaving the room in the path your bad influence had used. You’re experiencing some kind of withdrawal from not having his attention, it’s pathetic but it’s true, and achingly obvious in how you walk your house searching for him… again.

You find him in your living room and you edge through a group of chatting neighbours to get through to him and as you get near still unnoticed you find your mum standing beside him, looking up at him and talking through a wide grin. “It feels like a long time since I’ve seen you properly, William.” It takes you no effort to lock onto your mother’s words, they make you frown instantly.

“Yeah I’ve been busy with work.” He shakes his head, “I’ll have to come and see you and Chris soon.” And your lovely daughter, he mentally adds, though some of the intention must show on his face because the woman in front of him puts her hand on his arm. His eyes widen.

“Anytime.” She says, doubling down on it, “I mean it, any-time. I like having you around.” Something about the tone of that turns your frown into a scowl. It’s flirtation, and you burn with anger. Jealousy, yes, you can’t help it, it’s instant, but for god’s sake your dad is right fucking there. You don’t consider how you could be overreacting, the indignation is too strong, so you leave the room in a huff, feeling like a fucking idiot for spending your whole day looking for a bloke who clearly wasn’t looking for you. It stings and in a flurry you remind yourself that all the things you’ve done with him are only your first times, not his.

You’re out of the house before you know it, keeping your head down as you go far to the bottom of your garden where a hedge gives you respite from turning heads. You’re not crying, but you’re not a mile away from it either. Maybe it’s that withdrawal again, but you stand in the corner feeling let down, lonely and stupid. Anger at your mum outweighs anger at William, but the latter is still strong.

You stand there for a while, getting a better grip on your emotions, you need enough of a hold to walk back inside and either brave more of the party or hide away in your room. This is when people need a smoke, you think to yourself, wondering if a fag could actually help relax someone in this state.

Calming yourself down takes a good few minutes but once you get there, you decide that yeah, you need some quiet for a bit, then some thought about why you went off the handle so quickly, why you’re so enamoured by William. But to do that you’re going to have to escape this whole party, preferably without being noticed because if someone asks you how you are right now, you don’t know how you’re going to react.

So you slip out your hiding place, peeking around the hedge to see the silent picture of people through your back windows. Here we go. You cross the garden pretty quickly and soon get your hands on the door handle into the house, you step inside managing to smile at the few heads that turn your way. But that smile soon drops away when he appears. Your heart jumps at the sudden confrontation, so long of trying to catch him but now you don’t want him anywhere near you.��

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” William’s voice drips with honey and you try to ignore the warmth already settling in your core, but you know it’s a battle you won’t win.

You turn from his invasive gaze, hands a little shaky as you try to close the sliding door behind you. “Hey, where are you going, hm?” His eyes narrow at the blatant way you’re ignoring him, he can’t hold a serious expression though so a confused smirk rests on his face, how sweet you look with that pet lip. He puts his hand on your arm, halting the process of closing the door easily, no force necessary, the touch is enough. “Come with me outside, sweetheart, come on.”

You look up at him frowning, partially from previous anger, partially from fear that someone else will see, how he can dare to be so obvious is beyond you. There’s no room to reason with him, not when he’s already opening the door again, already guiding you through it, that grip still present on your arm. It’s not a firm hold, it’s barely there but, the skin to skin contact has you enthralled.

He takes you all the way back to the hidden spot you left just minutes ago, only this time it doesn’t feel like such a safe space. Once out of view he lowers his head down to look you in your face, not liking when you turn away and so catching your chin with his thumb. “Are you alright, sweet thing? What’s wrong?”

His sickly sweet tone is enough to spark a flash of anger as bright as it is sudden. “Why don’t you ask my mum?” You snap, your voice much more petulant than it is clever, the patheticness of it has your cheeks hot but you double down. William just grins, confusion leaving his brow furrowed. This is new, he thinks, you’ve never taken that tone with him before, it’s fun, shiny-new and exciting.

You continue, provoked by him not understanding what you mean, “...You seemed to be enjoying her company anyway...” You speak dejectedly, your jealousy running riot with you. You want to pull away from him, the lack of genuineness in his expression inflames you, he thinks it’s all a game and you can’t believe you’ve only just cottoned on.

William hums in acknowledgement before dropping his hand from you, you’re glad that he’s taking you that bit more seriously but it’s downright shameful how you miss the contact already.

It takes a lot in him not to laugh, the unfounded envy practically has your eyes glowing. This is good though, such passion all from feeling cast aside, you so desperately want him to want you and that is just perfect. For him. He faces your glare dead on, being very careful not to patronise you too much. “What exactly are you jealous of?”

You open your mouth to protest, hating yourself for being so easy to read. You know your bitterness is written on every inch of you, your closed stance, your harsh jaw, the immature tone of your voice, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s no point denying it, so you don’t bother. “There…” you stumble, having to abandon your daggers to continue, “You didn’t have to flirt with my mum right in front of my face like that… and my dad’s.”

He nods, sighing before answering you through a slick grin, “I think maybe your mam was teasing me, a little.” That grin simply blossoms, thorough amusement peeking out of hiding, “But you more than anyone should know that flirting with me isn’t half as boring as that was.”

You don’t have time to fight the way you flush, it’s not fair, are you really this easy to win over? He’s doing the William equivalent of batting his eyelashes at you and you’re falling for it, you must want to deep down. But you still don’t trust him as far as you could throw him, which is needless to say, not far.

“Come on, why would I even consider your mother when I have her sweet girl looking at me so moody right now, huh?” You roll your eyes at that, moving to turn away and think for yourself but he stops you, his hands on you holding you still and muting the dull noise around you. “At least tell me what I can do to make it better. How can I earn your forgiveness?” He speaks with a certain glee, prideful of his art form, like you’re some puzzle he’s solved before. And with his face close to yours he adds mockingly, “Or have I got it already?”

You want to touch him, shut him up, but you’re a mere corner away from the whole neighbourhood. “You’re slimy.” You speak honestly, well maybe you’re sugar-coating it even, “And I’m not stupid.” Your conviction is there, but the physical support isn’t, you’re looking up at him like a doe, breathing quicker than normal, your chest rising and falling fast in your new dress.

He laughs, “True. But watch it, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He has something else to say, some other mocking teasing syrup, you don’t let him, throwing yourself towards him. Your lips press against his in a sudden desperate way, like you’ve something to prove. Your lack of finesse could be mistaken for hunger but he knows you better than that, he dominates the kiss without much effort, easily pulling you along with his rhythm. He likes you like this, smart, able to see through him, it turns him on. Because what’s better than spoiling a naive young woman? Spoiling one who knows it’s happening and can’t help herself either way.

William breaks the kiss, hands eagerly taking in your shape, “Let me make you forgive me, right here.” As he talks his touch slides low, over your arse and making your back curve against him. “I’m dying to pull this cute dress up.” You need it, just whining some form of approval, wordless at that predator’s glint in his gaze. He slides his hand between your legs and you’re keen, shivering at the spark of pleasure and eagerly angling your hips for more.

He pauses his touch for a moment, breath staggering as he thinks about what he’s going to do, you hardly notice for your own need. When you do look at him, you see him shaking his head, snickering at something unbeknownst to you.

He moves then, debasing himself by dropping to his knees on the grass, hands grabbing your skirt fabric up above your waist band, gathering it there in one to rive your panties down with the other. The cool air invades you, unwarned exposure making you moan. “William-”

“Shush.” He chastises bluntly, as if his thumb wasn’t now resting against your clit and giving it a perfect gentle pressure. He knows what you’re going to say, “You don’t want anyone to see, huh? Well, bite your tongue. I don’t have to worry about mine.” The words are wicked with innuendo and you have to stifle everything in you except a sharp intake of breath when he shows you exactly what he’s doing with his tongue.

It’s dirty, shame-ridden and debauched, but you’re at the mercy of his mouth devouring your cunt. Parting your seam to toy with the slick plea of your hole. You can hardly stand still, body shaking with fretful want, it’s too much and not nearly enough, you have to battle to keep quiet against the vindictive way your core is tightening.

His tongue drags through your slit and he sniggers against you before cruelly sucking your bundle of nerves. You’re grabbing him, pulling him closer, trying to push him away, as you tingle with need for your end. He’s relentless, playing your instrument just right and you have no faculty to ask for respite. Your coil clenches tight and snaps, and you come undone right there in your garden, waves of bliss so bright your legs shake and you need his arms to hold you up. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t know if they’re because of your climax or the emotional whiplash you’ve just endured. You don’t have it in you to care.

He pulls away from you and you watch over-blissed as he wipes your slick from his face on the back of his hand, letting your skirt fall to its rightful position. “Now that’s the perfect thing, I’ve missed.” He stands, his eyes dark with arousal. “You’re a good girl on the phone but fuck there’s nothing like it in person.”

You beam with pride, his praise so much nicer when you’re pliant and glistening from pleasure. How bad an idea that was isn’t lost on you, but it was worth it, even if now you have to pull your knickers up to hide the evidence. As you do, you see how filthy he is, mud coating his knees and you laugh.

Struggling to explain yourself through the shocked giggles you manage to state, “Your trousers are ruined.”

He looks down and sees why you’re so lost in laughter, he had weighed up his options though and tasting your sweet pussy was more than worth the dirt. William attempts to brush some away but it’s never going to happen, and so with a sigh he sniggers, “Am I old enough to have people believe I fell?”

