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fushiguho · 1 month

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Roll Some Mo ☆ Suguru Getou

☆ Word Count 5.7k ☆ Synopsis Suguru Getou, your classmate, a stoner, a slut. When he invites you out to smoke one night after class, he can’t help but to bare is soul, admitting his slight infatuation with you, the prettiest girl on campus, but what happens when you think you might feel the same way? ☆ Content Warnings Marijuana use, car sex, mutual pining ☆ A/N This was originally meant to be a drabble but I had too much fun with this. It’s heavily inspired by the songs Roll Some Mo by Lucky Day and Wet Dreams by J. Cole! Also, this is a reimagining of a Connie fic I wrote on Ao3 almost three years ago :o ENJOY!

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Further and further you sink into your reclined seat, easing into a state of euphoria as you take another ponderous drag from the dwindling joint. Inhaling deeply, you allow the thick, earthy cloud of smoke to slowly fill your lungs, long lashes fluttering closed in serenity. Soon tilting your head back to languidly blow it out of the open sunroof above before taking another hit.

Suguru eyes you silently, quirking a curious brow before sneakily stealing the carefully rolled joint from your fingers. “Never took you for a smoker,” he’s placing it between his lips, a sly grin pulling at one corner of his mouth, “didn’t think you liked to have fun.” He gibes, inhaling deeply just as you did.

You can hardly help the exaggerated, thespian roll of your eyes as you scoff. “Just because I’m smarter than you and don’t skip class doesn’t mean I don’t like to have fun, Suguru,” your smaller hand is reaching for his, attempting to steal the joint back, but he’s teasingly jerking his hand away, “stopppp, Suguru…” you’re whining as you begin to crawl over the center console, determined to retrieve it, “ever heard of working first and playing later?” You continue as you're contentedly settling back into your seat with the salvaged joint.

He gives a noncommittal shrug, stuffing a hand into the pocket of his little, black athletic shorts. “Guess I just prefer to play… nothin’ wrong with a little fun, hm?” Is all he says before plucking the joint from your pretty, glossed lips, returning it to his own, the essence of your lip balm lingering on the paper. You observe as he pulls leisurely, allowing the cannabis to swell in his chest before tilting his head back and pushing out the smoke.

Surprisingly, you don’t quarrel back. Instead, you gnaw on your inner cheek, contemplative in silence as you eye the smug, sable-haired man beside you. Suguru sits slouched in his seat, long legs spread lazily—wide enough that one of his knees are pressed against the driver’s side door, the other resting abut the center console. He almost looks tired as he sprawls himself across the reclined seat of the car, the diminishing joint tucked between his nimble fingers.

Long, unsecured strands of dense hair slip from the tie at the back of his head, loose tresses of inky black escaping the haphazard bun, adorning his neck and shoulders in a dark, tousled mess, yet he’s still as handsome as he is on the rare, fleeting days he makes an appearance in class. You can’t ignore your wandering curiosity. What is it like? What is he like? Beyond the singular class you happen to share, you have no idea as to what Suguru does aside from skipping class and smoking copious amounts of weed. Is there more beneath the surface? Beneath those godforsaken shorts?

The not-so-subtle trail of your wandering gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re far from shameful as you wordlessly gawk, dragging your gaze along his relaxed mien, his low, gradually reddening eyes eventually catching yours. He brings the joint to his lips, taking yet another deep pull. A slow, crooked smile mars his face, crinkling his subtly darkening eyes.

Suguru’s head cocks to the right. “What?” He laughs—a sharp gust of air through his nose.

Humming, you shrug, gesturing a hand for the now microscopic joint. “Why’d you ask me to smoke with you?” You’re genuine in your curiosity, tilting your head in inquiry. Prior to tonight, Suguru has only ever sought you out for the answers to homework assignments he inevitably forgets to do—which you always inevitably end up doing.

“Because I like you,” he says calmly, transfixing his unwavering gaze on the way you wrap your lips around the joint, inhaling deeply, “and you might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen… so I had to ask.” His heart skips a beat when your eyes eventually meet his, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Oh.

You shake your head in refutation, an incredulous smile creeping onto your face. “No, don’t try n’ butter me up, you’re not slick, Suguru,” you laugh, dismissing him, “you just like that I do your homework for you ‘cause no one else’ll do it.” You glare, flicking the end of the joint onto the ashtray atop the dashboard.

Deadpanning, Suguru falls silent, shrugging his shoulders as if he’s said all he needed to—as if the arbitrary basketball is now in your court and he’s waiting patiently for you to get off the bench. He’s unsmiling and dour. Fuck, is he serious? Part of you is afraid he might be, yet there’s another, more curious part of you that’s swooning like a giddy little girl with their first crush.

You’re stumped. “Oh, you’re serious?”

Suguru nods, leaning in closer to gauge your expression. He’s close, eyeing you silently, flitting his intense gaze from your furrowed brows down to your perfectly glossed lips. He’s cocking his head to the right, grinning lazily as he closely admires your dumbfounded expression. His scent envelops you—the heady, lingering redolence of his cheap cologne, marrying with the earthy terpenes of marijuana. God, he’s too close.

“Said I like you,” he purrs, now a hair’s breadth away, the warm fan of his breath against your parted lips, “you gonna make me beg? ‘Cause I will if you want me to... if you’re into that,” his voice softens, trailing in a whisper, “I can do anything you want… what do you want from me tonight, hm?”

The car falls silent as he awaits your reply, the air so thick you can feel it brush against your skin—or is that him? Is it the curious hand that’s reaching for your necklace? Lithe fingers toying with the gold plated pendant that hangs dangerously low from your neck. Is it benign? Innocent? Did he mean to run his fingers along the supple skin that spills from your top?

“But why tell me now?” You swallow thickly, flitting your gaze down to observe the way he twirls your necklace between his fingers. “Took you all semester to figure it out?”

He shakes his head softly, a slow, bewitching grin playing his wet lips. “Been workin’ up the courage… you make me nervous as all hell y’know,” he admits, wandering gaze falling to your lips again, “pretty women make me nervous.”

Like a naive moth to a rampant flame, something is drawing you closer, almost like you’re falling forward—into him. Is it the weed? Is it him? There’s a subtle glint of suggestiveness that twinkles in his irises, his crude gaze still holding yours. You huff an unintentional breath, your ever growing curiosity getting the worst of you. What is he like? What does he feel like? Why is the thought of not knowing killing you?

What is under those fucking shorts?

“What do you want?” He hums as if the question still looms.

You swallow thickly once more, “. . . I want you to tell me that this will mean something to you tomorrow,” you’re subconsciously leaning into his growing sense of touch, a large hand now slowly creeping up your neck, cupping your jaw as you speak, “and that you’re not just tryna sweeten me up so that you can fuck me. Promise me that, Suguru.”

He nods reassuringly, a burly thumb now grazing your bottom lip, “I promise… hm? I promise you I want you—I think I need you,” his thick, sable brows furrow in profound revelation, “but, can I… can I kiss you, please? It’s killing me…” his eyes soften, searching for a glimmer of your approval. Your slow, encouraging nod makes his cock twitch.

Not even a breath later, Suguru’s pulling you closer by the hand that holds your face and eagerly slotting his lips against yours, “mmph—m’sorry, I just need to taste you… been thinkin’ about putting my hands on you all fuckin’ semester,” he mutters between his hurried movements, another hand is also reaching for your face, deepening the haphazard kiss, “so I wanna apologize right now for my greediness.” He almost warns.

Several warm fingers are threading through the hair at the nape of your neck, holding your face taut as he pulls you further into him. He breathes you in, inhaling your sweet, gourmand scent while you sigh against his mouth, relaxing into his ever-growing touch. It’s almost as if he’s waited his whole life for this moment, as if he’d truly die if not for your saccharine smell—your touch. God, what’s stopping him from eating you alive right here? Right now?

Then, the fleeting redolence of your sweet perfume that’d waft from the stride of your walk was enough to have him pressing his thighs together underneath his desk, fruitlessly attempting to suppress the painful throb of his cock. But now that he’s gotten this close, Suguru is positive that fucking his hand like a devolved caveman will never be enough again. He needs more… he needs you.

You almost miss the hand that’s reaching for yours, pulling it close to palm the painful erection that hides beneath his slutty little shorts. As he drags your hand along the length of his hardening cock, the surprised little oh’s! and gasps that slip past your lips forces a stifled moan from his chest. It’s not enough, he thinks. He wishes you could feel him everywhere. So really, can you blame him when he’s willing himself away, but only crawl to the backseat of his car, hoping you’ll follow?

Apparently not because not a second thought passes as you trail behind him, clambering to meet him in the back of his black, stanced, Subaru Impreza. As if it’s second nature, Suguru is immediately pulling you onto his lap, his large hands finding purchase on your waist while your thighs ache deliciously to accommodate the girth of his muscular hips.

Later, maybe you’ll fault the weed for the way you desperately hump yourself against him, huffing out the prettiest little sighs as his thick, deft fingers haphazardly roam your body. They’re everywhere—dancing up the hem of your shirt, into the waistband of your sweatpants, grazing along the sensitive skin of your tummy, and anywhere else his greedy hands can reach.

“You’re sooo pretty… fuck. I think about you in class just like this.” Suguru hums, two, big hands cupping your jaw as he croaks a wicked grin. His warm thumbs absentmindedly caress your lips and cheeks. “I’ve cum so much to the thought of you… so many times that it hurts—swear you make me so hard it fucking hurts.” He’s greedily gripping at the thick of your hips, subtly guiding your body as he bucks his hips forward, creating his own, purposeful rhythm, one that he likes.

“I do too… I think about you doing horrible things to me,” you admit in a timid whisper, sweet lips falling into a pretty little ‘o’ as your head lolls back to dangle between your shoulder blades, “get so wet thinkin’ about what your cock would look like—what it would feel like…” arousal pools from your cunt as your stomach caves, your poor underwear dripping in your essence.

“Yeah? Fuck, can you feel it?” Suguru’s hips are bucking forward once, deliberately pressing his cock firmer against the palpable heat of your core. “You feel how hard you get me? How hard you get me every fucking time I see you? Everytime I smell you?” The slow, calculated roll of his hips only deepens, forcing strangled huffs of air from his gaped mouth.

You can only nod dumbly, humming in pleasure as he begins to run a wet, eager tongue along the length of your neck—one, longggg, ponderous drag from your collar bone, allll the way up to that sensitive spot hidden behind the shell of your ear. As you graciously crane your head to the side, granting him unobstructed access, several, small, fleeting kisses are left in his wake, leaving your throat and chest a beautiful, kiss-bitten mess.

Two, calloused hands are slipping up the hem of your shirt, curiously feeling you up—they’re greedily pulling you closer as they creep up your arched back before blindly dancing to the front, feeling the soft skin of your tummy. Your lips sag open, wanton whimpers and sighs of his name tumbling carelessly as he grazes the pads of thumbs along your hardening nipples. You can’t help but to wonder if he’s always been this handsy with his prey—this greedy. Has he always been the type to play with his food before he eats it?

“I… I wanna see it,” you mutter as you begin to climb off of him, eagerly reaching for the waistband of his shorts, “can I see it?” His cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his shorts when you peer up at him. Long, fluttering lashes, batting ever so sweetly as you gently palm his clothed cock.

With a gaped mouth, Suguru nods. Without so much as a second thought, he’s pushing his hips forward, tugging his shorts down the meat of his thighs, baring his stiff, swollen cock. You can’t help the incredulous gasp that slips past your lips. The head weeps in sinful rivulets of his arousal, pearlescent bubbles of precum popping and snapping before erotically dribbling down the length of his cock, fuck.

“Knew it was pretty…” you simper, whispering more to yourself if anything as you wrap an eager hand around the girthy base, beginning to slowly tug at his length, “and you’re so wet too.” You giggle, leaning forward to lick the vein that runs along the underside of his cock—the singular, thick, protruding vein that stretches from the fat of his swollen balls, allll the way to the leaking mushroom tip.

The slow, delirious loll of his head as it falls back to press against the headrest of the car makes your stomach knot in arousal. “Oh, f— fuuuck.” Is all he can manage—a deep, strangled, throaty groan that rumbles from the depths of his chest. Suguru bucks his hips once toward your teasing hand. “See w-what you do to me, huh?” He bucks again, twice… thrice.

It’s so thick—so ready and eager to be devoured, whole. He can hardly suppress the singular, guttural moan that belts from his gaped lips when you finally take him into your warm mouth, swirling your tongue around the messy head to collect the bitterly sweet arousal on your tastebuds.

Hums of pure satisfaction slip from the corners of your tautly stretched lips as you swallow more of him, moaning wantonly from how perfectly fills your jaw, the tip of his cock now brushing the entrance of your throat. He twitches lewdly against your plush tongue, the poor head weeping out more of his endless arousal.

You’re pulling away with an obscene pop! quickly gathering saliva behind your puckered lips before lolling out your tongue, drooling on the pretty head of his cock. Wordlessly, you both observe as the slick substance dribbles down the girth of him, eventually pooling near his fat, swollen balls in a sinful puddle. His eyes flit to meet yours, a sinful glint of carnality gleaming in his darkened irises.

With your gaze transfixed on his, you’re leaning your head to the side, dragging your lips up the length of his heavy cock. Wet, sloppy kisses are left in your wake. You even take it upon yourself to roll out your tongue, sluttily slapping the drooling head against the plush center of the slick muscle. A guttural groan tumbles from his gaped mouth as his head falls to the right, hips unintentionally bucking toward your touch. Eventually, you’re taking him back inside like before, a sweet, relishing hum of contentment falling from your lips.

“I knew you’d be nasty, fuck,” he gapes, carding his fingers through his thick, sable locks in disbelief, “just by the way you fuckin’ walk. I just knew you were a nasty girl—slapping my cock on your tongue like that… what the fuck? Who does that?” You only giggle at his incredulity.

Suguru sucks in a tight breath through gritted teeth, gasping incredulously as you begin to adopt a sinful rhythm, your fluttering eyes searching for his as you slowly start to bob your head. A shaky whimper falls from his permanently slacked jaw before he curses to himself when a curious hand is reaching a little lower to play with his swollen balls. It’s not long before he’s gasping, face contorting in his overwhelming pleasure whilst you toy with his heavy balls, your other hand tugging at the base of his pretty cock, your wet lips wrapped around the head.

“Ohhh, god…” you’re sputtering around him, the subtle roll of his hips forcing his cock deeper, “yeeeeaah, that’s a good, pretty girl… gag on it—mhmmm, just like that, s’okay,” he’s nearly panting as a deft hand reaches for your hair, thick fingers finding purchase at the back of your head, aiding your movements, “yesss, baby… f— fuck, take all that cock. You been thinkin’ about this?”

You attempt to hum in agreement but gag horribly instead. Rivulets of drool pool from your mouth and dribble down the length of his cock, accumulating in a sinful puddle near the short, sable tufts of hair that adorn his crotch. Suguru only simpers to himself at your response, a languid, lust-stricken grin marring his pretty face.

He cocks his head slightly, brows furrowing. “Breatheee, sweet girl,” he drawls, reminding you of the overtly obvious fact, tittering at the way your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head, “through your nose… yeaaah, thaaaat’s it, good girl… see?” He’s peeling away the few strands of hair that stick to your forehead, baring your cock-drunken mien. “You really are so pretty.”

God, what sight for sore eyes—the perfect melody for battered souls. The debauched, gut-wrenching gurgle that reverberates as you swallow the length of his cock forces you to clamp your thighs together to lull the achy throb of your cunt.

Suguru can’t help the trail of his eyes down your perfectly arched back. He sits upright as you lean over him, your knees planted on the seat while your hips absentmindedly sway in the air. A large hand is finding purchase on the fat of your ass, kneading and caressing greedily before creeping a hair lower, cupping your clothed cunt.

Long, adept fingers dance along your heat—pressing and dragging against the fabric of your sweats, touching you through the hindering material. You buck into his touch, rolling your hips to feel more of him, whimpering around the girth of his cock when he finally slips a hand past the waistband, haphazardly pushing the garment down to expose the pretty lace of your panties

You’re drenched. Utterly and completely drenched. Suguru’s eyes widen, jaw falling slack at the sheer amount of arousal that seeps through the thin fabric of your panties. Several warm fingers are running along the entirety of your cunt, collecting the slick, viscous essence that soaks through.

“Look at thaaaat,” he admires, pulling his hand away to observe the arousal that adorns the pads of his fingers, “you always get this wet from sucking cock?” He’s pulling you off so that you can nod properly, adoring the way a gossamer of saliva connects your bottom lip to the head of his cock.

Deliriously, you’re beaming up to catch his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss, blindly kicking off your sweatpants to rid yourself of the garment before planting yourself on his lap. A long, slutty whine falls from your lips when Suguru is reaching between your warm bodies, pulling your panties aside to run three, fat fingers along the heat of your cunt, spreading you apart. He swallows all of your pretty, little wails of pleasure, his warm tongue licking its way into your sweet mouth, desperate to taste you.

Like a sunflower growing toward the warmth of the sun, you’re coiling into his touch. Your breasts press against his chest while the large hand that rests on the small of your back is pulling you closer. “Why are you arching like that, huh?” He taunts, a sinful tease on his tongue. Two, fat digits are disappearing inside of your sloppy hole. “You wanna fuck? Is that it, pretty girl?”

Meekly, you nod, a helpless, prolonged whimper dragging from your kiss-bitten lips, heading straight for his cock. Suguru huffs out the sluttiest little breaths, nearly panting from his gaped mouth as you buck against his hand. God, he’s going to make a mess of you tonight and he’ll make sure of it.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck me?” Suguru’s lips are creeping down your neck, a trail of wet, openmouthed kisses left in his wake. “Fuck me then,” he whispers, breath hot against your skin, “reach down and put my cock inside of you and fuck me however you want… however that slutty pussy wants.”

Sable, lustrous eyes hold your gaze crudely, his large pupils dilating in ever growing rapture as you reach between the palpable heat of your bodies to press the swollen, mushroom head of his cock against your drooling cunt. You share a singular, incredulous gasp as you begin to sink down onto him, brows furrowing while your mouth sags open.

A sultry, drawn out whine falls from your parted lips. Inch by fucking inch, you swallow him whole. Pretty, desperate pussy stretching so obscenely wide, slabbering down the length of him until you’re literally balls deep. It aches—the delicious, burning stretch of his cock as it fervidly splits you apart with the sole intention of gutting you out completely.

His jaw hangs wide, a throaty, wanton groan of pleasure bellowing from his lungs. “Yeaaaah, th-that’s it… c’mon pretty girl, fuck me,” two, dexterous hands are pulling at your hips, long fingers splaying across the fat of your ass, “oh, god you feel so fuckin’ good—knew you’d feel so good… fuck me, baby c’mon,” the subconscious buck of his hips beneath you is forcing his cock deeper, the near deafening squelch of your overfilled cunt like kindle to an ever growing flame, “move those hips n’ fuck me however you want.”

Both of your hands are reaching to his shoulders for stability as you awkwardly clamber to plant your feet on either side of his hips. Then, you’re raising your hips off of him, sheathing yourself from his cock until the poor, weeping head rests against your salivating entrance, wordlessly begging for more.

Suguru’s head is slowly craning back, peering up at you hungrily through the fallen strands of inky black that adorn his forehead, occluding his vision. A painstakingly slow and slutty grin is marring his wet lips when you eventually lower your hips, greedily sucking him in. His mouth drags open while he nods up at you slowly, silently encouraging you to fuck him—to ruin him.

So, you’re lifting your hips once more, only to slam them back down again, and again, and again until you’re stupidly bouncing up and down the monstrous length of his cock, taking exactly what you need from him. You hardly even register the way you’re beginning to lean back, elongating your torso as your hands fly behind you to blindly grasp the center console.

You’re huffing out prettiest sighs as you babble. “F— fuuuuck, oh my god,” you nearly growl through gritted teeth, lolling your head back as you roll your hips to meet his shallow bucks beneath you, “you feel sooo good… oh my god. Such a p-perfect cock.”

“Heh, yeah, sweet girl? You been thinkin’ about fuckin’ me like this? Do you dream about it?”

Your brows furrow as you nod dumbly. God, you truly are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s the way you're shamelessly fucking him like your favorite toy, like an inanimate object with the sole purpose of making you feel good. He always had a feeling you’d be like this—so desperate… slutty. His gaze is hungrily trailing down the arch of your pretty little body. It almost feels predatory—as if you’ve been running for so long and finally, he’s got you all to himself and he’s as starved as ever.

Suguru’s hands are everywhere—they’re squeezing the thick of your hips as you fuck down onto him, guiding your frenzied movements. They’re greedily creeping under the hem of your sweat-ridden shirt, bunching up the fabric to bare your pretty chest. They’re even pushing the fat of your breasts together so that he can hungrily stuff his face between them.

His tongue is darting out, licking a wet, sloppy trail along the expanse of your chest between openmouthed kisses. Sweet hums of pleasure are lost and muffled in the plush, suppleness of your tits. He’s so greedy, he can hardly help the hands that are eagerly yanking your shirt over your head, blindly tossing it to the front of the cabin.

“Fuuuck…” he groans, kissing up your tummy, trailing slowly from your navel toward the deep valley between your breasts, “you’re sooo fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?” He hums and you nod once, whimpering obnoxiously when his lips eventually reach your throat. “Prettiest girl on campus.” He whispers, warm breath creeping up your neck.

“Tell me I’m pretty again… please.” You pant, your sweet mouth gaped as you await his praise.

