#it is just as valuable to take time off and relax | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jellicatty · 1 month ago

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♯1 ┆ ❝ SUMMER BUMMER ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ᵎᵎ

With your teases and flirty remarks, the two men find themselves guessing the color of your panties— another game they played besides golfing.

╰┈➤ contains : nanami x beverage cart attendant! female reader x higuruma. nana and higu golfing. masturbation. grinding. mutual pinning. innuendos. nana and higu are perverts here. jealous! higuruma. reader is a tease. reader wear skirts.

╰┈➤ note : EEEE FINALLY I POSTED THIS it only took me like a months... anywayy, sex scenes aren't really my forte plus this is like the first time i wrote one sooo don't expect too much (?).

╰┈➤ next : groupie love (coming soon) ...

Defendants would put all the blame on him, the court's verdict is seemingly destined to oppose his favor. Or, that's what Higuruma thought. Another failed case, another living being failed by the country's unjust system, another alleged victim thrown into jail.

Higuruma though, knew that these circumstances would happen. His dream have lasted for centuries, formed by his compassion to deliver the accused to light. But little by little, his principles have formed cracks.

Although his workaholic nature is unfaltering, worsened by the multitude of paperworks, Higuruma does crave for rest. But, his work-life balance contradicts his need for relaxation. Until, the opportunity had arrived and he's now trudging to a bar.

To passerby, it was your typical, vintage bar that old and worn-out folks like him would visit. However, Higuruma saw it as a sanctuary for his deep troubles. From drinking with his colleagues or just simply letting his usually work-occupied mind slip away, his favorite bar had seen it all.

"One— No, three of these, please." His ever polite tone still there even as the hours of long work shouldered him down.

The atmosphere rivaled the comfort of his home, and it's probably why Higuruma had an liking for it.

"You're being carried away by your thoughts, Mr. Higuruma." The bartender was quick to notice his blank expression, placing his ordered drinks in an attempt to distract his mind from work.

But, the bartender knew Higuruma too well. Despite connecting only through brief conversations, and a short time together, the bartender had a sense of what Higuruma's state of mind is at the end of the day.

"If you want to take off your mind away from work, then I suggest doing something else for a change." Well, this hasn't been the first time the advice was given to the attorney. He's had his fair share of therapeutic tips from concerned people. None were able to fully convince him though.

"I don't... I'm too busy."

"You wallow in self-pity, yet do nothing to save yourself from it. I've met other people like you, people who find comfort in what makes them distraught." Instead of his duties, the bartender was now focused on Higuruma. "It doesn't end good for them. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. It's not that easy to let go of something that you've dedicated your whole life too."

"I'm sure nothing will be lost if you do let go for a fraction of a second."

"You're not going to give this up, huh?" Higuruma sighed, "Well, I'd like to keep a valuable customer." They both chuckled at the Bartender's wishes. After some thought and a drink or two, Higuruma was set on the decision to make some small changes in his life for once.

The problem is, what would be the change?

Gym was out of the question since he frequently did so. Hiking's too taxing and he can't leave his duties for a long time. Sports were a possibility, as long as it didn't physically exert him that much. Golfing, maybe? He thought.

"One of the gents at the bar earlier has been to the newly opened golfing course here."

Ah, golfing it is.

"I think that young fellow over there needs a getaway from their life, too." His focus turned to the younger, blond man sitting three stools away. A few bottles have been emptied, yet it was evident that he could go for a few more. Nothing outstanding from the man aside from his leopard-pattern tie. Just your typical, fatigue worker.

"Looks like you're also preoccupied with your mind, Sir Nanami. I take it as a bad day?"

"No need to say more."

Although Higuruma knew it was not the best to disturb the tired man, he thought that perhaps talking to him would make their mundane nights better. Maybe, to comfort him with the words he wished to hear.

"Sorry for intruding your conversation, but are you new here?"

"Nope. Been here for some time now. Just been a bit busy with some... grueling reports again." He winced at the mention of his work.

"Reports?"

"I'm a salaryman." Higuruma now turned his full attention on Nanami, filling his curiosity. He hands out a calling card, "Here, just in case." And for a brief second, Higuruma almost laughs at his own 'joke' that he always did with his new acquaintances. Fortunately for him, Nanami's humor was not yet stripped away by his boring profession and softly smiled at his friendly remark.

It's a simple change like this is what Nanami wanted. Nothing extraordinary, nothing too small to notice too. The two men shared their experiences, silently bonding over the heavy troubles they carried from day to night. And if they were being honest, this was one of those moments where they surely won't forget. It's like moments like this was there only escape from the tiring duties they must do.

Alas, the deepest night has caught up to them. The lulling blue tones that played throughout their visit no longer graced their ears. The only noise present was their chatter and the kind bartender's huffing and puffing of cigarette.

"You know, despite your gruff look, you're an approachable guy. A fun one too if you squinted."

"Oh, gruff? You should check a mirror, Higuruma."

The two men chuckled at their jokes, slowly packing up their own belongings before cleaning their surroundings. After they finished, they walked together outside.

The blistering cold of the night quickly breezed past the two men. A shiver and a small breath of fresh air later, they nodded at each other and departed from the bar with heavy steps.

The night was still young, and Higuruma's desperate for a change. Fortunately, Nanami Kento had arrived. Albeit small, Nanami still had made a difference to Higuruma's perpetual enervating days.

He doesn't want their interactions to remain just at the bar, though. Perhaps, he should suggest on golfing together to help the blond too.

The summertime heat was merciless. As one could anticipate for this time of year. In the intense heat, Higuruma and Nanami were helpless. Their experienced selves took turns swinging their golf clubs, finding entertainment in their calculated swings and triumphant shots. Empty cups scattered on their table, their belongings left unattended.

Golf seemed like a good start—and maybe their greatest choice by far. It was not only a nice diversion, but it also provided them with the ideal reason to spend time with their favorite entertainment—you, the beverage cart girl.

Weeks have passed, and life has been more tolerable. The first golf meets with Nanami were riddled with a comfortable silence, as if the two men had known each other for a while. The only bond they had was formed on their sleepless nights and persistent work, yet conversations flowed effortlessly. With their unfading politeness and formal talking that stayed even during their golf meets. They both assumed that the other was righteous, and a man of good qualities. Damn were they wrong.

Refined. Upright. Gentlemanly. Those words that used to describe the two men were long discarded. Since your arrival, the two men had been nothing but good, their true colors spilling from the shells of who they used to be. Higuruma could still vividly recall the moment where their true selves slipped. Their gazes were fixed only on you that day, overfilled with joy once you asked for their orders in that sweet voice you had. And right after you left them with their hard rock problems to themselves, they turned to each other as if their eyes alone could communicate. A word did not need to be shared. They knew that you were going to be a problem.

"What do you think's the color of her panties this time, Nanami?" Higuruma positioned his hips in a more appropriate manner, then swung his club.

"That cheeky woman loves pink," Nanami replied.

Aside from golf, they engaged in another game — guessing the color of your panties. As suggested by Higuruma when he caught a glimpse of it a few days ago, this was now the two men's favorite pastime. To them, it seemed only fair since you'd purposely bend over to shamelessly give them a view of your lace-trimmed panties that matched your outfits.

"I highly doubt it will be pink again—"

Out of nowhere, the faint noise of tires screeching slowly approached the two men. Puzzled, they looked at each other first, before turning around. Their eyes confusedly searched for the noise, before their gazes landed on the approaching golf cart— or rather, you.

It was as if you were the oasis in the Sahara desert, quenching the men's thirst with your exposed skin and alluring smile. With your pastel yellow pleats that went inches above your knee, your tight-fit Lululemon jacket that hugged your delectable figure, and your glamoured face, you joyfully steered the cart towards them.

Your beautiful smile greeted them, "Sir Kento! Sir Hiromi! I've brought you your drinks again!"

Higuruma's typically vacant eyes had their spark back to them, the usual boring look it wore instantly disappearing. Meanwhile, the hard lines of Nanami’s face eased, his stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

You hopped off your seat and prepared their ordered drinks, blind to their improper gazes that seek your undergarment.

Luck was merciful, and the world was on their side today when a breeze had swept your skirt upwards in a cartoonish fashion.

"Oh!" Your cheeks flushed scarlet at the embarrassing incident, yet your hands take their time to pull down your skirt.

Their eyes are quicker than your hands, ill-intent gazes finding your undergarment in a flash. Light pink and polka dotted, adorned with a small bow at the front. The kind of panties that he envisioned every night. Nanami snickered, proving himself to be right once again.

"Pay up," Higuruma grumbled, cursing the man under his breath. Their actions no longer define the men they used to be. Their gentlemanliness and polished attitudes dissipate into the air at the sight of you.

"Thanks, angel. You know how to make our day better, huh?" Nanami returned your smile and took the drinks from your hand.

Higuruma is not oblivious enough to overlook Nanami's full interest in you. He's sure that a deprived man like him would ogle at your frame. He applauded the blond's self-control because, God, mini skirts were the death of him.

"That would beeee... 12 dollars!"

"12 only?" Higuruma pulled out his wallet and handed more than the said amount, "Here, keep the change, sweetie." However, your hands clumsily dropped the money.

Your breasts from the tight-fit jacket were threatening to spill out as you bent down to grab the fallen change. Although involuntarily, the two men were able to shortly glance at it and oh, my— what a sight. Two mounds pressed tightly together, sweat sensually gliding on your skin, the natural red flush adding more allure.

Their throats ran dry, needing a refreshment as they were taken aback by the promiscuous view of your tits. There's no way that wasn't intentional, they thought.

Although you often pulled those stunts, your shyness still lingered— a thing that they grew fondness for. You excused your blunder, timidly covering your face as you walked back to your cart.

"Aw, you going so soon?" You knew Higuruma would call for you. After all, he enjoyed your presence and often was the one chatting with you. From his smirk though, you should have known he had something in store for today.

"Come, let Mr. Kento here teach you some golf lessons." Higuruma's true goal of making you break in broad daylight is hidden under his hoax suggestion. Nanami, with his sharp senses, saw Higuruma's real intention, irritated at being his guinea pig for entertainment.

Despite his annoyance, he gratifies the other man's idea. Now, he has an inexcusable reason to close the proximity between you.

You asked the man in your honeyed voice "Would it be okay, Sir Kento?", so sweet it's almost sickly. His ears are focused on your saccharine voice, contradicting his jumbled thoughts that insisted he was sick of hearing it, fearing how much power your words have over him. His mind wonders; Would you have that same, sugary and sweet voice? Would your moans echo like candy, alluring and irresistible?

Nanami's attention was quickly drawn to you, looking up at him, his bulging biceps pressed against your tits. Your big, doll-like eyes are desperate to be taught. Nanami wonders again if you'd have the same look when he'll be ruining you.

"Pleaaseee! My shift will be finished soon!" Your pout was his last straw, a victim to your begging once again. Sighing, Nanami agreed to your requests.

"Yay! Thank you, Sir Kento!"

"Calm down, sweets. Mr. Kento here is going to malfunction if you keep on clinging to him like that." Higuruma snickered at Nanami's flustered face. "Oh, I apologize, Sir Kento!" You sheepishly backed away and regretted your actions.

The truth is, it wasn't just the two men that had their perverse fantasies. You too suffered their charm. Whether it be downing the alcohol they ordered, or simply breathing, it always had been a distraction for you. Their Ralph Lauren polos hugged their bodies in a nice fit, outlining their flexed muscles that shone deliciously under their sweat and the sun's rays. Thick, defined thighs, straining their pants. Even when playing normally, their wealth and professionalism exuded, something that you found very appealing.

"Bend with your hips, Y/n. Not your waist." Would it be wrong to say that you found his strict demeanor attractive? Would it also be wrong to think of the many things Nanami would order you to do in bed?

"Aaand— Did I do it right?!" Nanami's advice went through and exited your ear. Your swings misaligned and your ball never reached the goal.

"Gosh, you're a lost cause, angel. This is how it's done." Without warning, Nanami walked to your back. His proximity was sinful as his crotch settled at your ass, the sudden closeness eliciting a small, shocked gasp from you.

"Like..." He's also affected by the warmth and comfort your ass gave, hot breath fanning over your neck. He extended his arm and put them over yours, guiding your own so you can swing in a correct manner. "This."

But, aiming for the goal was the least of your worries. Not when Nanami's cock is noticeably hardening against your ass.

"There, you did it!"

A mix of disbelief and amusement flickered on Higuruma's face. Regret washed over him as Nanami took his suggestion to another level, scolding himself for underestimating the blond's courage and will to tease you right in front of him. With no escape, he's now forced to watch the consequences of his actions unfold. Yet, despite the pure jealousy clouding his mind, he does admit that the scene was enticing.

His thoughts are improper and vulgar, your flushed expression fueling him more. His train of thought is unavoidable though. Whenever Nanami teased you in broad daylight, publicly, and in front of him, his thoughts will surely be anything but pure.

"S-Sir Hiromi—!" Your voice cried, not for help but for his attention. A whore like you loved the attention. You loved Higuruma's disgusted scowl as he watched the two of you get handsy. You loved Higuruma's body, which reacted opposed to his shown expressions— his bulge visible while his face grimaced.

But, his thoughts got the best of him, and you only wanted to share your achievement.

"Did you s-see my shot? It was perfect!" You finally let out a breath when Nanami pulled away, not without a small, teasing comment whispered at you.

Let him watch.

Oh, you will.

Another time, though, because Higuruma's jealousy was painfully cutting through the air. His patience was wearily thin, and it's all because you cannot stop grinding on Nanami's bulge.

Determined to outdo the blond's ministrations, and also ease his jealousy, Higuruma chimes in., "You mind for a dinner together? Could tell that you need a break just from your eyes alone, sweets."

The sudden attention left you light-headed, shocked with their unspoken rivalry. You had power and influence over them, and you know just how to use it. But for now, your mind could only focus on the fact that you were going to dinner with your client. You’ve overstepped so many rules and most probably going to be in trouble, but a night with a man like Higuruma Hiromi was something you won’t deny.

Nanami sees your excitement. Feeling the sprouted competition happening between him and his friend, he quickly interjects, "I still don't have your number either. What is it, angel?"

Higuruma's betting on all of his suits (which are all expensive, by the way) that Nanami's going to fuck his fist to your pictures tonight. And he wasn't wrong. Because, as soon as Nanami arrived home, his first thought was to check your socials (surprisingly, not his paperwork). He was initially confused since you had an innocent facade online. Shared religious quotes, pictures with family, not a single photo where your boobs are out for everyone to see. He's even doubting if he followed the correct account. The only confirmation he had that it was yours was the new story you had posted.