You burst out laughing at that, unable to regain yourself for a while, he deserves that, you think. After some time you are lucid enough to say, “Maybe say tripped instead of fell.” Your cheeks are shiny with both the fit of giggles and the aftermath of your activity, you look so delectable he hardly minds the state of his clothes.

“Why don’t,” William begins, still smirking, and you give him as much of your attention as you can, “you show me your room? I’d like to see it in person.” He’s testing to see how much forgiveness he’s won, you know that, but the prospect of what’s to come is motivation enough to give him it.

“Okay.” You agree, the idea of it has your chest tight but your core knows better, “Should I be scared?” You’re joking, mostly, your room is a different beast, much more personal. Somehow more bare than what you’ve just done.

“Very.”

Walking through your house felt dangerous, like it’s written on your forehead that you’re doing something wrong. People are eating now though, too self-absorbed to notice the rabbit leading the fox to its burrow, which is for the best, all things considered.

He follows you obediently, mind half-focused on your retreating form, the other half pondering just what he’s going to do about this raging erection he’s afflicted with. You looked so sweet taking him in your mouth, so eager to please, malleable. But your perfect unbroken cunt would be just delightful to rut against. As much as he wants to, he won’t- can’t deflower you just yet, not with all these people around to hear the squeaking of bedsprings, hell, the squeaking of you. The idea makes his cock throb and he’s already palming himself before you reach the landing.

“This one.” You say, opening the door for him, your voice sounds much smaller than it did two minutes ago. You are scared, all jokes aside.

He moves past you inside, you’re the one to shut the door, sealing the two of you inside your bedroom. How out of place he looks, this huge hulking figure in your untainted room, the walls pastel, the sheets light and the curtain frilled.

“I could have told you your room looks like this.” His grin is wolfish, the imposition feels very metaphorical and he revels in it. He’s absent-mindedly touching things, a bottle of perfume on your drawers, then a teddy on your bed, you like how they look in his hands, delicate, breakable.

You find yourself speaking before the words are clear in your mind, “William…” He turns to you, still holding the fucking bear, visible overjoyed to be in your private space, piece by piece you’ve let him in here, first through a camera now this, it’s all very correct.

“Hm?”

You’re flummoxed for words, arms folded across your chest in some vain effort to keep yourself together, “I want to t-touch you. On th-the bed.” The request takes a part of your soul with it, it’s unveiled and glaringly obvious, but there’s no other way to say it, that is what you want. Well, some of it.

Chuckling, he throws the teddy aside, “That is the best thing anyone has ever asked me.” He means it, he could touch the peak now with just how pretty you’re talking to him.

He moves slightly and you interrupt him, the rest of your want raising its whiny head. “You’ll have to take t-that off.” You’re pointing at his trousers and he laughs, remembering the muck decorating his legs, but the laughter dies quickly and he fixes you with a quizzical look, eyes narrowed as he again reads you like a book.

“Because of the mud, or another reason?” He teases and you bite your lip, your answer wearing you, more than the other way around. Much like the way smugness is wearing him. “I know you like to see, you’re quite fascinated, aren’t you?” He grabs himself as he speaks, crude, garish and vulgar, and it prickles your sides.

“You like to see me.” You retort, trying not to feel the embarrassment your brain really wants you to.

“Very true.”

…

Fascinated is perhaps the right word, you are fascinated by him. It’s more than just that he’s handsome or you find him attractive, it’s curiosity, desire to understand. The broadness of his shoulders, the muscle on his arms, the hair on his chest, his legs, his cock; it is fascinating.

You start off sitting beside him on your duvet, enjoying the sight of him with his dick in your hand. Observing what your action is doing, how his breath changes for you, then a deep groan when you smear the precum beading on his tip. It’s driving you crazy and in a sudden realisation you need more. You want it all, want to know how his thickness is going to feel inside you, good, bad, dirty and ugly, you need it.

And you tell him.

The view of William above you is insane, the dark greying hair trailing down his chest leading your gaze down to the sight of him stroking his cock, positioned above your cunt. He presses against you occasionally, your hot slick beckons for him and he thrusts himself through it, restraint a heavy weight on his shoulders. It’s maddening.

“Please…” You whine, any trace of dignity you had is long gone, you’re corroded, worn down to your bare minimum and you need him to feel the same way.

He takes his eyes off your glistening cunt to flash you a devastating smirk, “Please, what?” The teasing makes you shift underneath him, desperate for more, that’s just how he wants you. As he watches you he pleasures himself, it’s bloody stupid how weak your pretty hole has got him.

The lewd words burn in your throat, there’s no debate in saying them, not anymore, “Fuck me… please.” You manage to choke out, but it still fails to convey your need to be filled. His fingers had made you see stars, but you’re greedy for more, you want him to come undone inside you. You want to drive him mad.

Well, he didn’t expect you to say that. You want him to take your innocence right now? Right on your lacy fucking bed sheets? With your parents downstairs? Clearly you’re not thinking straight, you’re too fucked up and that is just delicious. Your plea makes his cock twitch in his hand, he wants nothing more than to stretch your sweet pussy around him but you could hardly handle his fingers. You hardly know what you’re begging for.

“You want me inside?” As he speaks he rubs his cock over your pussy lips, there’s an almost sinister quality to his voice that makes your core tighten.

You nod, squirming away from the teasing of your aching bundle of nerves; that’s exactly what you want.

William sniggers, “I can’t, sweetheart. Not with everyone downstairs to hear.” You hardly notice the noises you make, but you’re vocal as anything, whining from the tiniest touch, he has no doubt his cock would make you scream. The reasoning falls on deaf ears, you don’t care because his power over you is too strong. You just want his cock inside you so he becomes as pathetic as you are.

“Please.” You try again, this time shifting your body to roll your hips against his cock to show you’re serious, but your thighs quiver at the stimulation.

In a sudden movement he seizes your jaw, forcing your gaze away from his cock on your swollen pussy to the dark look in his eyes. The restraint is visible, a clear crack in his in-control facade. He can’t help it, your begging is making him leak again, impatient precum oozing from his tip, begging alongside you for stimulation. How’s he supposed to hold himself back from this perfect untouched cunt right here asking him to deflower it?

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He speaks slow, a singsong tone to the words that’s a little sharper than intended due to the continued rolling of your hips. “It’s not to be taken lightly.”

You watch him wide-eyed, understanding his words is a conscious effort. “It’s not just a quick fuck, sweetheart. It’s me breaking this little pussy. Taking your innocence.” He punctuated the filthy point by lining his cock up with your entrance, eliciting a terrified pang of excitement in your core. “Stretching you open. You know what that means?”

He pauses but you don’t have the speech to answer, he thought as much, “Means it’s all mine. My little toy to use whenever I want. Break it over and over.” At this moment it doesn’t occur to you that this is the real William, not just slimy but the honest William who knows he’s bad, creepy, gross whatever you want to call it. The man who’s blatantly moulding you into something he can use, using your sexual naivety against you and playing your mind and body like a fiddle.

You swallow, his words go straight to your cunt making you impossibly wetter. He looks down at you and his control slips from his fingertips, he knows you’re going to feel so fucking good around him, how tight and wet and fucking warm.

“That what you want?” He blatantly asks, the intention thick in the air.

“Y-yes.” You start, your back arching a little, “I want it to be yours.” You know the words are dangerous, but you have no agency to prevent them from leaving your lips. “I want you to t-take it. Please.”

He lets go of your jaw, a particularly mean expression possessing his face. “God, you are fucking stupid.” He speaks quietly but you hear, it stings and you’re unable to tell if he’s kidding or not. He wasn’t, you are stupid to let him get this far, and he’s stupid for going along with your begging.

His cock is still notched tight against your entrance and he holds you squirming still with a hand on your hip. “You’re going to be quiet for me, alright? I’m giving you what you want.” His voice is thick but you hardly notice he even spoke, your heart is pounding and your whole body tense with anticipation.

He parts your walls, pressing in slightly, just the head and your eyes ping wide. You’re wet, drenched even, ready for it but it still hurts. A noise escaped you, wounded, doubling when he presses just that little bit further. “Shh, fuck.” His curse is very telling, you’re strangling him already in the most perfect way, if he’s not careful he’s going to crack his own jaw with how tight it is in restraint. “I told you.” The words are harsher than he meant them, but seeing the tears already welling in your eyes he knows he was right.

His hand comes over your clit, drawing a circle over the bundle and it works, a blaze of pleasure drapes over the invasion but it doesn’t distract you when he moves, forcing himself a lot further in your cunt. You cry out and in a sharp movement he covers your mouth, grunting at how you tense due to the sudden action. “Ah-You’re going to do it, sweet thing. Just relax, you’re tight as a fucking vice.”

You try, blinking through tears, and focus on his rhythm on your clit, it’s better, easing. He moves, slowly pulling out then back in and you see it. The need for him inside, shaping your walls around him, your body squeezes him eager for him to continue.

Your mouth is open behind his hand, muffled sounds leaving your lips, whining, mewling, hooked on the promise of overcoming the ache and snapping the coil inside you more than ever before. If your mouth was free maybe you’d say his name, or kiss him, or curse him, you don’t really know. His movement becomes better, you can take him, he knows you can. So he thrusts deep, making you accept him, your yelp is stifled and your teeth dig into the palm of his hand, it's unnoticed, overshadowed by the perfect feeling of you cunt swallowing him completely.