He’s leaning forward to draw you close, pecking your lips once. “You’re so pretty… such a pretty girl,” he repeats sincerely, sitting up slighty to pull you off of him, laying you along the backseat of his car, “you wanna get fucked like a pretty girl too?” As he questions you his head is cocking to the right, ungainly shuffling in the cramped space of the car to situate himself between your plush thighs. A wicked, toothy grin that tugs at the corners of his lips when you nod up at him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

God, the heat is palpable. You can feel the growing need, the desperation, the hunger. His cock sits so eagerly between your thighs, begging for something, anything. The poor head still leaks with precum, weeping sinful tears of desperation, aching to feel the overwhelming pressure of your slick walls drooling around it yet again. And how it stands so impatiently, so hopeful, hungry. It’s absolutely going to split you apart and Suguru will make damn sure of it.

You’re whining so desperately at the torturesome and ponderous drag of his cock along your sloppy lips, hips bucking wildly in an attempt to lull the painful throb of your greedy cunt. The cutest little pout plagues your lips as he grins devilishly, his closed fist squeezing down the length of his cock, pushing the messy head against your swollen clit. Just as you’re readying to cry out a complaint, as if he can read your desperation, a fat thumb is finally pushing the tip inside of your slabbering hole, his hips soon following, stuffing you completely full at once.

The deep, elongated thrusts that immediately ensue pry your jaw open, allowing the beautiful cries of his sweet name to spill from your raptured tongue. It’s utterly obscene—the way he’s reeling his hips back so far, far enough that the tip of his cock just barely rests against your entrance, only to heavily pummel forward, stuffing himself to a hilt. And he does it again, and again, and again, until you’re moaning and panting like a bitch in heat, grasping at his shirt to ground yourself.

Surguru’s lips are pursing together, biting back the whimpers that threaten to erupt from his chest. “Suuuch a pretty pussy, fuck… c’mere,” he nearly growls, reaching a large hand under the small of your back to pull you up, “look at it, watch how it goes inside… yeaaah, watch how my cock slides into that slutty little pussy,” he’s holding you upright as you peer between your thighs, observing in an incredulous haze as your arousal sheathes the entirety of his cock, “goddd, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me.”

He’s roughly yanking you closer, big, strong hands squeezing at the thick of your hips, selfishly pulling you onto his cock, meeting himself halfway. The hefty batter of his relentless thrusts jerk your entire being, your pretty tits bouncing so perfectly for him, wordlessly begging to be touched. Obliging to your body’s silent needs, Suguru is slipping a hand up your tummy, fingers inching toward your hardened nipples. A calloused thumb is swiping across one of the sensitive buds, forcing a helpless whimper from your lips.

Another big hand is reaching for your face, cupping your jaw as a warm thumb curiously grazes your bottom lip. Instinctively, your lips are parting, silently inviting him into your mouth. The salty digit pushes inside, resting heavily against your tongue as he mercilessly fucks you into the backseat of his car, rivulets of your drool spilling down his hand. What a fucking mess… all of it.

Your pretty pussy leaks like a broken faucet that begs to be mended—so sloppy and needy, poor legs spread achingly wide as he drills into your slutty little hole like a madman on the brink of utter insanity. Fuck, you’re not even sure if you’ll make it out alive, definitely not with the way he’s starting to apply pressure to the back of your thighs, prying them open even further to pin them to the seat with the sole intention of fucking you deeper.

Suguru is leaning forward on the hands that hold your thighs, exerting all of his weight into his palms so that he can fuck with his entire being. His hips are drawing back like before, but when he begins pummeling into you, the tip of his fat cock repeatedly strikes against your cervix, his bruising thrusts bullying your poor, ravaged cunt.

“Hah—ohhh my god… f-fuck fuck fuck,” you’re gasping, reaching a desperate hand between your legs to touch your swollen clit, “fuck, m’gonna cum, Sugu—nnghh, you’re gonna make me cum!” The repetitive, dulling strike of his swollen balls against the fat of your ass only pushes you further.

“Yeah? You gonna cum, pretty?” He’s cooing encouragingly as he leans in closer, the tip of his large nose brushing yours. “Fuck, do it then, cum for me so good n’ make a mess on my cock, baby c’mon,” his lips are on yours again, kissing you sloppily—nothing but wet tongue and clashing teeth, “c’mon baby, thaaaat’s it… cum on my cock like a good girl.”

Suguru gapes as your back arches off the seat, pressing your tits into the air as you roll your hips to meet his sloppy thrusts. Then, you feel it. Your stomach is caving in sheer arousal, clouding your senses in a warm, white haze and you’re utterly delirious. Head spinning as your eyes threaten to cross, drool dripping from the corner of your parted lips as your walls squeezing the length of his cock. Your ravaged, fucked-out body falls limp as he continues to pummel into your sloppy cunt, forcing your sweet, viscous arousal to leak onto his expensive, cloth seats.

“Hah—oh my god, fuck. M’gonna cum so muchhh… this pretty pussy is gonna make me c-cum, fuck,” god, he’s a fucking mess. His mouth sits wide as he babbles, thick brows furrowed while he desperately chases his own orgasm. Fat, leaking cock bullying its way deeper and deeper inside of your battered cunt, eager to cum anywhere you want it. “Fuck, where do you want my cum, sweet girl?”

With both hands, you’re pushing the fat of your breasts together, wordlessly encouraging him to cum on your pretty, plush tits. A slew of incoherent profanities fall from his lips as he unwillingly pulls himself out of you, frantically jerking his cock in his tightly closed fist. You’re shuffling to sit upright, lolling out your tongue, waiting patiently like an obedient puppy, ready to take all of his cum like the good girl he knows you are.

Suguru’s head is falling back to dangle over his broad shoulders, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly. His lips are pursing together as he hums in rapture, whimpering strangled, erratic breaths through his nostrils. His forearm tenses as he hastily strokes his slick cock. Each time his fist nears the head, his wrist is slightly twisting to the left before his thumb swipes across the opening. A large hand is reaching behind you to greedily pull you closer, his wet cock resting against your chest as he continues to fuck his hand inches from of your face.

“Holy fuck, look at youuu… you’re so ready for it,” he huffs a gruff chuckle, abdomen tightening while cock twitches against the palm of his hand, “god, c’mere.” He’s inching impossibly closer, whining so prettily as he cums, hard. An unbroken chain of guttural moans drag from his gaped mouth as he’s spilling across your chest and tongue in several, thick, viscous gushes, painting you in a beautiful, translucent sheen.

It’s too much... all of it—his pretty boy moans, the way he drunkenly gazes down at you, the fingers that are swiping across your chest, collecting his release, only to stuff them into your open mouth, forcing you to taste more of the bitterly sweet substance. A content hum drags from your obstructed mouth as you suck on his fingers, your tongue sluttily sliding down the lengthy digits before releasing them with an obscene pop!

Suguru smiles down at you lazily, shaking his head in utter disbelief at just how slutty you got for him tonight. Who would’ve thought that the smart, quiet girl who sits directly in front of him in rhetorical theory likes to get fucked like a whore in the back of a car?

“When can I take you on a real date, huh?” He hums, backing away to slouch against the rear door on the driver’s side of the car, opposite of you.

You shrug, eyeing him. “When you ask me.” Is all you say, teasingly nudging his knee with your foot.

“Tomorrow night then,” he smiles, pulling you into him so that he can hold you close, “let me take you out on a real date. Wherever you want, pretty girl.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen smut #jjk getou #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jujustu kaisen #suguru geto #geto smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk suguru

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weepinwriter · 10 months

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Road to Heaven is an 18+ Dystopian fic which takes inspiration from popular media like the “Shatter Me” series and “Hunger Games”. It may contain distressing content like major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, body horror, amnesia and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth.

Within the grim confines of Tartarus, you have been branded as the most dangerous criminal, feared yet hated by both fellow inmates and prison authorities alike. It becomes clear to you that in order to survive and unravel the enigma of your past, escape from this formidable penitentiary is imperative. However, achieving freedom will not be an easy feat, as you must navigate treacherous encounters with some of the most malevolent criminals known to humanity. In your quest for freedom, you find yourself entangled in complex relationships with three significant individuals. Firstly, your cellmate, whose icy demeanor suggests a deep-seated disdain for your very existence. Secondly, your best friend within the prison walls, whose seemingly excessive friendliness may harbor ulterior motives. Lastly, there is the warden, whose overtly amicable nature masks a peculiar familiarity with your past. As you navigate the perilous labyrinth of Tartarus, your ultimate objective is twofold: to survive amidst the most notorious criminals and uncover the truth about your forgotten past. In a world where danger lurks at every corner, you must tread carefully, for the path to redemption and self-discovery is riddled with uncertainty and perilous choices.

Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Take control of your interactions with the characters and experience the world of Elysium City through a personalized scope.

Romance one of the 7 RO’s, and if you are charming enough, fall in love with any two of them. The four possible poly routes available are: The Cellmate and The Friend, The Warden and The Master, The Protector and The Master, The Cellmate and The Rebel

Struggle against the evil that wants you dead and uncover secrets about yourself

Accept your identity as an Esper and rediscover your powers, or completely reject them

Master your ability of Conscious Manipulation and perhaps learn a few things about yourself unexpectedly

Choose to make allies within Tartarus or antagonize them. Your choices have consequences

Lead a dying rebellion against the Hightable or join them as an equal

There are a total 7 romance options, each with their own personality and a story along with dark secrets for you to uncover

Survive

1. The Cellmate [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Twenty

A palpable enigma surrounds the inexplicable disdain they harbor towards you, leaving you to ponder if your past misdeeds have sowed the seeds of their ire. Your questions remain unanswered, rarely do they grace you with a response, and when they do, it arrives veiled in hateful glares and a tapestry of venomous words. The origins of their animosity remain shrouded in silence, with fellow inmates mirroring their reticence. Only when they are complaining about the prison's wretched conditions and the Warden's despotic rule do they momentarily shed their icy facade, revealing hints of vulnerability and human emotion. When they do smile, albeit rarely, it is a fleeting moment of breathtaking beauty. If only you could find the courage to tell them that.

[ Number 1579 is an S rank Arcane Tendency Esper with the Cryokinesis ability. They are under Libra’s Jurisdiction, and thus only follow orders coming directly from them. ]

Other Tropes : Emotional Scars, Nobody thinks it’ll actually work, Hate Sex

2. The Warden? [m] | ???

Subject Name : Nikita

There is an uncanny familiarity surrounding him, leaving you torn between the unsettling grip of dread and the elusive allure of desire. He claims to know you personally. Apparently the two of you were close friends before The Incident. Yet, when you press for details, he skillfully redirects the conversation before your emotions can catch up. "The past is but a fleeting shadow," he says, "no need to talk about something that can't be changed. Besides, you wouldn't remember anything." Evidently your memories had been erased. The question of who hangs heavy in the air, but his response remains enigmatic, offering only a mirthless smile.

[ Nikita is the Warden of Tartarus, the Reformation Asylum in Sector 10, 8th District. He is under Scorpio's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Slowburn, Betrayal, Puppy play

3. The Friend [f/m] | Friends to Lovers

Subject Name : Victor (m.) | Vanessa (f.)

A compassionate and devoted companion, V. shines as a beacon of light in the desolate depths of this grim abyss that became your world. From the moment you opened your eyes, they extended a helping hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine complexities of Tartarus and easing your transition into this unfamiliar realm. Unfazed by the venomous whispers that tarnish your reputation, they remain steadfastly by your side, unwavering in their loyalty. Their warm smiles and whimsical wordplay serve as a balm, mending your wounded spirit after every bitter clash with Twenty. How fortunate you are to be blessed with such an illuminating presence, brightening the shadows that consume your existence.

[ Number 1339 is an A rank Catalyst Tendency Esper with the Illusion Manipulation ability. They are under Scorpio’s Jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Partners in crime, First Love, Good people get good sex, Slight yandere

4. The Count/Countless [f/m] | Forbidden Romance (relationship history can be friends with benefits)

Subject Name : Emir (m.) | Evara(f.)

A remarkable visionary and an exceptional entrepreneur, E. stands as an unrivaled figure in the illustrious realm of Elysium City. Holding the distinction of being the youngest Grandmaster in history and amassing unparalleled wealth, they reign as the CEO of the renowned Quinn Industries. E. is adorned with numerous titles within the esteemed echelons of society, serving as an icon of inspiration and a beacon of hope, while simultaneously arousing envy in the hearts of many. An arrogant and proud individual, their ugliness is conveniently covered by their astonishing fortune, combined with innate brilliance, seems almost mystical, as if destined for greatness from their very birth. Within Elysium City's grand social tapestry, few possess the persuasive prowess to sway the decisions of the Hightable itself, yet E. stands tall even among this select few. As an eligible bachelor, their daily inundation of love letters and marriage proposals is a testament to their allure. And yet, amidst all this splendor, it is you who has found a place of interest in their extraordinary life.

[ E. is a part of The Senate and thus does not fall under any District's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Belated love epiphany, Billionaire, Power play, Daddy/Mommy kink

5. The Master [f] | Forbidden Romance

Subject Name : Leo

In her calculated pursuit, you find yourself ensnared. Your allure captivates her discerning gaze, for you possess what she desires most. You are the coveted object of her desires. In this strategic game, you are but a pawn, a possession within her calculated grasp. Yet, curiously she maintains a measured distance. Her reason? She eloquently articulates, “Witnessing the growth of one's possession is a fascinating phenomenon.”

[ Leo is the Master of {DATA REDACTED}. They are the Ruler of the 5th District. ]

Other Tropes : Secret Identity, Second Chance, Blood play, Begging

6. The Protector [m] | Bodyguard Romance

Subject Name : Caesar

A battle-hardened soldier, Caesar bears the scars of a lifetime spent serving the FAE and the city. With an intimacy unparalleled, he has danced with mortality on numerous occasions, making death a companion rather than an adversary. Yet, behind that facade of strength, Caesar is a fractured soul, haunted by insecurities and a self-destructive nature. His journey, filled with shattered dreams and the weight of his daughter's aspirations, has brought him to the edge of despair. The immortality he once embraced now feels like a curse, a harbinger of misfortune that has become synonymous with his presence. In his eyes, he sees himself as not a protector but a bearer of ill fate. However, the stars, in an unexpected alignment, have granted him a final purpose: to protect you. Beneath the intimidating exterior lies a gentle giant, yet one plagued by a profound sense of self-loathing. He grapples with the belief that his very existence is a catalyst for tragedy, a vortex that draws calamity toward him and those he holds dear. Intrigued by this complex guardian, you see the duality within Caesar — an attentive and understanding individual burdened by the weight of his own perceived malevolence. As you navigate through the intricate layers of his psyche, perhaps you could help him ease his suffering, even by a little.

[ Caesar is a registered S rank Endura Tendency Esper with the Regeneration ability. He comes under Leo’s jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Beauty and the Beast, Single parent, Stop calling me daddy

7. The Rebel [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Gael (m.) | Gwendolyn (f.)

You betrayed them. Or perhaps it's the other way around? You do not remember. The trust you once held dear has been shattered, and now you must face the price for your misguided beliefs. Like a fool enchanted by deceit, you must bear the weight of your choices. Remember this lesson, for betrayal's toll is a heavy one to pay. Proceed with caution, lest you become ensnared in the web of your own treachery.

[ There is no known information on this individual. Extreme caution is recommended. ]

Other Tropes : Amnesia, Revenge, Redemption, Breathe play

Links

[ DEMO ]

[ PINTEREST ]

[ THE DISTRICTS ]

[ THE HIGHTABLE ]

All asks and reposts are welcome 😁!

#current wip #interactive fiction #if game #interactive game #hosted games #twine game #interactive novel #dystopia #if intro #thriller #road to heaven if #upcoming if #twine wip #no demo

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simplygojo · 1 day

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I Like Your Tie...

A/n: OMG ONE OF MY FAVS REQUESTED! I loved this request; thats why it took SO LONG I’m sorry my friend I hope you enjoyyyy!! <3 I needed another Nanami request so bad so you did me a favour with this one, LOLLL.

Request: “Your last Toji fic got me frothing like a rabid dog. Lol. in all ways it was very uniquely him indeed ! The same for Gojo and Witch!Reader. Could I shy request a fic with the song 'Talk' by Hozier paired up with Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader ? Something sensual steamy but ever so romantic for the blonde? I can practically see him saying or thinking such lyric quotes as "I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do... So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you. Imagine being loved by me". May she's a fellow Special Grade sorcerer, and their friendship keeps building up, but neither wants to cross the line ? So they dance around it, until something happens ? Idk. >\\\\\\\\\\\\\\< I'll leave it to your artistic hands and imagination what to do with this? If you feel inspired to. In any case, please delete if this seems rubbish. Anyway, thank you for your stories ! Thank you so much. ♡” - @erebus-et-eigengrau (lurvv uu)

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f/reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+ Content, SMUT!, intercourse, light choking, control kink(ish), pet name

The late-night quiet of Jujutsu High was comforting in a way—no students rushing through the halls, no teachers around to monitor. You had been grateful for the peace, retreating to your room after a long day.

But as you reached your door, you stopped in your tracks.

There he was. Nanami Kento stood in front of your door, leaning casually against the wall.

—

You and Nanami had been friends for what felt like a lifetime, though it all began back in high school. Back then, you had a bit of a crush on him—not that you’d ever admit it. He wasn’t the type to flirt or give much attention to relationships, but there was something about him that always caught your eye.

You had your moments, too—shared laughter, and private conversations late into the night, when the walls between friends almost seemed to blur.

But Nanami never made a move, and neither did you. You knew how seriously he took his role as a sorcerer, and you didn’t want to complicate your friendship with feelings that you weren’t sure were mutual.

As you both graduated and eventually became high-level sorcerers, those moments of potential intimacy became even more distant. You grew into your own roles, taking on increasingly dangerous missions and fighting curses that most could barely comprehend. Nanami was often assigned to the same missions as you, his calm, steady presence a source of reassurance when things got chaotic.

There were times when his professionalism would slip, just for a moment. A fleeting look, a brush of his fingers against yours, his voice dropping an octave when he spoke your name. You always wondered if he felt it too—that same tension you tried so hard to ignore. But you never dared to ask, afraid of what it might mean if the answer was yes.

And now, standing in front of him in the quiet after everything that had just happened, you realized just how deeply those old feelings still ran.

There were times, though, when your old crush resurfaced.

Sometimes, it was the way he’d look at you across the battlefield, silently checking to see if you were okay, his eyes filled with a concern that was more than just professional. Other times, it was the rare, gentle touch when he’d help you after a fight—his hand brushing your arm or waist as he steadied you after a particularly tough encounter.

But you always pushed those feelings down, refusing to acknowledge them for the sake of professionalism.

The sorcery world didn’t leave much room for distractions, and you knew that Nanami was as dedicated as ever. He was the picture of control, never letting emotions dictate his actions, always focused on the mission at hand. You convinced yourself that whatever crush you had on him was just remnants of your high school days, a fleeting fantasy that had no place in your current life.

—

His arms were crossed, his tie long loosened, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The dim lighting of the hallway cast a shadow over his sharp features, making the intensity in his eyes even more pronounced. He looked every bit the composed man he always was, but something about the way his gaze followed your every movement made your heart stutter.

“Nanami…” His name left your lips in a quiet murmur, not expecting to see him there, not like this.

“You’re out late,” he observed, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if the stillness of the night demanded it.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, one of the first-years wanted some late-night training…What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, eyes flicking down to your lips before settling back on yours.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, making it hard to think clearly. His usual restraint seemed to falter, just slightly, but enough to make your pulse race.

“I was waiting for you.” His voice was steady, but the words made your breath hitch.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Waiting for me?” You said quietly, a heat beginning to pool between your thighs.

Nanami pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer to you, his movements deliberate. The space between you closed as his tall figure made its way toward you—the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks finally came to a boil.

“Why were you waiting for me..?” You questioned, “I need to talk,” He responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“I used to try to talk so refined, in fear of you finding out…” He admitted, his voice lower now, almost rough around the edges. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Finding out what, Nanami.” You breathed, watching how his lips parted just slightly while he paused. “How I’ve been imagining you."

The air between you was thick with tension, so heavy you could almost taste it. Nanami stood inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His normally professional demeanour had cracked, revealing something raw, something primal. The careful distance you both had maintained was no longer there.

"Imagining me…?" You repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it.

Nanami’s eyes darkened, and his gaze roamed over you in a way that left your body practically squirming under his scrutiny. His jaw clenched for a moment as though fighting some internal battle, but when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, filled with a desire he was no longer trying to hide.

“Every time I look at you,” he confessed, his hands flexing at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you, “I think about how you’d feel under my touch… under me.”

Your breath caught, your throat suddenly dry as his words sank in. The image of his hands on your skin, the weight of him pressing against you, the feeling of him between your legs—it sent a wave of heat through your body, leaving you borderline trembling with anticipation.

“Nanami…” you whispered his name, your voice trembling with the same desire that was now coursing through you. The distance between you felt unbearable.

The professionalism you both held onto so tightly was crumbling, and the temptation to give in was overwhelming.

The hallway was too quiet, too intimate, and it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. It was just the two of you, standing there on the precipice of something dangerous and irresistible.

“I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things we’d do,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper as his thumb traced your jawline, gently tilting your head with two fingers. His eyes darkened with want, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

That was all it took. The pull between you snapped, and before you could think, your hands were fisting in his dark blue shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips in a kiss that was heated, desperate—inevitable.

His hand swiftly opened your door before pushing you into it, causing both of you to stumble into the dimly lit room. With a loud thud, Nanami kicked the door shut before pushing you back up against your entryway wall.

Nanami groaned softly into your mouth—your pussy practically throbbing at the sound—and his hands immediately wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer as if he couldn’t stand the idea of any space between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that you hadn’t expected, and it left you breathless.

You gasped when his hands gripped your hips firmly, pushing more firmly against the wall. The cool surface against your back was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him as he pressed himself closer, his lips never leaving yours.

His kisses were deliberate, slow—but rough—as if he wanted to savour every moment of this.