It was you, right after your shift, posing in front of the mirror with a smile. Your caption about thanking the Lord for another day made him laugh. He's confident that you're praising Nanami for his ministrations earlier instead.

Nanami also wholeheartedly believes you're thanking him too for pressing his hard cock on your ass. He's flattered, and fucking horny, still bothered by the stunt he pulled earlier.

His erection is painful, and Nanami realizes how he could take care of it. Although feeling a bit perverse at the act he's about to do, he shoves his second thoughts away, eager to cum at a picture of you.

His lengthy dick is in his hand, gliding against his tip, then sliding up and down. His pre cum coated the top, oozing continuously as he stared at your picture on screen.

"Fuuuck..." He groaned, eyes closed, panting at the pleasure he was feeling. He indulges in his fantasies, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks of you inside his bedroom, wearing nothing but your light pink underwear, with polka dots all over and decorated with laces and ribbons. The same panties that he caught a glimpse of that he's so weak for. He's curious about what you'd be like, but he knew your salacious nature, and figured that you'll be the same slut you are.

God, if only you were here.

If you were here, it wouldn't be him toying with himself. It would be you, bouncing up and down, drool dripping from your mouth, as his cock fucks your pussy silly. You'd have that dumb look on your face, mind clouded in a lust-frenzy haze as you desperately begged for more.

"Mhm! Sir Kento!" He knows you'd call out to him, your voice ever-so-sweet, whining and weeping at the fervent feeling of him filling you up.

"Gonna cum inside you." is what he'd say if you were here. And you being you, you're fain of his request, straddling his hips as if it was made to be there. You wouldn't pull away. Instead, you'd remain on his dick as splurges of cum shoot out of it.

"T-thank you, Sir" You'd thank him for drowning your sex with his cum. Nanami would only get hard again at your sweetness that managed to stay in the bedroom, and he'd flip you over and pound himself into you.

His empty promises to himself would be fulfilled one day. But for now, his hand will do.

"S-shit" His voice is shaky, body trembling at his intense high. His palm is dirtied by his cum that he hoped was inside of you instead.

Tonight, it will be his hand. Next week, it will be your mouth. He's certain of that— No, he swears it will be your small mouth wrapped on his cock. Perhaps, with Higuruma fucking you silly too.

tags : @packsvlog @honeynanamin @rrssrios @misscigarettes @shokosbunny @shamelessdonutkryptonite @i1uvc4ke @dongh9e @freakadelik @tomurafrlover23 @sad-darksoul @glader13 @that-redheadd @beantokki @a-hidden-gem @joonsanswers @erenspersonalsexdoll @s-1-xx @shxniq @ilovetengen @zianaz-slvtz @jwnzlvr @wifenanami @20kglex @oromaangel @jejejjekskwl @s4m4nth4wrld @jaeminsmilk @alpha-mommy69 @lobsteeer @blackphoenix0718 @wrldldo @nappingmoon @cindyneko-strider @yumiecheesecrackers @rattats-world

#comment to be tagged for pt 2!#nanami x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk smut #nanami smut #higuruma smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi smut #jjk x reader smut #| 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘 (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

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candy69gurl · 8 months ago

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hiii 🤗🤗 im new to your blog, i know you write dark fiction i was wondering if youd be open to some fluff? Like soft sex with sukuna?

Infernal Passion

Heian Era Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, slight non-con, loss of innocence, size kink (Sukuna in true form with 2 dicks, 4 arms and abdomen mouth), mentions of violence (Sukuna eats humans but gentle only with you), use of nicknames, belly buldge, pussy eating, fingering (Sukuna has nails), nipple playing, raw sex (cumming inside), breeding kink, mentions of lactation

wc - 2.4K

ART NOT MINE !

"—Oh, Uraume, bring the new offering to me." Sukuna grumbles, his voice low and menacing. "Tie her up securely and make sure she knows her place. I won't tolerate any resistance from her." He smirks cruelly, savouring the thought of what's to come.

Uraume enters the room, dragging you by the arm, your eyes wide with fear.

Uraume ties you to a wooden post, leaving you bound and vulnerable. Your eyes are filled with tears, and your breathing has turned shallow, each gasp echoing softly in the dimly lit room. The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the many who faced the same fate as you.

"Ah, such a delicate little thing." Sukuna's eyes rake over you, taking in every detail of your body. "I can already taste the fear in your blood. It's going to be a delightful meal." He reaches out, gently running a finger down your cheek, his touch cold and calculating. "Such a sweet dessert after a huge feast."

"P-please d-dont eat me.. I-I don't want to die.. I beg of you", you plead, your body already limb under his gaze.

Sukuna's eyes narrow, studying your pleading expression. "Very well, I shall spare you this time." He leans in closer, his breath warming against your skin. "But you have to give me something in return.

"What do you have to offer me?" Sukuna asks, his gaze intense. "You must give me something truly valuable to earn my mercy today." He steps back, crossing his arms, and waits for your response.

You are trembling against his piercing gaze, words stuck in your throat.

"Yes, yes, I can tell you're frightened," Sukuna says mockingly, "but I assure you, I am quite patient. What do you think would please me enough to forget your insignificant life?" He watches you closely, examining your trembling form and the fear etched upon your face. "Perhaps your body could provide some sort of entertainment... Tell me, have you ever served a man before? Or perhaps multiple men?"

Tears stream down your face as you desperately search for words. "N-no." You whisper, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks, "I am... pure, untouched." Your voice wavers, and you bite your lip nervously, hoping that your submission will be enough.

Sukuna's eyes gleam with interest as he studies your reaction. "Pure, are you? That could be intriguing." He takes a step closer, towering over you, his massive form looming over your tiny frame. "But I require more than just words, little one. Show me how much you value your life, and maybe I'll decide if it's worth keeping." He gestures Uraume towards his chamber, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Inside, you will find what I need. Fail me, and I will eat your heart and make you suffer until your last breath."

Uraume approaches you, their expression softening slightly as they untie the bonds restraining you. "Fear not, dear one. Lord Sukuna requires your purity intact." They whisper gently, helping you stand and guiding you towards the chamber, "We shall prepare you for his pleasure."

Within the chamber, a warm bath steams gently, and a pristine robe is laid out on a nearby stool. Uraume helps you undress and step into the water, washing away the dirt and fear clinging to your body. Their gentle hands work over your tense muscles, and their movements are confident and practiced.

As you relax in the warm water, Uraume carefully dries you off and helps you into the robe, adjusting the fabric to fall just right over your slender form. "You are ready now, dear one." Uraume's voice is calm and soothing, and their eyes never leave you. "Remember, you must please Lord Sukuna if you wish to live." They lead you back to the main room, where Sukuna awaits, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Well, well," Sukuna drawls, his gaze raking over your body. "Look at you, all cleaned up and ready for my pleasure." He runs a hand through his hair, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Sukuna motions for you to approach the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as you move cautiously towards him. With a single swift motion, he removes your robe, revealing your innocence and vulnerability to him. "Ah, so tempting."

"You are merely a morsel in comparison to my size and strength, yet your innocence and fragility only add to your allure." Sukuna growls, his massive hands tracing gently down your slender frame. "And here I thought your kind were all tough and unyielding, but you are anything but. You're soft, delicate, and, oh, so delectable." As he speaks, he pulls you closer, your bodies pressing intimately together.

His grip tightens, pulling you even closer, his erection pressing against your belly. "Your innocence is intoxicating, little one." He bends down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. You taste fear and surrender, which only fuels his desire further. His fingers trail down to where your legs meet, hesitating for a moment before pushing on your legs.

Your eyes fail to meet his, a tender blush filling your cheeks.

"Such shyness is adorable." But you'll learn quickly that there is no escape from my desires." His red eyes devouring your innocence.

With that, he sinks to his knees, his tongue flicking out to taste your essence.

The great Ryomen Sukuna on his knees for a mere human like you, you think.

Your thighs shake, his tongue is huge, one slide is enough to cover your whole womanhood. He savours your shock and fear, letting them mingle with the sweet flavour of your arousal. "So good; you taste better than raw blood." He murmurs, licking and sucking at your tender flesh, driving you wild with both pleasure and terror.

You squirm and whimper against his tongue. "Ah, so sensitive." Sukuna growls, his tongue darting out to catch the droplets of your arousal. "You're going to make me lose control, little one."

Sukuna's eyes widen in surprise at your sensitivity, his tongue lapping up the flood of wetness that cascaded onto his face. This is unlike any human he has encountered before. He cannot remember experiencing such sensitivity from others. It makes him thirsty for more, for your submission and pleasure.

Your mewls and whimpers turn him on further. "Such sweet sounds. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sukuna's voice is thick with lust, and his tongue never ceases its relentless assault on your sensitive core. He thrusts two thick fingers inside you, stretching your tight walls as you squirm beneath him, his nails brushing your walls drawing out moans from you, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

"A-ah, too much, Lord."

Sukuna groans low in his throat, fighting the urge to claim you right then and there. "If you can't handle that, how will you take my full length inside you?" He asks rhetorically, his fingers working in and out of you, stretching your wet heat in preparation.

Slowly, he eases himself free from his robes, his two massive members standing proud and eager. He positions himself at your entrance, taking a moment to let you feel the weight of his manhood pressing against your delicate folds. "Ready to accept what you owe me, little one?" A cruel smirk curves his lips, knowing you have no choice but to submit.

"Are you going to put both of them inside me?" You are terrified at the thought of his two lengths invading you.

"Don't worry, I won't," Sukuna responds, even though he wanted to push both his dicks inside you, the thought of your tender body feeling pain from it made him rebuff his thoughts. He gently guides his upper dick to your entrance.

Your thoughts are a mix of terror and confusion. You never imagined yourself in such a position—being taken by a powerful demon who holds your life in his hands. Yet, as he slowly pushes into you, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelms you. You cannot help but wonder if this is how your end comes, consumed by this beast. But strangely, your body responds to him, arching into his touch, craving more even

You couldn't believe it. A creature of such immense power and cruelty is gentle with you. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, almost tender. It's a stark contrast to the fear and violence that defined your encounter thus far. As he moves within you, you feel a strange mix of emotions—fear, yes, but also a strange sense of safety. It's an odd sensation to be at the mercy of a monster yet feel protected.

As he continues his slow, gentle thrusts, you can't help but wonder,

Was he capable of more than just cruelty and violence? Or was this just another part of his twisted game, designed to confuse and disorient you before claiming you completely?

"Feeling good, little bird?", he coos.

"Y-yes lord."

"Just for you, little bird. I'll be as gentle as silk." Sukuna whispers, his pace slowing down even further. His two hands hold your legs, and the third one strokes his ignored dick, a strange tongue formed from his hand slides against it. His fourth hand slides down to stroke your clit. The sudden burst of pleasure elicits a gasp from you.

"It feels so good, Lord Sukuna."

"Good. Enjoy it while you can." His thumb circles your clit, tongue formed from his hand occasionally lapping at it making your body flinch, taunting you with orgasm and drawing it out until your core is begging for release.

"Please, I am going to release, my lord", you eyes pleading him to let you release.

"I know.." Sukuna's breath hitches,"I've never been so careful with anyone, especially a mere mortal." His voice dripped with arrogance.

His two shafts pulsated, straining for release.

He hisses at your tightness as you squeeze his dick, creaming it white. Your moans echo through the room.

"Ah, so sweet, hmph," he purrs.

Without missing a beat, Sukuna switches the shaft currently inside you with the one he was stroking. He leans down and takes the newly freed member into his abdominal mouth. The sight of his shaft being devoured by his cursed abdomen sends shivers down your spine.

Sukuna seems to notice the direction of your gaze."They both want to be in you, sweetheart. Perhaps not today... I shall claim you with one of my dicks only."

"Love you..," your tone barely audible.

"Love me?" Sukuna's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing. This affection was unexpected, especially from someone he was about to devour a while ago. Yet, there is something intriguing about it. "Love? What do you know of love, little bird?"

He continues to move inside you, his pace increasing ever so slightly. Each thrust is deeper and harder than the last.

"I just know you are never going to hurt me. That's enough for me to love you."

Sukuna laughs cruelly, his hips moving faster now. His laughter echoes in the room, filled with both scorn and amusement. "Oh, how naïve you are. Perhaps I will love you back on one condition."

Your stomach bulges with each thrust, revealing a glimpse of his massive member. It moves in and out of you, leaving behind a trail of pleasure and pain.

With every thrust, your cheeks redden, and your eyes lock onto his.

"Will you be able to bear my child?"

You bite your already swollen lips, thinking your future with the curse king.

"Answer me!" Sukuna roars, slamming into you harder; his need for confirmation is overwhelming.

You swallow hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Yes! Yes, Lord Sukuna! I'll bear your child!"

"Good. You deserve my love then." Sukuna kisses your neck, then his tongue slides down your sternum to your breasts, his shaft disappearing entirely before re-emerging from between your legs.

"You'll bear my child, and you'll remember me every time you look at them. You'll remember your lord." Each word carries the weight of ownership, sealing your fate.

His eyes gleam with anticipation, imagining the sight of your breasts swelling with milk. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

"Imagine it, your nipples engorged, milk from them flowing freely. Yes, that would be lovely." His grip tightens on her hip, his thrusts becoming deeper and more possessive. His mouth sucks on your nipples while one of his hands pinches your nipples, thinking about how they would look, swollen and ready to feed his future kids. With each squeeze and suckle, you whimper, your body writhing beneath him. This is a future you never expected, but somehow, it excites you more than terrifies you.

His thrusts grow longer and slower, each one filled with possession and dominance. His mouth moves from one breast to the next, licking and sucking while his hand plays with the other.

"So close, are we?" His voice was low and seductive, promising pleasure and pain.

"Please, Lord, fill me. Fill me with your seed," you speak out the words you never imagined, you will say.

"So desperate, already? You beg well, sweetheart." Sukuna chuckles, his hips pumping faster. His breathing's ragged, and his gaze fixed on your face. "Are you sure you want this?"

Your lips swollen and red from biting as you let go of your moans while you orgasm again.

He does not wait for an answer, instead driving deep into you and filling you completely. His hot seed spills into your womb, marking you forever. His other dick squirts, landing on your chest and tummy. His eyes darken, and his entire body becomes tense.