“God,” He scowls.

The pain dies again, settling back to the muted ache, you’re reeling, full more than should be possible, breathing frantically through your nose. He’s slow, pushing in and out of your hole considerately, as he’d be sure to tell you. And you quickly realise with a startling joy how he digs just right into a spot deep inside you. It’s almost blinding, engulfing you in a doubly quick need to end.

Your cunt throbs and he flicks his eyes back to your face, what a good girl you are. He can feel the change in you, the rise of pleasure over pain, the way you panic at the growth of your end, your eyes say it all fearful of what’s going to happen. You’re close to an end, body burning and falling rigid underneath him. It hits you like a train, each time he shoves himself deep is electric, it's intense and you whiteknuckle just to take the pace he keeps as you cum around him.

“Fuck, baby.” His words are edged with his own ruin, the rhythm of his pace growing brave, selfish, you’re taking it so well. And he loses it, no sense in him to pull out, he doesn’t care, your perfect cunt wants it. He’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet as his warmth spills inside you, thrusts sloppy to push his cum deep inside you. You whimper, it's a dirty feeling, but a right one and seeing the look on his face you realise that you were right, he looks as pathetic as you feel.

He removes his hand from your mouth, your skin red under his grip, freeing you to moan pitifully. You’re wrecked, somehow exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. You don't know how you feel, your climax was like something unreal and when he slowly pulls out of you, you feel empty. William was right, you’re changed.

He sits beside your form still laid exactly as he left you, your pretty pussy flushed and shining. “You alright?”

You blink, like you somehow forgot he was a person able to speak, “Yeah, I think so.” Your voice is hoarse as fragile as the rest of you and it makes him grin.

He looks down at you, and just laughs, at you, at him, at the situation, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now then?”

It makes you chuckle and you run your hand over your face. Yeah, what exactly should you do now?

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #william afton x female reader

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firemenenthusiast · 7 months ago

Note

Add me in your taglist!!! also more jann fics pls, you do them so good.

I WANT MOREEE (im not greedy i swear)

—“let it grow”

jann mardenborough x fem! reader

summary: nothing left to do when jann finally gets a new haircut except going absolutely feral

content warnings: 18+, smut, porn with plot, fluff, sub! jann, soft jann, whiny whimpery jann, oral fixation, p in v (wrap it bro), f! masturbation (reader putting on a show for jann), cum eating, cumshots, pussy job, slight size kink

a/n: @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha had me promise to write some smut so yall have them to thank also sorry i have to repost 😭

looking at the last couple of years it can be said that there’s a surge in the sport’s popularity. not that it wasn’t ever popular but recently there are newcomers to the car racing fanclub. it attracts new big companies to invest and offer sponsorships to the label making jann busier than ever.

-especially it being almost the starting of a new season and all. sometimes he’s too caught up with work that you cant help but feeling left behind. he’d be out at the most random times of the day sometimes even when you’re getting ready for bed. that’s the norm you have to accept knowing your boyfriend does not have a fixed working schedule. when danny manages to slide them in for a meeting with a new client, he needs to be there. he’s become too busy that he doesn’t even have time to get his hair cut. his adorable undercut has now fully grown to the same length of the rest of his hair.

you dont really mind his grown hair because you get to enjoy watching him getting ready, putting products into his curls. one of the things you find him adorable for is the fact that he takes good care of his hair so eventho its grown, he keeps it neat and healthy. you can sit and watch him for hours on end, especially after he had left for a particularly long period where he doesn’t really have time for all the products. so when he comes home, you both will spend the free time just talking and enjoying each other’s presence while he grooms himself. sometimes you’d even help getting the back of his hair where he couldn’t see or reach. or when he got tired from doing the rest

“but its getting too long babe, i need to keep it short for the balaclava” he defends himself. he’s been complaining about how his hair’s getting into his face when he wears the helmet and how uncomfortable its becoming. you pout at his reasoning, not wanting him to cut his hair. “nooo please keep ittt,, you’ve never let it grow ever. plus you look-“ you trail off from your sentence, turning your head to a different direction. too shy to admit it. he searches into your face, raising his arms. “i look…?” you turn your head even further as he follows, chasing your face. “-hot.” you say under your breath. his cheeks heat up at your words before deciding to tease you

“come again ?”

“no”

he let out a laugh as he pulls you in for a back hug, his large arms squeezing your sides. he rests his head on top of yours, swaying the both of you. “im sorry baby but i need to, okay?” you purse your lips shut, pouting. you keep quiet as you give him a look. “i’ll take that as a yes ?” he quickly give you a kiss before planting a peck on your forehead, reaching for his jacket from the couch. standing beside the doorframe, you watch him as he gets into his porsche. you wave at him, smiling as he drives off, thinking about how he’s probably gonna get a haircut.

his first race of the season is this weekend so you have to leave for the airport tomorrow. as you’re packing his and your stuff into the luggage your hear the front door being unlocked. he’s back. you continue arranging the clothes so they can all fit, subconsciously anticipating for the suprise of seeing his new haircut. you hear him calling for you from downstairs before his voice’s getting nearer. the door to your bedroom swings open to reveal an excited, jumpy jann with a huge smile across his face. “honey, im homeee” he jokes, acting like a husband who just got back from his 9-5 job. this is the jann you’d get called a liar for when telling his team about his behaviour. they dont believe that he actually acts like this around you. but jack does, he knows how jann actually is. you turn to face him as you’re being met with the fresh haircut, making him almost unrecognizable. it reminds you of when you first met him years ago. when he just got into racing, back when he was so shy to people and to you. especially you. if you could comically describe the feeling you’re feeling rn, it is as if your heart just got shot by cupids arrow. awestruck. it’s like having a crush on him for the second time. not like you’re not crushing on him every other day but the haircut makes you want to do things to him. you feel heat creeping across your cheek before rushing to your core.

seeing you quiet and not returning any reaction panics him. every possible scenario of you breaking up with him because of that haircut plays into his mind. “baby..?” he steps closer, slowly walking towards you. “hey look, if you dont like it i can- um, i can wear my durag all the time. you like it when i do, right ?” he offers, him internally panicking shows the most adorable side of him. not in a million years does he want to do anything you dont like. you get up from the floor just as you finish up on packing. “lemme- let me get that,,” he quickly reach for the luggage to help you zip them up. you walk to your bed, footsteps heavy as he follows from behind like a lost puppy. he’s worrying hard that you’re being quiet. as you lay your butt on the soft material he kneels before you, looking up at you with eyes filled with panic and worry. “please say something baby” you look down at him rubbing at your legs before reaching down to cup his face, smoothing over his also newly shaved skin. gosh he looks so cute

you trail your fingers from his cheek to his mouth, feeling his plump lips before pushing your fingers past them. he closes his lips around your fingers, sucking at them as you push down on his tongue. “you’re funny, jann” he blinks, listening attentively before you continue,

“you’re funny if you think you can look like this and expect me to not fuck you”

he shakes his head thinking you’d want him to deny it. your pull your fingers out, strings of saliva attached to it as you wipe it on his cheek. you tsk at him being silent. “do you remember when we first started dating ?” a smile creeps onto his face as the memories slip into his mind. he nods. “-you looked exactly like you do right now.” his smile grows wider. a lot about him has changed but one thing that wont, is how he’s willing to let you fuck him dumb anytime. especially when he deserves it. wasting no time, you lean down to crash your lips onto his as you fingers rake up the fresh undercut he just got. a shiver goes down his spine feeling the tips of your fingers graze the back of his head before they pull at the strands at the top. your noses bump against each other as you suck on his bottom lips hungrily. the haircut’s really making you go feral.

you get up from the bed ushering him to do the same. the kiss got interrupted for a second before you pull him down by his crewneck, making him lean down. he returns your kiss sloppily, spit getting smeared all over your mouths before you pull away to take a breath. his mouth chases yours, not wanting to stop kissing your lips ever if he could. he begins to suck at your tongue as his lips continue lapping at yours like a starved animal. just as you pull away he let out a whine in protest. his eyes droopy, lips shiny as he steps back, obeying your hand on his chest before you push him onto the bed. as soon as he’s settled he’s quick to take off his sweater earning a giggle from you. as his hand move to reach the hem of his sweatpants next you stop him, “ah-ah” while grabbing his hand. he smiles sheepishly as he obeys, settling his hands on his sides instead. you get off the bed to pick up something off the floor hidden by the luggage, holding it carefully to not let jann see what it is. you climb back onto the bed, straddling him before you grind teasingly against his prominent bulge. he lets out a soft moan thinking you’re gonna make him cum soon. you chuckle at his response before grabbing both his hands and bringing them to his back before tying them together with his tie that you just picked off the floor. you didn’t tie it tight but he knows not to break the knot. he’s learned his lesson the hard way. you climb off the bed before taking off all your clothes at the edge of it, making sure he watches.