"Mmf…Nanami," you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, your lips swollen from the kiss, breathless. "What are we doing?"

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged as he looked down at you. There was something raw, unguarded in his expression. “What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. “Now be a good girl for me, y/n.” He practically purred against your lips, as he lifed you so your legs wrapped around his waist.

His hands moved with more confidence now, sliding up your sides while you were pinned against the wall, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You tugged at his hair, your fingers desperate to feel more of him.

His hands, rough from battle and years of work, were surprisingly gentle as they slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your painfully hard nipples, teasing you. You arched into him, your body responding to every touch.

He made quick work of your jacket—and that tiny tank top you wore underneath it, his hands roughly reaching for every bit of exposed skin.

Nanami growled softly with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips trailed down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that had you moaning his name.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his breath hot against your neck, but the fire in his eyes told you stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Don’t," you whispered—pleading with him for more, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Don’t stop."

Nanami’s eyes darkened further at your words, and a slow, subtle smirk spread across his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

His hand moved up to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, fingers working quickly to loosen it even further. Before you could register what he was doing, he slid the tie off entirely, his movements deliberate and slow as he looped the fabric around your neck.

The silk felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. His eyes never left yours as he gently tugged at the tie, pulling you closer, the pressure on your throat light but enough to send a thrill through you that went straight to your now-soaked pussy.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the side of your neck as he admired how the tie looked wrapped around you, it falling on your bare chest. In a moment, his lips were back on your skin, trailing lower this time as his free hand continued to explore your body. He kissed a path down to your chest, the tie around your neck tightening just slightly as he pulled you even closer.

He brought you to the couch in your small room with one hand while the other held the back of your head as his tongue explored your mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this, do you know that, y/n? With my tie around your pretty little neck…” He murmured against your skin, his voice laced with raw, unfiltered need.

Hoisting you up onto the back of the couch, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs, and the contact made you gasp.

With one swift but gentle movement, Nanami slid your skirt and tights down your legs, and now you sat in front of him—completely vulnerable.

“Nanami—” Your words were cut off by a moan as his fingers returned, pressing more firmly, the slow, torturous circles he drew making your entire body tremble. The tie tightened just a fraction more as he leaned back to look at you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that had your heart racing even faster.

“You’re so responsive for me,” he growled softly, his fingers entering your dripping cunt slowly, making sure to feel every inch of your interior. “It’s driving me insane.”

You could barely breathe, the combination of his fingers between your legs and the light pressure of the tie around your neck leaving you a trembling mess in his arms. You clung to him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you fought to hold on, your body betraying you with every ragged breath and every desperate moan.

"Nanami, please..." You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and breathless as you begged for him.

He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You want more, don’t you?” He asked, his voice thick with amusement, but the tension in his body told you he was just as desperate as you were.

You nodded, your head falling back as your body arched into his touch. “Please…”

The sound of your begging seemed to snap something in him. With one swift motion, he lifted you up with one arm and spun you around before setting you on your feet in front of him, your ass pressing up against his bulge as the cool leather from the couch pressed against your lower abdomen.

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers slipped inside you again, making you gasp loudly at the sudden (welcomed) intrusion.

“I want to hear you beg for me again,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you, driving you to the brink of insanity. His other hand subtly undid his belt, lowering his pants just enough to expose his desperate cock.

You moaned, arching into his hand, your body betraying you as it responded to every touch, every whisper of his breath on your skin. “Nanami...hmmf…please...I-I need you in me.” You managed to get out between moans.

“That’s it,” he growled, his fingers exiting you, but they were quickly replaced by his dick as he inserted himself into you—feeling you stretch around him caused him to throw his head back in pleasure, and he gave a little yank on the tie, your head jerking backwards as your stomach pressed harder into the couch, provoking a pornographic moan to exit your lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each stroke thrusting deeper into your gummy walls, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened, and the slow, deliberate rhythm gave way to something more primal and desperate. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in every rough thrust, every growl that rumbled from his chest as he claimed you completely.

The tie tightened again, the silk digging into your skin just enough to heighten the pleasure, and the sensation sent you spiralling toward the edge. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you gasped for breath, the intensity of it all overwhelming.

He leaned forward, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper into you. He gently moved your hair off of your shoulder as his delicate fingers traced the border of his tie and your skin. “You really are such a good girl.”

His thumb pushed into clit as he thrusted into you at a dominating pace—the sensation was nearly enough to push you over the edge—but you held on a little longer. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking as his pace quickened, he tightened the feeling around your throat with the tie around your neck pulling you closer to him.

Nanami’s body moved behind you, the warmth of him pressing against your back as his hands gripped your hips. Bent over the back of your couch, with the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed skin. “Mmhf–Nanami…Oh please.” You moaned out, practically begging him for more as he fucked you with a controlling pace

His breath was heavy, ragged, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, making you feel the sheer size and strength of him as he dominated you completely.

Nanami’s fingers wrapped around his tie nicely wrapped around your neck, pulling it taut. The sensation made you gasp, your head tilting back slightly as the silk tightened around your throat just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. Suddenly he took his soaked dick out of you letting it land on your ass, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin.

“You look just perfect like this,” he growled low in your ear, his voice thick with lust as he tugged the tie just a bit tighter, your chin tilting up as he whispered in your ear. “Bent over—begging for me.”

Your legs trembled beneath you, your body quivering with anticipation, but before you could respond, he was inside you again.

The stretch was immediate, deep, and overwhelming as he thrust into you from behind, filling you completely with a single stroke. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he pulled you back against him, the tie keeping you tethered, under his controlled.

“Nanami…” You moaned his name, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper as he began to move, his hips snapping against you in a relentless rhythm. Every thrust was harder than the last, his grip on the tie tightening with every movement, pulling you back into him, forcing you to feel every inch of him.

His pace was brutal, his control slipping entirely as he watched the way your body reacted to him, the way you moaned his name with every stroke. His free hand found your hip, gripping you so tightly that you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow, but the thought only sent another wave of arousal through you.

“You feel so good, y/n,” he growled, his voice rough as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “My good girl...”

His words are what sent you over the edge, the stimulation of your orgasm turning your vision white.

Your body was on fire, every nerve alive with pleasure as he drove into you again and again. The tie around your neck tightened even more, the pressure just enough to leave you lightheaded, completely at his mercy. You felt every inch of him inside you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, along with your breathless moans as pleasure washed over you.

Nanami's body pressed closer as you shuddered beneath him, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through you.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as your body trembled, oversensitive and breathless, he kept thrusting into you with the same relentless intensity. His pace didn’t falter, and each stroke seemed deeper, more demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him.

Your moans turned to gasps as pleasure mixed with the overwhelming sensation of him continuing to push you past your limit. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin with a painful force, but he didn't slow down. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Look at you, taking it so well," he groaned, his voice dark and full of praise. "You feel so good, I don’t want to stop.”

Your legs shook around him, your body still pulsating from your release, and the overstimulation had you crying out, your nails leaving marks along his back.

"Nanami... please..." you gasped, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going. You felt like you were being consumed, every nerve on fire, and yet your body responded to his touch, desperate for more.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, his hand still pressed firmly against your clit drawing rough circles. The tie around your neck tightened just a bit more, enough to remind you of the control he had, the control you were willingly giving him.

“I’m not done with you yet," he growled, his thrusts growing rougher, faster, his body taking full control over yours. "You can come again for me, can’t you?"

You didn’t know how it was possible, but the overwhelming pleasure began to build again inside you. His touch on your clit was insistent, his hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that left you breathless, teetering on the edge of something even more intense than before.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation and pleasure merging into something maddening. Every nerve was alight, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. You were already too sensitive, your mind spinning as he pushed you closer and closer to the brink once again.

Nanami could feel it—he knew exactly how close you were, how your body tensed around him. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again, y/n. I want to feel you fall apart around me baby.”

With that, his fingers pressed harder against your clit, and his hips slammed into you at a brutal pace, each thrust sending you spiraling further out of control. The pressure inside you coiled impossibly tight, and with a cry of his name, you shattered once more, the intensity of your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body shook uncontrollably, your moans turning to sobs of pleasure as you convulsed around him. The sensation was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you never wanted it to end. Nanami’s name fell from your lips like a prayer as he continued thrusting into you, his own breathing growing more ragged, more desperate.

"That's it," he growled, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched you unravel beneath him, his pace rapidly increasing. "So fucking beautiful."

He wasn’t far behind. The way your walls clenched around him, the way you shook with each thrust, sent him over the edge.

His pace grew erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, groaning your name as he came. He tugged at the tie harshly, yanking you up form your bent over position so yoru back was against his sweaty chest, his hand gently holding your chin up.

“You were so good for me,” he breathed, his voice hoarse, igniting a spark in you again. You remained silent for a few moments, breath staggered as you tried to catch it, still shaking with pleasure as he held you upright in front of him.

Finally, you opened your mouth to speak, a cheeky smile playing on your lips, “I like your tie…”

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6ronze · 1 month

Text

DEJA VU

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ — l&ds characters : sylus. zayne. rafayel. fem!reader format : short stories/HCs warnings : fluff. angst. sfw. unelaborated suggestive scenes in sylus’s part long story short : when they fall in love with you, but you never existed in the first place notes : inspired by zayne’s alternate universe where he fell in love w mc in his dreams but written my way + i haven't written in a whilleeee

ZAYNE

Zayne knew lack of sleep could cause hallucinations and make someone have their eyes playing tricks on them. What Zayne didn’t know was that he could fall victim to those conditions.

He was disciplined despite his busy schedule as a cardiac surgeon. Zayne made sure he took sufficient naps to make up for the sleep he lost the night before and went straight to bed after finishing his work. He’s maintained this same routine for years yet somehow, he still ends up hallucinating about the same woman he’s seen since childhood.

He was 11 years old when he started seeing this woman around. Zayne as a child thought she was kind, someone he felt awfully fond of. When he wanted to ask his parents if she was a family friend, they merely cocked their heads to the side in confusion asking ‘Who?’. The older he got, the more he was convinced she was just an imaginary friend that children naturally have. But was she really imaginary when he kept showing up in his slumber, his dreams, and even in his conscious mind?

Zayne is 27 years old now. And he’s more convinced than ever that her appearance in his head when he hasn’t even seen her, nor anyone looking remotely similar to her in Linkon City, was connected to his evol.

He’s long accepted that hypothesis of his for the past years was true. Since it was only proven right with the small snowmen he made during every winter. How fond he was of creating ice figures of the plushies he saw when walking past claw machines at festivals.

Zayne often stared at his creations and caressed the snow with the pads of his fingers. He always looked at them with care, feeling the inexplainable need to preserve it—to preserve her. Even if they were just fleeting memories.

RAFAYEL

An artist in Linkon City, Rayafel. His works were as known as his name. Most people were curious about the rarely seen artist, questions about him arising. The journalists that were lucky enough to get to chat with him for a few minutes finally asked —who or what was his muse?

Muse. An inspiration, a devotion—the true cause of his masterpieces that were both stunning, and heart-wrenching.

“My muse.. is a ‘who’. And before you start bombarding me with questions about the specifics—’ *Rafayel answered, taking his time before parting his lips to offer an answer. His eyes flickered over to face the journalist ahead of him, Rafayel’s lips pursed to straight line that wasn’t often seen from the expressive and blunt man.*

“Let’s just say she’s out of your camera’s reach,” The purpled haired man continued, his brows subtly furrowing as he stared into the eyes of the stunned journalist. Rafayel’s answer made room for assumptions, the implication of his muse being out of reach sparking media attention and theories.

In Rafayel’s mind after that interview were only filled with thoughts on how to bring her to life in this world. He had to be careful with his words—the execution. Rafayel wanted a piece of his muse to be shared, a mark, a small hint to others of who truly occupied in his mind when he made his art pieces.

Rafayel started seeing her in a nightmare. It was the same nightmare that reoccured even in the most comfortable nights like a reminder. The thing is—he didn’t know a reminder for what exactly. He’s never seen her, never met her, nor does he heard her name anywhere in Linkon City despite his efforts to search for her. She didn’t exist. Yet that never stopped him from feeling so familiar, so intimate with her, like she meant the world to him once—no, it felt like she still does.

SYLUS

Sylus has been the leader of Onychinus in N109 zone for as long as he can remember in this world. He’s had his fair share of blood and immoralities that came with the job but at least it made sense. At least, it was rational. For survival, animal instinct of a human, pleasure—he could find the cause for it even if it was twisted. But this. This wasn't something he could make sense out of no matter how much he twisted his mind to find the root for it.

He has a girlfriend. Someone he’s decided to pursue after years of merely picking and dropping gems of women he found attractive in the clubs he frequented. This woman matched him—he thought. This would work—he hoped. He just needed something. Anything. To get the woman he kept seeing in his mind off his thoughts.

One would have thought the mysterious girl sylus that plagues his mind was someone he knew. A past relationship, an acquaintance, maybe even a fling. Yet it was neither of those. He doesn’t know her. He’s never seen her in his life. He shouldn’t be thinking about her—fuck, how does he even how she looks like? No matter how much time he spent pondering, recalling, digging information about someone who looked like her, he found nothing. The only conclusion he came to make was that she doesn’t exist.

And maybe someone else might have thought she would appear in his mind in his dreams—but no. It was the darker moments. The near death experiences, the life-risking gambles he took with every decision he made. It was the moments where his eyes would flicker, and his vision would slowly swim into a haze, would she appear. He didn’t like it. Never liked how the sight of her during those moments actually soothed him in ways nothing else could. Her lips that he stared into almost coaxing him to go with her to other side where they could finally meet.

Sylus couldn’t lie—he was truly tempted to accept.

The brows of the white haired man furrowed deeply in the dead of the night of his quarters, glass of wine in hand. He stared out the view out the large windows ahead of him, his free hand lifting to run through his in a rough tug.

His frown never seemed to leave him. Not even after spending a sweet night with his current beloved. He could still see it. The distinct features of that gorgeous woman in the back of his mind.

Sylus gripped his glass tighter, internally scolding himself for thinking about another when his woman was right behind him, comfortably sleeping in his bed, under his covers. He grunted, laying his head back against the headrest of the armchair.

He was frustrated, curious, and all of the above. Feeling his jaw clench at the thoughts that swarmed his mind, he downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and got from his seat. He walked around his bed to the nightstand, placing his glass down.

His crimson eyes landed on his lover that slept in his bed, her bare body covered by the blanket. Sylus felt his frown begin to relax, a soft breath leaving his lips. He took a step closer to the bed, reaching out a hand to brush the hair from her face. His neutral expression turned to one of longing the more his fingers lingered on her skin.

He wanted to find her so badly. Sylus wanted to face her and demand she answer his questions. Although he knows that won’t be possible.

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fraugwinska · 1 month

Note

I'm so in love with your writing!!!! If you are doing requests could you write about the first time Alastor and his darling spend the night together? Maybe they are up late listening to music and his darling suggests he stay the night. They are new to the whole relationship thing and Alastor is awkward but agrees. Could be a touch spicy but mostly just fluff. <3

I did a unique take on this, I hope you don't mind, my lovely Anon? I had the inspiration for it in a fleeting moment and just started to type, remembering your ask... And I kinda love what came out of it! :> As always, @macabr3-barbi3 was my rock and my anchor during the writing process - you have too much patience with me, love! <3

And a huge 'Thank you' to the lovely, ever-so-talented @minkdelovely for prereading this for me to find the perfect title for this story. You are both an inspiration and a delight, and I truly appreciate you, my darling!

Kissing was something Alastor had slowly gotten used to. Kissing you, that is.

You had made it easy for him, he'd give you that. Patience is a virtue rarely found in hell, but when the turning point in his friendship with you tipped the scale to the side of more amorous realms, the Radio Demon, normally superior and confident, had found himself to be exceedingly useless. The lines between companionship and partnership were drawn by his mind rather than physical barriers, and crossing them alone had been a tremendous effort for him. Alastor had never thought he'd feel anything for another sinner, hell, the bare concept of feeling was generally strange to him.

Love was something that had been intimately intertwined with the feeling he had for his mother. So pure, and so lost and unretrievable after her untimely death. To feel this similar yet completely different kind of love for you? Unimaginable, and yet, there you were. And with an unbelievable ease you slowly took root in his mind, weaving your way into his thoughts and settling in his heart without you putting in real conscious effort. Had your encounters been mostly accidental and brief at first, Alastor found himself longing to walk into you more and more before actively seeking your company. To you, he was never unwelcome, in complete contrast to the other residents of the hotel, who tended to avoid or flee from him whenever they could. Whether he would be annoyingly chatty in amusement, hurtful in cold anger or buzzing with excitement (and sometimes murderous glee) - you entertained his whims, listened intently or soothed him with a few chosen words, always finding the right ones.

You shift in his arms, your head leaning a little in to grant his hungry mouth better access to yours with a small, delicious sigh, ignoring or maybe even blissfully unaware that your lips must've caught on his teeth somewhere along the line and ripped open, thin, beautiful crimson lines slowly running down the sides of your mouth. He always said that red suited you best.

Your differences made you quite an odd sight in hell's scenery. What many could only admire with a good dose of fear was never scary to you and the fact you openly regarded the Radio Demon with polite respect and genuine endearment left quite an impression on the others - so much so that it had earned you the hushed title 'Daddy-Deer Whisperer', bestowed by the ever-so-childish Angel Dust. It was when he caught you scolding Angel for using that expression and spreading his usual slander about him with a rare display of open anger that he first felt the gentle tug in his chest that has since remained whenever you were near Alastor. At first, he had shrugged it off as another of his eccentricities, or perhaps hunger pangs he hadn't fulfilled for a while (A very likely thing given his... appetite). But it persisted whenever you looked at him with that little smile on your lips, and he knew. Knew that he had to have you, and that you would be his, in good time. He could never have imagined how easy that would turn out to be, how accommodating to his needs you were from the moment you acknowledged his advances, and were able to keep up with his admittedly glacial pace from then on. While no one dared to ridicule him to his face, the others were comfortable enough around you to tease you for having a partner that seemed so uninterested in physical attention. Well.

While they were not completely mistaken, they didn't know all there was to Alastor the demon with the eternal smile. The foreignness of what it meant to touch and love and the, he had to say it, pitiful lack in experience made Alastor hesitant for the first time in both of his lifes. How could he publicly display his affections when he could barely bring himself to show them in the confines of your company alone? Yet you never demanded anything physical from him, and he realized with a startle that you were perfectly content with just being with him. Where it had taken him weeks to consider kissing you for the first time, it took another couple or so to slowly allow his touches to drift from a brief grasp on an elbow or waist to a tighter grip, resting a hand at the small of your back, enjoying the sensation of your hip bone gently pressing into his palm, pulling you a little bit closer as your hands ran over his arms. In his embrace your arms found their natural place on his shoulders, the weight becoming familiar and calming to him. Until one day, it wasn't anymore. One day he noticed, truly recognized the feeling of you in his arms and found himself struggling not to pull you even closer. And without much thinking, his lips had been on yours, chaste almost and testing, savoring the contact and tasting you without the need to devour. And he found that with you, only you, just a taste was so much more satiating.

It was the first of many kisses shared, but to Alastor, this one held a special significance. You had been stunned, yes, but when he withdrew, overstimulated and unsure of his actions, he found neither judgment or reproach, only a silent smile and a hint of blush on your cheeks before you had returned the affection in your own, respectful way that he appreciated so much - soft pressure and warmth enveloping his hands - and a change of topic, easing him into a lighthearted conversation that had lasted hours, just to calm his nerves. Since then, Alastor has held on to these memories, his firsts with you. And there were countless - all kept near to your heart. Charlie, Angel and Niffty could pester you with any intrusive, interrogating question, you would only smile at them and repeat the same sentiment: What you see is the only thing you get to know.

"Alastor?"

"Hm?" Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his eyes focus on your beautiful face where he sees your brows furrowed with what he learned is concern.

"Is everything okay? You seemed to be somewhere else."

Ah, you were worried. For him. As you always were, so susceptible to his needs, as if it was natural to you. Another peculiarity and yet an incredibly welcome thing for a creature like him who found himself on the receiving end of unreciprocated concern very, very rarely.

"Just a little lost in thought is all, my dear."

"We can stop you know, it's almost midnight anyway." you say softly, your hands streaking soothingly over his arm as they slowly retreat from his shoulders.

He pauses, debating if the sensation of your fingertips touching the soft skin below his buzzed undercut, coupled with a very, very warm and inviting kiss had been enough. Had it ever been? Enough? It wasn't that you ever had any expectations of what would come after, seemingly content with anything he'd allow you to have - a softly spoken praise, an elegant compliment or even just peaceful silence before he'd take his leave. And knowing this Alastor suddenly is... displeased with the idea of this moment not lasting.

His claws wrap around your hands, a gentle pull guiding them back to their rightful place, back to the nape of his neck. He enjoys the rare sight of your surprised and red-flushed face before he let his lips trail your jawline, relishing in the way your skin breaks into goosebumps under his mere breath and fleeting touch before he speaks.

"I'm not so sure about that. Being able to stop, that is."

And he's true to his words. A searing fire is lit when your lips meet his again and his body tenses as he tries and fails to restrain the feeling it coaxes within him. Alastor wants to stay this time, wants to hold this miraculous thing that loves him so undeservingly close, wants to experience the feeling of skin on skin in your pristine bed sheets as he allows himself a rare night of sleep, with your sweet sighs as his lullaby and soft body as his covers. Another first with you, to add to the collection. And while you were always willing to indulge him, he feels, in the way you were pressing into him in cautious urgency, the whine that slips beyond the restriction of your bitten lips and the tremble of your fingers that you weaved into his hair, that this is - finally - what you, maybe for the first time, selfishly crave for, too.