"Now, you carry a piece of me. Forever bound to me."

Once spent, he collapses onto her, his breath ragged. His mouth found the curve of her neck, licking gently. "We have a deal, little bird. You bear my children, and I'll protect you. Our bond is sealed now."

"Look at you," Sukuna murmurs, pushing himself off your body. Standing up, he steps back to survey his art.

The mess is undeniable—your chest and belly covered in his seed, your thighs wet with evidence of their coupling.

His finger circles around your nipple, sending shockwaves through your body.

"How messy and used you look right now. Covered head to toe in my filth. I've claimed you and marked my territory for you. No one will dare touch you again. I'll leave you here to rest, my queen. When morning comes, Uraume will take care of you."

"I love you, my queen," he says, kissing your temple, letting you drift into the kingdom of dreams, where you are taking care of lord sukuna's kids.

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dwaekkicidal · 6 months ago

Text

𓆩Mochi Boyfriend Channie𓆪

gn!reader | he was top of the poll :3 Lix's will be posted tomorrow and then I will only make more if somebody requests other member versions <3

Mochi Channie who introduces you to the boys pretty early on, mainly because they begged to meet their new parent but also because they are his whole life, so it's important to him that you all get along. Their opinion is important to him so when they all approve of you instantly (and you handle them well), he’s through the roof

Mochi Channie who is shy about skinship, especially in front of the others, but will tank through it just to see the smile and blush covering your face (as if his ears aren't bright red)

Mochi Channie who encourages you to allow him to spoil you and eases you into it with smaller things like buying you small snacks, then ordering your favorite food after you’ve had a long day and showing up unannounced with it and your favorite treats, then finally will ease you into accepting brand name jewelry/clothes or any gifts that are generally expensive/valuable

Mochi Channie who puts everything (that he can) on pause to answer your texts and calls, even cutting himself off mid sentence when he sees your contact show up with a distressed message

Mochi Channie who calls you every morning and night when he's on tour, even when he's exhausted and doesn't want to do any talking. He'll sit there and listen to you talk about your day and falls asleep to the sound of your voice and the comfort of seeing you beside him once again

Mochi Channie who gives you secret sneak peeks into their latest endeavors, 1. so you know what he is doing at all times and 2. so he can see your eyes sparkle at events you find particularly interesting

Mochi Channie who gives you sneak peaks into songs like he did in Chan's room, only giving you a second or so of noise and then being a tease and leaving you hanging

Mochi Channie who, if you puppy dog eye him at a particular demo that sounds interesting, literally can not resist you and will show you as much of the song as you want/as he is comfortable with

Mochi Channie who, over time, opens up more and will eventually start taking your compliments to heart (Christopher you WILL love urself. 🔫<3)

Mochi Channie who is a fast learner: memorizes every little thing about you within a week of figuring out. New favorite food or drink? Knows the exact order and your preferred store of purchase. New favorite song or movie? Always plays it whenever he can.

Mochi Channie who indirectly asks stay for opinions on gifts for you. Goes on Bubble to send a picture of some items and a message along the lines of "Which do you want? haha." he reads through the replies and tallies them, using the final count to make a decision

Mochi Channie who may be inexperienced at first, but again is a very fast learner. So much so that by the 3rd or 4th time you guys are having sex, he knows your body to the same degree as, if not better, than you

Mochi Channie who has every spot that makes you squirm, every angle that makes you cry out, and every kink that makes your legs weak engrained in his head

Mochi Channie who won’t hesitate to fulfill your needs of him being rougher. also not hesitating to sit you down to discuss specifics and put rules in space

Mochi Channie who researches new positions, trying the most interesting out in order to figure out which one feels the best and has you shaking the fastest

Mochi Channie who gives you whiplash the first time he's rough with you. He wine and dines you while being his usual soft and lovey dovey self.. until he's not

Daddy Chris who pins you to the front door the second it's closed, pushing his thick lips against yours in a sloppy make out session

Daddy Chris who spends over an hour on just foreplay (mainly edging hehe), wanting things to be perfect and wanting you to be as relaxed as possible before he loses control

Daddy Chris who eases himself into you gently, like he normally does, but gives you whiplash when he starts to fuck into you meanly

Daddy Chris who "You asked for it, so just fucking take it. You promised you would be good for me, remember baby?"

Daddy Chris who does nothing but smirk and thrust harder when you cry out about how good he feels and how close you are despite the fact that he just started fucking into you

Daddy Chris who likes to put you in doggy so he can sneak a hand in your hair to pull you back-to-chest with him, giving him free rein to whisper filthy things in your ear while keeping you close

Daddy Chris who goes back and forth with his words. One second telling you things like how “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so well” and the next second saying things like “Aww it's too much? Good. Take this fucking dick, baby. It's made just for you."

Daddy Chris who pulls as many orgasms from you as he can before he's finished, sweet talking you through every. single. one. so he can watch you squirm below him with the biggest smirk on his face

Daddy Chris who only ends the night after you're overstimulated out your mind, tears running down your face and drool sliding down your chin

Daddy Chris who cleans you up, pressing sweet kisses to your temple and whispering soothing words to calm you down. He holds you close in the shower and at first just lets the hot water fall onto your skin before he washes you both

Mochi Channie who goes on like normal the next day, as if he didn't fuck you within an inch of your life the night before

Mochi Channie who still gets red in the face when you two show any skinship in front of the boys, but is more confident now that he realizes how deep in you both are <3

#sian’s writing #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz smut #skz drabbles #skz x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #chan fluff #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut #chan imagines

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azriels-human · 6 months ago

Text

In Your Dreams: I ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Okay this is my first time writing in years but Az is Bringing me out of retirement. Opinions and ideas are always appreciated. Enjoyy😌

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: This is a smut series. MDNI

part II

Song inspo:

“Az, you’re back!” Cassian’s booming voice probably alerts everyone in The House of Wind of his arrival just as Azriel touches down on the balcony.

Az can’t help the small smile directed at his brother. After being away on a mission for days, he appreciated Cassian’s loudness, it means home, comfort, relaxation-

Or so he thought until his eyes land on you, lounging on a sofa, book in hand but your empty eyes set on his own.

His smile instantly vanishes, replaced by a displeased glance before turning away.

Azriel cannot stand you. The newest member, a pick pocket from the Hewn City turned spy pupil for The Night Court. A dark presence that made him physically ill.

It’s no surprise you’re sat in the far corner of the room. Azriel hasn’t seen you speak to anyone beside Rhysand since your arrival. Even then, it was only about the minuscule missions he’d been sending you on the last 3 months.

Azriel simply nods at Cassian and Nesta. Words failing him as that illness returns deep in the pit of his stomach.

He can feel your uncanny gaze still focused on him, despite his obvious distaste for you. He knows that is precisely why you do it too.

Gods, you are the bane of his existence.

With a slight twitch of the brow, Az makes his way toward Rhysand’s study ready to give him yet another ear full about you.

How Rhys had even given you a position is beyond Azriel considering you were a straight up criminal.

Azriel had been on a mission in the slums of the Hewn City, the worst part, in fact. A part so small and forgotten that crimes are a first nature.

He just found the information he’d been looking for and his mood was nothing less than happy knowing he’d be back home soon.

That was until a cloaked figure had bumped him and continued on their way.

Naturally being in a more poor part of the city, Azriel pats his left hip making sure none of his weapons or money had been swiped. But they hadn’t.

It isn’t until he brings his left hand to move his own cloak and double check that he realizes his siphon is gone.

“How the fuck…” Azriel hasn’t been caught off guard like this in a long while. How could they swipe a stone embedded in his leathers without him feeling a thing?

Azriel wasted no time looking over the crowd to find the grey tattered cloak gracefully zipping through the crowd.

He follows just a swiftly. His eyes glued to the figure as he maneuvers past on goers.

The thief, as if sensing him, looks back for half a second before darting through the crowd, ducking and jumping over items and people. Still managing to move past them without bumping into anyone.

Az mutters a breathy, “Asshole” when he takes note of that.

At this point Azriel begins to push past the crowd. He can’t let them leave with it. Something that valuable, not just on market but to himself personally, will not fall into some slick criminals hands.

Just as they are about to round the corner Azriel sends his shadows in a silent command to detain the culprit. The shadows weave through the crowd even more speedy and graceful, wrapping around the hooded figure and yanking them back.

Their back hits the ground with an ‘oomf’ before they quickly try freeing themselves from the shadows constraints.

Azriel grabs their collar in one hand, lifting them up and bringing them to his eye level. The other hand snatching back the hood of the cloak.

He nearly gasps upon laying eyes on you. The bewitching darkness in your eyes bore into his, reaching for his soul as if you’d take it right from him.

Taking advantage of his perplexed state you kicked him in the stomach causing him to let go and his shadows to withdraw.

Azriel groans holding his middle and coughing once, twice.

You don’t hesitate to run down the empty alley but Azriel is quick to snap back.

You don’t make it half way through when he winnows in front of you. You slam into his chest and fall again, mud splattering the two of you. Azriel’s shadows bind your wrists above your head as he straddles your thighs.

You thrash beneath him, growling and clawing. His hands scanning over your arms, sides and hips until he felt the bulge of it settled on your hip…beneath the waistband of your pants.

He looks up at you, amusement dancing behind your wicked eyes as if he were being tested, ‘a will he, won’t he?’

His eyes flicker from yours to your somewhat now exposed navel. He can’t just…reach in there.

But he can’t just let you have it. He wouldn’t be wrong to take back what is his.

He scoffs, reaching under your waistband and pulling up a belt with a pocket attached causing you shriek almost inaudibly.

Azriel pulls the dull blue siphon from the pocket and looks back at you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t half amused himself.

A strange girl from the slums of the Hewn City stealing his siphon and testing his honor as a male.

Though he is not crazy enough to indulge the amusement. You are a thief. Not just a common thief but a a thief able to pick a very valuable possession off of a very cautious male.

“What is your name?” Azriel asks still hovering over you.

You only glare back.

“I asked what your name is.” Azriel grows impatient above you but you do not respond.

It could have been over. He could have let you go and steal from some other fool who wouldn’t notice but…he didn’t want to. Perhaps your crime against him was too personal and punishment seemed fit.

“Get up.” Azriel roughly pulls you to your feet, shadows still binding your wrists. Your struggles are deemed futile when he whisks you away to his High Lord.

Azriel all but stomps into Rhys study, shutting the door behind him. “Your newest addition has a staring problem.”

Rhysand looks up from his notes to see his irritated brother throw himself into the seat across from him. “What happened to ‘hello’ ‘how are you’?”

Azriel sighs. “Rhys.”

Rhys leans back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. “What harm is a bit of staring? Maybe she likes what she sees.”

“Please.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “She likes nothing and no one.”

Rhys shrugs. “She’s not so bad, Az. You’re just pissed she was able to pick something off of you.”

“I’m pissed that you gave her a job instead of consequences.”

“How couldn’t I? I’d rather have someone that can out sneak my spy master on my side.” Rhysand teases.

“She did not ‘out sneak’ me. Her methods were textbook. Not sneaky at all.” Azriel grumbles his blatant lies. He knows not just any theif, not even an exceptional one, could do what you did.

Rhysand chuckles. “Whatever you say, brother.” He clears his throat. “I assume you found the shop?”

Azriel shakes his head. “I did not but I heard rumors of where it will turn up next.”

Rhys had assigned him a rather odd case, a book of lethal potions stolen from a temple in the Hewn City by a traveling shop now supplying those lethal drugs. Reports saying it makes users hyper aware, a party drug when used correctly but as expected there are those who abuse it, turning them aggressive and eventually killing them when too much is consumed. Azriel has spent the last week trying to track the shop down with nothing to show for it until today.

“Where?”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “Coincidentally, in two days it will be in the same part of town…she…is from.”

Rhys chuckles at his brother’s pettiness once again. “She must really get under your skin with her staring.”

Azriel shakes his head, “Rhys, I’m telling you there is something off about her.”

“She’s been here for 3 months without incident. What do you suppose she will do?” Rhy asks entertaining the idea purely for the amusement of seeing a riled up Azriel.

“Steal. Spy. Hells for all we know she could be plotting everyone’s death.”

“Well, then I guess I should fear for your life when she accompanies you on your assignment?” Rhysand lifts a brow in mock questioning.

“Absolutely not. She will not be accompanying me anywhere…ever.” Azriel laughs at the notion.

“She knows her way around, she is successful in her missions and you need to get over your bruised ego and get along with her. She is supposed to be your pupil.”

Azriel shakes his head but before he can deny his High Lord, Rhysand continues.

“You will be taking her with you to retrieve the book and shut it down. That’s final.” Rhysand crosses his arms.

Azriel hesitantes but ultimately nods, dreading the thought of having to spend any amount of time near you.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel is sat in the lounge, a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. His eyes read over the page for the millionth time before he slams it shut and rubs his temple.

Sleep had evaded him, unable to stop thinking of this damned mission he has to take you on. At the fact that he must push away the alarms going off in his entire being when you are around.

Azriel knows something is wrong with you. It’s your expressionless gaze, the eerie aura that follows you and the stillness of your existence, even just standing around you’re still as a statue. You’re like a ghost. His own personal poltergeist.

As if on cue, he shadows curl up his neck whispering of your presence.

His stomach drops. He’d be damned if he had to endure you anymore than he has to.

Just as he retreats into the shadows in the corner of the den, you glide straight past the room entirely. Not even peaking into the only lit room of the house.

He knows it’s ridiculous but it irked him that you didn’t even look. Had you no curiosity either? And if you aren’t coming to the den, where are you going?

Regardless, he definitely isn’t going to find out. He has no intention of being anywhere near you. He wouldn’t subject himself to that.

…

But he wants to know. What if you had some secret hobby or routine? Something that made you…a person.

Why should that matter to him!? He doesn’t give two shits about what you do. His own curiosity only further proves how offbeat you are. He certainly will not follow you and he definitely won’t care what you are doing.

…

But what if you were up to no good? What if you were stealing from the High Lord every night after he goes to sleep?

Now that he can’t allow.

Azriel emerges from the shadows, peaking out from the door frame to find you at the end of the hallway. You enter the library and shut the door closed behind you.

He slips through the hallway and into the library, careful not to make a sound.

The empty library felt cold in your wake though there was no sign of you. You weren’t sitting on the sofas or searching for a book. There is only silence in his company.

Azriel strides through each row of bookcases lined throughout the room to no avail.