“my sweet jann, i always miss you dearly when you’re busy” you tell him dramatically. its true tho, you do. he watches your ass bounce closely as you’re walking towards the wardrobe, glancing at him behind your shoulder. you search into the wardrobe before reaching just the thing you need before slipping it through your head. his gt academy t-shirt. the size of the shirt is just enough to slightly cover your bare pussy. you turn to look at him as he throws his head back, cursing under his breath. “fuck- is that..?” he blinks a few times, making sure he’s seeing the right thing

“yes” you confirm, before continuing

“it gets lonely, so this shirt will have to do” you say as you take a deep whiff of the scent on his shirt.

his chest is heaving hard, nervous as to find out what you’re planning on doing

“you wanna know what i do when you’re not there to help me ?” he watches closely as you walk towards the edge of the bed, climbing onto it. you start roaming your hands across your stomach before reaching up, the shirt caught together with your arm as you play with your nipples. starting off slow, you graze your nails across them before groping at your tits, putting on a show for him. you notice his cock twitching in his pants, forming a small dark patch at the tip. his mouth is slightly agape as his eyebrows furrow. “oh- fuck” he throws his head back, barely able to handle seeing you like this.

“its nothing compared to your fingers but-“ you sigh, purposely not finishing the sentence as you start rubbing your clit slowly. you look down, your fingers collecting the wetness as you spread your folds. you inch your knees forward closer to him, to really let him have a good look. “m’so wet for you jann,,” you tease, as he licks his lips, not knowing to look at your face or your hand while you play with your clit. as you start rubbing your fingers through your folds he shuts his eyes closed. he swears he almost came when you start letting out noises, the pretty little noises that could be the death of him.

fucking yourself on your fingers while wearing his shirt infront of him, you let out a moan as you call out his name in a high pitched whine. your fingers move rapidly as you feel your orgasm approaching. “m’so close jann, fuck-“ you manage to let out before the waves come crashing down, your knees growing weak. jann struggles to hold himself back from coming undone in his pants while he forces his hips down from buckling upwards. “please…,,you’re gonna-” he starts to plead before you shut him up by stuffing your fingers that were collecting your cum into his mouth. he hums at the taste, closing his eyes savouring it. you feel his tongue swirl around your fingers before you pull them out. “good boy” more precum seeps out of his hard cock as he feels himself growing harder. you lean in to kiss him, your fingers sprawled across the side of his face. he tries to prop himself up better so he can return your kiss harder but fails. trailing your kisses from his mouth to his neck, you make sure to bite and suck at the skin, gaining moans from him.

reaching behind him to untie the restraint, he looks up at you as soon as his hands are free. his eyes search into yours for permission, “can i-?” you nod at him before saying,

“fuck me jann, fuck me like you miss me”

he wastes no time flipping you over, taking the gt shirt off before pinning you down, earning a yelp from you. its now his turn to kiss at your neck, his kisses sloppy and wet. he’s sucking and biting at the skin that will surely leave marks. his hands roam uncontrollably all over your body, after being deprived of touching you. he wanted to touch you so bad but he patiently waited. he knows if he’s good you’re gonna award him. his patience earlier proved its worth now that he gets to fuck you. your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as his hand works the hem of his sweatpants. his thick hard cock grazes your pussy before slapping at his lower stomach. you look down at his happy trail below his navel, covered by the size of his length. his hot mouth is now settled on one of your tits, tongue lapping at the nipple before sucking at it. he greedily attempts on putting the whole of your breast into his mouth, covering them all with spit.

“fuck- mhmfh,, fuck” he curses as his hand strokes his throbbing wet cock, getting it ready for your pussy, momentarily pulling away from stuffing his face in between your breasts. he decides to tease you by rubbing his length betwen your folds, spreading your wetness all over it. he grabs his cock before tapping the tip on your clit, grinning at you as he does so. your faces inches away from each other, you could feel his hot breath fanning over your face. he has one elbow propped beside your face, his eyes eyes directly boring into yours. theres a slight glint in them, making you lose yourself in his eyes. he prods his cock at your entrance before bottoming out, earning a high pitched moan from you while he let out a low groan. he rests his head beside yours for a moment before looking at you for green light.

you reach up to kiss him as you nod. he winces at the tight fit of your pussy, the warmth engulfing him, making him lost in the pleasure. your pussy always feels so good for him, always a perfect fit for his thick cock. “ahh- mfhm,, so nice- s’warm”he says as he starts moving, it didn’t take long until he starts properly fucking you. moving his hips rapidly as the sound skin slapping and a mix of you and his moans fill the room. he whines as he feel his tip nudging your wet walls, making squelching sounds. he looks down at his cock splittling your pussy open, “fffuck-!” shaking his head, the view messing with his mind. it’s all so hot to him. as he feel your walls clench around him, his free hand reaches down to rub at your clit, occasionally pressing down to add onto the pressure. your fingers graze across his broad shoulders, your nails slightly digging into his skin earning a whimper from him. his head is resting at the crook of your neck, you can hear the small whimpers escaping his lips every now and then.

his cock buried deep, fucking into your pussy as you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier. he raises his head to start kissing at your tits again, before looking up at you, putting on his pleading eyes.

“what do you need baby ?”

“can i- fuck” he gets interrupted by your walls clenching around him

“can i cum on your tits-? these- these pretty tits,,” he mumbles the last bit of his sentences as he continues lapping at your nipples. throwing your head back, you almost can’t register what he’s saying from the pleasure as you just nod. he’s been so good, he deserves whatever he wants. you let out a dragged out whine as he pulls out, hands stroking his cock rapidly as he aims at your tits. you feel his warm seed landing on your breasts as you watch him shoot thick ropes of his cum onto you, some getting on your stomach. you reach your hand to your chest, collecting some of it before sucking your fingers clean.

he looks down at your body glistening with sweat and his cum, chest heaving trying to catch his breath. he runs his hand on his forehead, just below his new haircut. “fuck” he curses, before leaning down to kiss you, resting his forehead against yours. you let a smile rip on your face, before asking, “you okay ?” he nods, “never better” you let out a small laugh as he joins you

“i should get haircuts more often”

taglist: @june-ebgert @radioloom @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @themoonchildwhofell @love-me-pls @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

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writingduhh · 1 year ago

Note

either ted or schlatt when reader gets their period?

- ⁉️, could I be an anon?

But of course my love! I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Also I’m open for requests! Preferably HC, Mood-boards, and longer fanfics for the chuckle sammy boys!

Chuckle Sandwich ||Time Of The Month (HC)

❥ Jschlatt

▷ I feel like he’s the type of boyfriend who would be a little uncomfortable, at least at first. Not because he thinks it’s gross or makes him uncomfortable, more like he doesn’t want to mess up or accidentally upset you (plus he only has a brother) .

▷ However, he’s very willing to learn. Especially if it means being able to take care of the love of his life. ;)

▷ Finding things in his search history such as, “How to help partner on period?”, “How to stop cramps?”, “Why do periods happen?”

▷ Let’s you use him as a human punching bag if you need to release some anger.

“We really need to get you some boxing lessons, doll…”

▷ Offers you his hoodies/sweatshirts. He wants you to be as comfy as possible. Plus, he loves to see you in his clothes, ofc

▷ He’d probably make you a whole blanket nest on the couch. Complete with pillows, snacks, and him waiting to cuddle with you

▷ Uses this time as an excuse to lay with you all day. (Totally not an excuse to be lazy… It definitely is)

▷ Suggests using the cats as ‘natural heating pads’ or just holding them like a stuffed animal

▷ He insists on going to the store himself to get you pads or tampons, so you can ‘rest.’

“Babe what size do you wear?“

“What do you mean the S stands for super?”

▷ Spends about 20 mins just reading the boxes or looking up reviews online He wants to make sure he gets the best products for you.

▷ Ends up buying 3 different strengths/sizes, plus a little treat for you.

“Thanks so much for going to the store for me… is this beef jerky?”

“Well, I assumed that you might be craving something to snack on… So, I just guessed and got you my favorite thing.” He explains, kissing your forehead.

▷ It’s the thought that counts, right? 😭😭

▷ Definitely babies you. He won’t let you get anything yourself. Definitely the Princess treatment 💅

❥ Ted

▷ I feel like Ted is the type of boyfriend that is very knowledgeable about periods. So needless to say he’s very on-top of things.

▷ Keeps a stash of your products under the sink “Just In Case.” Probably even keeps an extra clothes for you as well. (Or just insists you borrow his)

▷ Very understanding of your mood swings, pains, and every other symptom periods have (rip)

▷ He’s always there when you need him. A shoulder to cry on, he’s right there. Someone to rant to, he’s listening. Someone to just hold you, his arms are wide open.

▷ Literally your professional teddy bear

▷ There's a good chance he secretly keeps track of your cycle. (I low-key could see this) This way he knows whatever phase you’re in and how best to help you.

▷ Seems to always be learning some new techniques or ‘hacks’ in order to help you.

“I saw this video on how to massage out cramps. Can I try?”

“Can I try to find the pressure points that help cramps? I watched a video on it.”

▷ Let’s be real, it’s mainly an excuse just to touch you.

▷ Cooks all your favorite meals and makes sure you’re eating enough calories/protein.

▷ Essentially he gives you the princess treatment. You don’t have to even lift a finger.