Patience is a virtue, yes, but after all this saintly time he'd allow the both of you the sin of greed for a night.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #alastor fluff #the fluff fairy strikes again!#A pinch of tension #Alastor is bad at having feelings #what else is new #gravitational pull #kiss the deer

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callme-darling · 7 months

Text

soft, early morning sex with vincent

or; you’re awake before vincent for once and slowly wake him up in the way you know best

word count: 1.7k

warnings: fem reader, Horny, sleepy sex, grinding, reader wakes vincent up for sex, no prep, p-in-v, some fingering, it’s pretty soft stuff ngl

a/n: this was inspired by a dream i had and forever altered my brain chemistry

your eyes were still heavy with sleep, but your heart pounded steadily in your chest, your breath tense as if you had just run a short way. fleeting details of your waking dream still obscured the forefront recesses of your mind; the intimacy, the undeniable warmth and tenderness. you lay on your side, back towards the body occupying the other side of the bed. you shift carefully, mindful not to disturb the man still snoring softly beside you—the very man who, in your dreams, touched you with such devotion he was the reason you awoke nearly gasping for breath.

vincent looked peaceful, sleep one of the few stress-free experiences in his busy life. you smile softly to yourself, a soft hand brushing a strand of silver hair from where it had fallen over his brow. your gaze lingers over his features, the lines of his forehead less visible under the tranquility of sleep.

your heart, though calmer now, was still beating quickly in your ribcage, and the heat in your cheeks was becoming harder to ignore. your initial thought was to take a quick, cold shower. but the longer you looked at your lover, the more fierce these feelings grew, and the harder it became to deny them.

it was rare for you to wake before vincent, and even rarer for him to remain asleep after you stir awake. which, in your sleepy and lustful mind, called for the perfect wakeup plan.

it began with you placing warm, featherlike kisses on his cheek, the skin near his eye twitching minutely under the feeling. your lips diligently made their way from his face to the sensitive skin of his neck as your hands brushed over his shirt. the material bunched just above his navel, his skin soft as your fingers traced the faint ridges of his ribs.

then came the subdued moan from him. you stop your ministrations for a moment, bringing your face above his to study his rhythmic breathing. still asleep. your eyes flick back down to his neck, to where the collar of his tshirt exposed the top of his chest. with quiet determination, you sat up softly, allowing the duvet to fall from your shoulders.

the heat in your core was becoming near unbearable, and you were growing desperate to feel the hands of your dream on you in this life.

pushing the duvet down to his thighs, you were quick to replace the initial morning chill with your own warmth, hips ghosting over his until you gently rock them against his waist, stifling a faint moan with your lips pressed to the side of his throat. your hands were against his chest now, pushing his shirt up even further to expose his pale skin. your nails traced along his abdomen as your hips continued to slowly rock over his.

warm breath fanned across his neck with each whiny pant you let out, your shaky moans increasing in volume as you felt his half hard cock twitch under you, his hips shuddering to meet yours.

you bring your right hand to the side of his head to stabilize yourself. your eyes half lidded, you watched his face contort as his eyes fluttered gently, his teeth biting softly unto the plush of his bottom lip. the sight alone enough to have you leaning in to brush your lips over his, soft kisses quickly developing into a voyeuristic display of needy lips and even needier moans as vincent became more awake and aware of the current state of his darling girlfriend’s desperation.

his voice was thick with sleep, his accent barely intelligible, “good morning to you too, love- oh-“

you nearly whimper as you watch his eyes just barely roll back with a firm brush of your hips. his palms were warm against you as he gripped your waist, his fingers tickling the skin under your shirt.

“sorry..” you mumble, voice airy, “just needed you.” though, the way your hips moved over his seemed anything but remorseful.

the back of his head pressed into the pillow as his grip on your hips tightened, seemingly reigning in some control over your ministrations. you leaned down to trail wet kisses down his throat to his chest. he swallowed thickly, “fuck- …you look so good baby.”

your voice was tense, your panties becoming painfully uncomfortable, “please, please, can you fuck me?” you knew you sounded pitiful, but the ache in your core demanded some sort of relief.

a warm hand on your throat brought your mouth down to his, your lips soft and plaint as his tongue brushed against yours, drawing out a wanton moan from you. “how could i deny you, darling.”

you felt his hand dip under the waistband of your panties, groaning as his fingers explore just how wet you were able to make yourself. “what got you so worked up, hm?” you couldn’t tell if there was a teasing bite to his words, but the small smile on his face told you it was at least partial genuine curiosity.

you let yourself grind into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as soft, wet clicks filled the room. your breath trembled, your hands splayed on his abdomen to keep you upright, “h-had a dream.. ‘bout you.”

his fingers worked expertly toying with your puffy clit as his sleepy eyes glimmered with want. “oh? about me… and what was i doing in this dream?”

“vincent, please- please i need you-“

“and you’ll have me, dear. but i want to know more about your dream first.” he chuckled softly, “there’s no rush today, let’s enjoy this.”

when you didn’t answer for a few moments, vincent merely groaned. he pulled his hand away from your core and pushed you onto your back. the mattress bounced softly under your transferred weight, with him now kneeling over you.

“tell me, what was i doing in this dream of yours to get you so riled up?” he spoke quietly, his blue eyes fixed on yours. his hand pushed his hair away from his face before ghosting over your stomach as he waited for an answer.

you sucked in a silent breath. “you were touching me, telling me how you loved me..”

“and..?”

oh, you hated how your core clenched at his smile, the grin bordering on teasing. his other hand came to brush as strand of your hair from your cheek as he leaned in closer.

“i know it wasn’t real, but it felt so good-“ you rambled with a hushed whisper, “fuck… and then you looked so good when i woke up..”

at that, he smiled down at you, planting a kiss on your temple, “who knew you could be made so needy from a simple dream.”

in keeping with his promise, vincent began to slide your panties down your thighs, a string of your translucent slick snapping against the soft skin of your thighs as he pulled the material away. you felt your cheeks grow warmer at the sight of your nearly soaked-through panties being discarded on the floor, eyes searching for vincent’s only to find his fixed on your weeping pussy.

“shit, you’re s’fucking wet..” his voice was low, and you caught how his dick twitched, hard in his pants.

you felt like you could pass out if he didn’t touch you. your head fell back, eyes big and pleading up at him. “please, i’m ready. don’t need prep—please-“

vincent hesitated a moment, gentle eyes peering into you. “…you sure?”

“yes, yes please.” you nod enthusiastically. “i need to feel you.”

he still seemed to have his reservations, but hearing you beg so readily for him had him groaning under his breath. and who was he to deny you, his pretty girl?

you could barely contain your excitement as he undid the drawstring of his sweatpants, pushing the waistband down far enough to have his cock slap against his lower stomach. your eyes were fixated as his hand stroked it, the tip leaking a bead of precum down the shaft, blushed a pretty pink.

a finger under your chin pulled your gaze back up to his face where a playful smirk had your cheeks flushed. “tell me if it’s too much.” even in such intimate moments, vincent never failed to put you first, and it made your heart race even more.

when you finally felt his tip line up with your entrance, you felt yourself tense up in anticipation. his lips were warm on your neck, “relax ma cherie… yes..” he groaned as he began to slowly sink into your heat, “just like that, fuck-“

your head fell back, eyes rolling as a breathless whine tumbled from your lips. it felt good, so fucking good. the way he was stretching you out on his long cock could make you lose your mind. you turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering as he shallowly thrusted into you.

“so tight, love, so fuckin’ tight..” he cursed under his breath, voice thick with lust.

you couldn’t respond, not with the way your needy pussy was finally being used like you needed. your hands found vincent’s shoulders, nails digging pretty crescents into his skin as he picked up his pace, fucking into you as your cunt squelched loudly with each thrust.

“you’re so pretty like this, so pretty and all for me.”

your knees were on either side of his hips, feet dangling in the air as you felt your mind go blank, a stream of whiny moans punctuated with every full thrust into your core.

you were so worked up and so close to the release you needed, and vincent’s skilled fingers playing with your clit again was the final push. your mouth fell open, eyes screwed shut as you felt yourself come hard around his cock.

“that’s it, fuck, you feel so good-“ your pussy clenched around his dick like a vice, his head falling to your shoulder as he came inside you, panting as his dick still throbbed in your core.

when you both finally regained your composure, you bring yourself to look at him only to find him wearing a lovesick grin on his face. he leans down, planting a sweet kiss to your lips before whispering, “good morning, my love.”

#♱₊˚✧ filth .#swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall vincent

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Note

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along.

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader

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coffeeshades · 2 months

Text

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy angst #cillian murphy fluff #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fic

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darkenedurge · 1 year

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Edit / Update : Part 2 is now posted here.

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐲.

“ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐲, 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐞𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 – 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡. ”

` Inspired by this post.

And also, this song;

˚ ✧.

“But, ma’am, you could have anyone you wanted–”

Your dagger was swiftly swung, landing just a mere fraction before it met the skin of the poor, fragile, meek, little butler. His eyes flit, from each corner of the room, to the door – as it remained open, only by a crack. If he ran, he surely couldn’t make it, and even if he did – that would certainly be the end for him. This was heresy, both you and he knew that equally. Yet, another shared knowledge, was that you would never free your favourite toy. You were bounded in his chains, just as much as he in yours – Enver Gortash.

It wasn’t a faux claim, to say that you could have anyone. Followers, worshippers, dedicants of Bhaal, were far too quick, eager to throw themselves at your feet – be bent at your will, trampled beneath your pretty foot. These were all trivial matters, and ones that you rarely indulged in for such reasons. Perhaps on occasion, for a quick fuck. Though, you were almost always unsatisfied – insatiable.

Always would you delve impatient, frustrated fingers into your begging cunt, bringing yourself to the edge with a flutter of your eyelashes. Pleasure, but not in its truth. No, that’s where Enver came in.

You weren’t sure how it had even occurred. He and you, had always had a lingering eye for once another – stealing glances and sparing the flick of your tongue across your lip, wetting the plush skin, as you allowed yourself only a second longer to indulge in his stature. Small, fleeting moments of tension had somehow, pinned you beneath him – his teeth assaulting your collarbones, marks of possession and brutality staining your skin. Even the simple, slight swirl of his tongue as his mouth enveloped your nipple, had you gasping – hand flying to his hair, fingers curling and taking a fistful of his shaggy, inky locks. His knee parts your legs, and you rut needily against him. To which, he chuckles – scoffs, and tuts, “Impatient little thing, aren’t you? Someone hasn’t been taking care of my favourite assassin in my absence.. I should’ve claimed you sooner.” Sweet, citrusy words. Words of praise that, pathetically, could’ve made you come right there and then.

“M’sorry..” You murmur, breath audibly hitching as Enver pinched a nipple between his teeth, “You just feel so good.”

He hums, and the sound reverberates through your chest – forcing a shiver to course throughout your body, riding up your spine. “We’ve barely started, little one,” His eyes greet yours, head raised as he speaks, “It’s not good quite yet.”

That’s when your lips connect, for the first time, and the entirety of your stomach coils into tight, pleading knots. Enver grunts, the noise muffled by your intertwined passion – drool seeping from the side of your mouth, sloppy, wet dances shared between your tongues.

You don’t see Enver naked, then. You wouldn’t for a while. For now, and hereafter, he’d simply shrug himself free of the confines that his clothes so needlessly, annoyingly provided. As lazily as he’d enabled himself, Enver only provided the same impatience for you – ushering your panties aside, in favour of wasting precious seconds tugging them down to rest at your ankles. In a strange acknowledgment of admiration, you favoured his methods. His comprehensive need to feel you swallow his cock, take him the way the Gods had so sinfully intended.

Enver wets his fingers, tongue resting upon his lower lip as he swiped the tips until they were adequately coated – lathering your entrance in his saliva, earning a subtle flinch on your behalf. No warning is offered, he pushes into you with force, heavenly in the way that it hurts – in the way he stretches you, as he bottoms out with a wavering groan.

Your walls flutter around him, your hands finding their place upon his shoulders as he begins to piston his hips at a relentless, pace – you squeak, squeal, your nails press into the supple flesh beneath them. Enver is not shy to make noise, in return, his mouth no prison to the grunts, groans and moans that follow – in tandem with his thrusts. Over and over, you feel him assault a spot you hadn’t even known existed – deep, deep inside of you, making you quiver and tighten rhythmically.

“Say my name, little one,” Enver pants out in demand, fucking you evermore, “Say my name.”

You could hardly deny the request of a man who was literally, fucking you senseless. Making your head spin, your cheeks flush and stomach churn. “Enver..” You whine, like a mewling kitten. No, not good enough.

Again, “Enver.” It’s louder this time, and your nails drag down his upper back.

“Enver!” Oh Gods, are you going to cum?

As your heart pounds mercilessly in your ears, you can distantly hear Enver release a small, huff of a laugh. You voice is almost hoarse, as a cry strangles from your throat, “Enver! Enver, I’m-!”

You came. It’s akin to that of a crashing wave, and a roaring fire, in beautiful unison. There’s a hot, swarming pool that follows – Enver, no doubt, laying his claim; cumming almost simultaneously, filling you to the brim. You’re trembling as he holds you, pulls you flush against his chest and peppers kisses to the nape of your neck.

He wouldn’t be staying long. Slinking off back, toward his duties without so much as a whisper. Still, such ignorance didn’t pain you. You knew he’d be back, this was the very birth of a whirlwind. One that was destructive, perhaps. But, destruction is your birthright. Your solemn purpose.

You sit, thighs sticky and skin glazed in sweat. “Father,” Your hand is clutched to your exposed chest, resting over the thrum of your heart, “Forgive me..please.”

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oceandolores · 2 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 6

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: joel finally let him make a woman out of you, as you both now in this together, just you and him.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 6

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 5

next | chapter 7

Another week had begun its slow, inevitable march toward Sunday, the day of the dance troupe’s performance, and every day felt more intense than the last. You were drowning in rehearsals, schoolwork, and the looming graduation that was just weeks away. Every minute of your day seemed spoken for, filled with the weight of responsibility and expectation. But even in the midst of all this, you and Joel found ways to be together.

Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, you’d sneak out of your window and meet him in the truck parked a few blocks away. Or he’d call you, his voice a low, comforting murmur as you curled up in bed, the house quieter without your father’s overbearing presence. Your mother, wrapped up in her own world, turned a blind eye to your late nights, allowing you more freedom as long as you kept up appearances during the day. It was in these stolen moments, with the world asleep, that you felt the pull between you and Joel growing stronger.

Being with him was like finding refuge from a storm. His presence calmed you, his voice soothed you, and his touch—those rare, fleeting moments when your hands brushed or when he held you close—ignited something deep inside you. You were falling for him, and you knew it. It wasn’t just infatuation or some fleeting crush. It was the kind of love that snuck up on you slowly, like a vine wrapping around your heart, binding you to him with every passing day.

Joel felt it too, though he struggled to name it. He’d never intended to fall in love again, especially not with you, so young and full of life. But there it was, this fierce protectiveness that had morphed into something much deeper. It was in the way he thought about you constantly, the way his heart twisted when he saw you smile, the way he ached for you in ways that scared him. Love had a way of finding him, even when he thought he’d shut the door on it for good.

Yet, neither of you spoke of it. The word “love” hung in the air, unspoken, because saying it out loud would change everything. So you let it linger, allowing the unspoken bond to grow, rich with possibilities and fears.

At the church, rehearsals were growing more intense with each passing day. Jemima was absent, ill with the flu, and it had spread like wildfire that she and Ben were expecting their first child. The news sent waves of excitement through the troupe, but it also left Ben in charge, his presence more pronounced now that Jemima wasn’t there to temper him.

You began to notice things about Ben that made your skin crawl. He wasn’t just watching you; he was watching all of the younger girls too, his eyes lingering just a little too long. He was full of compliments and encouragements, and while the other girls seemed to lap it up, something about it felt wrong to you. It was subtle—just a hint of something dark lurking beneath his charming exterior. But you could sense it, like the distant rumble of thunder on a clear day.

After rehearsal, you decided to stay behind in the church, needing a moment to yourself. The soft strains of gospel music echoed through the empty hall, and you let it wash over you, trying to clear your mind. Emma was there too, chatting away about the upcoming performance, and to your surprise, Ellie had stayed as well, snapping pictures on her phone.

“These are for the behind-the-scenes album I’m putting together,” she said with a grin, her camera clicking away as she captured the stained glass windows, the pews, the half-empty stage. Ellie had a sharp eye, always finding beauty in the mundane.

Just as you were starting to relax, the heavy oak door creaked open, and Ben walked in, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. “Afternoon, girls,” he greeted, his voice smooth as ever.

“Afternoon, Ben,” you, Emma, and Ellie chorused in return, each in your own tone. Emma’s voice was bright and eager, yours polite but reserved, and Ellie’s—Ellie’s had a slight edge to it.

“You’re all doing great,” Ben continued, his gaze sweeping over you. “The routine is really coming together. I’m impressed. Just a few more adjustments, and you’ll be perfect for Sunday.”

Emma giggled, clearly pleased with his praise. “Thanks, Ben. We’ve been working hard.”

Ben smiled at her, and then his eyes settled on you, and you felt that uncomfortable prickle again. “And you, you’ve really found your rhythm. It’s good to see,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer, more personal.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Ben. Just trying to keep up.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Oh, you’re doing more than keeping up. You’re leading the pack. Really standing out.” His compliment was laced with something that made you want to shrink back, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see your discomfort.

Ellie, who had been quietly observing from behind her camera, stepped forward. “You know, Ben, the girls have been working really hard. Maybe you should give them a break and let them have some fun,” she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

Ben’s smile faltered just a fraction. “Fun is important too, Ellie,” he said smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice now. He turned his attention back to you. “Anyway, keep it up. I'll see you girls tomorrow for another practice," You and Emma nodded and say goodbye to him.

He lingered a moment longer, his eyes flicking between you and Ellie, before finally walking away, leaving the three of you in a heavy silence.

Ellie waited until he was out of earshot before turning to you and Emma. “Is it just me or something's off with that new Pastor?"

Emma frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Ben’s great. He’s just being supportive.”

Ellie shook her head, her expression serious. “Supportive, sure. But there’s something else. I don’t know, he just… he gives me the creeps.”

You chuckled softly as you bent down, cooling down your sore leg muscles after the intense rehearsal. “He’s just being nice, Ellie,” you said, glancing up at her with a small smile. “He’s new in town, and Jemima just got back here after years. Maybe he’s still adjusting.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “Yeah, but still, something’s off. Have you noticed how he barely interacts with Jemima? It’s like they’re not even married.”

Emma, sitting nearby and stretching her arms, shrugged. “That’s not so unusual. They got married really young, and Jemima’s father pretty much arranged the whole thing. Sometimes that kind of marriage starts off with all the passion in the world, but then, over time, it fades. You get bored. What was once exciting becomes mundane, especially if you’re not with the right person. I just hope that doesn’t happen with Jim and me.”

Emma’s words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself lost in thought. You and Joel were in that heated, intoxicating phase where every touch felt electric, every glance held a thousand unspoken promises. But what if it didn’t last? What if the fire between you eventually died down, leaving only ashes of what once was? Could Joel grow tired of you, the way Ben seemed to have grown distant from Jemima?

Ellie noticed your distraction and nudged you gently. “Hey, you okay? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Emma turned her attention to you as well, her eyes curious. “Yeah, you’re awfully quiet. What about you and this new boy you’ve been spending time with? Have you tried, you know… to please him?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head quickly. “No, I haven’t. He said he doesn’t want to rush things if I’m not ready.”

Emma smiled warmly, her eyes soft with understanding. “Aw, he sounds sweet. Taking things slow is good.”

Ellie, however, wasn’t about to let the conversation end there. “Wait, who’s this boy? Jamie?” The mention of his name made your heart tighten, a pang of discomfort cutting through you.

Emma was quick to correct her. “No, not Jamie. She broke up with him. This one’s new.” Emma leaned in closer, a mischievous grin on her face. “She said she wants to please him, and you know… blow him.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose, half in disgust and half in amusement. “Gross! But seriously, who is this guy? You’re being so mysterious about him.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone sinking in deep water. There was no way you could tell them the truth—not about Joel, not about the intense, forbidden love that had blossomed between you two in the shadows. Instead, you kept your tone light, trying to mask the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“So,” you began cautiously, your voice a little shaky, “what if there’s someone… someone who makes you feel everything at once? Like, when I’m with him, it’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and it’s terrifying, but it’s also exhilarating, like I could just… fly.”

Emma, who was a little older and more experienced in these matters, tilted her head thoughtfully. “That sounds intense. But in a good way, right? Like, you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before?”

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. “Yeah, exactly. But it’s also scary, you know? Like, what if I’m the only one feeling this way? What if… what if he doesn’t feel the same, or he’s just—”

Ellie, who was the youngest but no less insightful, cut in. “Boys are confusing. I don’t understand them half the time. But if he’s making you feel like that, it sounds like he’s important to you. Have you talked to him about it? Like, really talked?”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “Not really. It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure if I’m even making sense to myself. It’s like… when I’m with him, everything else fades away, and it’s just us. But then I start thinking—what if I’m just dreaming? What if he’s not really into me the way I’m into him? What if… what if I’m not enough?”

Emma leaned forward, her gaze steady and warm. “Love is a gamble, always. It’s putting your heart out there, knowing it might get hurt. But from what you’re saying, it sounds like you care about him a lot. And that’s not something to take lightly. The fact that he makes you feel like you’re flying… that’s something special. Don’t be afraid of it.”

Ellie, despite her inexperience, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe I don’t get boys, but I do know that if someone makes you feel that way, you’ve got to go for it. But also… protect yourself. Make sure he’s worth it.”

You took a deep breath, their words comforting but not fully easing the uncertainty gnawing at you. “It’s just… I’m falling for him, I think. Really falling. But I keep wondering—what if he doesn’t catch me? What if I just… crash?”