And now you’ve even disappeared like a ghost.

A beam of light enters at the back of the room earning his attention. The balcony.

Azriel stealthily crosses the room, concealing himself behind the bookcase closest to the balcony.

There you were. Sitting on the marble bench, staring up at the sky. Not causing any trouble.

Well, he has his answer, he can leave. He can go about his sleepless night.

But once again he did not want to, despite those alarms going off and the growing pit deep down. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

So he didn’t for a very long time.

He only watches your ominously still figure watching the sky. You do not look away or blink or breathe it seems. Not even a twitch of the fingers.

You just cannot be of this world.

“Azriel.” You call softly.

His heart drops into the swirling void in his stomach as chills sweep across his skin and the hairs of his arm stand.

You’d sensed him there. For how long? Though he doesn’t care what you think of him, he did not need you telling anyone he’s some stalker creep.

“You can come out.”

Azriel contemplates. He can leave as he should have done an hour ago but you already know he is here. Then again, maybe if he leaves you’ll think you were mistaken.

All of those options fly out of the door when you look back, directly at him.

He winces at his lack of options and being caught. How did you even know? He’s the fucking spy master and now he can’t even hide from you?

Azriel lets out a deep exhale, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath before coming out into your full view.

You look right into his eyes as he approaches you. Each step feels like a crushing weight as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“What are you doing out here?” Azriel asks firmly, not a shred of friendliness behind the words.

You only look back to the sky.

Were you ignoring him now? After telling him to come out?

Irritation begins to fill the void in him. The audacity. HE is the one ignoring YOU.

“What are you doing out here.” A command rather than question this time.

You subtly shrug.

Azriel rolls his eyes.

For a while the two of you are silent. What is he even supposed to say to you? You are the one that called him out here.

He isn’t surprised that you hardly speak but that doesn’t change the fact that it is annoying.

“You don’t speak much.” Azriel states plainly wanting to escape the awkward, silent tension.

“That’s your perception.” You match his blunt tone provoking his wonder. How could it be his perception when you don’t speak to anyone?

“I haven’t seen within 10 feet of anyone here.”

“That’s because you disappear anytime I’m in the same room as you.”

Azriel didn’t know what to make of your straight forwardness. Though he tends to speak directly himself, he’s not fond of such attitude. But coming from you, it seems fitting. “Perhaps I simply don’t enjoy your company.”

“Curious.” You look at him, standing up and making your way back into the library. “No male has ever complained about my company.”

Azriel follows close behind, watching your every poised step.

“As a matter of fact I’ve been told I’m quite the pleasure to be around.” You glance over your shoulder. That familiar sinister delight returning to your eyes, the same look you gave him when he realized where it is you held his siphon.

Azriel nearly trips on over his own two feet. The void beginning to whirl again. He cursed himself for needed to clear his throat. “Is that so?”

You stop abruptly and pivot on your feet, coming face to chest and tilting your head back to look up at him. His stomach leaps at the sudden proximity and your intense stare. He steps back.

“With my bright and bubbling personality, how could they not?” You raise a brow.

Azriel didn’t know if it was relief from the cut tension or the actual joke or both but he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Not to mention my breasts and ass.”

Azriel’s shock couldn’t have been anymore evident. His lips part unable to form a single word, not that his brain could form a single thought.

Azriel hadn’t thought of you in any way other than suspicion but now, standing before him, he can’t help but notice your deadly beauty. The enthralling darkness dancing behind your eyes and those plump pink lips. The thin strapped shirt clinging to your ample breasts. The outline of your peaked nipples. The perfect angle he has of your soft cleavage.

“That was also a joke.” You clarify and turn on your heel continuing towards the door. “Kind of.”

It most certainly was not a joke.

The loose shorts gripping your waist do nothing to hide the outline of your backside. Each step you take further away from him only giving him a better view of the swish of your hips and the bounce of your ass.

“Goodnight, Spy Master.” You bid farewell without so much as a glance back.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel couldn’t stop thinking of you, yet now it’s in whole different light. He would have never thought you to be so vulgar, in a cruel way maybe but not in a humorous way.

You’re so quiet and reserved and unsettling. He didn’t think you capable of making a joke, let alone a sexual one.

He couldn’t deny that it is a rather riveting piece of information. He should have known when you all but challenged him to reach into your pants a few month ago.

The memory of your tits sitting nice and pretty, your waist and full hips, your ass, all flood his mind.

Lying in his bed, Azriel turns onto his back, shaking the thoughts from his head.

He needs sleep. And he needs it now.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Exhaustion cannot begin to describe what Azriel felt. He needed not just to rest but recharge, and there is nothing better than laying down after a hard days work.

After what felt like forever he finally reaches his bedroom, twisting the nob and shutting the door behind him. He sighs, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the door.

“Azriel.” You call just as softly as you had earlier in the night.

Azriel whips around to find you sat on the center on his bed, feet under you and hands politely placed on your knees, as if you’d been waiting for him.

Azriel scans the room. Possibly a prank brought on by Rhysand but it’s only you in here.

“What are you doing in here?” Azriel hisses, sending a vicious sneer in your direction. And he thought ignoring him was the hight of your audacity but to enter his private quarters at such late hours?

“I haven’t been on my best behavior, have I.” You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence.

Azriel’s brow pinches. “What?”

“I’ve displeased you in some way.” You slowly stand from his bed. “I can’t have that.”

Azriel swallows hard as you inch closer with every word. “After all, I am a pleasure to be around.”

Azriel can only watch. Your shorts doing little to hide your exposed legs and soft thighs. That fucking shirt hiding your tight nipples.

You come to halt with only centimeters between you, looking up at him with that deceptively virtuous gaze.

He could smell you. An intoxicating scent of amber and jasmine. Like a garden in the fall.

Azriel’s heart thunders in his chest. Not fast but hard. He was sure not only you but everyone in the house could feel it. His whole being pulses with each thump as you reach for his chest.

“Let me be a pleasure.” Your delicate fingers just barely touches his chest, drawing a line down his chest. Then lower. And lower. And lower-

Azriels eyes widen as he snatches your hand in his. His chest heaving, trying to gulp down the air that slips away from him. You, however, seem un phased, eager, if anything. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

The scent of his own arousal permeates the air he desperately tries to breathe.

With half lidded eyes and a slight pout of your lips, you take your wrist from his loose grip and place your palm over the back of his hand, brining it up to your cheek and leaning into it.

Azriel’s blood turns cold at how tender your touch is, gentle as the embrace of death. Your skin warms his palm as you drag his hand down the side of your neck painfully slow, his thumb tracing the column of your throat.

Gods, he wanted to bite it. To latch himself onto that spot. If it was possible to envy one’s own hand, he’d turn green.

“I see how you look at me.” Your voice low and sultry. “You despise me.”

You move his hand down your collar bone, to your chest, settling between your breast. Something deep inside Azriel twists and knots, his cold blood turns hot as it rushes into his pants.

“Let me fix it.” You groan, trailing his hand further down to your stomach. “Let me show you…”

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek to keep his own sounds at bay. His brows pinch together at the sight of you. The rise and fall of your swollen, flushed breasts. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and the look of pure carnal desire.

“…just how much of a pleasure I can be.” You whisper breathlessly when you lead his scared hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Azriel chokes back a guttural groan when his fingers reach the slick folds of your cunt. Looking into his eyes with a feral hunger, you guide his fingers in sensual circles around your most sensitive spot. Hushed whines hum from your chest, purring at his governed touch.

His middle finger twitches against your clit, testing for himself. You respond with a low moan.

Azriel’s eyes flutter shut trying to reason with himself.

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Azriel can’t even stand the sight of you yet here he is with his hands down your pants for the second time, and he felt just as he had the first time, he wanted to ruin you.

Another flick of his fingers causes you to throw your head back.

Azriel growls. A fire ignites in his chest, coursing through every nerve of his body as he gives in to you.

His fingers take a course of their own, rubbing your center with fervor. A noise somewhere between a yelp and moan escape your parted lips. You grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as pleasure over takes you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Azriel leans forward to whisper in your ear. His warm breath tickling your skin as he asks, “Who made you this wet?”

You only moan, digging your hands into his bicep.

Still massaging your clit, he brings his free hand to strike the fat of your ass earning a very loud moan.

“Tell me.”

“You!” The stinging sensation mixes with your pleasure, encouraging you further. “You made me this fucking wet.”

Azriel hums, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “Mhm. Keep being a good girl and I’ll forgive you.”

His attacks your neck, teeth clamping down hard in what he knows will scar but he didn’t care. He wanted you marked. Proof that he could take control, even over someone with such a silent attitude as yours.

You hold back a scream. As much as it hurt, he knows you like it. “Dont hold back. I want to hear the pretty noises you make.”

Azriel’s tongue laps at the column of your throat, finally nipping at the spot he craved minutes ago. Your moans vibrate against his lips.

He pulls away to look at you. Eyes shut and jaw hung in ecstasy. His cock twitches in pants at how good he can make you feel.

The sight was anything but dark. Dare he say heavenly.

Suddenly, your eyes open, fixating on his. Lust and desperation laced in your stare as you plead, “I want your fingers in me. Please, Az.”

Azriel smirks down at you arrogantly. “Yeah?” You nod frantically, your moans and pants driving him absolutely wild.

“Whatever you want.” Azriel pulls away from you, sitting at the edge on his bed, knees spread as he pats his lap. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You stand between his legs but before you could straddle him, he grabs your wrist, roughly turning your back to him.

His textured hands glide down your back, feeling every curve until he reaches your shorts, yanking them down in one swift motion and leaving your rear exposed for his viewing enjoyment.

He gathers as much of your ass in his hands as he can, squeezing, caressing and parting for an even better view. Your slit and inner thighs glistening from your wetness.

He does dare to say heavenly.

“So fucking pretty.” He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your ass cheek and quickly slapping it right on top.

You jerk forward with an amused hum.

Azriel grabs your hip and brings you down to him. Your full weight falls onto his solid cock, strained in his leathers. He moans at the impact.

Azriel’s hands trail up from your hips, over your stomach and under your shirt and to your breasts. You whimper as his fingers lightly trace over your firm nipples and kneed at your breasts.

He should stop. Should have never even started when he hates so much but Azriel revels in it. The way you feel, the way he makes you feel. His lips latch to your neck sucking as he rolls your buds between his fingers.

“Azriel, please.” You breathe, writhing against him.

He groans, flicking your nipple harshly and immediately finding your center. The tip of his middle finger sliding up and down, toying with your hole.

“Please! Please put it in.” You whine, reaching up to tug at his dark locks. The sensation pushing him over the edge.

Promptly, his middle finger plunges into your cunt, pumping at a hungry pace.

“Oh, fuck! Azriel, yes!” You grip his hair stronger, receiving another painful bite and a slap on your tits in return.

Azriel adds another finger and you clench around them. “So fucking tight, angel. I bet you’ve never been fucked so full with two fingers, have you?”

You shake your head and throw it back over his shoulder when his fingers disappear in you to the knuckle.

“One more for me.” Azriel hums, a warning rather than a request as he teases a third finger against you.

“I…I don’t know.” You hesitate.

Azriel guides you to look at him, your face inches from his. His brows pinch and with a slightly patronizing pout he nods. “You can take it. Don’t you like how full I make you feel?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I can take it.”

“Good girl.” He breathes with a smug expression. Azriel can’t get enough of you like this. Pleading. Submissive to his every whim. The satisfaction of seeing that stoic demeanor dissolve because of him.

Azriel slides a third finger in slowly. Hells, you’re so fucking tight around his fingers, he can only imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

You release a long, aching moan and arch your back against him.

Azriel gasps at the sudden movement against his pants. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to make him explode. “F-fuck, y/n. Keep doing that.”

You grind in his lap, feeling his length throb beneath you. “Like this, Az?”

“Gods.” Azriel’s fingers sink into your cunt, over and over. Your screams of pleasure blend with the sopping sounds of your wet pussy.

Azriel was absolutely sure this was heaven.

“I’m so close! Mm, you gonna make a fucking mess out of me?” You rut against his cock.

“Fuck yes.” Azriel’s free arm wraps around you pressing you further into him and he fucks you with his fingers. “C’mon. Make a mess for me, Angel.”

“Azriel!” That’s all it took for you to crumble in his lap. Your entire body trembles and euphoria seizes control of your body. Your screams informing all of Veleris of who made you cum so fucking good.

As you ride out your orgasm, Azriel lifts his own stuttering hips to grind against yours. The full weight of you quivering and fidgeting against him builds a blissful tension deep within him. And with the string of his name still being sung from your lips, the coiling pressure couldn’t hold anymore.

“I’m gonna-”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel shoots straight up out of his bed and on to his feet, panting and looking around his room, illuminated with the first light of day.

But there was no one. No you.

Azriel blinks and wipes his eyes. It was a dream?

He looks around once more.

It couldn’t have been a dream. He’s dreamt of many females but never anything so…real.

He could still feel the weight of your body flushed against him. He could still feel the blissful aftermath of an orgasm.

Azriel looks down at his stained tented pants. His half hard cock still dripping on his thigh.

What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would he dream of that? Of you.

Mor? Sure. Elain? Once or twice, but you? Someone he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with?

Azriel huffs and makes his way to his bathroom to clean up, angry with himself and his deplorable dream. A nightmare, he decides, considering it involved you.

#a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel smut #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #acotar smut #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #Spotify

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woso-soso · 5 months ago

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Missing Puzzle Piece Pt.2

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: What happens when Ingrid starts to catch feelings for those already taken and will they all act on those feelings?

Word Count: 4,857

Part 1

Any time words are Italicized it indicates another language being spoken, in the case of this story it will indicate Spanish is spoken. Any time words are Bold German is being spoken. These language changes shouldn't occur too much in the future!

Ingrid's POV

Ingrid had only been in Barcelona for a total of two hours when her first misstep happened. Walking out of the conference room with an air of confidence, the impact of her hitting something knocking her back into reality. The crash of a box hitting the ground snapping her out of her shock, she found herself staring at a much smaller person, their eyes not meeting hers as they stared down at the box on the ground. Ingrid had a gut feeling it held something valuable, a sick feeling forming in her stomach at the thought of having broken something within hours of signing her contract.

“I’m so sorry,” She rushes out, her hand still holding onto the stranger's arm in an attempt to keep them from falling.

“It.. is.. okay,” she stammered out, clearly doing her best to come up with a response in English.