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neurodivenport · 1 year ago

Note

literally need like chase nsfw alphabet so bad he is on my mind

i got u babe

@firelitsparks helped me & co-wrote a lot of this so big thank you!! ily

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he's definitely great at aftercare. he cares a lot about you and is over-worried about your wellbeing constantly, so much that he may go over the top with it sometimes. towel to clean you up, water to hydrate, maybe even a cold towel so you don't overheat. constantly asking if you need anything at all. i think as the relationship goes on he gets better at knowing the specifics of what you need, going less overboard.

as for receiving… he really gets off on getting taken care of, so aftercare is hard with him because he gets so easily turned on by it. y’all are definitely gonna have to go another round.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i think chase’s favorite body part of yours is a tie between your boobs (if you have them) and thighs.

for boobs, he loves them no matter the size. he loves having his head between them, loves lying on them, loves having his hand under your shirt to just hold them. not even in a sexual way sometimes, just for the comfort and your warmth.

as for thighs- its similar. no matter the size, he adores being crushed by them. he’s taken lots of naps just laying his head in-between them. when you’re sitting down, he almost always has a hand on one of them.

his favorite body part of his own has to be his hands. he’s proud of how they contribute to science, how he can use them with his molecularkinesis, and how they handle his laser bo. he’s also incredibly proud of how easily they can make you come apart.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

honestly, with how cleanly chase is, i don’t think he likes cumming anywhere but inside you. he won’t mind it on your tummy or back, but he prefers it in your mouth or inside you. he thinks the act of cumming on your face is a little too degrading and messy.

he also likes how possessive the aspect of cumming in you is. you letting him mark you on the inside really defines that you’re his and it drives him crazy.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

multiple. we all know he can record things with his bionic eye and ears and put them in a hard drive, right…? i think thats pretty self explanatory 🫢

he’s also always wanted to try pegging, and has a bit of a size kink if you’re on the smaller side. he’s been bullied his whole life about being small, having a partner thats smaller than him would stroke his ego in a way he definitely wants to play with.

…he doesn’t want to say it, but he also wants to try some roleplay with him as a scientist and you as his subject.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i think when you start dating he’s not experienced at any aspect. he’s had a few people come onto him, sabrina for sure, but he’s never actually dated anyone, let alone had any sexual experience. it’s completely new to him.

however! he is a bionic genius. when your sex life starts out, i think he’s going completely by the book, searching every technical aspect he has about it in his hard drive. but it’s still flimsier, because he has to get used to the fact that everyones different. he takes the time to learn about what makes you tick.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

chase wants to have full access to every part of you. your face, your chest, your clit/dick, so he likes positions that give him that range. missionary, front to front smoothing and cowgirl are up there. he wants to see every little reaction on your face when he takes you.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he definitely takes it more seriously. he’s a romantic at heart, wanting to take his time to really make you feel good. if something funny happens he might crack a joke, but for the most part, he’s hyperfocused on how it feels for the both of you. the goofiest he’ll be is how lovey dovey he gets for you.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

super well groomed. he likes it all neat and tidy down there.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

chase has a hard time having sex with no romantic connection. it needs to be leveled with romance for him. intimacy is absolutely one of the pluses and what makes it so great for him. like i said before, this man is insanely lovey dovey for you, he’s the type to break out a shit ton of candles and rose petals.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

after the two of you start dating, he rarely jerks off anymore. he can barely get off without you close by. the only time he does is when he’s away for a while on time consuming missions, and even then, he calls you just to hear you talk him through it.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

I HAVE A WHOLE LIST HERE, but i think his top ones are absolutely voice and praise. he loves hearing you talk, saying anything, especially when you’re telling him how good he’s doing and how good he feels. he can’t count how many times he’s came just from you moaning for him.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he is not that much of an exhibitionist. his favorite place is at home, in a bed, where he can take his time with you.

however, if he gets really fucking horny out in public, he’s down to do it at the nearest solitary environment possible. as long as no one can see you, he’s down to dick you down anywhere. y’all have definitely desecrated the lab on multiple occasions

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally everything you do. you touch him on the shoulder and his dick is hard.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing that will hurt you. he’s too scared to lose you or scare you off, so i really can’t see him doing something that will endanger you, mentally or physically. sorry to my degradation girlies but i don’t think he’s into giving for that 🫣

as for himself, i don’t think he’d like being bound too much. a simple hand tie is fine with him, but after being strapped down to giselle’s table, he’s not down for anything more than that.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he loves giving. like i said, he fucking loves your thighs, and will gladly be in-between them any time and anywhere. he loves hearing you moan for him, and the knowledge that he can get you off with just his tongue sends his ego skyrocketing.

he will never say no to receiving either, but he rarely asks for it. he’s always nervous they’re doing it just for his sake. it also makes him cum faster than he’d like to admit. seeing you with his dick in your mouth is a little too much for him to handle.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends! he prefers taking his time with you for the most part, but when he gets close he tends to lose himself in you.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t prefer them, but they’re kind of necessary for him with his mission schedule. like i said, he prefers to take his time with you.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s down to experiment with anything once, but is hesitant to try anything that might hurt you.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

…he’s bionic and trained in fighting. he can go for days. you’ve definitely never outlasted him without tapping out.

as for lasting, with you? he cums faster than he’d like to. you just drive him a little too crazy.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don’t think he owned any before you, but he’s down to try them out. especially ones that could work with his magnetism app.

on the other hand, i can see him getting a little jealousy and preferring to just use what he’s got.

i can see him inventing his own toy for you to use while he’s away on missions, which was perfect, until he sees how much you enjoy it…

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

chase isn't unfair, nope, nope. he TRIES to tease you, but the very SECOND you tease him back or show your interest, he's becoming a subby mess. he can't even edge you more than maybe one time because the minute you beg him he's a bigger mess than you are.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

when you first start out, he tries to stifle his noises as much as possible for fear of embarrassment. but as soon as you tell him how much you love them, he lets them out, and he’s fucking loud.

he absolutely cannot shut up, and he’s full of just whimpers and whines. he almost sounds like he’s crying when he’s close to cumming.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he thanks you every time its over. without fail. he’s making you cum multiple times and he’s still thanking you for letting him do it.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

…he’s big. and he has no idea. he knows the average dick size, but in his brain, he’s not that big. so when you tell him he is, he’s a blushing mess.

7 1/2 inches and thick. he has you wobbly legged and sore after.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH. when he’s around you his dick gets harder faster than you can blink. he was a megavirgin before you, now he’s just addicted to feeling you. you’re in the grossest pjs ever and he wants you. he just got back from a mission and he’s literally limping and bleeding and he’s trying to get you to sit on his face.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

not super fast. he has bionic stamina, so it takes longer for him to get rid of that adrenaline. he’s content with watching you doze off peacefully on his shoulder.

#chase davenport x reader #ns/fw #chase hcs #chase davenport smut

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year ago

Note

Part 18 with Luffy and Eri!Reader are sent to Amazon Lily together (If Reader does join him, my next request is going to be funny)

When Reader and Luffy finally land, they searched for some food, and found some mushrooms, only for them to both fall unconscious (Either from the mushrooms or actually getting something to eat after days of flying in the air)

Some of the Women were touching Reader’s horn (While she was asleep) since they’ve never seen anyone with a horn before, but they were shocked seeing the scars littered on her tiny body so they separated Reader from Luffy (They thought he was the one who hurt Reader since he’s a man) though she had to tell them he wasn’t (They didn’t believe her since he probably manipulated her)

Reader didn’t look at her brother when he didn’t have any clothes on because she was told by Sanji (After Franky joined) to never look there no matter what since it’s a big ‘No No’ area, especially if it’s a man or boy (She was confused about the ‘Jewels’)

The Amazon Women call Reader ‘Small One’ because of her age and tiny size

Reader and Luffy accidentally crashed in on Boa Hancock bathing and ran away from her, as she kept firing some heart shaped beam at them that did nothing (It didn’t affect them because Luffy isn’t attracted to Hancock and Reader’s very scared of how mean and intimidating she’s being *She’s not one to feel affection for others based on appearances, rather on personality*) even if Reader does gain affection for Hancock, her power would rewind herself from turning to stone

Reader was scared when Luffy had to fight to save the Women who helped them and tried to come in, only for Luffy to tell her to stay put as he doesn’t want her in danger

Though Reader does slowly start to like Hancock after she turned Marguerite and the others back from stone (As she also agreed with Luffy for them to be saved instead, as they’ll try to find their own way off the island)

Boa Hancock and her sisters find Kinship in Reader after learning about where her scars came from, as she got them from a ‘Bad Man’ (The Sisters develop fondness for Reader, especially since she’s still kind and sweet even after enduring such pain)

Hancock develops platonic feelings for Reader (Finding her adorable) as she felt weak to her knees when she saw Reader smile (Everyone felt weak seeing Reader’s sugary, closed eye smile)

However, Luffy and Reader both were horrified to find out Ace is being Executed! And rush over to Hancock to ask her to help them save their Brother Ace!

When Reader learns of Hancock’s ‘illness’ she pleads that if she can help then can Hancock help them! Only to her shock find out Hancock is actually okay! And feels relief knowing that ‘Miss Hancock’ is okay *She doesn’t realize Boa is in love with her Big Brother Luffy, as she thinks her illness is acting up whenever she sees her face get red and worriedly asks if she’s okay, which makes Boa’s face become even redder seeing Reader be so worried over her*)

I have the most ‘devious’ and ‘evil’ plan for the next request (It’s just chaotic and hilarious that’s centered around Eri!Reader and Boa Hancock) so when you reopen your request I hope you’ll like it (If you don’t want to do it it’s completely fine with me!)

Forgive me my dear, but I have other plans for Eri :3 and part 18 will be the Whitebeard War and the 2 Year Skip.