Emma nodded thoughtfully, her eyes soft with understanding. "If he’s showing you that he cares, even in small ways, that’s a good sign. Maybe he does have feelings for you, but sometimes guys—especially older guys—are more complicated. They’ve been through stuff, you know? Past relationships, heartbreaks, things that might make them scared to fall again.”

You froze for a moment, realizing your slip-up, but quickly tried to cover it. "Wait, how do you know he's older than me? I never said that."

Emma smirked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn’t have to. The way you describe him—how he’s cautious, how he’s been through stuff—it’s not hard to guess. Sounds like he’s probably some college guy you met at a party or something.”

You bit your lip, Emma’s words hitting closer to home than she knew. Joel had his scars, that much you could tell. You’d seen the way he sometimes looked at you, as if he wanted to reach out but something held him back. The fear of history repeating itself, perhaps, of loving and losing all over again.

“But if he’s giving you mixed signals,” Emma continued gently, “it might be worth talking to him about it. Slowly, of course. Just… open up the conversation. Let him know how you’re feeling. Sometimes they just need a little nudge to be honest about what’s going on in their head.”

You sighed, thinking of Joel’s careful distance, the way he always seemed to pull back just when things got too intense. “I’m just scared, you know? We were talking about Ben and Jemima earlier, how things can start off so strong, and then… fade away. What if that happens to us? What if we’re so in love now, but then he gets bored, or… or realizes he doesn’t actually want me?”

Emma reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “That’s a valid fear, especially with what we see around us. But relationships are built on more than just the initial spark. It’s about growing together, working through the ups and downs. If you’re both willing to put in the effort, to communicate and be honest with each other, there’s no reason it has to fade. But you have to trust each other too.”

You nodded slowly, taking in her words. Trust. That was the foundation of everything, wasn’t it? And while you knew you trusted Joel with your life, trusting him with your heart was a different matter entirely. The idea of opening up that conversation with him, of laying your feelings bare, was terrifying—but maybe it was the only way to move forward.

“Just… take it one step at a time,” Emma added softly. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just be honest with yourself and with him, and see where it leads.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little.

Ellie leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity. "He’s older? Just tell me who it is, c’monnn!"

You felt your heart race, a mix of panic and amusement bubbling up inside you. If only they knew who you were actually talking about. You shot Ellie a look, half-joking, half-serious. “Oh, if you found out who I’m talking about, you’d… you’d probably kill me.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Now you have to tell me. Who is this mystery guy? Don’t leave me hanging!”

You shook your head, laughing nervously as you tried to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it was headed into. “Nope, not happening. But trust me, he’s… someone who cares a lot about me. And that’s what matters, right?”

Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly, clearly amused by your evasiveness. “Alright, keep your secrets. But just know, we’re here for you, okay? If you ever need to talk… or if you just want to gush about how amazing he is.”

Ellie gave you a teasing nudge. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, if he’s treating you right, that’s all that matters. If not, we'll kick his senior ass,"

You chuckled at Ellie’s playful threat, though the thought of her actually kicking Joel’s ass was beyond ironic. If only she knew the truth—she’d be horrified, not to mention utterly confused.

As the three of you wrapped up your conversation and began gathering your things to head home, you felt a mix of relief and longing. Joel had promised to take you to the night fair in Houston tomorrow, a rare escape from your daily routine, and the idea of spending the night at his Houston house afterward made your heart race. You’d already told your mom another carefully crafted lie, saying you’d be staying at Ellie’s for the night. Your mom never doubted you, never checked. She believed in the goodness of her preacher’s daughter, convinced that you were beyond sin.

Lately, you found yourself praying more, asking for forgiveness for the web of lies you were spinning, for the thoughts and actions that felt so dirty, so far from the holy path you were supposed to walk. You quoted scriptures to yourself, verses about purity and truth, trying to cling to some semblance of the person you used to be. But each time you whispered those prayers, guilt weighed heavily on your soul like a stone sinking deeper into a dark, endless sea.

As you stepped outside the church and said your goodbyes to Emma and Ellie, you felt a sudden chill. Just as you turned to leave, Ben appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump.

“Oh, Ben! Lord, you scare me,” you exclaimed, trying to steady your racing heart.

He chuckled softly, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Just finishing up some business with the church elders.”

You nodded, still a bit rattled. “I thought you’d gone home already.”

He shook his head, looking at you with those intense eyes that always seemed to linger a moment too long. “Not yet. I had a few things to take care of. Are you heading home now?”

You nodded again, more out of politeness than anything else. “Yeah, I’m walking this time."

"No ride from your friend today?" Ben asked again, "No," You answered, "He's busy," you smile at him politely.

Ben’s expression brightened, and he offered, “Do you need a lift? I’m heading to Burger King, and it’s on the way to your place.”

You hesitated, a little voice inside you whispering to say no. But you’d been raised to never refuse a kind offer, especially from someone who seemed to mean well. It was one of the many lessons your father had drilled into you.

“Sure, that would be nice,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ben smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up, “Great. My car’s just around the corner.”

Ben’s car ride was quiet at first, an awkward silence settling between the two of you. You stared out the window, the streets passing by in a blur, trying to shake the unease that had crept into your chest. But the silence grew heavier, so you decided to break it.

“So, you lived in Mexico before coming here?” you asked, glancing over at him. “How long were you there?”

Ben’s face lit up at the question, the tension in the car easing as he spoke. “Yeah, I did. Jemima and I moved there right after we got married. I was a preacher there, too. The first year was tough—language barriers and all. But now I’m fluent in Spanish. Mexico… it’s an incredible place.”

He launched into stories about his time in Mexico, his voice warm and animated. He spoke highly of the country, describing the vibrant culture, the beautiful landscapes, and the deep faith of the people he ministered to. You found yourself listening intently, the charm in his voice almost infectious.

“You ever been to Mexico?” he asked suddenly, turning the conversation back to you.

You shook your head, a little embarrassed. “No, I’ve never really been anywhere.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “You should go someday. It’s life-changing.”

As he continued to speak, occasionally cracking jokes that were surprisingly funny, you couldn’t help but notice how likable he seemed. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, his words smooth and reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing a bit in his presence.

Before long, you arrived at Burger King. Ben pulled up to the drive-thru and asked, “What do you want? My treat.”

“Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks,” you replied, not wanting to be a bother.

But Ben insisted, ordering something for you anyway. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he said with a grin.

As you waited in the drive-thru line, he pulled out his phone, showing you photos from his time in Mexico. The images were stunning—vibrant markets, serene beaches, and old churches with intricate architecture.

“Wow, these are beautiful,” you murmured, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, it was a special time in my life,” Ben replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

You couldn’t help but feel drawn in by his stories and the way he spoke of his experiences with such passion. Yet, beneath it all, there was still that small, persistent feeling in your gut—something you couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

You listened to Ben’s words, nodding politely, but that uneasy feeling in your stomach only grew stronger. His tone had shifted, taking on the familiar cadence of the sermons you’d heard your father give a thousand times. He began talking about the girls in Mexico, how they were deeply religious, involved in church activities, just like you and your friends.

“It’s good, you know,” Ben continued, his voice warm with approval. “To have a group of young people who still believe in God and walk in His ways. Especially girls your age—this is the time when they’re most likely to stray, to rebel and search for themselves. Like your friend, Emma. How old is she?”

“She’s 20,” you replied, wondering why he was suddenly bringing Emma into the conversation.

Ben nodded thoughtfully. “So she’s the oldest in your dance group?”

“Yeah,” you answered, feeling a slight unease. You couldn’t help but notice that Ben didn’t seem to pay much attention to Emma, probably because she was older, and now that you thought about it, his attention had always been more focused on the younger girls.

“Girls around that age need God the most,” Ben said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “That’s when the temptations are strongest—sex before marriage, drugs, alcohol… it’s important to stay on the right path, to keep close to God.”

You nodded again, but internally, you were starting to feel a bit trapped, as if you were listening to one of your father’s lectures all over again.

Ben shifted the conversation to Ellie. “And how old is Ellie?”

“She’s 16,” you replied, wondering why he was so interested.

“Ah, Ellie… she’s a bit of a tomboy, isn’t she?” Ben remarked, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “Dresses like a boy… but, you know, girls should embrace their femininity, dress like girls. It’s how God made them, after all.”

His words made you cringe inwardly, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. His opinions were starting to feel like a lecture on how you and your friends should live your lives, and it was beginning to make you feel nauseated.

Then, suddenly, he looked over at you, his eyes lingering a little too long. “And you… how old are you?”

You tell him your age, trying to keep your voice steady. Ben’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “You look younger than your age. Act younger too. I wouldn’t have guessed,"

The comment sent a chill down your spine, and you found yourself wondering why he was so focused on everyone’s age. Before you could dwell on it too long, the drive-thru window opened, and the employee handed over the bag of food.

“Here we go,” Ben said with a smile, taking the bag. The momentary distraction was a relief, but that uncomfortable feeling still lingered in the back of your mind, making you question why Ben was so interested in all these details.

Ben handed you the bag of food with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You took it, muttering a quick “thank you” as you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, with you staring out the window, lost in thought. The houses and trees blurred together as you tried to shake off the lingering discomfort that Ben’s questions had stirred in you.

Before you knew it, you were in front of your house. Ben pulled up to the curb and turned to you with that same smile. “Here we are,” he said. “It was nice talking to you. Remember, if you need anything, anything at all, you can reach out to me, okay? I’d be happy to help.”

You forced a smile and nodded, even though your mind was already halfway out the door. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate it.”

As you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that the conversation was over. You waved goodbye as Ben drove off, then turned and walked up to your front door.

Inside, the familiar smell of home greeted you, comforting in its simplicity. You found your mom in the kitchen, prepping ingredients for dinner.

“Mama, I'm home,” you said, setting the food on the counter.

She glanced up from her chopping board and smiled. “Hello, sweetheart. Who dropped you off?”

“Ben,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Ben?” your mom echoed, her brow furrowing slightly before she nodded. “Alright, then. Go get cleaned up, and then come help me with dinner, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” you said, grateful for the chance to escape to your room for a moment.

You hurried upstairs, your thoughts still swirling from the strange conversation with Ben. As you washed your hands and face, you tried to focus on the routine, grounding yourself in the simple actions. But Ben’s words kept echoing in your mind, especially the way he’d looked at you, his questions about your friends, and the way he’d emphasized that you could reach out to him anytime.

A shiver ran down your spine as you recalled the way his gaze had lingered on you, the way he’d seemed to be sizing you up. You pushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the here and now, on helping your mom with dinner and the promise of a normal evening.

But even as you headed back downstairs to the kitchen, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about Ben just wasn’t right.

***

Joel sat heavily on one of the barstools at Tommy’s place, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light, reflecting the turbulence of his thoughts. It had been a rough day, and he welcomed the soothing burn of the alcohol, hoping it might dull the ache of his internal struggle. Tommy, ever the supportive brother, poured himself a drink and settled beside Joel, the two of them sinking into the comfortable chaos of their late-night ritual.

Joel took a moment to catch his breath as he dialed Ellie’s number, the familiar, comforting weight of his phone in his hand. He left a quick voicemail, letting her know not to wait up for him, and that he had a spare key if she needed it. “Just lock up when you head to bed,” he said, his voice rough but warm. As he hung up, he turned his attention back to the whiskey, its amber glow mirroring the turbulence inside him.

The amber liquid seemed to dance in the dim light, reflecting the stormy skies of his mind. He took a deep sip, savoring the burn as it traced a fiery path down his throat. The warmth was soothing, but it did little to calm the storm raging within him. The ache in his chest felt like an endless ocean, where the waves were laced with memories and fears.

As he sat there, the world around him became a blur of muted colors and distant sounds. His thoughts drifted to you, the person who had entered his life like a sudden gust of wind through a cracked window—unexpected, refreshing, and profoundly unsettling. You were like a burst of sunlight breaking through the relentless clouds of his past, casting long shadows of doubt and hope across the landscape of his heart.

Joel had always been a man of walls and distance, his heart a fortress built from the rubble of loss and pain. After the death of his wife and daughter, he had fortified himself against the world, each brick a testament to his fear and grief. But you, with your light and laughter, had begun to chip away at those walls, like the slow, persistent erosion of the sea against a stubborn cliff.

He was beginning to realize the depth of his feelings for you, but it was like trying to catch a falling star with bare hands—beautiful, elusive, and fraught with danger. You had stirred something in him that he thought was long dead, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his heart. It was as if you had reignited a fire that he had buried deep beneath layers of sorrow and self-preservation.

Yet, with every flicker of warmth came a wave of fear. Joel’s desire to protect you was intertwined with his dread of falling too deeply, of losing himself in a love that might only lead to more pain. He was terrified of opening up, of allowing himself to be vulnerable again. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the abyss of his own emotions, afraid to take that final step.

The night wore on, and Joel’s thoughts remained tangled in the delicate threads of his emotions. The whiskey continued to burn its way through him, a temporary balm for the deeper ache that lingered just beneath the surface. As he drank, he found himself grappling with the realization that, for the first time in a very long time, he felt truly alive—an unsettling, exhilarating sensation that both frightened and exhilarated him.

Tommy watched him, the lines of concern etched deeply on his face as he took in Joel’s introspective silence. “You alright there, brother? Something on your mind?”

Joel looked up, the weight of his feelings heavy in his gaze. “Yeah, just... thinking about things."

Tommy leaned in, his eyes steady and empathetic. The soft strains of “Helplessly Hoping” played in the background, its melancholic melody wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket. He adjusted the volume on his Bluetooth stereo, the music providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

“You can talk to me, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. “What’s got you so wrapped up in your thoughts?”

Joel took a deep breath, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he considered his response. The song’s delicate notes seemed to echo his own uncertainty. He knew he couldn’t lay everything bare—there were things he couldn’t quite put into words, and a person he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“It’s... complicated,” Joel began, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid. “There’s someone in my life who’s making me rethink a lot of things.”

Tommy’s interest piqued, but he remained patient. “Complicated how? If you need advice, I’m here.”

Joel hesitated, the words feeling too heavy to articulate. “I’ve been closed off for a long time. Lost my way after... well, after everything. And now... I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s like she’s pulled me out of this dark place I’ve been in.”

Tommy’s expression softened, sensing the depth of Joel’s struggle. “So this person, she’s important to you?”

Joel nodded slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah. She’s... making me feel alive again. But it’s not simple. I’m afraid of what it means, and I’m scared of letting myself fall too deep.”

Tommy took a thoughtful sip of his drink, considering Joel’s words. “You know, sometimes the hardest part is letting go of the past. You’ve been through a lot, Joel. But if this person is bringing light into your life, maybe that’s something worth holding onto.”

Joel glanced at Tommy, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and apprehension. “But what if it’s just a fleeting feeling? What if I’m setting myself up for more hurt?”

Tommy shook his head, his demeanor calm and grounded. “Nothing in life is guaranteed. But you can’t keep living in fear of what might happen. Sometimes you have to take a chance, even if it’s scary. You’ve got to ask yourself if the risk is worth the potential for happiness.”

Joel considered Tommy’s words, the song’s lyrics mingling with his thoughts like a haunting reminder of his inner turmoil. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy replied. “Love’s not easy. It’s messy and unpredictable, but that’s part of what makes it so powerful. If you’re feeling something genuine, maybe it’s worth exploring, even if it means facing your fears.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the weight of Tommy’s advice settling over him. The whiskey had lost some of its warmth, replaced by a cold clarity that made his choices seem more imminent. “I just don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the back, a gesture of camaraderie and support. “You won’t know unless you try."

The room fell silent, save for the soft strains of the song and the occasional clink of glasses. Joel’s mind raced with the possibility of what could be, the fear and excitement warring within him. He knew the path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope—a faint light guiding him through the darkness.

***

The night fair in Houston was alive with energy and light, a vibrant spectacle against the dark sky. As you and Joel arrived, the fairgrounds were bustling with people, the air filled with the sweet scent of cotton candy and the tantalizing aroma of various foods from the stalls.

Joel parked the car and you both walked hand in hand through the fair. The distant music of carnival rides and the laughter of children filled the air. Brightly colored lights illuminated the various attractions, casting a magical glow over the scene.

You and Joel started with the classic fare: fluffy cotton candy, crisp corn dogs, and a shared bucket of buttery popcorn. You laughed as Joel tried to guess which food would be the most calorie-laden, joking about how he was saving up for a “cheat day” in honor of the fair. The two of you wandered through the stalls, stopping occasionally to admire the trinkets and games.

At one point, you spotted the towering Ferris wheel, its lights twinkling like a cascade of stars against the night sky. You eagerly suggested riding it, and Joel, though hesitant at first, agreed with a soft chuckle. As the Ferris wheel slowly lifted you high above the fairgrounds, you marveled at the breathtaking view of the city below. The lights danced like fireflies, and for a moment, everything felt serene and perfect.

Afterward, you both ventured into the various game booths, trying your luck at the ring toss, shooting galleries, and more. Joel’s competitive spirit shone through as he focused intently on a ring toss game, and with a triumphant grin, he managed to win you a large, cuddly teddy bear.

You clutched the bear tightly, beaming up at Joel. “You did it! Thank you!”

Joel chuckled, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the festive lights around you. “I promised I’d win you something special, didn’t I?”

You hug him and then saw a photobooth, "Oh my god! They have photobooth, let's go, Joel!"

Joel followed you to the photobooth, his initial reluctance evident in the furrow of his brow. “Come on, doll. I told you, I don’t like my picture taken. I’m not exactly a fan of how I look in photos.”

You tugged on his hand, laughing as you pulled him towards the booth. “Oh, come on, Joel. It’ll be fun! And besides, we don’t have any photos of us together. I want to remember this night.”

Joel sighed, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright. But don’t expect me to be smiling too pretty.”

Inside the photobooth, you both squeezed in, the cramped space adding to the charm of the moment. You set the timer and started with silly faces, pulling exaggerated expressions that made Joel chuckle despite himself. You blew kisses at him and cheekily tried to steal a few pecks, each one making him smile more genuinely.

Joel’s smiles grew softer, his eyes tender as he watched you. In the final frame, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, which prompted you to pull him closer. The moment turned more intimate, and you both ended up sharing a sweet, lingering kiss, captured forever in the final photo.

When the strip of photos emerged, you grinned at the sequence of images. Each picture captured a different facet of your shared joy and affection. You turned to the attendant and asked, “Do you have a pen?”

After receiving a pen, you carefully wrote on the photo strip, “Me and Joel. Houston.” You then showed Joel the photos, laughing as you did. “Look at these! They’re so cute. I’m keeping one for myself.”

Joel took the photo strip, his gaze soft as he looked at the images. “They turned out pretty good, huh?” He smiled, his tone warm and genuine.

You carefully folded one photo and tucked it into your wallet, a small keepsake of your time together. Joel slipped his into his wallet, keeping it close. “I’ll keep mine with me too,” he said, a hint of emotion in his voice. “It’s a nice reminder of tonight.”

As you both left the photobooth, the night air felt a bit cooler, but the warmth between you lingered. Joel’s gestures and the shared laughter had added a special touch to the evening. The fair had been a whirlwind of excitement, but it was these small, tender moments that made the night unforgettable.

As the night wore on, you both decided to head back to the house in Houston. The drive was filled with playful banter and comfortable silence. Joel’s excitement about showing you his latest project was palpable.

Arriving at the house, Joel led you inside. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom, the anticipation evident in his step. When you entered the room, you were struck by how beautifully it had been transformed. The walls were a rich, warm brown, and the classic-modern furnishings blended seamlessly with a touch of Southern charm. The bed was made with crisp, white linens, and the room was thoughtfully decorated with subtle touches that made it feel inviting and elegant.

“Oh, Joel,” you said, your eyes wide with admiration. “This is amazing. Did you really do all this by yourself?”

Joel nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. “Yeah. I figured if we’re going to be spending a lot of time here, it should be comfortable. We’ve been making do with the sofa in the upstairs balcony, and I didn’t want you to keep feeling cramped.”

You walked around the room, touching the smooth surfaces and taking in the details. “It’s perfect. I love it. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he watched you. “I wanted it to be a nice space for us. You’ve been spending a lot of time here, and I wanted you to feel at home. This is our place now.”

You looked back at him, touched by his gesture. “Thank you, Joel. It’s more than I could have imagined. It feels like a real home.”

Joel’s eyes held a mixture of affection and vulnerability. “I’m glad you like it. It’s important to me that you’re comfortable."

You placed the teddy bear on the bedside and flopped onto the bed, the plush comfort enveloping you. You patted the space beside you with a playful smile. “Come on, join me."

Joel hesitated for a moment, then slowly shrugged off his jacket, placing it carefully on the chair. He set his phone and wallet on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and unhurried. With a deep breath, he settled onto the bed beside you, the mattress giving slightly under his weight.

The bed was indeed as comfortable as it looked, and you felt a sense of contentment settle over you as you nestled closer to Joel. He positioned himself beside you, his presence warm and reassuring. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving just the two of you in this peaceful cocoon.

Joel’s hand found yours, their touch a simple yet profound connection. He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting a blend of affection and introspection. “You alright?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, just... happy. You make me really happy. Thank you, Joel.”

Joel’s lips curved into a tender smile before he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was both passionate and soft, a dance of longing and tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. It was as if in that single moment, you both were saying everything that words might fail to express.

When you finally pulled back, you looked into his eyes, your voice steady but filled with earnest emotion. “Joel, I think I’m ready.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ready for what?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words. “I’m ready for you.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay if you’re not. I don’t want to rush you into anything. We can take our time.”

You shook your head, your resolve unwavering. “No, I’m ready. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Joel’s gaze softened, but he was still cautious. “I want to make sure you’re absolutely certain. This is a big step, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The more you talked, the more you felt a growing sense of frustration. You shifted away from him, sitting up and turning to face him, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “What’s wrong with you, Joel? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Joel’s voice was gentle, trying to calm you. “It’s not that, darlin’. I just want to make sure you’re ready. It’s important to me that you feel secure.”