“I’m Ingrid, I just signed with the women's team,” she says, a soft smile on her face. Releasing the stranger's arm to hold her hand out towards her. She takes her hand gently, not really committing to shaking it.

“I am Y/N,” She responds with a small shake of their hands.

“Well it was very nice to meet you Y/N,” Ingrid says as she observes a slight blush form across Y/N’s face. Her eyes go back to the box on the floor but before Y/N gets a chance to bend down and pick it up Ingrid quickly retrieves the remarkably heavy box from the floor. Handing it over to Y/N, who visibly relaxes when she opens the box to see all of its contents still intact. Ingrid takes this as her moment to quickly turn and head down the hallway, unknowingly leaving Y/N behind in a state of confusion.

It only takes Ingrid slightly longer than expected to navigate her way to the women's team locker room. The music coming from inside guiding her the last few hallways to find it. While this wasn’t her first time meeting some of the team, mainly knowing Caro from the Norwegian national team and Frido from the time they shared at Wolfsburg, a pit of nerves still settled in her stomach. The fact that her Spanish was still very limited only intensified her nerves. Taking one last deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she pushes the door open. The music hitting her ears first, the fast Spanish conversations hitting her second. It’s all overwhelming as she stands in the doorway, her brain telling her to turn around and flee but before she gets a chance she feels someone grab her hand. Whipping her head around she finds the comforting smile of the blond she knew so well.

“Frido,” Ingrid sighs out, knowing that there is no way she can actually hear her.

“Ingrid, I’m so happy you're here!” Frido declares loudly as she pulls her into a hug. The familiar feeling of someone she knows relaxing her slightly. “Everyone,” Frido shouts, drawing the attention of the locker room. The music shutting off, silencing the room to an almost eerie level. “I’m sure some of you know her but I would like to introduce you all to Ingrid, she's just signed her contract. She’s still learning Spanish so please, be gentle with her.” Frido announces with a big grin on her face. The majority of what she had said going right over Ingrid's head. The majority of players in the room shout back a simple hello not wanting to overwhelm the brunette woman. Caro makes her way over to give Ingrid a quick hug before heading out to the training pitch not staying to mingle as the two already had plans for later that night.

“Hello, I’m Alexia,” Alexia Putellas says, extending her hand for Ingrid to shake. The introduction felt kind of unnecessary, of course Ingrid knew of Alexia Putellas she would have to be living under a rock to not know of the Alexia Putellas. “I wanted to introduce myself before we get started, if you have any questions please let me know I’ll do my best to answer.” With that Alexia is gone, Ingrid looks around the remaining group in the locker room. Frido lingers by her cubby, tying her boots just right. Another taller brunette sits in her cubby in the corner, the name Cata Coll plastered above the cubby. Finally there is a tattoo covered blond, her back is turned to Ingrid but her heart starts to flutter.

Ingrid had sworn off dating teammates, not after the last time at Wolfsburg which had ended in a mild disaster. She had been determined to not find any of her new teams enticing, yet, here she was instantly feeling drawn towards the bleach blond beauty in front of her.

“Don’t get caught staring,” Frido whispers as she goes to pass her. “Your cubby is the empty one next to mine, I’d start getting ready if I were you.” With a shake of her head Ingrid quickly gets herself ready, ignoring the blond she now knows is named María León if the plaque above her cubby is correct.

Ingrid's first practice with the team goes as well as it could, there were times she struggled to follow directions that were rambled off too quickly in Spanish. But thankfully Caro was there to save her the embarrassment, always quickly filling her in when needed in Norwegian. The language barrier doesn’t keep her from being drawn towards the woman she now knows prefers to go by Mapi. Mapi’s English is obviously something she is working on as she jokes around with Frido and Caro in English even though both of them can understand her just fine in Spanish. She has a charm that draws Ingrid in, the tattoos scattered across her body wanting her to learn more about her. The quote “looks can be deceiving” tattooed across her throat interested her the most.

“Are you still up for tonight?” Caro asks, starting Ingrid as she yet again catches herself staring at Mapi.

“Yeah.. totally.. for sure.” She stammers, tearing her eyes away from Mapi.

“Good, I have the perfect place to take you. Also, I’d be careful with the staring. She’ll notice quicker than you think.” Caro’s warning causes a bright blush to form across Ingrid's face, she had hoped she had been somewhat discrete but she realizes now she is incapable of that. “Come on, let's head out,” Caro says, taping her on the back as she passes by. Ingrid takes one last look back at Mapi, a small smile forming as she watches the blond celebrate yet another penalty kick she made.

Ingrid does her best to keep Mapi out of her head going into practice over the next week, yet she always seems to wiggle her way back in. From being paired up for drills, her arm draped lazily across her shoulder during team huddles, to short conversations during water breaks. Ingrid was inevitably growing a crush on the shorter woman.

“Are you coming to team bonding tonight,” a voice rings from behind her, turning to see Alexia walking up to her. A water bottle extended towards her.

“Thanks,” Ingrid says softly, taking the bottle from her hand, turning away from watching Mapi to try and focus on Alexia. “I was planning on it, who all is coming?”

“Most of us will be, I know some of them are bringing their partners so be prepared for more people then normal.” Alexia says between breaths, her own water bottle clutched tightly in her hand.

“Okay, thanks for the heads up,” She says handing the water bottle back over before heading towards the locker room. Did she really want to go to team bonding, not really. She had barely gotten unpacked, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She also knew deep down the majority of the night would be spent trying to decipher Spanish, Spanish spoken at a speed that was bound to be impossible to understand. But she also deep down wanted to see Mapi, away from the pitch, in clothes that weren’t workout attire. Sure she may not understand her all of the time but she made her laugh, she was comfortable with her and she wanted to see if she felt that away from the pitch.

The team had chosen a restaurant not too far from the training facilities making it an easy enough walk. She was just happy she had chosen practical shoes this morning seeing as she still didn’t have a car either hitching rides or walking everywhere. Yet Ingrid still found herself arriving after a good majority of the team, like Alexia had said many of them were there with their partners making the already cramped space even tighter.

“Ingrid,” Caro shouts, waving her over to the table she had seemingly commandeered for the night, Marta sat with her in the corner. The table, while not large, had a few seats left open, Ingrid wasn’t sure if she had been saving them or if she got lucky that she arrived when she did but she wasn’t going to question it.

“There's a lot of people here,” She says as she sits down, finally taking a moment to breathe.

“And we are still waiting on some, I think Mapi got held up so I know she’ll be here soon,” Caro mentions nonchalantly, seemingly not noticing the blush that appeared on Ingrid's face. The waiter comes around to get their orders, Marta saving her some grace by ordering for her thankfully. She still hadn’t tried to order anything out since being here, too afraid of embarrassing herself.

Conversation comes easily with Caro and Marta, the three of them switching between English, Norwegian, and Spanish easily. It wasn’t until a cheer of commotion was heard from the entrance of the room that Ingrid looked up. Instantly seeing Mapi dressed casually in a button-up shirt and some shorts, her hair thrown up in a haphazard bun. But as her eyes trail lower her stomach drops. Mapi’s hand is firmly locked with another, and as she follows that hand she finds the gorgeous person she literally ran into in the hallway her first day here. The two of them appeared happy, laughing as some of the players went over to greet the two of them. The first thing many of them do is hug the person attached to Mapi. This clearly wasn’t a new thing.

“Who is that with Mapi?” Ingrid asks hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s Y/N, Mapi’s been with her for as long as I’ve known them. I’m pretty sure they’ve been together since they were like teenagers but don’t quote me on that.” Caro says not looking up from her phone. The sick feeling in Ingrid's stomach gets even worse as the pair make their way towards their table. The table with the only seats left.

Y/N’s POV

You hadn’t planned on taking forever at work, you’d known Mapi had a team bonding night she was hoping for you to come to. You had been sure to text her that she might as well go ahead without you, insisting that editing the final few photos for the men’s merchandise page were going to take longer than planned. When you didn’t get an answer back you assumed she would head out and let you know where she was so you could meet up later. What you hadn’t expected was for her to pop up in your cubicle, hoping up onto your desk.

“I told you to go ahead my love,” You said, not looking up from the computer in front of you.

“I know, and I decided I would rather be here with you and when you're done we will go together. The girls will still be there.” Mapi insisted. Taking a mint from the jar on your desk, popping it into her mouth without a second thought.

“How have things been with the team?” You ask as you click over to the next picture.

“Good, the set pieces are starting to finally come together. Ingrid won’t stop staring at me. Oh Alexia’s free kicks are looking really good too.” Mapi says while scrolling on her phone, not looking up as you stop clicking.

“Who won’t stop staring at you?” Turning to stare at the blond, her fingers stopping as she registers what she had said.

“Um… Ingrid.” Mapi says hesitantly, putting her phone down to turn and give you her full attention. The conversation the two of you had still fresh in your minds.

“She’s been staring, does she know you have a partner?” You inquire, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“I… umm I haven’t mentioned it, I don’t know if the other girls have said anything.” You hum at her response, turning back towards your laptop to finish up the last few details. “Are you mad at me?” Mapi asks after a moment.

“No, there’s no reason to be.” You respond, quickly saving the last image before sending them off to the admin for merchandising. “You haven’t done anything, how can I be mad when someone is staring at my extremely sexy girlfriend. Honestly it's kind of a complement. Now come on, I'm all done, let's go get food.” You insist, grabbing your bag and taking Mapi’s hand in yours.

The drive to the restaurant is short but comfortable as the two of you sit in content silence. Seeing the rest of the girls had arrived the two of you park, letting Mapi lead you in, still taking a backseat when it comes to being around the team. You still had hopes to one day work with the women's team and that meant the boundaries you had still had to be upheld.

“It’s been a minute since you’ve been around Y/N,” Alexia says, greeting you with a hug.

“I’ve been just a little busy,” You responded with a grin, the last few months had been extra hectic due to your promotion and you knew the girls had missed your presence. Plenty of them had messaged you to tell you themselves no longer trusting Mapi to relay the message.

“Well we are happy you're here, I’m sure there are some seats somewhere.” Alexia says, letting Mapi pull you away from the group that had formed. It's only once you get close to the table that you notice who's sitting there.

“Are these seats free,” Mapi asks smoothly, her English much more advanced than yours.

“There all yours,” Caro says, waving her hand at the last two seats at the table. The two of you manage to squeeze into the tight table, you have to sit almost on top of Ingrid, a blush forming on your cheeks that you're thankful is hidden by the darkened room. “What took you two so long anyway?”

“She was held up with work,” Mapi answers, not looking up from the menu the two of you were sharing.

“What is it you do Y/N?” Ingrid asks.

It takes you a moment to process what she had said, hesitantly looking over to Mapi for help.

“She’s wondering what your job is,” She aids quickly, her hand going to your knee as a way to reassure you.

“Ah, I um… I work with the mens team… I am their uh head photographer.” You get out after a moment. Mapi gives your knee a soft squeeze, she knew how much you had been working on your English and how nervous you were to actually speak it.

“Oh so that's why I saw you in the offices, how long have you been doing that?” Ingrid asks, turning to look at you. Her intensely hazel eyes illuminated by the candles that are scattered around the room. You hesitate, swallowing your nerves. You hadn’t fully understood her question, she had been speaking too quickly. But you also don’t want to seem incapable of holding a conversation.

“How long?” You reply hesitantly hoping she will give you some reassurance you were on the right track. You don’t get a verbal response but her smile widens, a small nod of her head telling you to go on. “I have um.. I’ve been with Barcelona since 2017, but I have…. been doing photos since we lived in Madrid.” You hope that your response is clear, looking to Mapi for reassurance. Her subtle smile making it clear you had done well.

“Oh, by we you mean the two of you.” Ingrid inquires, pointing between you and Mapi.

“Uh-huh,” Mapi responds as she takes a sip of her water, wanting to give you a moment to relax. Trying to not only process but respond in English was still new to you and it still quickly drained you.

“Oh, well how long have the two of you been together?” She asks, her eyes bouncing between the two of you. You can see her eyeing Mapis' hand that was still resting on your knee.

“Um, I’m twenty six,” Mapi says, thinking intensely. Neither one of you have ever been big on dates and you didn;t have a set anniversary date as your relationship formed over time, neither one of you feeling the need to mark any one day as your official anniversary. “So we are going on ten years. But we’ve known one another since we were seven”

“Wow,” is all Ingrid says, seemingly deflating in on herself, turning away from the two of you to take a large drink of the beverage she had in front of her.

“It really has been ten years huh,” You exclaim softly, your hand going to take hers.

“And yet still no ring on it,” Marta says suddenly, her eyes bouncing between the three of you sat across from her and Caro.

“I don’t see a ring on Caro’s finger do you,” Mapi asks back, turning to you and Ingrid for confirmation. You shrug in agreement, while Ingrid seems to have drawn into herself not even noticing that Mapi had asked a question.

“No, I don’t see one, maybe get on that Marta.” You quip back with a soft laugh, as Caro turns to also mockingly stare down Marta the woman suddenly on the hot seat.

Ingrid’s POV

Of course she’s with someone, of course she's with HER. The two of them make sense together. Their artsy, funny, they balance each other so well. With Mapi’s loud extraverted ways and Y/N’s more quiet introverted personality. The two of them slotted together perfectly, how could Ingrid ever think differently.

“Ingrid you okay?” Caro asks, snapping Ingrid out of her thoughts, The group sat at the table staring at her in wonder. Ingrid hadn’t realized she had been so zoned out, the light buzz from the alcohol making it feel as though time was moving at a pace slower than a snail.

“I’m fine,” Ingrid mumbles, running her hand down her face in hopes of shaking herself out of whatever funk she has gotten herself into.

“Are you feeling good?” Y/N asked gently, placing her hand on Ingrid's knee. The contact causes a blush to form on Ingrid's cheeks, the butterflies in her stomach an unwelcome guest. Especially after finding out that the women in front of her were a couple, both completely unattainable by her.

“I think I'm going to head out, I have to walk home and I'm starting to get a headache.” Ingrid responds, turning to grab her bag.

“Oh you walked here?” Mapi asks, leaning around Y/N to look at the dark haired woman.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten around to getting a car yet,” Ingrid sighs, standing to leave.

“Wait,” Y/N says, grabbing Ingrid's hand. “We can give you a life.” Ingrid halts for a moment, the warm feeling of Y/N’s hand wrapped around hers making her anxiety skyrocket. Looking over to Mapi, hoping deep down she will say no.