-“That bastard Kuma- I’m going to kill him when I see him! How could he do this to someone so young?!” you didn’t recognize the voice, they sounded angry, angry at the giant man who sent everyone away.

-You whimpered, your eyes opening and you found yourself surrounded by lots of unknown men, and tears quickly filled your eyes.

-The closest man, who had a tuft of yellow hair on top of his head, gently brushed some of the tears away, “Hey now Y/N- you’re safe now yoi. No tears.”

-You looked around, “Luffy- where’s Luffy?” they didn’t answer you, unable to because they didn’t know before you saw a giant man, one with a strange mustache peering at you over everyone else.

-He smiled down at you, “Don’t be scared Y/N.” your eyes went wide, shooting into a sitting position, you recognized that voice as your eyes softened, more tears welling, “Grandpa?”

-The men were quickly all panicking, seeing you in tears, not sure on what to do before someone shouted, “I wish Ace was here- he would know what to do!”

-You looked over at where the voice came from before you looked back up at Whitebeard, “Is Ace not here?”

-You felt fear when his look fell, looking upset, “No he’s not, he’s… Ace was captured, Y/N, by the marines, and they are wanting to execute him.” He didn’t sugar coat anything, something some of his sons scolded him for as you were stunned stiff.

-You then surprised everyone, wiping your tears with the back of your hands, “We need to go save him then!” your declaration quickly had laughter filling the room as Whitehead reached down, gently comforting you, “We’re already on our way.”

-Your eyes lit up brightly, “Really?” causing several heart related issues around the room before you asked what had happened, Marco, who was sitting next to you, spoke first, “We’re hoping you could tell us first.”

-So, you told them what had happened, with having fun at the amusement park, Camie getting kidnapped, Luffy punching a funny looking man in a bubble suit and you knocking his sister off the ladder to save Camie, then Kuma came and blasted everyone away.

-Whitebeard nodded softly, “That’s what we thought. You landed here on our ship in a paw print shaped crater. Seems that Kuma bastard knew that you would be safe here.” Instantly Marco and the nurses were yelling at Whitebeard, scolding him for using such language, which was rather comical to see.

-After you were cleaned up, as you weren’t heavily injured, just a little on your hands and knees, and dirty, you were brought into the galley by Izo, so you could get something to eat.

-Vesta couldn’t help but beam, giving you another cream puff, your cheeks looking like a chipmunks, as you were the center of attention, sitting on Whitebeard’s lap.

-You then spoke up, “How did Ace get captured? Ace is super strong!” hearing your praise of Ace did warm their heart, and you noticed everyone looking sad, Marco sighed, looking down at a handkerchief that was wrapped around his wrist, one that had dried blood on it.

-They told you of Thatch, and of Teach, or Blackbeard as he’s known by now, who attacked and killed Thatch for the Devil Fruit he had managed to find, and Ace went after him in revenge. The marines had been able to catch Ace when his back was turned, thanks to Blackbeard, knocking him back into their grasp.

-You were holding Marco’s hand, looking at the handkerchief, tears in your eyes, “Was Thatch nice? Was he a good big brother too?” Marco smiled gently at you, reaching up to brush a tear from your cheek, “He was- he was a goof ball, but he made good food and was a very good person.”

-You heard all you needed to know, and your horn flared to life, holding the handkerchief, and everyone froze as Thatch reformed, using his blood, much like how you did with Bellmere.

-Seeing what you were doing, Whitebeard went to stop you, as had heard from Ace that doing this would make you sick, but within only moments, Thatch was standing there, and he gasped in deeply- like he had been holding it, as his eyes shot open, clutching at his chest, shocked.

-Everyone was stunned, seeing what you had done. You smiled warmly as Thatch looked down at you and in an instant, they all now knew why the government was after you.

-You were sweating heavily, your cheeks flushed as you smiled warmly. You would have fallen off Whitebeard’s lap, had he not caught you, and instantly everyone was panicking, seeing that you had collapsed after bringing Thatch back from the dead!!

-Whitebeard and Marco were immediately shouting out orders as Whitebeard let him take you as he could get to the infirmary faster.

-Luckily it wasn’t as bad as it looked, just a nasty fever and you had fainted, and you had the best care possible as everyone was watching over you.

-Whitebeard stood on the deck of his ship, the other ships all around him as he spoke as they all were sailing towards Marineford, telling everyone around him, who all felt the same, that they were going to get Ace back, no matter what.

#eri reader #whitebeard #marco #one piece

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fairy-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Hi is this where I send requests in? If it is then could I request hc of Dazai, Chuuya and Jouno (if you write for him) with a s/o who has an ability that allows them to change size at will. Like the s/o can go from 1 inch to 30 foot tall in a second and the s/o is very mischievous so they hide in places that shouldn’t be possible to try and surprise the boys. I can imagine sitting on top of chuuya’s hat when he searches for me. I hope I explained this well and don’t feel obligated to do this <3

PRANKSTER

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Dazai Osamu x Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Saigiku Jouno x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, not proof read

Notes: Hey hon! I hope you like your request! It was super fun!

Also I’ve never written for Jouno before so this was interesting!

__________________________________________________________________________

Dazai Osamu:

You have to get creative with Dazai.

Because one: he’s a literal genius and would instantly know where you’re hiding if you’re tiny.

And two: his ability would nullify yours which might make for some very awkward situations.

You already wear special clothes that grow and shrink with you at will so there’s no more embarrassing moments where you are in the nude.

Anyway! Back to Dazai!

Like I said you have to get creative and even when you do, you have a 95% chance of him finding you before you can surprise/scare him.

Probably the best way to scare him is by hiding in his coat pocket.

Just be careful because he puts his hands in his pockets a lot.

You’ve actually ripped his pockets more than once by scaring him.

Well… scaring is a bold word.

More like you surprise him and he acts scared.

“You scared me, my belladonna!”

Nakahara Chuuya:

Probably the easiest to surprise out of the three.

Your idea of hiding on the brim of his hat when he’s wearing it has me CACKLING.

Like you’d think he’d be able to feel the slight difference in weight but I headcanon that when he’s really focused he kinda loses spacial awareness of his surroundings.

So you take advantage of this when you’re feeling particularly mischievous!

Another great place to hide is his wine cabinet.

He’s lowkey an alcoholic but in moderation?

If that makes sense?

Like he’ll enjoy a glass or two after work every other day or so but nothing overboard.

Chuuya likes to pretend that he has a high alcohol tolerance.

He doesn’t.

I’m getting distracted again.

But hiding in the wine cabinet is a sure fire way to break a few glasses so use this move sparingly.

He doesn’t get mad per say when you scare him.

Just annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

But a kiss to the cheek or lips is a sure fire way to get him to forgive you ;)

Saigiku Jouno:

Kinda like Dazai, you have to get creative with Jouno.

Like he can hear your heartbeat pretty much at all times so hiding really doesn’t do much good despite him being blind.

He can also hear the rustling of your clothes, the smell of your perfume/cologne, etc.

So you have to resort to using the other Hunting Dogs in your scheme.

And they’re happy to help! (Mostly, it’s usually Tecchou)

Like they’ll hide you in their pockets or up their sleeves so your scent and heartbeat is mingling with theirs.

It takes some work, but ultimately is possible if you try hard enough!

And also like Dazai, he doesn’t get really scared.

Maybe he’ll subtly flinch.

But that’s about it.

He’s also the most likely to get upset with you.

Like he knows you’re joking.

But you’re most likely a fellow Hunting Dog and therefore should act accordingly.

#dazai osamu x reader #Dazai Osamu #chuuya nakahara x reader #Nakahara Chuuya x reader #osamu dazai x reader #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #saigiku jouno x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd jouno #fairy writes #Bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs

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badkitty3000 · 2 months ago

Text

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapter 5

Link to Chapters 3 and 4

Link to Chapters 1 and 2

Link to Chapter 6

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

Warnings: None

More chapters will be posted as I continue writing this multi-chapter fic. Enjoy!

Chapter 5: You Can't Go Home Again

“I don’t know, I don’t think he’s doing too well.”

“Yeah, even before we got here, he’s not been looking great. I think he’s drinking way too much.”

“That much booze plus no sleep, topped with his size? It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Should we help? Or at least say something?”

“Ha! Ok, sure, I volunteer you to go down there and broach this subject with our very temperamental and homicidal brother. I’m sure it will go over really well.”

“Well, we should do something. I feel bad for him. He’s been through so much.”

“It’s Five, he’s fine.”

“We can’t just keep saying that. Yes, it’s Five, but he’s clearly not fine and hasn’t been for a while.”

“What are we supposed to do about it? Send him to Junior AA? Maybe throw in a good six months of psychotherapy while we’re at it? We don’t have time for all of that.”

“Look, this isn’t the right time or place to be discussing this. We need to get home and then we can deal with it.”

“And what if we don’t get home? What if we end up somewhere else again? He’s going to really go off the deep end. I just don’t think he can handle another major mishap.”

“I’m not saying we don’t need to offer some help; I’m just saying that this is not the time to do it. There’s too much on the line right now. And you know he’s going to freak the fuck out if you try and bring it up, or even so much as offer any help. Just let the two of them figure this out first.”

“But we’re all in agreement about getting him some help once we’re back home, right?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to see him hurt himself or worse because he can’t handle normal life once all of this is over. We already lost him once before; we don’t need a second time.”