Your eyes filled with a mix of hurt and desperation. “Is it because I’m no longer a virgin? Because I’m not pure? Because of what Jamie did to me?”

Joel's eyes filled with a deep sorrow as he reached out to hold your hand, but you pulled away, your voice trembling with anguish. "What? Baby, it’s not that..."

Before Joel could finish, you cut him off, your words laced with desperation. "Because I'm dirty? Is that it?"

Joel's face crumpled with pain, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. It’s never been about you being dirty.”

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to convey his feelings without causing you more hurt. “Then what is it? I need to know, Joel.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “It’s about protecting you. You've been through a lot, and I’m scared of making things worse for you. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me. This... this is about making sure that when we take this step, it’s because we both feel right about it, not because of anything else.”

Your heart ached with the raw honesty in his voice. “I’m not trying to prove anything, Joel. I just... I want us to be close. I thought we were ready.”

Joel’s hand reached out again, but this time you let him take it. His grip was firm but gentle. “I know you do. And I want that too. But I also want to be sure that we’re both in the right place. I don’t want to rush things and have you regret it. I care about you too much for that.”

The sincerity in his voice, combined with the tenderness of his touch, began to ease the tumult inside you. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing too hard,” you whispered, your voice softening.

Joel shook his head, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s natural to feel this way."

"But, Joel, I'm ready. You won't hurt me." You said, trying to let Joel know how much you trusted him.

Joel hesitated, searching your eyes for any doubt. "Are you really sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, taking his large hand in yours, marveling at the size difference. Slowly, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gently. Then, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking it slowly. Joel’s breath hitched, and you could see the desire in his eyes.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours tentatively. The kiss deepened, and you felt a warmth spread through you, a feeling of being completely and utterly connected. As the kiss grew more passionate, you both slowly began to undress, your clothes falling away like the petals of a flower, revealing the soft, delicate parts of yourselves.

Joel’s touch was gentle, his hands exploring your body with reverence. Every caress was like a whisper of devotion, his fingers tracing patterns of love on your skin. He kissed you again, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, to your collarbone, each kiss a promise of his love and care.

As Joel carefully helped you remove your dress, your scars were now fully visible to him. His eyes took them in, and you saw the mixture of sorrow and anger that flashed across his face. It broke Joel's heart to see what your father had done to you, and a deep anger simmered beneath his gentle exterior.

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell Joel how ashamed you felt, but he cut you off, his voice firm but tender. “There’s no need to be ashamed about it. You are beautiful, you are gorgeous to me.”

His words were a balm to your soul, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. Joel’s hands were steady as he continued to undress you, his touch filled with a mixture of gentleness and determination. He seemed to understand the depth of your vulnerability, treating you with the utmost care.

Joel seemed like the kind of guy who talked you through it during sex, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your anxiety. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve got you. We’ll take this slow, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. Joel’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. He was so careful, so deliberate, as if he were afraid you might break beneath his touch.

He reached for a condom, his actions slow and deliberate, ensuring that everything was as safe as it could be. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, his voice a low murmur. “We’ll take this at your pace.”

You nodded again, your trust in him unwavering. As Joel moved above you, his eyes locked onto yours, you felt a connection that went beyond the physical. It was a melding of souls, a deep, unspoken bond that made you feel cherished and adored.

Joel entered you slowly, his movements careful and measured. You moaned as he growls. The sensation was different. There was no pain, no fear, just a deep sense of intimacy and connection and pleasure.

Joel’s voice continued to guide you, his words a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re amazing.”

Every movement, every touch, was filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. Joel’s hands were everywhere, caressing your skin, holding you close, ensuring that you felt nothing but love and care. The rhythm of his movements was like a dance, slow and deliberate, each motion a careful expression of his devotion to you.

His hands glided over your body, memorizing the feel of you beneath his fingers. He took his time, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the present moment. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

As he moved within you, the initial tension melted away, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure and intimacy. Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and reassurance. Each thrust was measured, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm that built a slow, burning heat between you.

"Oh, Joel," you moan as he keep thrust inside you, your back arched, your eyes rolling deep to above. "Fuck, you're so tight," he cursed.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur. “You feel so good.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the sincerity and warmth in his tone. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solid weight of him against you. The connection between you deepened, each movement syncing perfectly with the other, creating a beautiful harmony.

Joel’s breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low, steady murmur of encouragement and love. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. You’re perfect.”

The way he spoke to you, the care in his touch, made you feel cherished and adored. The pleasure built slowly, a rising wave that grew stronger with each gentle thrust. Joel’s hands found yours, intertwining your fingers, creating a bond that felt unbreakable.

His pace quickened slightly, you felt amazing and wanting for more. As the heat between you intensified, your hands found their way to his back, clutching him closer.

"Joel..."

"Oh my god, Joel,"

Your voice filled the room, moaning his name and calling out, “Oh God, please.” Joel’s eyes darkened with a mix of passion and determination.

“God’s not here, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “God’s not here to save you this time.”

The words sent a thrill through you, and you felt your body responding even more intensely. The feeling was almost overwhelming, and you begged him to go faster. Joel obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, each thrust deeper and more powerful.

The sound of the bed creaking added to the symphony of your shared pleasure, mingling with the moans and groans that filled the room. The intensity of the sensations building within you was almost too much to bear. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, every fiber of your being focused on the incredible feeling Joel was creating inside you.

Joel’s breathing grew ragged, his own moans mixing with yours as he drove deeper into you. “You feel so good,” he cursed under his breath, his voice raw with need. “So tight, so perfect.”

The rhythm of his thrusts was relentless, each one driving you closer to the brink. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as the pressure built, a wave of ecstasy that was about to crash over you.

“Joel...I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the sensation peaked.

Joel’s grip on you tightened, his movements becoming almost frantic as he chased his own release. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice a desperate plea.

With a final, powerful thrust, you felt yourself shatter, your climax washing over you in a tidal wave of pleasure. Your body tensed and then released, a cry of ecstasy escaping your lips. Joel followed moments later, his own release tearing through him, a groan of pure satisfaction as he found his pleasure within you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the mingled breathing of you and Joel as you lay intertwined. The intensity of what you had just shared left you both breathless, your bodies still connected in the aftermath of your shared passion.

Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that made you feel safe and cherished. “You are amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness. “So beautiful.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with the love and connection you felt with him. “You too,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, his touch tender and loving. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a depth of emotion that made your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You have to say it, you need to say you love him.

Taking a deep breath, you cupped his face in your hands, looking deep into his eyes. “Joel, I... I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability and sincerity.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and then softened with an intensity that took your breath away. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if committing the moment to memory.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied, his voice husky with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The words wrapped around your heart, filling you with a warmth and security you had never felt before. Joel’s lips found yours again, this time with a deeper, more fervent kiss, a promise of his unwavering love and devotion.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of completeness, as if everything in your life had led to this very moment. The love you shared was a balm to your soul, healing wounds you had long thought would never mend.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but the connection between you was stronger than ever. Joel rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, savoring the closeness.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. “No matter what.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth of his words settle deep within your heart. “I know,” you whispered back, your voice filled with quiet certainty. “And I’ll always be here for you, too.”

With that, you both drifted off to sleep, your hearts and souls entwined, ready to face whatever the future held together.

140 notes · View notes

ghoulsbounty · 4 months

Text

The Unexpected pt 1

DBF! Wade Felton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), car sex, cowgirl, semi-public sex, heavy flirting, p in v, bad dates, mutual pining, angst, age gap (reader is early 30's, Wade is 48)

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Anon! ALL the love for Wade Felton! There isn't enough for him and I've loved writing this. Yes this gif did inspire the first half. Here is the first part, I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

The anticipation had been building all day, excitement bubbling up within you like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst. You'd meticulously chosen your outfit, practiced your smile in the mirror, and rehearsed witty conversation starters in your head. After weeks of chatting online, you were finally meeting him in person—the man who seemed to check all the boxes, the one who promised to sweep you off your feet and make your heart race.

But as you sat at the cozy table near the window of the trendy restaurant, watching the world outside blur by in a flurry of raindrops, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach. Time ticked by slowly, each passing minute punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and the murmured conversations of other diners. You checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping for a message, a sign that he was on his way. Yet, there was nothing.

When he finally walked in, you tried to mask your disillusionment with a forced smile. He shrugged off his navy sports jacket with casual indifference, his eyes darting around the room as he muttered excuses for his lateness—a familiar refrain of traffic jams and inclement weather that did little to appease your growing unease.

As he settled into his seat opposite you, his gaze flickering over the menu without so much as a glance in your direction, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. This wasn't how you had imagined your first meeting—a whirlwind of laughter and chemistry, a spark igniting between you from the moment your eyes met. Instead, there was only awkwardness, an intense strain in the atmosphere between you.

You tried to make conversation, to salvage what little remained of the evening, but his responses were curt, his attention already drifting elsewhere. The giddiness you had felt in suspense of this date had long since dissipated, replaced by a sense of defeat and heavy regret. As he snapped his fingers to get the waiter's attention, you realized with a sinking feeling that this was not the beginning of a grand romance, but rather the end of a fleeting fantasy.

Your mom had been relentless in her encouragement to dip your toes into the dating pool. "You need to get out more," she'd insist, her voice a blend of exasperation and eagerness. "Don't spend every weekend holed up with your old folks." Though her intentions were good, her words often felt like a gentle push tinged with a mother's anxious plea.

At first, the idea had appealed to you—a chance to break free from the familiar routine, to explore new possibilities, to embrace the thrill of romance. The thought of being wined and dined, engaging in lively conversations with potential romantic interests, had sparked a sense of excitement within you. It all seemed infinitely better than the quiet evenings spent at home.

However, what you hadn't bargained for were the rollercoaster rides that awaited you in the tumultuous world of online dating. Each date often began with high hopes and slight apprehension but ended with you feeling more disheartened than before. The profiles rarely matched the personalities, the conversations fell flat, and the chemistry was frequently non-existent. The thrill of romance quickly turned into a series of awkward encounters, leaving you longing for the predictability of Scrabble nights with your parents.

Throughout your twenties, your focus had been singular: advancing your career. You'd packed your bags and moved across the country, chasing opportunities that promised to elevate your prospects. Along the way, there were relationships, some fleeting, some more substantial, and your fair share of dates. But whether it was the adjustment to life back in your hometown, or the distinct pool of available men in Raleigh, dating since your return had been anything but smooth sailing.

As you swept your gaze across the bustling restaurant, a familiar figure caught your eye. There, perched on a stool at the bar with an air of casual confidence, sat your dad's best friend. His presence seemed to command attention, and when his eyes met yours, there was a knowing glint that passed between you. With a hesitant lift of his fingers, he offered a greeting, and you responded with a subtle flick of your hand before discreetly returning it to your lap. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you acknowledged him, a wave of nostalgia mingling with a hint of embarrassment.

Memories flooded back—summer barbecues filled with laughter, late-night advice sessions during tough times, and the unspoken bond that had grown over the years. It had been a while since you'd seen him, since you'd returned to your hometown. Despite the warmth of these memories, you'd kept your distance, declining invitations to join your parents at his recent back-yard cook-outs. A sense of failure and shame had held you back, the weight of unmet expectations and dreams unfulfilled lingering in your mind like a stubborn shadow.

Wade Felton sat at the bar, his casual confidence an anchor in the sea of strangers that surrounded you. His eyes, a mix of concern and curiosity, held a spark of recognition that sent a ripple of reassurance through you. It felt oddly comforting, the familiarity of his face amidst the unfamiliarity of the restaurant.

As you glanced his way, Wade raised his glass of bourbon in your direction, a subtle quirk of his eyebrow accompanying the gesture. It was a small but significant moment. Was it an invitation to join him in a drink, or perhaps a silent acknowledgment of the less-than-ideal situation unfolding at your table? You couldn't be sure, but the gesture warmed you nonetheless.

The evening had not gone as planned. Your date, Tom, was self-absorbed, endlessly droning on about his workout routines and expansive vinyl collection, without so much as a pause to engage you in conversation. You felt trapped, a prisoner of your own politeness, listening to him with feigned interest while your thoughts drifted to the man at the bar.

But now, with Wade's gaze fixed on you, you felt a spark of defiance. You'd had enough of enduring dismal dates out of sheer courtesy. His mere presence ignited a desire to reclaim your evening.

Summoning your courage, you interrupted Tom mid-monologue. "Can I stop you?" you said politely but firmly. "This isn't going well, I think you'd agree."

Tom looked taken aback, his expression shifting from confusion to resignation. He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the table. He reached for his wallet, extracted a few notes, and placed them on the table. "You're right," he admitted bluntly, "you were much more interesting when we talked on the app."

You seethed inwardly but maintained your composure, offering a tight-lipped nod as you retrieved your share of the bill from your purse and placed it on top of his contribution.

"I'm taking this," Tom declared, grabbing the bottle of wine as he rose from his seat. Snatching his jacket, he glanced back at you. "Good luck," he added curtly before exiting the restaurant, leaving you alone at the table.

With a heavy sigh, you gathered your purse and the plate of food you had ordered. Determination fuelled your steps as you navigated the crowded restaurant, heading towards the bar where Wade sat, his sturdy frame dominating the space. As you approached, the soft glow of the overhead lights cast a warm halo around him, illuminating him like a beacon in the dimness of the bar.

Setting the plate down on the polished counter, you pushed it towards Wade with a gentle yet purposeful motion. With practiced ease, you hoisted yourself onto the stool beside him, the worn leather creaking softly beneath you. Leaning in, you met his amused gaze with a playful twinkle in your eyes.

"Did you order the Korean tacos with a side of a woman who is apparently more fun on a dating app than in real life, Mr. Felton?" you quipped, your words laced with a touch of self-deprecation. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Wade's laughter filled the air, his easy-going demeanour a welcome contrast to the tension of your failed date. With a casual grace, he turned to face you, one arm resting on the bar as he met your gaze with genuine warmth.

His laughter was like a balm, soothing the sting of the evening's earlier disappointments. "I don't like to pry, but it didn't seem like you were getting a word in edgewise," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement. He signalled to the bartender and ordered you a glass of white wine. "White, right? If I remember, red gives you headaches," he added with a knowing smile.

You nodded appreciatively, a wide smile spreading across your face at his thoughtfulness. The way he remembered such a trivial detail about you struck a chord, touching you in a way you hadn't expected. It wasn't just the wine; it was the recognition, the familiarity in the gesture that made you feel seen.

As you brought the glass of wine to your lips and took a sip, a sense of calm washed over you. The crisp, cool liquid steadied your nerves, the taste familiar and soothing. The ambient noise of the restaurant faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this unexpectedly intimate bubble. The warmth of the moment wrapped around you, making this unfamiliar yet oddly comforting situation feel like a safe haven amidst the chaos of your evening.

This felt like a decisively grown-up situation, and while you knew you were perfectly capable of handling it, there was still a sense of novelty to the experience. Normally, around your dad's friends—people you had essentially grown up with—you couldn't help but feel like a child, forever relegated to the role of the kid tagging along. But here, sitting at the bar with Wade, it felt different. Two adults, sharing a drink and engaging in conversation as equals. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, or if perhaps this was just a figment of your imagination, a fleeting moment of perceived maturity.

"Are you waiting for someone?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you tried to manoeuvre yourself gracefully through the conversation with the older man.

Wade's gaze drifted for a moment, his eyes flickering briefly to his phone before returning to meet yours. "I was," he admitted with a sigh, the faintest hint of disappointment colouring his tone. He lifted his phone from the bar to check a message. "But not anymore. Seems like I got stood up."

You noticed a flicker of frustration in his eyes, a brief moment where his façade faltered before he shrugged it off with a nonchalant gesture. The soft glow of the bar lights bathed his face in a warm, amber hue, accentuating the contours of his features and the subtle lines that spoke of a life rich with experiences.

"That's rough," you sympathized, your voice soft as you raised the glass of wine to your lips, offering a brief reprieve from the tension in the air. You savoured the taste, allowing it to linger on your palate as you considered the shared sense of defeat you felt with him. "Seems like we're both having a night of disappointments," you remarked, the words carrying a weight of understanding between you.

Wade chuckled, a deep, reassuring sound that made you feel at ease. His eyes crinkled at the corners, reflecting the light. "Yeah, it looks like it. But hey, at least we can keep each other company now."

You couldn't help but silently thank the woman who hadn't shown. Since you were old enough to appreciate the opposite sex, you'd harboured a secret admiration for the older man. In your awkward late teens, you likely made it painfully obvious, your infatuation spilling over in clumsy gestures and stammered words, until your first experiences with boys taught you the nuances of approaching them with an air of sensuality.

But even as you matured, your admiration for Wade remained steadfast, a silent longing that lingered beneath the surface. You'd often caught yourself stealing glances at him during family gatherings, marvelling at the way his laughter seemed to fill the room and the easy confidence with which he carried himself.

Now, as you sat beside him at the bar, you couldn't shake the thought that fate had intervened in the form of a missed date. The anticipation of what could unfold between you hummed in the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Despite the unlikelihood of him ever seeing you as anything more than his best friend's daughter, you couldn't resist the urge to inch closer on your stool until your knee brushed his, a subtle yet deliberate gesture that spoke volumes of your unspoken desires.

"So, what were you looking forward to more, the company or the food?" you asked, your tone light and playful.

He leaned back slightly, the leather of the bar stool creaking under his weight as he considered your question. "A bit of both, I suppose," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed a hint of vulnerability beneath his usually composed exterior. "But if I'm honest," he continued, his gaze softening as it met yours, "good company always trumps good food."

There was a sincerity in his words that made your heart flutter, a comforting heat enveloping you you at the genuine sentiment behind them. With a thoughtful expression, you pursed your lips, considering his response. "I agree," you finally replied, a playful glint in your eyes, "but you haven't tried these tacos yet."

With a mischievous smile, you slid the plate over to him, the aroma of the savoury dish filling the space between you. Wade chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that reverberated through the air, his laughter infectious as it mingled with the ambient noise of the busy bar.

"You're right," Wade agreed, his tone light as he picked up a taco and broke it in half with a satisfying crunch. He held out a piece to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he willed you to accept it with a smile. "I can't be too quick to judge, can I?" he added, his expression teasing.

You accepted the taco from Wade, feeling a rush of excitement as his fingertips brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes remained locked on yours, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as he brought the food to his lips and took a bite, a soft hum of appreciation escaping him.

Following his lead, you savoured the explosion of flavours from the taco, each bite a delightful symphony of spices and textures that danced on your tongue. "Damn, that's a good taco," Wade remarked, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he turned his attention back to you. His eyes held a warmth that matched his smile, and there was a subtle yet unmistakable longing in his gaze. "Still prefer the company, though," he added, his words laced with sincerity and a hint of something more, leaving you with a fluttering sensation in your chest.

The moment felt unexpectedly intimate, the simple act of sharing food creating a connection that seemed to transcend the confines of the respective roles you held in each others lives. With each bite, the initial awkwardness of the evening melted away, replaced by a growing sense of ease that you hadn't felt in a man's company in a long time.

When Wade finished with a lick of his fingers, a jolt of electricity shot through you, igniting a flurry of thoughts and emotions. You inwardly scolded yourself, urging restraint and reminding yourself of the countless reasons why anything beyond what you had with Wade was impossible. After all, there were too many factors to consider: your dad, the significant age difference, the intricate web of familial and social dynamics that bound you both.

"So, tell me," Wade continued, pulling you from your thoughts as he leaned back slightly against the bar, his expression relaxed yet curious. "What have you been up to since coming back to town? Besides enduring disastrous dates, of course."

"Well," you began, fingers idly tracing patterns on the stem of your wine glass as you mulled over your response, "besides dodging the pitfalls of modern romance, I've been navigating the murky waters of post-grad life and a floundering career." You paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle before continuing. "Moving back home has been... an adjustment, to say the least. But I'm slowly finding my footing again."

Wade nodded, his gaze gentle and attentive as he listened to your words. "I can imagine," he replied, a hint of empathy in his voice. "Transitioning back to small-town life after being away for so long must be quite the challenge. But it sounds like you're handling it with grace."

You couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at your lips, appreciating his understanding and the fact that he always knew what to say. "Thanks," you murmured, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. "And what about you? What's been keeping you busy these days?"

"Work, mostly," he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement as he reflected on his daily endeavours. "And trying to keep up with my girls. I was not prepared for teenagers," he confessed, shaking his head with a wry grin, "but your dad's been a real help, keeps me on my toes."

"I bet he does," you replied, the mental image of your dad as the lively and enthusiastic accomplice in Wade's parenting adventure brought a smile to your lips. "He's always been good at that."

Wade nodded, then with a playful wave of his hand, he dismissed the topic. "Enough about him," he added with a laugh, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful to steer the conversation away from your father. It felt odd, almost wrong, to talk about him while your leg was pressed against Wade's under the bar, a contact he made no effort to break.

"So, what are your plans now that you're back?" he asked, his eyes searching yours with genuine interest. "Any grand ambitions?"

Resting your chin on your palm, you observed the dance of light on the surface of your glass, captivated by the intricate patterns it wove. "Honestly," you began, your voice soft yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "I'm still figuring it out." You glanced up, meeting Wade's gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and resolve. "I had these grand plans for my thirties, you know? But I guess the universe had different ideas."

The weight of your words hung in the air, yet, despite it all, a small, determined smile graced your lips. "But hey," you continued, a flicker of energy lighting up your eyes, "if I'm a grown adult now, living under my parents' roof, I might as well make the most of it, right?" You chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of conviction. "So, I'm getting out and trying to have a little fun, seeing what else the universe has in store for me. I guess I'm just taking it one step at a time."