“Yeah, Ingrid we can give you a ride we need to be heading home anyway.” Mapi insisted.

Ingrid takes a second to think over the offer, was the lack of a walk home really worth being in a car with not one but two extremely attractive people. Two extremely attractive people who are together, two people who Ingrid wishes she could be with. “Um, sure, a ride would be nice.” The idea of an hour-long walk being worse than riding in a car with the two of them.

Ingrid watches as Mapi and Y/N make their way around the room hugging some of the others goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Caro asks as she stands to hug Ingrid goodbye.

“Yeah, of course.” She responds, leaning into the comfort of her longtime friend.

Ingrid follows the pair out of the restaurant, the two of them appearing so at ease with one another. They had clearly spent many years together, the way they just knew what the other was going to do without any words spoken between the two of them. She quietly slips into the backseat behind Y/N, tucking herself into the corner.

“So, where are we taking you?” Mapi asks as she puts the car in drive pulling away from the illuminated restaurant.

“I’m just in the team apartments.” Ingrid responds quietly letting her eyes drift close.

“Wait… really,” Y/N says whipping around in her seat to stare at Ingrid causing her to snap her eyes open in surprise not expecting any reaction let alone that one.

“Yeah, why?” Ingrid asks hesitantly, slightly cracking open her eyes to watch the woman in front of her. The woman who now has her body contorted around to be able to watch ingrid, a mild look of panic clear on Mapi’s face as she places her hand on Y/N’s thigh hoping she will eventually seat herself.

“We live there too,” Y/N declares with the most confidence she has had the whole night speaking English. “We should… all spend time… together,” Y/N’s bright smile makes Ingrid feel just a little more comfortable in the couple's presence. “Would that not be fun Mapi?” Y/N asks, finally turning back around in her seat.

“It would be very fun my love,” Mapi responds, looking over at the woman with a soft smile. “That’s if Ingrid would want to.” Mapi says, putting the ball fully in Ingrid's court, yet deep down she knows the only answer is of course she would. The two women in front of her fascinate her on a level she hasn’t experienced in years. Part of that scares her but another part of it thrills her.

“I would love to spend more time with you both,” Ingrid declares after a moment, her own smile growing as Y/N begins to ramble off in Spanish, what she can only assume is all the things that she would be planning for the three of them to do.

When Ingrid had accepted the offer to spend time with the Spanish couple she hadn’t expected how much the two of them would be a part of her day. The majority of the time it was dinner after training, sometimes with Y/N sometimes without her as she would be away with the mens team. When that would happen Mapi would be sure to get her on facetime at some point in the night so that Ingrid could work on her Spanish and so Y/N could work on her English, the two of them making a point to talk exclusively between those two languages. Ingrid found that overtime she sought out the pair, whether it be finding Y/N in her cubicle during breaks in training needing some quiet time away from the team. Oftentimes being found by Mapi when training would start up again, other times she would seek Mapi out in the lunchroom avoiding her normal table that consisted of Caro and Frido. The pair always sent her looks of concern as she would sit down with the blond Spaniard, they both knew of her growing crush on Mapi, they both knew Mapi was also very much taken. What they didn’t know was that Ingrid's crush wasn’t just on Mapi, it was on Y/N as well. Something she would never admit to them.

“Will you be joining Y/N and I for dinner tonight?” Mapi asks quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to them in the overly crowded lunchroom as Ingrid takes a seat next to her.

“I will if you both would like me to,” Ingrid replies, poking at the salad that sits on her plate. The food no longer appetizing now that she is thinking about the dinner Y/N was bound to make.

“We would, we actually have something we would like to ask you tonight.” Mapi whispers, looking over at Ingrid, her eyes soft, not wanting to stress her out more than necessary.

“Oh you do,” Ingrid quips back. “If you guys want me to get my own car you don’t need to feed me to ask me.”

“I promise we have no issue with giving you rides,” Mapi remarks as she stabs her food in front of her. No longer looking Ingrid in the eye. A soft blush forming across her cheeks, for what reason Ingrid doesn’t know. “Y/N should be meeting us out front pretty much right after practice if that is okay with you.”

“Of course that's okay with me, I can’t wait to see what Y/N comes up with tonight.” Ingrid replies, placing a gentle hand on Mapi’s bouncing knee, the woman's sudden nerves being very clear to Ingrid.

"Trust me, she’s come up with something very special.” Mapi says, resting her hand on top of Ingrids.

Ingrid is very surprised by the spread Y/N manages to cook up in just a matter of hours after returning home from work. The baked fish and roasted veggies sitting in the middle of the table, with quinoa and a side salad in serving dishes off to the side.

“What have I done to deserve the honor of getting this for dinner?” Ingrid asks as the three of them get comfortable at the table, the feeling of Bagheera weaving between their legs bringing comfort to the table.

“Well,” Y/N starts, looking over to Mapi for reassurance. “Please tell us if we… got this very.. wrong. But we feel like you may have a… crush… on us.” Y/N stutters out, nerves clearly present on her face. Ingrid sits there, eyes wide as she swallows. Had she been so obvious, the secret she had been holding so closely being thrown on the table right in front of her.

“I,” she stammers “I didn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to if I did, I wasn’t going to ever act on it I promise,”

“Hey it's okay,” Mapi cuts her off, Ingrids mouth snapping shut as Mapi reaches across the table to gently take her hand. “We feel the same way.”

“What? What do you mean?” Ingrid asks, a look of panic clear on her face.

“We like you too,” Y/N says softly, not wanting to overwhelm the woman in front of them.

“We wanted to see if you felt the same,” Mapi reassures. “If you would be open to it we would like to take you on an actual date, all three of us.”

Ingrid sits there stunned, she had never expected to be called out on her crush let alone having it reciprocated. Not by one but both of the people, she had never even thought it was possible that both of them would like her let alone want to date her. She hadn’t ever thought of a relationship with either of them let alone both of them. Would she be able to balance a relationship with more than one person, deep down she knew she wanted both of the people in front of her but did they truly both want her back.

“Really? All three of us, date?” Ingrid asks bluntly.

“Yes, only if you would be open to it. We have both felt this attraction and we have talked about it extensively and if you would be willing to try we would be happy to as well.” Mapi declares, having taken over the conversation for her and Y/N.

“I would be willing to try, only if it’s truly something you are both open to.” Ingrid responds, sure she was hesitant but how could she say no when the best outcome was a relationship with two of her favorite people.

“We are both very open to it, we know there will be a lot of changes but we are willing to work on that with you.” Mapi says, squeezing her hand gently.

“Okay,” Ingrid breathes out. “Where are we going?” A large smile spreads across her face as she looks at her two favorite people in front of her. Sure this would be a change, a big change but she was willing to see where it would go.

#woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso fanfics #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon imagines #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen imagines #ingrid engen imagine #ingrid engen x reader #barcelona femeni imagines #barcelona femeni imagine #Missing Puzzle Piece series

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months ago

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✨Slip Into Me part 2: Crash Into Me✨

QZ! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I really really love this Joel, and I love @alltheirdamn for letting me scream about these two with her 🩵 QZ! Joel is making me swoon 💕

Summary: After getting caught in the rain, Joel pulls you into his apartment. But you get much more than you bargained for from the brooding, broad man. You might’ve just fell for his chocolate eyes and soft Texas voice.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 12.2k

Chapter Tags: Tension, yearning, teasing, protective and soft Joel, no use y/n, teasing, oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv, cream pie, age gap (female late 20’s, Joel is 50), switching POVs, QZ! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

As the weeks go by in the sweltering summer, you start to see Joel Miller everywhere. When you’re organizing and polishing weapons for FEDRA, you sometimes see him walk by. He always looks like he’s on a mission. Furrowed brows, a scowl across his sculpted face, a large hand running through his tousled greying locks, a bite to his words when he’s deep in conversation with one of the FEDRA soldiers.

He seems to command people around him, acts as if he is the one ordering them around. You see they listen to him as he bites out a snarl their way, see the way they almost cower and can’t seem to keep eye contact when he’s giving them valuable information. You should be afraid of him, you think, but you’re not. You’re only intrigued more and more every single time you see him snap demands and push people to the edge.

He’s strong, broad, dominant. He likes to be in control, loves to push the soldiers to their breaking point like he did with Seth. He knows how to get his way, knows exactly how to play games with FEDRA.

He could snap the neck of any man that even tried to get their hands on him or order him around. His menacing gaze is all it takes for them to back off enough, drop whatever argument they try to start. You know this because you’ve been watching him on the streets when you work, stealing glances every second you can when you see the tall, broad man who saved you so many nights ago. Now you’re hooked.

You catch his dark brown eyes on you all the time, flicking amber shades your way when he catches you off guard while you’re working. You feel the heat in your cheeks burn hot when his eyes skate down your body, pretending like you don’t even notice. You notice, though. You always notice.

His looks aren’t harsh and threatening when he looks at you. His eyes are softer, jaw relaxed when he gazes your way. It calms you, like floating in a crystal clear lake in the middle of a quiet forest. Sometimes he nods your way, brushes against your shoulder as he passes you by on the busy streets, says a few words here and there in the dining hall. It’s like clockwork now, your favorite thing of every day is just to get your eyes on him. Even if it’s just a flicker of his broad shoulders disappearing in a sea of people or a brush of his fingertips in the dinner line.

Sometimes when you’re focused on sorting through weapons, you can feel his eyes on you. He watches, stares with those hungry brown eyes. You’re not sure what exactly he’s hungry for, but you can tell he’s starving for something, begging for a taste of whatever that may be.

You feel his vision burn holes through your skin, feel the sweat glide down your skin when you look up and lock eyes with him. It makes you dizzy, makes you choke on a gasp when he focuses intently on you. He watches you day after day, this much you know. You don’t exactly know why, but maybe he’s trying to be protective, watching you from a distance to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble. You don’t mind. In fact, you prefer him to. Having a handsome, older man looking out for you is the last thing you expected here in the Boston QZ, but it made living here that much better.

He sees you shining FEDRA weapons day after day, watches the way you take careful attention to wipe every speck of grime off the sturdy edges of the guns. Sometimes you don’t look up, too busy working to notice him staring your way.

He tries not to look, careful to not stare too long, afraid he’ll awaken something he shouldn’t ever feel again. But when you lift your face and catch his eyes, he can’t help but stop and stare for just a few seconds too long. He thinks your eyes are the most beautiful shades of gemstones he’s ever seen, sparkling like glitter when they catch the rays of golden sunlight.

He sucks in a breath, clenching his jaw before he turns and gets back to work. He hates to admit that he finds you attractive, glowers at the fact that he cares what happens to you.

He shouldn’t dare start the cycle, shouldn’t walk the narrow ledge of developing feelings for a girl, especially a younger, absolutely gorgeous girl like yourself. He’d be a foolish man to even entertain the idea of thinking of you that way. But he’s fucked either way, so why not break his own rules. Hell, he already broke those rules when he fucking dreamt of you the other night. Your body splayed wide across his sheets, sweat collecting like rain over his skin every time he tasted the sweet jasmine scent of you, his lips crowding yours while your nails dragged down his back, your moans filling the shell of his ear with lust and want.

He snaps himself out of the moment and continues on with his day, giving you one more flick of his greedy eyes while you watch him walk the opposite way all wide-eyed and intrigued. He’s so fucking stupid for wanting you, but he can’t lie to himself that he’s not interested. Ever since he saved you from that piece of shit Seth, he’s wanted to take care of you. That’s the last thing he needs. Someone else to look after, but maybe he can keep himself away.

He chuckles to himself, scoffing at his own arrogance. Of course he can’t stay away, at least not for long. He’s fucking hooked off a girl that wandered into the QZ gates just a few months ago looking for a means to find a home. You didn’t come looking for him, but he sure as hell found you.

And now he’s fucked.

The end of a long work day drags to a close when you scuff your feet over the warm pavement. The sky is murky, dark clouds collecting above you that threaten rain at any second. You make your way down the filthy streets, passing soldiers that brush past you and look you over as if you’re trouble. You just roll your eyes and huff, carrying yourself back to the warmth of your own falling apart apartment walls. At least there FEDRA can’t see you, can’t order you around like they do day after day.

The humid air fills your lungs, the dark clouds opening up to patter rain down on your tired shoulders. Just a little longer, a few more feet and you’ll be inside. Almost there. Almost.

All of a sudden, you collide with a broad chest that feels like a thick brick wall. You gasp, thinking it’s a FEDRA soldier, eyes wide with fear until you look up and find familiar syrupy eyes, softer than the last time you saw them. Joel.

He clasps a hand around your bicep and stops you dead in your tracks. “Well, look what we got here. In a hurry there, darlin’?” He smiles down at you, a crooked grin splayed across his plush lips, a trail of dust covering the top of his forehead, lines mapped out as he knits his thick eyebrows together.

Sheesh. He looks so good.

“Just heading back home.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, not giving away the heat that builds underneath your warm cheeks.

“I see.” His eyes rake up and down your body, just a mere couple seconds. Enough to simmer heat low in your stomach. “You doin’ okay? Seth ain’t givin’ ya anymore trouble, is he?” His jaw ticks just the slightest, irises darkening as he thinks about the night he attacked Seth.

You shake your head, crossing your arms to taper off the nerves running wildly through your veins. “I’m okay. Just getting by. And no, Seth hasn’t even crossed paths with me since that night he… since you…” Your voice falls off as you swallow the words. Since he saved you.

He nods his head, a small smirk appearing like he might’ve said something else to Seth without you knowing. You can see him pushing Seth against the wall, his meaty hands wrapped tightly around Seth’s shirt, black eyes narrowing while he bites a sharp demand to stay away from you. And that’s exactly what you think he did.

Your eyes grow wide at the realization. He was like a protective watchdog, always ready to snarl his teeth and attack if someone messed with what was his. But you aren’t his, so why did he feel the need to even do that for you?

His head cocks to the side, a lazy smile sliding across his lips, making his coffee colored eyes shine that much brighter. Jesus. He’s so fucking hot.

“Might’ve straightened him out. I’ve been keepin’ an eye on him. Don’t worry ‘bout him. It’s taken care of.”

You stand there staring, mouth agape like you’ve got a speech impediment, words stumbling out of your mouth like you’re in front of a full gym giving a speech. “Oh. You didn’t have to… I mean, I could’ve handled it.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” he mutters, dark eyes pooling in your vision as he shifts his weight, the tight denim button-up clinging to strong arms, biceps bulging with every moment he makes in the heat of the day.