“I think the old man deserves a little happiness in his life. Seeing all of this and what could have been…it must be killing him.”

“You’re the one that called him a dick to his face this morning.”

“Well, he is a dick! But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.”

“Me, too.”

“Same.”

“I think we all feel that way. Yes, even you, Lila, stop rolling your eyes.”

“On a different subject, are you guys hungry? Cause I’m starving.”

“What else is new?”

As the conversation swung in a different direction regarding food and how much Luther eats in one day, Five stepped back into the kitchen. He had come upstairs to clear his mind a little, and to also get some more coffee. He had actually wanted something much stronger, so he had been trying very quietly to search around in the cupboards for anything that would fit that bill. His siblings, who he had been trying to avoid, had been in the living room when he overheard them discussing his current state.

Hovering in the doorway, listening to their concerns, he glanced down at the bottle of cooking sherry in his hand. He swallowed hard as the shame began to wash over him. They were right; he was a dick. They didn’t even feel comfortable coming to talk to him about any of this because they were afraid he’d go fucking crazy on them. Which, Five realized, was entirely true.

He knew he had a problem; he wasn’t in denial. He had a lot of problems, actually, that was pretty obvious. But they also had another good point, and that was that they just couldn’t dive into all of that right now. Five was on borrowed time. They all were. And if they were going to make it out of this timeline in one piece, and restore things back to how they should be, then he couldn’t waste time sharing his feelings and getting a group hug.

With another wistful look at the bottle in his hands, he returned it, unopened, to the cupboard where he found it. He and his other version had been making really good progress, and he didn’t need to slow that down by getting wasted; no matter how tempting the thought may be. Filling up his coffee cup, he blinked back to the basement before he could change his mind.

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

“Fuck, I think I have it,” the other Five said quietly while he adjusted some dials on the apparatus he was messing with. “I need a different screw driver. There should be one in that top drawer, can you hand it to me?”

Five opened the top drawer of the desk, moving various papers aside to try and find the screwdriver. When he came across a file folder, he picked it up to look underneath. Seeing the tool he needed, Five picked it up, but also accidentally dropped the folder so that all of the papers inside went fluttering to the ground.

“Damn it,” he muttered as he tossed the screwdriver to his other self and bent down to pick up the papers.

The other Five was not paying attention, since his focus was on his work at the moment, so he didn’t realize what had happened. As Five started collecting the papers and shoving them back in the folder, he noticed that a lot of them were newspaper clippings. As he inspected them more closely, Five saw that each one of the articles had to do with their father.

“Eccentric Billionaire And Former Olympian To Dedicate New Hospital Wing!”

“Reginald Hargreeves Debuts The Sparrow Academy: Meet Our Heroes”

“Hargreeves Institute Of Art Grand Opening Friday”

“Another Crime Ring Thwarted Thanks To Reginald Hargreeves And His Sparrow Academy”

“The Hargreeves Diet! Learn Reginald’s Secrets To A Healthy Lifestyle!”

Intermixed with the articles were hand-drawn schematics of the Academy, as well as a few crudely drawn ones of The Hotel Obsidian. Five recognized the drawing style and handwriting as his own.

Holding the folder up, he asked quietly, “What is all this?”

When his other self finally raised his head to look, his face paled for a moment before his eyebrows furrowed with anger. “It’s nothing that concerns you, so don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I think it does concern me considering you ARE me.”

“It’s irrelevant to what we’re working on now, so just drop it.”

Five looked down at the folder with concern, before setting it back in the drawer where he had found it. After another minute of silence, he spoke again.

“Listen, I’m not sure what you’re planning here, but…”

The other laughed contemptuously. “No, you don’t. You actually don’t know anything about me.”

“I do, though. Because—”

“Yeah, yeah…because you’re me, I get it. But just like I am not sitting around here wallowing in self-pity and drinking myself stupid, you don’t understand what I have going on, either.”

Five hesitated. That was all true, but he still didn’t like the idea of some weird obsession with their father. “Does Marie know you collect all of this stuff?”

The other Five slammed his palm on the table, rattling all of the parts lying on top. “Don’t fucking talk about my wife!” he yelled.

“Jesus…calm the fuck down. I’m not saying anything about your wife. But fine, I’ll drop the subject.”

“Good.”

After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence between the two men, Five rejoined the other one at the table. “Looks good.”

The other him nodded as he used a small pair of pliers to tighten one more coil. “I think that should do it.”

“What do you think? Should we power it up?”

The two Fives looked down at the prototype for their time-travel device. As they had discussed earlier, it was small and portable with a wrist band so it could be worn as a watch. The current design had multiple dials to configure the exact date and time the traveler wished to go. They had agreed that it should also be stylish, so as to avoid any unwanted attention to it. The end result resembled a kind of large diver’s watch with a sleek design.

“Might as well give it a try. If it doesn’t work, we’re going to have to start at the beginning again. If it does…well, then we can build an exact replica so that we each have one.”

With a nod, Five took a deep breath. “Alright, then. I figure if we both channel our powers at the same time, we have a better shot.”

“Agreed.”

As Five watched his other self start to attach a pair of jumper cables to the device, he ran a nervous hand down the back of his neck. “Just so you know, the last time I tried to hot-wire something, not only did it not work, but I almost fried my nuts off.”

Still not looking up, the other Five shrugged. “Well, I don’t have a better idea, do you?”

Shaking his head, Five sighed. “No, not really.”

Once the jumper cables were hooked up properly, Five was handed his two ends of the cables. He swallowed nervously and exhaled a loud breath of air. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this again.”

“Ok, on three?”

Five nodded.

“One, two, thr…”

On cue, both Fives’ hands glowed with pulsating blue light as they worked on channeling as much of their power into it as possible. They watched as the light traveled slowly along the cables until it reached the watch-like device. As soon as their power made contact with it, the charge reversed itself, up through the cables again and back into their hands. With a loud, strangled yell from both, the Fives gritted their teeth and held tight. The current that was coursing through their bodies was being fueled and refueled by their continual release of power as it created an endless loop of electricity and pain.

“Hold…on...” Five instructed through a tightly clenched jaw. “Keep…going…”

As the other Five grunted with pain he hissed out, “I know…dipshit…just…shut up…”

“Fuck…you…” Five gasped in between clipped groans.

As they worked through the intense pain, they each kept their eyes focused on the watch between them on the table. The electrical current was passing through it, causing it to pulse with the same blue energy of their power. The longer they held on, though, the longer the pulses lasted. Finally, as they were both contemplating letting go before they really did fry off any crucial body parts, the glow became constant. The watch was now emitting its own bright blue light. With a slight nod to each other, the Fives let go of the cables, letting them drop to the ground as their bodies folded over, leaning heavily on the table with both hands. With harsh, loud breaths, they gradually worked through the pain and exhaustion of what they had just been through. After a minute, they glanced over at one another with a small, knowing smirk. Then Five looked down at the watch.

“I’ll be goddamned…I think it worked.”

The watch continued to glow blue, just as it had been when they were channeling their powers into it. This was a good sign, because it meant it had been fully charged and theoretically would not need any more pain-fueled jumps to get it going. That was all speculation, though. It would require a test drive to see if they had actually calibrated everything correctly.

With both of them still reeling from the pain and trying to catch their breath, they sat down and stared at the device. They were each thinking the same thing, because it was the only thing to think. Who was going to test it?

Each of them had been through the disastrous results of botched time travel in the past. It was something neither one of them wanted to experience again, but the choice was obvious.

“I’ll do it,” Five said simply.

His other self creased his eyebrows together and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why should you do it?”

“Well, if you can’t figure that out, you’re even dumber than I thought.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Five sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. He was just so damn tired and he needed a drink. But this had to come first. And it had to be him.

“Look, asshat, I’m not exactly thrilled about throwing myself blindly through the vacuum of space and time again. I’ve been doing it way too often lately, and each time I fuck something up. But it has to be me and I think you know that.”

The other Five huffed, pushing his hair off his face and tipping his head back with a sigh. Then he looked at Five and gave a small nod of understanding. He did know. There was no way he could risk the jump with an experimental time travel device. Not if there was even a chance of getting lost and leaving his kids and wife behind.

“Alright then,” Five said with a terse nod before standing up and grabbing the watch. He swallowed nervously, even just holding it in his hand. He knew how potentially sensitive these things could be, and it was possible any type of movement or disturbance to the workings inside could cause it, and him, to blip out of their current existence. “How far back or forward should I set it?”

“Just a few minutes. Start small.”

Five nodded again, hearing Reggie’s voice echoing in his head. “Keep the same timeline?”

“For right now, yes. Let’s not complicate things quite yet.”

Five adjusted a few dials to set the time and place, before removing his usual watch from his left wrist and replacing it with the time travel version. Even as hesitant as he was with it strapped to his wrist, Five still had to admit that they did a pretty damn good job of making it stylish. It would complement his suits nicely.

“Ready?” the other Five asked.

Five rolled his shoulders back and stretched his neck from side to side in preparation. “Ready,” he stated before pressing the small activation button on the side of the watch.

In one small burst of blue, Five disappeared. When he reappeared a millisecond later, he was still in the basement. This time, however, he found himself staring back at two versions of himself that were in the middle of an argument. Everyone stopped talking and stared at one another. “Shit, I think this means it works,” the smaller ‘other’ Five said, right before Five pressed the button again to return to his correct time.