Wade's eyes gleamed with a sense of prideful understanding as he listened intently, nodding along in affirmation. "That's a good approach," he remarked, his voice carrying a comforting resonance. Each word seemed to wrap around you like a reassuring embrace. "Sometimes, taking it one step at a time is the best thing you can do. And hey," he added, a smirk tugging at his lips, "there's nothing wrong with a little fun along the way."

The seemingly innocuous exchange between you in the intimate ambiance of the bar carried implications that sent shivers of excitement down your spine. With his gaze locked onto yours, brimming with sincerity, you felt a newfound boldness surge within you. "Sometimes, the best things can happen when you least expect them, right?" you posed, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness, yet underscored by a genuine curiosity, eager to explore the depths of this burgeoning connection.

He chuckled softly. Glancing down at his drink, he lifted the glass and met your gaze once more. "To the unexpected," he said, his voice low and inviting.

You brought your glass to his, the crystal clinking together in a toast that felt like a promise. "To the unexpected," you echoed, a smile spreading across your face as the moment hung between you.

As you both took a sip, the background noise of the restaurant seemed to fade even further, leaving just the two of you in your shared bubble. The possibilities of the evening ahead had your heart pounding against your chest, your mind reeling with the idea that perhaps your fantasies were about to come true. You glanced at Wade, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

The buzz from the wine spread through you, mingling with the excitement of the moment. You set your glass down, your fingers grazing his on the bar top, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Can I take you home?"

The drive was silent except for the blues that crooned lowly on the radio, the tension between you palpable. Each glance, each accidental touch, only heightened the anticipation. When he finally pulled into his driveway, the reality of what was about to happen hit you with full force.

Wade turned off the engine, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain tapping softly against the roof, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "I think I should walk you to your door," he conceded, his voice laced with sincerity.

A wave of disappointment washed over you at his words, the excitement you previously felt now ebbing away as you contemplated the end of the evening. Your gaze shifted to your house, standing in quiet solidarity beside his under the silvery glow of the moon. Every window remained veiled in darkness, the roar of the engine hadn't woken your family or his.

You hesitated, reluctant to let the evening come to such an abrupt end. With a fleeting glance back at Wade, you searched his eyes, hoping to uncover any clue about his true desires. The unspoken tension between you seemed to thicken, casting a heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere around you. Summoning your courage, you finally voiced your question. "Is that what you want?"

Wade sighed deeply, his hands sliding over his jean-clad thighs in a gesture of frustration. He looked up at the ceiling, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "No, it's not," he admitted, his voice a hushed murmur. "I want you, but I can't have you."

Your heart soared at his confession, a thrill coursing through your veins. Your fingers tingled as you unbuckled your seatbelt, turning inwards to face him. "Says who?" you challenged, your voice soft but steady.

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. The rain outside intensified, drumming a steady rhythm on the truck roof, making the interior feel even more intimate. The raw intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. The dim light from the streetlamp cast a soft glow over his rugged face, highlighting the conflict warring within him.

"Says everyone," he finally replied, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Your dad, our families... It would be wrong."

"Does it feel wrong?" Your question hung in the air, charged with uncertainty. With a tentative touch, your fingertips traced a path along Wade's thigh, the fabric of his jeans rough against your skin. His breath caught in his throat, a flicker of surprise dancing in his eyes, mirrored by the vulnerability in your own. In the dim light of the truck cabin, every detail seemed magnified—the furrow of his brow, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lips. "Does it feel wrong?" you repeated, your voice steady, yet laced with a newfound determination. "I know what I want, and I think you do too."

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and hesitation as reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savouring the warmth of his touch.

When you opened your eyes again, the uncertainty in his had given way to resolve. He leaned in slowly, his breath hot against your lips, filling the small space with an intoxicating air. "If we're doing this," he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion, "we're doing it right."

You weren't sure what he was alluding to but nodded regardless, your heart pounding as his lips finally met yours. The kiss started tentative, sweet and gentle as if testing the waters, but quickly deepened into something more urgent and demanding. His other hand released him from his belt before finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. The rain outside continued to pour, but all you could feel was the heat of his embrace and the electrifying connection that surged between you.

His lips were soft but insistent, exploring yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. The taste of bourbon lingered on his tongue, mingling with the sweetness of yours. You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the moment. You slid the hand still on his thigh higher until your palm laid flat over the growing bulge in his jeans. You gave him a firm squeeze, and he tore his lips from yours as he eyed you warily.

"We can't, not here," he said, glancing behind you, his eyes flitting between your house and his.

You followed his gaze over your shoulder, taking in the proximity of both houses, each window still dark and quiet. Turning back to him, you asked softly, "Are the girls home?"

"Yes," he sighed in defeat, his body still tense under your touch. "I can get us a room."

You shook your head. "I don't want to wait any longer," you told him, voice laced with persuasion as you leant in to plant a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. "I've needed you long before tonight," you told him.

"Gotdamn," he breathed, hand leaving your waist momentarily to adjust his seat, sliding himself back to make more space between him and the wheel. "Hop on, baby," he commanded, his voice rough with need as he pulled at you towards him. You climbed over the console, your dress hitching up as you straddled him, knees pressing into the worn leather seat on either side of his thighs.

His hands settled on your hips again, fingers digging in slightly as he looked up at you, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The raw hunger in his gaze sent a thrill through you, his need for you evident from the hardness pressed between your thighs. You leaned in, your lips finding his once more, the kiss deep and consuming as your tongues battled for dominance.

The sensation of his hands roaming over your back, holding you tight to his firm chest, was exhilarating. His touch was both demanding and gentle, a mix of urgency and care that made your pulse race and nerves fray as he explored your body.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing hot and wet against your skin, leaving a path of shivers in their wake. His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive spots that drove you wild. When he reached the dome of your breasts, you hooked a finger around the fabric of your dress and the bra underneath, pulling them down to expose yourself to him. The sudden rush of cool air made your nipples harden instantly, standing erect in anticipation. Wade's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight before him, and a soft growl escaped his lips.

He took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it with expert precision, each flick sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. The delicious graze of his teeth added an edge to the sensation, making you gasp and arch your back, pressing yourself even closer to him.

His hands roamed over your back and sides, exploring every curve and contour, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The combination of his mouth on your breast and the possessive grip of his hands on your body was overwhelming your senses with a heady mix of pleasure and lust.

As he switched to your other nipple, giving it the same exquisite attention, you tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close. The cabin of the truck seemed to shrink around you, the rain outside a distant, rhythmic backdrop to the heat building between you. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you in this moment of raw, unfiltered passion.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against the roughness of his jeans, seeking more friction, more contact. Every nerve in your body felt alive, tuned to the frequency of his touch and the sensations he was eliciting from you. The tension that had been building all evening was finally coming to a head, and you hoped that this was only the beginning.

His hardness was unyielding against your thigh, the heat of it sending a thrill through to your core. You smiled, the excitement electrifying as you slid a hand between your bodies, fingers deftly working to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink echoed in the confined space of the truck, adding to the charged atmosphere. You released him from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, feeling the weight of his cock in your hand, heavy and pulsing under your touch.

Wade's breath hitched, his teeth grazing down on your swollen nipple with just enough pressure to make you gasp. The flat of his tongue followed, soothing the bite with a heavenly lick that prickled your skin with goosebumps. He kissed up your jaw, his lips soft and warm as he grinned against your neck, mumbling a promise not to leave any visible marks on you this time.

Before you had a chance to contemplate the significance of his words, you shifted, aligning yourself over him and using the leaking tip of his cock to slide your panties aside. The feel of his smooth head against your wet folds made you both moan softly. Wade's hips pushed upwards instinctively, seeking more of you, but you held back, teasing him by running his sensitive tip through your slickness.

His eyes were dark with lust, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear. "Please," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw with need. The sound of it made you ache for him and you felt your wetness seeping down your thigh as you dragged him back and forth.

You couldn't resist any longer. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the head of his cock parting your folds and sliding into you with delicious resistance. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that felt both familiar and new. Wade groaned, a deep, primal sound that resonated through his chest and into yours, his hands gripping your hips as if to anchor himself.

You started to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that allowed you to feel every inch of him. Each thrust, each slide, sent waves of pleasure through your body. Wade's hands roamed over you, caressing and squeezing, his fingers digging into your flesh with every rise and fall as he guided you expertly on top of him, your own fingers gripping at the meat of his shoulders.

"W-Wade," you mewled, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over.

The car was filled with the lurid sounds of your fucking —the soft moans, the wet squelches of your cunt taking him as began to bounce you on his cock, the occasional squeak of the leather seats. It was raw, it was real, and it was everything you'd secretly desired.

"You feel so good, baby," he murmured, pausing to tenderly nip at your chin. "So unbelievably good, wrapped around me like this." His words, laced with admiration, echoed in the intimate space between you.

Wade's lips found yours again, capturing them in a searing kiss that conveyed everything words couldn't. His tongue danced with yours, the kiss deepening as your pace quickened, the need to reach that ultimate crescendo becoming overwhelming. You rode him harder, faster, the friction building, the tension coiling tight within you.

When his hand slid down to where your bodies were joined, his finger pressed against the tight bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars. You tore your lips from his, seeking solace in the crook of his neck. Inhaling his bewitching scent—pine mingled with a faint hint of tobacco—your mind numbed, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations as you gave yourself to him completely.

Your body tensed, every muscle locking as waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under his touch. He muffled the cry of his name from your mouth with a fiery kiss, continued to use his grip on your waist to bounce you on top of him as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own. When he followed, he groaned into your mouth as he pumped his load inside of you, bit your bottom lip as your greedy pussy took all of him.

You broke the kiss and collapsed against his chest, feeling his strong arms envelop you as his chin rested gently on your head. He traced soothing patterns on your back, and for a moment, you stayed like that, intertwined, with the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Slowly, you ran a trail of soft kisses along his jaw before resting your forehead against his, both of you struggling to catch your breath. His large palm caressed the exposed skin of your ass, sliding back and forth between your behind and your thighs in a tender attempt to soothe and comfort you.

"Well," you breathed, your eyes gleaming with a teasing light, though a hint of vulnerability still shone through. "Did it feel wrong?"

He chuckled, leaning back against the seat as he considered you. "No, darlin', it did not," he said, his smile matching yours.

You rose on shaky legs, took him from you and tucked him back into his jeans before reluctantly moving away from him. The ache for more of him already tugged at you, but you knew your time together was limited tonight. As you shifted back to return to your seat, you misjudged the space and accidentally pressed against the horn of the truck. The sudden blare shattered the night's silence.

You jumped in surprise, and Wade's hands immediately grasped your hips, steadying you both. His gaze quickly scanned over your shoulder, looking for any sign that his daughters had been awakened by the noise. You mirrored his concern, your eyes darting to your parents' home. The windows had fogged with the tell-tale signs of your act, but you managed to peek through a clear spot to see. After a few tense moments, you sighed in relief when everything remained still.

Looking at each other in disbelief, you both laughed as you sat back in your seat, adjusted your dress to cover your breasts and thighs as you smoothed the down the fabric. A wave of nerves washed over you, unsure of your next move until Wade turned to you with an endearing smile. "I'm gonna walk you to your door now, before you wake the whole neighbourhood."

He left the comforting warmth of the truck, and for a brief moment, you felt adrift, alone and lost. But then your door opened, and there he stood, extending a hand toward you. You smiled, placing your hand in his as he gently helped you down from the truck.

As he walked ahead, he kept your hand clasped behind him, positioning it between you both as if to shield you from any prying eyes that might intrude on your moment. The gesture touched you deeply, a silent reassurance that he was still connected to you even after leaving the intimate cocoon of the truck.

You followed him up the steps to your porch, the familiar creak of the wooden boards beneath your feet grounding you in the present. When you reached the door, he reluctantly let go of your hand, allowing you to rummage through your purse for your keys. The rain had stopped and the night air was cool against your skin, filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal creatures.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gaze brimming with worry as he peered down at you. "You'd tell me if you weren't, wouldn't you?"

Your lips curved into a smile, moved by his genuine concern for your well-being. You held you keys in your hand, the metallic clank loud in the silence of the night. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, warmth infusing your words. "Actually, more than fine. Thank you for turning a disastrous evening around, Mr. Felton," you quipped, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Grinning, he casually leaned against the porch banister, hands snugly tucked into the pockets of his jeans. A mischievous glint in his eyes, he winked, reigniting a spark of need within you. "Hope to catch you at the next cookout," he teased, before pushing off the banister and descending the stairs with easy confidence.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, silently watching as he made his way to his own porch. Pausing at his door, he cast a lingering glance your way, offering a final wave before disappearing inside.

Entering your home, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse, leaning back against the door with a contented sigh. Your heart overflowed with joy, and your mind stubbornly refused to dwell on anything but the exciting possibilities awaiting you with Wade. You weren't quite sure what this was between you yet, but one thing emerged crystal clear: your dad was to never find out.

#wade felton #wade felton x reader #wade felton x you #x reader #the unicorn #walton goggins #wade felton smut #fic request #smut fic

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itaehynz · 2 months

Text

two slow dancers.

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader.

genre: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst.

warnings: death, grieving, crying, acceptance.

summary: inspired by the movie, “20th Century Girl”: while trying to help your friend get a boy she likes, you meet your own love… a love you thought would last forever.

author’s note (please read): as the cancer season comes to an end, the leo season begins. not only my month starts but also huening’s so, i’ve decided to start this month with a special treat! it’s taken a lot out of me to write about things like this especially with the fact that i once lost someone who was very important to me and a huge factor in my life. but over time, i’ve learned that it’s okay to grieve and it’s definitely okay to not be okay. i hope you enjoy this fic. ♥︎

with strangers, friendship can grow. or the stranger can be a total jerk, let’s hope that’s not the case.

“y/n, pleeeeaaaseee!” your friend chae begs. you roll your eyes as you remember what she’s begging you for. she’s begging you to help her with her crush. you being you, you’re thinking of all the worst outcomes of this. you can probably mess up by accidentally walking up to the guy and he automatically shuts you down. or, you can just walk up to the wrong guy!

anywho, you agree. much to her surprise, actually. she was expecting you to say no, knowing how you are but instead of questioning it, she just cheers happily. you watch her cheer with a laugh and say, “okay, okay. where is he?”

she points over at him, making you look in the direction of where she’s directing you to and see two boys. as far as you know, their names are taehyun and huening kai. you were about to ask her which one but she tells you taehyun before you can even utter the words.

you know very few things about taehyun. one thing is that he prioritizes his studies over everything else. another thing is that, you rarely see him with anyone besides the boy with him at the moment. that’s all you know.

with no information besides what you already know, you decide to just go for it. you begin walking over to the two boys, seeing that they’re talking with each other and laughing amongst themselves.

finally reaching them, you look back to make sure that chae is still standing and for your sake, she still is. you clear your throat quietly as the two boys look at you with smiles and say hi, wondering why you’re there.

“hi! ummm, taehyun, right?” you ask, watching as he nods in response. you give him at tight lipped smile as you begin to tell him that your friend has taken a liking to him and that she’d like to try and get to know him, something along those lines.

both him and huening kai share a quick look before huening shrugs and smiles softly. taehyun agrees kindly and asks where your friend is so he can go over to her. you point over to her, seeing that she’s now seated at a table on her phone. he waves bye to huening kai and begins walking over with a warm smile.

you and huening watch as they begin talking and smile in happiness. “he’s never accepted a girl’s advances before,” you hear from behind you. you look back, seeing huening kai watch the two of them from afar, with a sappy smile on his face.

much to your surprise, you reciprocate his smile. not because of them but because of him. his smile is making you smile. his gummy smile is so cute, you think to yourself. you’re so in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that he’s staring back at you while his smile unconsciously widens.

you’re both admiring something about each other as you finally realize how long you’ve been staring and finally think about how creepy you look.

huening looks away as well, his smile not leaving but his stare fleeting. he musters up the courage to ask you, scared to ask you at first. “would you like to be friends, uhhh-” he pauses, realizing he doesn’t know your name. “y/n.” you say, you would ask his name but you already know it due to your friend’s infatuation with his best friend. “ah, y/n, would you like to be friends?” he asks again, this time with your name coming first.

“i’d love to be.”

—

with friendship, love can grow. romantically, platonically, love comes in every form and or shape.

with huening kai, it just so happened to be romantically. you’re not sure if he feels the same but what you are sure of is that he’s all you think about.

his beautiful smile, bringing such warmth to anyone who comes into contact with him. his way with words, he really knows how to make anyone feel loved by him. his perfect personality, the lovely mixture of funny, charm and kindness. he has all the assets of a great partner.

much to your disappointment, he’s brought up the fact that he has a crush on someone. you couldn’t possibly guess who as he doesn’t really interact with anyone besides you, taehyun and shockingly, chae.

not thinking too much of it, you finally bring yourself back down to earth and tune into the environment. you’re surrounded by tons of people filled with joy, excited to get on the rides. on the right of you, there’s chae. she seems to be getting impatient as she taps her foot every chance she gets and rolls her eyes at how long the line is. to the left of you, you have huening kai and taehyun, who’s now chae’s boyfriend.

taehyun taps you on the shoulder and asks if he could talk to chae, which you mindlessly agree to. now you’re next to kai, who’s immediately smiling from the sight of you. “you excited?” he asks, words filled with childlike energy.

you smile at him, “yeah, are you?” he half heartedly smiles at you, nodding his head with quickness. “yeah… totally excited…!” he says quickly before looking away. you’re caught off guard by his sudden change in attitude towards the ride and your eyes squint in confusion.

at the time, you would’ve thought he just didn’t want to get on the ride. but he did. he wanted to get on the ride, it was just that… he was scared of rollercoasters.

“kai, are you scared of roller coasters?” you question, causing him to whip his head in your direction. he looks around, trying to come up with an answer that won’t give away his obvious fear.

“of course not! it was just that slushy i had a while ago, i’m still a little shaky from it,” he says, trying to play it off with a nervous chuckle but you can see right through him.

you decide to brush it off yet, you can’t help but pity him. you don’t want him to feel forced to get on the ride because everyone else is, but if he wants to get on then so be it. chae and taehyun are hand in hand as the line moves quickly, you all now reaching the seats. the two in front of you rush to the back seats as you and huening are left with no option but to sit all the way in the front.

based on how everyone on the line avoided the front of the line, you’re guessing that this ride is no joke. you watch as huening fills with fear and you start feeling bad for him once again as he seats himself on the right side of the ride. you seat yourself next to him, waiting for the worker to come and strap you both in.

“kai, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” you ask, placing a hand on his thigh to give him some type of comfort. he grabs your hand tightly and simply says, “yeah.” before the worker comes around to you two and buckles you both in, giving the person at the start button a thumbs up and motioning everybody else to do so.

you raise your thumb up with eagerness and watch as huening raises his up slowly with his eyes closed tightly. you feel him grip at your hand tighter as the ride begins moving, showing a huge raise in the air as it prepares for the drop.

as the ride makes its way up, you hear huening gasp quickly. you look over at him, seeing if he’s okay before he starts saying, “y/n, if i die! i just want you to know! i’ve had a huge crush on you since day one! i always thought you were so nice and sweet and pretty cool! your smile! your laugh! your eyes! your heart! everything! i always talked to taehyun about it to the point that he would get tired of it and tell me to try speaking to you! i’ve really been your biggest fan and i hope that we could possibly end up together one day!”

you look at him with widened eyes as the ride begins to drop, watching him scream in terror while still having his eyes closed. you watch your hair fling back and forth as the ride blades through the wind, thinking about everything huening just said.

so, he did like you back.

—

with love, comes pain. unthinkable pain, pain that can be absolutely unbearable at times.

he’s going back to hawai’i. and he’s not coming back, is what he told you. at the time, you were filled with so much shock and anger that you didn’t even respond to him when he told you. you left him conflicted. he even considered staying for you, no matter how much his parents and siblings needed him back home.

you called him all types of names to chae, you told her that he was a terrible boyfriend, a horrible person and you told her that you hated him.

now here you are, running to the bus station hoping to catch him before he leaves. you’re running as fast as you can, running and bumping into everyone while trying to get there as fast as you can. trying to get to him.

as you run, your bag catches onto something and you struggle with it before finally getting it off of whatever it got stuck to. continuing with your pursuit, you try to remember the bus that was set to take the passengers on board to the boat for hawai’i. filled with fear at the fact that you might not make it, you start asking people if they know where that bus terminal might be. a lot of no’s are said and you feel a pit in your stomach.

you just want to see him one last time.

you go up to one more person, asking if they know where the bus might be. you’re met with a tall man, a man who’s about huening kai’s height, seems to have the same hair color and the same body type.

completely out of breath from all the running you did, you politely tap the man on the shoulder and ask him, panting in between each word.

“yeah! that’s the bus i’m heading for right no- y/n?” the man above you asks. your eyes widen as you look up to be met with a familiar face.

him.

“wha… what are you doing here?” he asks, clearly shocked to see you here. you continue panting as you reach for his hand, tears soon building up in your eyes.