You groan, biting the inside of your cheek before you say something stupid. He relaxes his jaw and gives you a smirk like he’s up to no good. When you don’t say anything else, he mutters another sentence. “FEDRA keepin’ you on your toes?”

“How’d you guess?” you huff, eyes locked on his tightly.

He chuckles and gives you a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “I’ve seen you around. Workin’ on shining those weapons. See how miserable you look.”

You gawk at him, unbelief in your wide eyes. “So you’ve been watching me?” You cross your arms and cock your hips, one eyebrow raising as you wait for his answer.

He pushes his thick fingers through his sweat-filled tousled curls and stutters, ticking his jaw as he looks carefully at you. “No, that’s not… I’ve jus’ seen you around the QZ. That’s all.” He leaves it at that with a disgruntled huff.

You take your tongue and run it along your bottom teeth, assessing the lie that falls right out of his mouth. You know he’s lying through his teeth. You’ve seen him watching you, day after day. He can’t fool you, but you play along with his little game. “Hmm. Okay then.” He gives you one more cautious look and flexes his fingers, pushing them deep inside his pockets.

Before he can say anything else, rain starts pelting down, soaking through your worn t-shirt as you try to cover your hair. “Shit. C’mon, let’s get out of the rain.” He grabs you by your bicep and leads you up his staircase, out of the drizzling rain. You mindlessly follow him, thankful to get out of the soon to be monsoon. And then there you are, standing in his quiet living room, just like that day he took care of you after the FEDRA incident.

“You want some tea?” he asks as he slams the door, sliding past you as he stalks into the dimly lit kitchen.

“Ummm yeah, sure,” you answer as you watch him get some tea bags and mugs out of the stained cabinet.

“Tea ain’t my usual choice, but it sure beats havin’ nothin’. Shit, what I wouldn’t do for a fresh pot of coffee,” he sighs as he starts to boil hot water over the stove.

You lean against the chipped kitchen counter, twiddling your thumbs nervously as you listen to the rain fall softly on the glass window, your eyes looking up through your long lashes as you watch Joel work. He paces impatiently, tapping his thumb against the worn-out fridge, his denim button-up straining against thick biceps every time he flexes his arms.

How can he be so hot and dismantled at the same time? It shouldn’t be allowed.

Gulping, you take a breath and say the first thing that comes to mind. “How did you like your coffee?”

He turns his head quickly, his threaded eyebrows relaxing slightly, giving you a once over, a move that makes you shiver in place. “Jus’ black.”

“No creamer?” you smile.

“Does it look like I like creamer?” He gives you a stern look, but all you can do is shrug and give him a tight-lipped smile to try to alleviate his grumpiness.

“I dunno. Guess a tough man like you doesn’t like sweet things in their life?”

He ticks his jaw and laughs, running a palm down his patchy beard slowly. “Ain’t nothin’ sweet in my life, darlin’.”

“Would you want something sweet in your life?” Your eyes grow wide at the realization of what you just said. You were basically asking him if he wanted you. What the hell did you do that for?

His chocolate eyes grow a shade darker as he assesses you, one eyebrow raising in curiosity while his mouth stays in a firm line.

Great, now he’s even more grumpy.

But ever so slowly, he answers with a hint of amusement in his deep voice. “Depends on who’s askin’, I guess.”

The room grows silent as you look down at your dirt-covered boots mindlessly, nerves pounding through your skull. When you have the guts to look up again, his eyes are still fixed on you. And suddenly, the room grows ten degrees hotter.

You’re about to say something stupid, but he drops his gaze and tends to the tea. Apparently, it started to boil over when sweat pricked the back of your neck after he looked at you like there was fire licking his dark brown irises.

You wonder what it’d feel like to lick along his…

“Here.” Joel interrupts your heated thoughts and hands you a ceramic mug, the warm tea steaming out of the top, surrounding your senses with a hint of citrus and honey. He nods to the table and demands you sit, his eyes swarming yours as he takes a place across from you, a blue mug of his own in his large hand, fingers curled over the sturdy handle.

You carefully sit against the rickety wooden chair, gently blowing on your tea, cooling it down just like your body needs. Joel puts you on edge, and it’s terrifying that you feel this way about him. You should be very afraid of a man of his stature. He could kill a man in a split second but oddly, that just makes you feel at peace.

An awkward silence falls over the room, the pelting rain against the window the only noise to save you from your racing thoughts. He saved you, took you in yet again, gave you a place to shelter from the rain, made you tea. You should thank him. You will thank him.

Taking a generous sip from the citrus flavored tea, you clear your throat and meet his dark eyes with yours. “Umm, thank you, again.”

“For what?” He sets his cup against the dusty table and shifts his eyes back to yours, something like surprise taking light.

“For getting me out of the rain and for the tea.”

He nods his head, and a faint smile shadows his plush mouth. “It was nothin’. Don’t mention it.” A slight grunt leaves his lips when he slides to the back of his chair, his tousled curls moving ever so faintly with the movement. Silver threads line his sandy hair, and you can’t help but to wonder what it’d feel like to run your fingers through it. It probably feels like silk. Smooth and velvety.

Rain continues pounding against the brick building, shades of muted greys lining the outside sky, night drawing near. Your eyes shift to the corner of the room, and you notice an old acoustic guitar with worn-out strings, still intact.

Leaning forward and nodding to the guitar, you say, “You play?”

Joel whips his head around and huffs when his knee knocks against the leg of the wooden chair. “Mhm. Played a long time. Found it in an abandoned building out on a run. Figured it needed a new home.”

Taking a second to assess his calm features, you pry just a little more, clearing the air. “Would you play something?”

His jaw ticks, threading his eyebrows together in concentration. “You don’t wanna hear me play,” he laughs, shaking his tousled curls in return.

“Please?” you whisper gently, making puppy eyes at him, hoping the innocent look can convince him enough.

He looks at you intently, his eyes softening just the slightest, flexing his fingers like he’s trying to resist. He wants to resist but ultimately, he ends up giving in when you push him that much further with a small smile.

“Oh, Christ. Fine. Why the hell not?” He grunts as he raises to his feet, heavy boots dragging over the thick flooring. Watching him grab the rustic guitar and bringing it back to his chair, he collapses and crosses one leg over his knee and positions the guitar securely in his arms. “Jus’ don’t give me a hard time. The guitar’s out of tune, and I’m out of practice,” he scoffs.

“I would never,” you smile, feeling a blush creep along your cheeks as his eyes flick to yours for just a couple seconds, enough to make your stomach flutter from the contact.

He drops his head back down and hums, taking a moment to run his calloused fingers along the thin strings, dust blowing in the low lighting of the dining room. After a beat of silence, he starts strumming, a quiet melody flowing through the room, making a gentle lullaby that could put you to sleep.

You can’t help but stare in awe as his thick fingers meticulously strum along the cords, each note more beautiful the longer he plays. He’s well experienced, probably played for years before the outbreak, and it makes a small smile curl against your mouth as you watch Joel lose himself to the song.

“Future Days” by Pearl Jam. It takes you seconds to recognize it. It’s a song your dad used to play you in his truck. A song that meant a lot to you because it reminded you of the good days. Days where there was no worrying about being killed or mauled by a clicker, only worrying about getting through the days that were filled with sunshine and laughter. Days that weren’t dark and ominous like today.

But Joel? He seems to light up the room, even through his grumpy demeanor. He’s got a soft side. He’s got passion. And music was clearly a passion of his in a time before this.

You can’t describe it, but you love watching him. The slight pinch of his eyebrows, the crease of the deep wrinkles that map along his tanned forehead, and his eyes. Dark chocolate pits that seem to sparkle every once in a while. Like right now. They’re practically glowing and God, they look so beautiful. You wonder what it’s like to drown in those shades of brown. You might just float instead of sink.

“Future Days, yeah?” You let the words slip out, his eyes immediately shifting up to yours while his fingers still fluidly strum along the strings.

His brows pinch together in speculation, his eyes flicking over you in deep assessment. Clearly surprised at the words that just came from your mouth. “You know Pearl Jam?”

“Of course I do. They’re one of my favorites.”

He lifts a brow quizzically and looks at you dumbfounded. “Didn’t take you to be the type to like rock music.”

“Guess you don’t know enough about me to make that sort of judgment, huh?” you banter off, crossing your arms across your chest and giving him a snide smirk in return.

“I reckon not…” He continues playing quietly, the soft melody floating through your ears like the rolling tides of the ocean, waves crashing through your chest. His deep brown eyes meet yours again and then he just stares, something forming in his glowing irises but yet still leery. He’s not sure about you, but he’s damn curious, that’s for sure.

But you’re not far off because you’re more than curious about him. You want to probe deep inside that locked up mind of his. Maybe take a key and pry it open so you can paint a pretty picture in there just so you can see what makes him tick.

After a beat of silence, except for the strumming of cords and the pelting of rain, Joel speaks again. “You ever play?”

You shake your head and smile. “No, always wanted to, though. Never got the chance to before all hell broke loose in the world.”

“Mmm. I see,” he hums, and then he goes silent again. His eyes still roam over you, maybe even trying to unlock a piece of your mind. That’s what it feels like when he stares at you like that. All deep and intense, like he just might swallow you whole one of these days.

“You give lessons?” you ask quietly, hoping your question won’t send him pushing you out in the cold rain.

“Depends on the day. Depends who’s askin.” That’s all you get from him. It’s neither a yes nor a no, but you have a feeling that tiny crack of a smile that’s blooming on his lips means it’s a yes. And you can’t help but feel all warm and tingly from the anticipation of those strong arms around you, guiding your fingers, lips brushing against your cheek, eliciting commands that you just have to obey.

Joel Miller is a menace on the streets of the QZ, but deep down he’s got a soft spot. And you think you just might find it.

Minutes go by, maybe even an hour. You don’t keep track. All you can focus on is the quiet strum of the guitar, his wandering brown eyes, his hidden smile that peeks out at just the right moments, the deft fingers that guide along the worn strings. You’re hypnotized by him, and you just can’t stop looking at the tall, broad man with pretty eyes.

It’s not until he stops playing and sets the guitar against the wall that you see the faint glow of the digital clock reflecting off the black stovetop. Your eyes grow wide, and it doesn’t take long for Joel to see what you’re staring at.

“Shit. It’s after 7:45 p.m., past curfew,” he murmurs, pushing a hand roughly through his tousled curls like he fucked up big time.

“Oh no. I completely lost track of time! I’m sorry, I should go.” You push yourself forcefully out of the wooden chair and rush toward the front door. Just as you’re trying to pry it open, Joel pushes hard against it and growls.

“No!”

“No?” you ask shocked, standing back to look into those focused dark eyes.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Y’can’t be caught outside after curfew, remember? FEDRA would have your ass.”

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you snake your arms across your chest and mewl. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

Joel flicks his eyes toward the leather couch and back at you, weighing his options carefully, and then he sighs. “Y’can stay here for the night.”

Dropping your arms in disbelief, a soft awareness spreads over your surprised face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“‘M’sure. And don’t worry ‘bout it, trouble,” he smirks with the flash of his teeth. “Got a spot right over on that couch with your name written on it.”

You chew your bottom lip and smile. “Guess thanks are in order then.”

He laughs and stammers out, “Jus’ promise me to try to stay out of trouble, but I know that’s hard for you since your nickname is trouble. Ain’t that right?” A sly smirk spreads across his plush mouth, and an eyebrow ticks up slowly, like he’s calling you trouble all over again. You think it’s your new favorite word when it comes from his mouth.

“Guess so,” you giggle, flipping your hair behind your shoulder.

“Umm. I got a spare blanket and pillow y’can use. Let me go grab ‘em.” He leaves the room and leaves you waiting, slowly removing yourself from the entryway and making your way toward the tiny living room. The one with the sunken couch and white curtains that hang loosely around the glass window that leads toward the FEDRA infested streets. You’d rather not look out to see your prisoners that hold you captive in this city, so you divert your attention to the hanging portrait of a painted herd of wild horses that sits above the leather couch. It’s prettier than facing the outside world where nothing but turmoil and death lay.

“Here ya go. Hope this’ll do,” Joel says, handing you a fluffy white pillow and a soft beige blanket, warm enough to keep you cozy tonight.

“Thanks, Joel. Really, I appreciate this more than you know.”

“It’s really nothin’, darlin’. It’s the least I can do.”

When your hand brushes against his rough skin, you freeze, gasping at the electric spark that zaps through your fingers. You think he feels it too because he jumps back and stares at the back of his hand, like he just got burned by your touch.

Gently laying down the blanket and pillow on the couch, you watch him carefully, mulling about what just happened. It was nothing but yet, it was everything. All it took was one touch, and he fucking set your entire skin on complete fire.

Breaking the thick tension, you help deter the awkward silence away. “How long have you been here in the QZ?”

He looks back up hesitantly, and the flames in his eyes immediately die out. “Too damn long.”

“How long?” you press.

“Close to twenty years. Too fuckin’ long,” he scowls, something like anger contorting on the edges of his sculpted jawline. And you get a sense that this was never a home for him. It was just his own personal hell.

“Oh. That is quite a long time… I can’t imagine being inside these walls that long,” you mumble, afraid to raise your voice beyond a whisper, not wanting to stir up a concoction of grief.

Was that sadness beyond those deep brown eyes, golden flecks that reflect a hint of sorrow, tragedy, heartbreak? You’d like to know. Maybe one day you can scratch that surface, see what’s really under Joel Miller’s brick walls.

“Exactly. I can’t imagine anyone bein’ here for even a year, but here we are. Jus’ some slaves to FEDRA. But I won’t let them boss me around. Hell, I boss them around most days,” he growls, a storm of violence in those pools of autumn darkness. “Fuckers can only make me do so much. One of these days I’m jus’ gonna snap.” A crack of thunder makes you nearly jump out of your skin, adding to Joel’s wrath that makes him fume and tick his jaw. He’s angry, as he should be.

“I see that. You really don’t take shit from anyone, do you?” You give him a small smile and surprisingly, he gives you one right back.

“Maybe from Tess, but not anyone else if I can help it,” he chuckles, huffing out a long sigh.

You shift your weight on the wood beneath your feet and drag your tongue along the roof of your mouth, preparing to ask something you probably shouldn’t. He’ll shut you down, maybe kick you out, have Tess knock some common sense into you. But you just can’t get the fascination and curiosity of what he does out of your head. Smuggling is dangerous, but wouldn’t you be in good hands with Joel?