Popping out of thin air, Five landed in the exact same spot he had been in when he left. With a quick check of his surroundings, he looked at his other self. “Did we do it?”

“I think so. You were gone for maybe a second. Did you make it to the right place and time?”

Five nodded. “It was right here just a few minutes ago, before we charged it. So, yeah…I think we did it.”

“Perfect!” the other version said with a smile.

“That was only one test. We should do a couple more to make sure we didn’t just get lucky. Plus we need to see if this thing stays charged.”

Both Fives knew that the worst thing to happen would be to find themselves stranded in the wrong time again, and with the watch having run out of power. It would be the same as when the briefcases went kaput. They’d be relying on their own powers and that was never a good thing.

“Ok, let me try a different setting. I’ll go a little further back and to a different place.”

He took a deep breath after he programmed the watch. “See ya,” he said with a wave before disappearing again.

When Five appeared out of the portal, he took a quick look around to assess the situation. He appeared to be in the right place. He had put in the coordinates for the Hotel Obsidian and he had found himself landing right in the main lobby. Luckily for him, the type of clientele that frequented that hotel didn’t even blink an eye when a teenage kid suddenly appeared in their midst out of nowhere. As Five faced the main doors of the hotel, he saw what he had hoped to see. His entire family, including himself, were trying to shove their way through the revolving door into the lobby, all while loudly arguing.

“Yes!” Five said to himself with a smile as he pressed the button on the watch before anyone could notice him. When he reappeared back in the basement, he let out a relieved sigh. “Ok, so far so good. There doesn’t seem to be any issue with the power strength and the coordinates seem correct.”

The other him nodded. “So, now what?”

Five let out a forceful breath of air through puffed cheeks. “Well, now comes the fun part. A bigger jump and a different timeline.”

“You sure about this?”

Five shook his head while setting the watch to the date and time he had in mind. He wasn’t sure why that particular date popped into his head, but it didn’t matter what it was, just as long as it was part of his original timeline. “Not really, no.”

When he was ready and the watch was programmed, he turned to his other self. “Listen, if this doesn’t work and I disappear, tell our family I’m sorry.”

The other Five nodded, knowing there was no use in giving optimistic words of encouragement. It was very possible this entire thing could fail. If so, Five would be lost and the kugelblitz would eventually wipe out the entire universe, including his wife and kids.

Five was gone in a zap of blue.

Reappearing on the other side of the portal, he felt the same wave of nausea pass over him that he used to have when he would make big jumps like this for the Commission. He closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself. Then he took a look around.

He was home. At least, the only real home he’d ever known, even if it was more like a boarding school than anything else. Standing in the large foyer of the Academy, Five checked the stained glass on the front door. Seeing the umbrella etched into the panes, he let out a quiet sigh. That was a good sign, but he still needed to confirm he was indeed in the right time and place.

Creeping quietly toward the living room, he heard voices coming from behind the sliding doors that separated it from the foyer. There was the sound of muffled laughter and Five could smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen.

“Baked ham,” Five whispered to himself before rolling his eyes at his own stupidity of talking out loud.

Taking a nervous look around, but not seeing anyone or hearing any approaching footsteps, Five pressed his ear to the door. The laughter was louder, and he could hear people talking, but he still couldn’t make out what they were saying. He knew it was a big risk, but his curiosity got the better of him and he cracked the door just a tiny bit to peer inside.

They were all there. His entire family, including Ben and himself, were gathered together, playing some sort of board game. Because Five had programmed the exact date and time, he knew they were all eight years old and it was a Saturday. Reginald had gone out for the evening, and Pogo had decided the kids could stand to use more than one hour of play time that day. So, he had asked Grace to make an extra special dinner of their favorite ham and potatoes, with chocolate cake for dessert. While she was preparing it in the kitchen, the siblings celebrated their precious freedom together.

Five smiled to himself while he watched his family playing and getting along. It was one of his better memories of his childhood. They were still young and hadn’t been competitive with each other yet. Training was still fun and the idea of being debuted as the Umbrella Academy for all the world to see was exciting.

Diego and Luther were arguing, of course, but it was more of the normal sibling arguing you would expect, and not the kind where you try and kill one another. Allison was trying to get everyone’s attention to explain the rules of the board game, but no one was listening to her. Five’s young self and Ben were sitting on one of the couches behind her, throwing little pieces of balled up paper into her hair and laughing hysterically behind their hands.

Klaus and Viktor sat dutifully in front of the table with the game, trying to listen to the rules as obediently as possible. That is, until Klaus took one of the playing pieces and stuck it up his nose, making Viktor laugh and Allison annoyed.

“You guys!” she started to protest, but when she saw Klaus take another piece and try to balance it on his head, she started cracking up. “Oh, forget it,” she said with a giggle, picking a piece of paper out of her long curly hair. She turned to Ben and Five who were doing a very poor job of looking innocent. Allison stuck her tongue out and flicked the paper back at them, hitting Five in the nose.

“Alright, children, time to eat!” their mother cheerfully announced from the dining room.

Five watched his little self spring off the couch, pushing Ben down in the process, and laughing. “Yes! I’m starving! I call the biggest slice of cake!”

“No way, Five! I do!” Luther argued as he trotted after his smaller brother.

“I’ll let you have it if you can catch me,” Five teased, just before flashing his bigger brother a haughty smile and blinking away.

The kids eventually made their way into the dining room where they were out of Five’s sight. He closed the door again and pressed his forehead against it, closing his eyes. The urge to burst in there and warn his innocent, younger self about everything that was going to happen was so strong he could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest and pulsing in his ears. He wanted to grab him by the shoulders and look him in the eyes. He wanted to tell him not to time travel, even if he thought he was ready. Listen to Reggie. You really will be starving. And you’ll be alone. For so, so long…you’ll be alone.

The internal battle waged on as Five felt the tightening in his chest again and the breaths that wouldn’t come. Black spots began forming behind his eyelids.

He needed a drink. Maybe he could slip inside while they were at the dinner table and steal a bottle of Reginald’s booze. Then maybe he could think straight. No…no, he just needed to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Five, are you ok? You need to get out of here. The experiment worked, you just need to get back now.

I know, Dolores, but what if I can save him? Save me?

Five pressed his forehead harder against the door frame. He was panicking and frozen stiff. He needed to get out of there before someone saw him. Or before his little eight-year old self started experiencing psychosis symptoms.

You can do this, Five. Just open your eyes and move.

I can’t…I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t.

Yes, you can Five…you know you can. You just don’t want to.

As usual, the Dolores inside his head was right. He wanted to stay. God, he wanted to stay there so badly. Despite all of its tortures, the Academy was his home. It was warm and filled with delicious smells from his mother’s cooking. His siblings were there; healthy and alive. His warm, cozy bed was waiting for him upstairs.

Five was certain that if he just waltzed into the kitchen right now, Grace would kiss his forehead and smooth his hair before insisting that he sit down at the table while she made him a plate of food. She would smile and ask where he’d been. When was the last time he was comforted like that? When was the last time anyone cared that much about him?

Your siblings care, Five. You heard them talking about you. They love you.

No, they just think I’m an asshole. They need me to get back to their lives, but they don’t really care.

That’s not true, Five. You know it’s not.

“Stop it stop it stop it stop it,” Five whispered to himself. “Move, stupid. You need to move.”

Nothing you can do will change anything, Five. What has happened has happened. You left your home at thirteen. You got lost in an apocalyptic world all by yourself. You became an old man and an assassin. You tried to save the world. All of these things already happened to you. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.

And just like that, Five snapped out of it. He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and took in his surroundings again. He was still alone. He could still hear his younger self and his siblings in the other room. But it didn’t matter. What was done was done. He could travel years into the past or decades into the future. He could jump a million timelines. But nothing would ever change his past.

The best he could do now was to make sure the future was just a little bit better for him and for his family. So, with a heavy heart, and what felt like a ball of lead in his stomach, Five reluctantly pressed the activation button on his watch. The Academy would never be his home again, and he had to accept that.

“You ok?” his doppelganger asked when he appeared back in the basement.

Five was breathing hard and raggedly, still reeling on his feet. He nodded and clutched the side of the table. “Yeah. Just some lasting symptoms of time travel. It will pass shortly.”

“And it all worked correctly?”

Five nodded again. “Yes.”

The other Five clapped his hands together with determination. “Great! We can get to work on building the second watch, then.” He looked at Five with concern. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Can I just…can you get me a drink? I need one before we start again.”

His older-looking self looked dubious for a second, and then he nodded. “Yeah, sure. You want whiskey?”

“I don’t care. Anything.”

“Alright. I’ll get you one drink, but that’s it.”

“Sure, whatever,” Five sighed as he sat heavily down in one of the chairs.

As the other Five left to go get the drink, Five rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. He needed to pull himself together. He couldn’t crack up now, he needed to concentrate. The tears were starting to form behind his closed lids, but he squeezed his eyes tighter so they would stay there. When he heard the footsteps coming back down the stairs, he wiped his face quickly and straightened up, smoothing down his clothes and combing his hair back into place with his fingers.

“Here,” his other self said as he handed him a tumbler of whiskey.

Five took a small sip and he immediately started to feel better. “Thanks.” He took another, longer drink, and then set the glass on the table before standing up. “Alright, we’re not done. Let’s get to work.”

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