“i’m sorry—for everything i didn’t say. i didn’t say anything when i should’ve told you that i loved you and i’m fine with long distance, i should’ve told you to be there for your family and do what you have to do. i should’ve told you that no matter how many hours away you are, my love for you will never change. ’m sorry for not saying that, kai.”

you finish as huening looks at you with a small smile, tapping your hand with his finger. as you look up, he catches your lips and kisses you with so much love and affection, like he’s been waiting to do this.

you waste no time kissing him back, embracing his torso with your arms as he holds your face in his large palms, deepening the kiss without any effort. a bus rushes past the both of you, causing both of your hair to flail in the air as if you were in a movie.

he slowly pulls his lips away from yours, connecting the both of your foreheads. he rubs your cheek with his eyes closed as he inhales deeply, breathing in your scent one last time.

he opens his eyes and he’s met with you looking up at him with tears in your eyes. his eyes begin to water as well as it finally dawns on him that this is actually the last time he’ll see you in person.

not even six months into your relationship and he’s already leaving you. he feels terrible but he can’t do anything about it, his family needs him back home and he can’t stay no matter how desperately he wants to. he dreamt of a future with you in it, you’re the only person he thinks about 24/7.

he chuckles sadly as you say, “promise me you’ll call when you can, please,” his smile fades away slowly as he nods his head. as he’s about to kiss you again, the terminal announcer calls for all passengers boarding for hawai’i.

he pulls from you quietly, picking up his bags before kissing you on the forehead softly as his bus pulls into the station.

you begin sobbing profusely as he takes his final steps away from you, watching as he begins crying as well with his head down. you’re both ugly crying and watching him board the bus doesn’t help but you can’t look away.

he steps onto the bus before turning around and mouthing the words, “i love you” before the door closes on him and the bus begins moving. you run with the vehicle, saying the words, “i love you more” way more than he said it.

your legs finally give out on you and you drop to your knees, with your head lowered toward the ground as you cry into the sad air. but you remember his promise:

he’ll call.

—

with distance, comes longing. longing to be in your partner’s arms, within the arms reach of them. longing for them.

it’s been almost 7 months since he’s left for hawai’i, and he’s called every other up until now. it’s been a month since he’s last called you and at this point, you’re thinking this was his way of breaking up with you.

you walk over to the call boxes as usual when you’re about to call him and you put in a few coins and type in the number he gave you. you wait a few seconds, hearing the phone ring and then say, “the number you have reached is not in service. please check the number and dial again.” you’re filled with so much rage and frustration that you don’t even hang up, you just start yelling into the phone.

“i’m gonna get over you for real now! not gonna wait anymore! it’s better to just think you’re dead,” you say, sobbing and sniffing softly, “and don’t call me later— that won’t work! you don’t have anymore chances!” you cry into the phone, “and i don’t miss you anymore— so have a nice life, you ungrateful bastard!” you add, dropping the phone, not even bothering to put it back on the dial.

you walk out of the box, sobbing into the sleeves of your shirt as you make your way back to your school campus.

—

2 YEARS LATER.

with loss, comes grievance. take the time to grieve for the things you have lost, or even the people you’ve lost.

as you walk into your old home, you get filled with nostalgia from the past, good and some bad. you look around and see a box with a card, reading, “to y/n l/n.”

you open it and read the containments, “come visit us, 9am ~ 6pm.” with a location at the top. seeing that it has your name you think nothing of it, you’re just confused.

pushing all of that aside, you decide to visit the location but you proceed with caution.

you drive to the location and you’re met with a place that holds viewings. viewings for those who’ve passed and some viewing held for art shows.

you read the card once again and go to the viewing it directs you to, as you enter the space you’re met with a screen showing a beautiful blossom tree. you smile in awe at how beautiful it is before looking over at the singular bench sitting under the tree.

there’s words on the bench, the words read,

“the eternal spring; remembering kai kamal huening (2002-2023).”

before you can get caught up in your head, you hear footsteps coming from the left side of you. you whip your head to the direction of the steps and you’re met with taehyun.

he stares at you for a while, seeing how much you’ve changed and slowly walks over to a bench in front of the screen. he motions to the seat next to him, asking you to sit down. as you walk over to him, he begins speaking.

“while i was moving away, i found a package that huening had hid. that was a while ago, probably even before he passed… i was surprised that he had hidden this, y’know but, it’s obvious that it was special.” he pauses for a second, allowing you to take in everything that he’s saying.

“i felt the need to send it. so, i decided to contact you and even go as far as to arrange this viewing. i’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable or upset but i didn’t know what else to do, y/n.”

“it’s fine, thank you actually. i would’ve still been… angry. i would’ve been forever, if i didn’t know.” you say, staring at the floor as you speak. you hear him huff, wiping a hand through his hair.

“i was actually… upset with you for a moment.” he says, catching you off guard, you look over at him. “i was scared he’d… come back here for you.” he adds.

much to your surprise, you hear him laugh quietly.

“i was looking through the things he had filmed and that’s when i realized, you’re the person he truly wanted. and i felt the need to tell you just how alive— how alive he felt when he was with you, y/n. and how much he truly loved you.”

he says, leaving you heartbroken. you softly sniffle as he continues, “what i realized, while watching it— the film—that the happiest moments in his short lifetime, were when he was with you. you mattered to him.” he pauses, looking over at you. “so i want to thank you, for being there and for remembering him.”

you smile half heartedly, chuckling sadly, “how could i… ever— forget kai?” you say, smiling softly at taehyun as he mirrors your smile. he hands you a tape, before taking his leave and walking out to his car.

you follow suite and head back to your car as well, heading home to play the tape.

as you make it home, you take off your shoes at the door and walk to your room. looking in your closet for your vcr player, you grab it and blow it. watching years of collected dust fly off of it, you plug it in and set it up under your tv.

you pop in the tape, nowhere near ready for what’s about to come.

as the tape begins playing, you see taehyun singing and playing the piano. you smile at the memory and keep your eyes on the screen as you pop into the camera. it’s a video of you plucking flowers from the ground as huening records, his soft laughter filling the background of the video. you watch as the tape continues playing with different videos of you, that he recorded. videos of you dancing, playing around with him and recording the morning announcements from high school as his warm laughter and giggles fill the air of the video.

the tape cuts to static, causing you to have an internal panic as you believe your vcr’s stopped working, but no. the static cuts to a video of huening kai walking through tall grass and flowers as he hovers above it. he lets his hands cut through the flowers as the video cuts to his face, cutting to him adjusting the camera with a smile as he begins talking.

“good morning. it’s probably the new year! i got out of bed really early to show you this, it’s probably really late there. just wait for me a bit longer, i’ll come see you soon, y/n. it’ll be fun, in the new year— with you.” he finishes, smiling into the camera. you watch him say with a sad smile, knowing that he didn’t even make it to the new year. you know he would’ve loved to see you, in person.

—

with death, comes denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance.

acceptance is the most important part. you accept that ever after all that they’ve been through, they’re no longer in pain or suffering like they used to. you learn to accept that they’re better and it’s okay to miss them at times. they’re still with you, maybe not physically but they’re in your heart. forever.

it’s time to accept that he’s gone.

it’s okay.

perm taglist: @boba-beom, @kiokantalope, @gardnhee, @n0-thisispatrick, @hyukafied, @hyunimylove, @luvsoobs, @choiwrld, @majestyjun, @tyunkus, @belovedxiao, @h00nerz . . .

networks: @k-labels . . .

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Text

absolution - sunlight

-simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

-warnings: canon typical violence, mdni (18+), receiving (f+m), mentions of kidnapping, some fluff, a smidge of jealous!ghost, praise, me not knowing military lingo, very bad scottish accent writing

-word count: 3.5k

-summary: you wake the morning before deployment, savouring the last moments you and simon get to be husband and wife before briefly meeting the 141 and shipping off.

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a/n: alright, first attempt at writing smut, we'll get into some action and angst soon but I wanted to set a background. Also, Soap feature cause he's pookie, I don't know a lot about military positions or stuff like that so apologies if anything is wrong, anyways just wanted to get through some boring stuff before all the action cause I love some good angst. This isn't proofread so sorry for any grammatical errors. :)

The morning air was cool, a stark contrast to the excessive warmth omitted from Simon sleeping next to you, it was rare, you waking up before him, you could count on one hand the number of times it had happened during your relationship. You savoured the fleeting moment, allowing yourself to see him in the new light, Simon always nagged you about leaving the windows open all night as it could be dangerous, but you loved the sound of the birds in the morning, the smell of the dewy spring air as a light layer of mist settled over the streets of Manchester. You loved the flat you and Simon shared, it was small but comfortable. You had taken it upon yourself to decorate it considering if you let Simon do it, the space would be fairly empty aside from a few scattered novels and various militia-inspired decor.

Softly rousing from his sleep, Simon peered over at you with heavy eyelids and tugged you firmly into him, relishing in the way your light breaths felt against his bare neck. Pulling one arm to hold your back while the other caressed gently at your scalp.

“mornin'” he grumbled, as you felt the deep rumble from his voice resonating in your own chest.

“Good morning love” you responded while pecking light kisses over his chest.

Simon responds to your actions with a deep sigh, immediately feeling his shoulders loosen, readjusting himself to grant you more access to his body.

You push yourself up more to plant a kiss on his lips, “haven’t brushed by teeth yet hun” he says as his hand comes up to cup your jaw. “Don’t care” you say as a smirk creeps up on your lips.

Running your hands down his chest, you paw and press against the bare skin you haven’t been able to touch for months. Giving him one last deep kiss before pressing his raised shoulder into the mattress and lowering yourself down his body.

You leave a trail of light kisses over his abdomen, down to his navel and around his hips, feeling Simon's hand fall to the back of your head as he relaxes into the pillows behind him.

“Missed you” you whisper as you glance at him through your lashes, in return, he grants you a satisfied hum. You begin to pull his sweatpants from his hips, eyes never leaving his, as you continue to pepper kisses down his thighs, stopping only to lightly bite at the skin, feeling him grow harder from your efforts.

You passed over his cock, ghosting over it with your warm breath. “Stop teasing”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a glance up “Just taking my time is all”. He gives you a light hmp, and you reach your hand to palm over his hardening length, loving the way his body responds to even the lightest of your touches.

Simon would never tell you, but he secretly loved when you toyed with him, and took your time. Sure he enjoyed a quickie from time to time, but given the line of work you two were in it was rare to have extended moments of tenderness, and most of the time when one of you came home you couldn’t wait to rip each others clothes off, but he loved watching you, feeling you, being able to savour your touch and the way you smell. Mostly he loved how must you enjoyed touching him.

Flattening your tongue, licking a strip from the base of his cock to the tip you felt him shudder, bringing your thumb to rest against the head of his length, collecting the precum that had formed and smearing it over his tip, before gazing up at him and gently sucking the fluid from your thumb.

“Such a minx” as his hand came to cup your cheek, leaning into his touch to grasp his length in your hand, watching as his head fell back against the pillows. Feeling satisfied with the granted reaction from just the smallest of movements, you pull your neck down and pop his tip into your mouth, fisting at his length. You start slow, teasing your tongue around the head before hollowing your cheeks and slowly taking in more.

Simon was by no means small, his length well-exceeding anyone you had been with before, but it was a welcome discomfort as you pushed yourself further down his length using your hand to cover what you couldn’t fit. Peering down at you, you lock eyes with him and start bobbing up and down as saliva begins to pool at the sides of your mouth, dripping down his length into your hand, allowing you more lubrication as you pump your fist up and down his cock.

A string of curse words akin to fuck - shit - doing so good - fuck leave his mouth as you quicken your pace, stopping briefly to pull one of his balls into your mouth while your hand continues fisting up and down his cock. Pulling back up to wrap your lips around his length, you look up at him and slightly nod your head, giving him the okay to move his hips as he pleased. His hand grew tighter in your hair and he began helping you bob up and down on his length, grabbing a fistful of it to push you further onto his cock, feeling his pubic hair graze the tip of your nose and he buried his length down your throat, holding you there.

“Fuck - you feel so good lovie”

The praise was all you needed to keep going, trying to remember to breathe through your nose. He pulls you off him with a pop and brings his other hand to grasp at his length, tapping it and running it over your spit-soaked lips, you open your mouth to take him in once again and start sucking, and pumping your fist faster, feeling his lower muscles constrict as you brought him closer to the edge. Bringing your free hand up to feel over his chest, raking patterns with your nails over the firm muscles.

You move to suck firmly at his tip and feel his hand come to grasp at the back of your head, pushing you down his length, as you oblige you feel his cock begin to pulse as he buries the tip of it in the back of your throat and begins shooting hot ropes of cum down it, gladly swallowing every drop he gave you. Feeling him empty you slowly remove yourself with a light lick up his length, settling yourself back against his frame as he tugs you closer.

“Missed you too pet” is all he says as he feels his breathing level out, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips. He shifts down to grab at your curves, molding your body into his as he pushes his tongue past your lips. You try to find the strength to release yourself from him as he continues grabbing handfuls of your ass.

You shake your head “not me, just wanted to make you feel good” you say as you move your head back. He groans silently begging you to let him taste you, but you stand firm. As much as you loved the idea of seeing your husband between your thighs, chin glistening with your slick, you had to pack and get ready to meet on base. With a final kiss you pull yourself up from the bed, struggling against the iron grip Simon had on your waist.

Laying defeated in the bed, Simon couldn’t help but smile as he watched the way your body moved across the room, eyeing your bare legs up to your shoulders where his shirt hung loosely over your breasts, god he loved it when you wore his clothes. As you make your way into the bathroom to start the shower, you start to feel a sense of anxiety, nervousness. It had been years since you and Simon had worked together in the field, and months since your last deployment, you had stayed in relatively good shape, but you feared that your skills may not be to the same standard that they were when you were on active duty.

Pushing the anxiety aside, you stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to wash away any tenseness in your muscles, trying to clear your mind and prepare for whatever may come. Turning your body you see Simon, leaned against the doorway, staring.

“See something you like?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow.

Within seconds Simons grin had turned into a devlisish smirk, crossing the space and stepping in next to you in the shower. “Why have you always got this thing on scorching temperatures” he asked as he let the water wash over his broad chest, facing you.

“It is not that hot, you’re just being a baby” you respond, splashing him.

Simon clicks his tongue, “one day i’ll have to punish you for calling me names” he says as he leans down to place a kiss to your lips, travelling down to your neck and collarbones.

“Mm maybe i’d like that” you say between shallow gasps.

Sucking a bruise at the top of your breast, you feel him travel lower, placing a kiss wherever his lips can reach. You trail your hands through his hair as he grabs at one of hips to steady you, lifting your leg and draping it over his shoulder.

“This got long” you try to say whilst playing with his hair, but it comes out as almost a whisper. He simply hums in agreement, placing a soft kiss to the top of your clit, as you elicite a moan. Moving further down he licks a firm strip from the bottom of your cunt to the top, sucking firmly at your sensative clit. You feel you head fall back, making contact with the tile wall as he continues to suck and lick at your cunt.

Relishing in the soft moans and sighs that fall from your lips, he brings his finger up and slowly begins pumping it in and out of you, bending to hit just the right angle that has you seeing stars. Feeling your legs get weaker, his hand on your hip grasps more firmly, holding you upright for him. He continues his assault, inserting a second finger and you forget how to form words.

“Taste so good lovie, fuck - been thinking about this cunt everyday i’ve been gone”

You moan in response to him, feeling that familiar ball begin to form in your lower stomach, he continues pumping his fingers into you, grazing that spot that has you inching closer and closer to the edge, while he positions himself to suck on your clit, teasing it with his tongue.

“Fuck si - so good - gonna cum”

You manage in between moans.

“ s’alright baby, cum on my fingers - that’s it - such a good girl”

His praise was all it took to send you over the edge, clamping down on his fingers while he continued to finger you through your high, whispering praises of how good you looked and how perfect you are. Finally coming down from your high Simon releases you from your grip, keeping his hand on your waist to keep you upright, placing a kiss to your lips, you taste the remnants of your orgasm before the shower washes it away, as Simon grabs the shampoo bottle, dispensing some of the liquid into his hands and begins to work it through your hair.

Turning the shower off and stepping out into a towel, you begin collecting the necessary toiletries needed for your deployment, nothing too large, only the necessities that could fit into the small bathrooms given to lieutenents .

Moving about the flat as usual, packing your bags, it had become second nature for you at some point. Simon never fully unpacked, he kept clothes in his bag, keeping his weapons locked away for safety, but keeping a glock beside the bed in case of emergency. After the two of you had eaten and cleaned up breakfast, you quickly gathered your bags, tidying up the flat so it was at least clean when you eventually came back. You packed into your separate cars, giving each other one final kiss as husband and wife, knowing that once you left the security of your apartment, your relationship was not to be flaunted, it was no longer Simon and you, it was the Ghost and Strider.

Arriving at base was strange, you rarely worked outside the walls of the gym, and your office, for Simon, it was like a second home, spending more time there preparing for ops than he spent at your actual home. He arrived first, walking in to one of the meeting rooms to join the rest of the 141. Sitting down alongside Soap and Gaz, while the others scattered throughout the room, and Price sat at the head of the table. You found your place a few minutes later, quietly entering and propping yourself up against a far wall.

“Gentlemen” Price addressed the team, “the enemy has taken a government operative hostage in an attempt to create a ceasefire within the confines of the country. We know they have nuclear weapons, and we have been issued execute authority for anyone who stands in the way. I can’t tell you much about the target other than they will be referred to by the codename Excalibur. In efforts to make a peaceful reclaiming of the hostage without the detonation of enemy weapons, I’ve asked the Sargeant to join us.”

“Code name Strider, a sniper for the SAS and reconnaissance specialist, also one of the few of you that can actually speak the language of the enemy”

The men all turn to you, previously ignorant of your presence. Returning back to share glances and think to themselves.

“That’s all I can tell you for now, location is Panama, we deploy at 0600 hours. Get some rest and ready yourselves. Dismissed” Price finishes, and the men gather their filed from the table and begin to exit the room.

Soap watches as you leave, turning his attention quickly to the masked figure passing his side.

“Hey LT, whaddua think?”

“About what Sargeant”

“The lass, I reckon she’ll bring some good morale” Soap says with a wink.

Ghost stops in his tracks, forcing Soap to backpeddle a little. “Shes not here for you to get your rocks off Johnny, she’s just here to help that’s all you git” Ghost tries his best to hide his anger, thanking whatever Gods that Soap couldn’t see how red his face had gotten under the mask.

“Alright, alright, plenty of other options LT” Soap says and turns on his heel to leave.

Ghost quietly makes his way to your quarters, knocking once before entering.

“You shouldn’t be here” You say

“Why?”

“Because we’ve been here what? An hour? People are going to get suspicious if the elusive Ghost suddenly appears in the new members quarters”

“Everyones rooms are on the other side of base, they won’t know anything. - Johnny’s sweet on you” Ghost says through clenched teeth.

“Who Soap? He was just asking watching, plain curiosity.”

“He wants to fuck you” He says as he rests against the desk in your room, arms folded over his chest.

You cross the room, abandoning you task of organising your equipment. “You’re jealous, they’re just being guys, most of them probably haven’t seen a women in months.”

“Doesn’t matter”

“Si-” you whisper as you move your hands to place them under the hem of his balaclava, only pulling it up to reveal his lips and chin. “Just because we can’t openly be with eachother doesn’t mean anyone is going to get close to me like that”

He reaches to pull you closer, locking his hands around your waist.

“Just.. don’t play into his delusions, please. I don’t want to do the paperwork that comes with breaking a team members nose”

“S’that all you’d break? Im surprised”

“I’d start with the nose, see what else happens”

You giggle and push yourself up on to your toes, placing a kiss to his lips. “We’ll be okay Si, I can handle the guys, you don’t have to worry.”

“You’re all mine?” He asks chasing your lips for a kiss.

“All yours” you say pulling him in for a final deep kiss.

You spent the rest of the evening moving around your room and the base, becoming familiar with your new gear, and grabbing dinner from the mess hall. By seven, most of the team were back in their rooms, getting prepared and resting before the op. At 7:08 you stepped out of the shower to the sight of Simon sitting in your bed.

“Seriously, you’re going to get us caught” you say as you make your way to grab clothes to sleep in.

“Everyones in their rooms, no ones going to knock on your door, and everyones too afraid to knock on mine. We can stay the night together at least”

You pretend to reason with him in your mind, but you knew this may be the last time you slept next to your husband for months, so you decide to give in, struggling to fit yourself next to his massive frame in the tiny standard issue bed. He made as much room as he can, eventually you two settle on spooning, one arm tucked under your head, the other resting over your stomach as he draws lazy patterns onto your skin. You reach up and take his hand in yours, kissing the back of it before tucking it under your chin.

“I’m gonna miss sleeping next to you”

“Never get a good sleep when you aren’t there” he says, you can feel his warm breath ghost over the nape of your neck. As you smile to yourself, suddenly all the excitement of the day catching up to you, as you quickly doze off to sleep, entrapped by Simons arms.

Your alarm goes off at 5:15 am, blinking yourself awake, the room was dark but the beginnings of the sun drenched the room in a soft blue light, looking over Simon was already awake.

You smile as you place a tender kiss to his lips, “when did you wake up?”

“Didn’t sleep” he says as his hand falls to rub his thumb over your bare thigh.

“Aren’t you gonna be tired later?” you knew the answer, rarely did Simon ever truly tire, and even more rarely did he sleep. You swore the man could go a week straight without a wink of sleep and still function better than anyone you knew.

“I’ll live” is all he says sitting up to stretch his back and envelop you into a tight hug, pressing his chin into the curve of your shoulder.

“You should probably sneak back to your room, might get suspicious if someone sees us both leave here” your hands move up and down his back softly pressing into the skin.

“In a minute”

He kept you in his grip for another 5 minutes, refusing to move, praying to all the Gods everywhere that this mission would go well, you two would be home soon, laying in bed together, unharmed. Simon finally moved off the bed and you immediately felt the loss of warmth. Watching him as he moved to the table where he left his mask, pulling it over his head alongside his clothes, granting you one last look at him before he left and the Ghost took over. Your door shut and you heard his footsteps grow quieter, willing yourself up to tame your hair in a way that would keep it out of your face, pulling on your gear and fixing your vest. With one last look in the mirror, you remembered the dog tags. Simon had given you an old pair of dog tags months ago, just to have. You grabbed one of the tags and fixed it to a separate chain on your neck, alongside your wedding band, tucking both into your shirt, out of sight, you left the room and made your way to the helicopter, eager to leave, but nervous to face what awaited you on the mission.

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