Here goes nothing.

“So, the smuggling. How’d you get in it?” you press gently.

His eyebrows raise in response, and a quizzical expression bleeds down his face. “Why do you wanna know?”

You shrug in response. “Because I’m curious.”

Keen eyes stare you down, and his jaw clenches at the words. “Well, you don’t jus’ pick that field. They place you there. If they think you’re good, strong, slick. If you can show ‘em you’re trustworthy enough, jus’ like a fuckin’ watchdog, then they’ll be breathin’ down your neck for you to smuggle for them.”

“Sounds… interesting.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in agitation. “Ain’t really interestin’ to be under watch of those lowlife scums they call soldiers. What’s interestin’ is gettin’ the fuck out of these gates. Bein’ out there in nature away from their hateful glares is what’s fuckin’ interestin’. You stay in these gates too long and you start to go a little insane.” He huffs, scuffing his weathered boot along the wooden floor in irritation, his eyes lit up like onyx flames.

Clearly, he isn’t a fan of his job, but that doesn’t deter you from wanting to learn a thing or two from him. “Could you teach me?”

His jaw goes slack, and his eyes widen at the question. “What kind of question is that? Didn’t you hear what I jus’ said?”

“I heard you just fine. But I’m being serious, Joel! I want to learn!” you mewl, crossing your arms and jutting out your bottom lip like you’re pouting. You’re being ridiculous, but how else are you going to show him you really want this?

“Nah, sweetheart. You’re too—”

“I’m too what?” you spit, turning your head and pursing your lips tightly together.

“You’re weak and you’re slow,” he boldly states, not even caring if he thinks that’ll hurt your feelings. He obviously doesn’t care.

“Then teach me!” you stomp, throwing your arms down at your sides and balling your fists, just like a child who wants their way.

“Teach you? Are you high?” he chortles, pressing his fingers against his temples in frustration.

You take two steps forward and curl your fingers against the bottom of his denim button-up, desperate for a yes. But he pries them off and pushes your hand away. “Joel, please! I want to know how to defend myself, how to fight, how to survive. Show me how to do that.”

He scoffs and shakes his head no. “You don’t know what you’re askin’, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I do. Come on, please?” you beg, putting on the big puppy dog eyes, hoping that’ll be enough to persuade him.

“I said no. It’s too dangerous,” he states with finality in his deep tone.

“And this entire world isn’t?”

Joel flinches and gives you a stern look. “Jus’ quit askin’.”

You sigh loudly and groan. “Fine. If I find myself pinned against a wall by a soldier again because I couldn’t defend myself then I—” That seems to get his attention, and something changes in the light of his dark eyes. Something snaps, and he stands a little taller, his spine fully straight.

“Take out your knife,” he murmurs lowly, his husky voice almost coming off as a growl.

“What?” Your eyes widen, and you’re shocked he’s saying yes in his own way.

“Take. Out. Your. Knife.” He accentuates every syllable, snarling the words like he’s giving you an order.

“How do you know I still have the knife you gave me?” you question him, your tongue prodding at the inside of your cheek, eyes slightly narrowed in challenge. You shouldn’t challenge the Joel Miller, but it could be fun.

“Take out the goddamn knife if you want to learn so badly. I know you have it. I can see it in the outline of your jeans.” He nods to the curve of the small knife in your front right pocket. Of course he’d notice that. He has the eyes of a panther.

“Oh, right,” you mutter, digging the balls of your feet into the floor, your fingers hovering over the pocket.

“Well, we ain’t got all night, trouble. C’mon then.” He curls his fingers, demanding the knife, dark eyebrows furrowed together and his plush lips in a tight line.

“What do you want me to do with it?” you ask, grabbing the end of the bronze pocket knife and pulling it free.

“I want you to take it from me,” he states simply, like it’s as easy as writing your name in pencil.

“Take it from you?” you scrunch your forehead together in question. That’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“That’s right. Take. It. C’mon now. Don’t be shy. Show me what you got,” he beckons, egging you on. Before you know what’s coming, he snatches it out of your curled hand, not even giving you a moment to flinch.

Shit, he’s fast. Just like lightning.

“Hey!” you shout, sweeping your arm out in front of you to try to steal it back. He steps back and wags the blade in your face, grinning a mile wide as he taunts you on.

“Gonna have to try harder than that, trouble,” he teases, smirking devilishly your way as if this will make you snap.

You shake your head and scoff, laughing under your breath. “You want trouble?”

“Yeah, I really do,” he chuckles, tossing the knife in the air and snatching it back in a second.

“I’ll give you trouble, Miller,” you glare with narrowed eyes.

His eyes darken with fire flecks glinting in his eyes, and he’s practically smoldering. He curls a thick finger his way and coaxes you forward. “Oh, I know. I’m counting on it,” he muses.

And that does it. Those fucking heated brown eyes send you forward, nearly barreling into him, but he moves out of the way effortlessly, leaving you to run into the chipped counter.

“Nice try, sweetheart. You can be quicker than that though,” he jostles, tapping the edge of the bronze blade against his dark jeans.

You huff and jump at him, curling your fingers around the end of his denim button-up just as he moves away. You lose your grip and tumble forward, almost tripping on the blue rug by the broken coffee table. When you get your feet underneath you again, you let out a frustrated growl. “Give it, Joel,” you demand.

“Come. Get. It,” he bites out, flashing his teeth as a smug grin cakes his face. He’s having so much fun with this that it starts to get under your skin. One more wicked smirk and you bare your teeth and go lunging for him.

Just as you reach out and skim the blade, his body collides with yours, and then he pushes you against the peeling white wall, locking his arms tightly around you and caging you in, to the point where there’s nowhere to go. You’re stuck, trapped against his heavy weight, and you suddenly feel so vulnerable and breathless.

“That’s not fair,” you choke out, your meek voice betraying you.

“Not fair, huh?” he chuckles, slipping his hands closer to you, skimming the outer edges of your shoulders, the heat penetrating past the cotton of your layers as he slides down to the curve of your hips, pressing just enough to make heat rise like a tidal wave in your chest.

Oh, God. He’s so warm, and the way his broad chest feels against yours sends sparks shooting down your nerve endings. He’s so close that you can practically taste the sweat of his tanned skin. His lips probably taste like sunshine and sweet tea. And as you breathe him in, you swear you can almost feel him inside you, right where you need him most.

“You’re not playing fair,” you pout, mesmerized by the curl of his smirk, his mustache shadowing over his plush lips.

Whiskey. That’s it. That is what you’d taste if his lips decided to meet yours. And you want it, the rush of him kissing you. You need it desperately. You might just die if you can’t have just one taste.

He chuckles and twirls the edge of the blade around a loose strand of hair, making you gulp at the slow motions of the bronze weapon. “You think a soldier is gonna play fair with you? You think a raider is gonna go easy on ya? You think anyone is gonna let you off jus’ like that?”

His dark eyes bore into yours, and there’s nothing playful about his gaze. Not this time because he’s trying to teach you this world isn’t kind, and you can’t always take the easy route out. “No…” you whisper, letting your eyes drop to the ground, right by his leather boots.

“No, they ain’t.” He tips the cool bronze end of the blade under your chin and pulls your gaze up to his, his eyes lighter and full of onyx shards that nearly have your heart in your throat. “Now try again.”

You push him off you with a huff, banging your fists on his broad chest like that’ll do you any good. He barely flinches, only chuckles in amusement.

“You think this is funny?” you scoff.

“Maybe,” he laughs, tossing the knife back and forth while he stares at you with humor glinting in those dark eyes of his.

“Oh? What’s so funny, tough guy?” You reach out and swipe through the air, barely missing the handle of the knife.

Shit.

Another chuckle leaves his lips, and he just shakes his head in enjoyment. “You,” he answers plainly with a smile.

“Me?!” you scream, trying your best not to lose control.

“Yes, you. Think you’re so tough, but you’re jus’ a feisty little pussycat, ain’t ya?” he teases, throwing the knife out of reach while you work to slip your fingers around it, but it’s too far away.

“I’m not a pussycat,” you seethe, your lips pursed in anger at the crude name.

“Sure act like one. All teeth and paws, but you can’t even get a lick of a mark on me. Can you, pussycat?” The flicker of amber crosses his irises as he smirks at you with trouble written all over the creases around his eyes. He wants to get under your skin because he thinks this is fun. But all it’s doing is making you mad as hell.

“I’m not a cat,” you spit with venom on your tongue. “I can take you,” you challenge.

A smirk curls over his mouth and his eyes lace with darkness. “Show me what you got then, trouble. Show me those sharp claws you got. Come. Get. Me. Pussycat.”

The taunting words out of his mouth start a fire in you, and then you snap from irritation. You go full force on him, punching your arms and clawing right and left, but he averts from your advances each time.

“Y’can do better than that, pussycat. Don’t fuckin’ hold back when I know that feral cat is deep inside you,” he taunts, his strong body zipping around the little space between the dining room and living room.

“Give it,” you growl, eyes slitting with anger fuming from your body.

“Then take it,” he barks.

You lash out again, Joel ducking and reflecting off each movement you give him. It’s like he knows exactly what move you’ll make next, like he knows everything before you can even think. And it’s frustrating when you know you have no chance at getting your knife back, unless he hands it over, which he won’t. Joel Miller doesn’t give up but neither do you.

Thunder cracks against the gloomy sky. And when he turns his head to look out the foggy window, you see your opening right there. Your body moves, your leg kicking out, trying to make him topple to the ground, but you’re too slow. His head whips around and instead of him falling, it’s you.

His foot catches the inside of your ankle, and he smiles as victory flashes across those dark brown eyes. You tumble down, your body free falling for only a second until you’re met with the harsh kitchen table colliding against your back. You grunt, pain radiating through every bone in your body like you just got knocked off a horse.

Joel’s broad body crawls on top of you, his hands snaking their way around your wrists and pinning them high above your head, to where you can’t move. The bronze knife falls to the table with a loud clatter, but you can’t wiggle free to get it. You’re completely and utterly stuck because Joel’s entire weight is pressed firmly against yours.

Your eyes widen into large domes, your mouth suddenly as dry as a desert because this beast of a man is hovering over you, and it shouldn’t be erotic at all, but it’s hot as hell. You’re equally terrified and turned on at the same time.

“Like I said, darlin’. Slow and weak. Gonna have to work on that, won’t we? Pussycat.” A devilish smirk curls against his lips, and his eyes are lit with fire. The kind that’s dangerous and tempting, that’ll maybe burn you alive.

You try your best to kick him where it’ll hurt, but he pins your leg down with his knee, glueing you in place to his large body. “I’m not a cat,” you snarl, bucking your hips up, but you’re only met with the leather of his belt and something that feels a lot like his cock hardening. You gulp at the realization and cower back down.

“Maybe not. But you could be. All cute and feisty tryin’ to fight. Shit, might jus’ be a new nickname for you. But I think trouble fits you better,” he smirks proudly at the name he branded just for you.

“You think I’m… cute?”

His jaw slackens and the smug smirk is gone in a flash. Maybe he didn’t realize what he was doing, but he was definitely flirting with you. And maybe you invited that, kept it going, but the way he’s looking at you all soft and lost, just like a homesick puppy, is almost swoon-worthy.

“No. I uhhh… that’s not what I was tryin’ to say,” he stutters, licking his bottom lip slowly as his eyes swirl with hesitation.

“But you just said…”

“Enough. I was jus’ tryin’ to teach you a lesson. That’s all.”

“I see…” A hint of a smile meets your lips because a red blush stains his cheeks at the question. He’s flustered, just like you are.

His tight grip doesn’t let up on your wrists, his broad body still laying on top of yours, hovering like a buzzing bee, his heart racing a mile an hour. You know because his fast breaths are mixing with yours as thick tension fills the air like the fog clouding the outside of the living room window.

His eyes flick down to your lips, his golden flecked irises swirling with something like desire. Maybe he wants to kiss you. You think you’d let him because the thought of having his plush lips melded to yours makes butterflies flit through your stomach and other places you don’t want to think about.

He shifts his eyes back to yours, and your body hums with need. Those syrupy brown eyes could bring you down to your knees. God, they’re so beautiful under the dim light of the dining room, making them look like molten lava and painted sunsets on the beach. You could just drown in them if he’d let you.

He’s struggling, his body tight and his breath ragged, fighting something he doesn’t understand. You almost think he’ll kiss you by the way his eyes flick back and forth undecidedly. Joel Miller may not be weak, but he’s got something in that thick head of his that’s weak for you.

“Joel?” you whisper, watching the way his eyes widen when they stare waveringly at your mouth.

His jaw clenches into a tight fist and then he’s climbing off you, freeing your wrists from their restraints, leaving you feeling empty and breathless with a need that thirsts to be quenched.

“I uhhh, got a shower. Y’can use it if you want,” he murmurs quickly, like he’s in a hurry to get away from the heat of the room because it’s stifling in this moment. And the way he was looking at you just a few seconds ago? It was like he wanted you. And maybe he does. Maybe, just maybe…

“Ummm, yeah. Thanks,” you mumble, collecting your bearings as you smooth your shirt out, the inside of your thighs burning with desire. Joel lit a spark in you, and it set your core ablaze like fire.

“Towels are in the first cabinet on the left. Jus’ help yourself.” He threads his fingers through his disheveled hair, nervously pulling at the strands like he’s in pain, like he’s fighting something.

“Joel?” you ask again, calling his name like it’s the only name you know.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep, clipped, like he wants to run far far away from you.

“So. Does this mean you’ll teach me?”

His eyes linger on you for just a second too long, and the tick in his jaw tightens as he thinks it through. Eventually, he nods with a tight-lipped smile. “Consider that your first lesson. We’ll go again tomorrow.”

“Really?” A large smile covers your face, and your eyes light up with glee.

“Mhm. Don’t make me regret it. Goodnight, trouble.” He disappears through the thresholds of his room, leaving you standing in the middle of the hall, waiting for what? Something, but his door stays shut tight.

You sigh and make your way into the bathroom, flipping on the lights. It’s a simple layout. Cracked tiles in the shower, a tan shower curtain, a small ceramic sink with a fading countertop, stained white walls with small water leak marks on top of the ceiling, a rugged blue mat in front of the tub. Slightly better than your rundown bathroom.

After finding a folded white towel in the cabinet and turning the faucet of the shower, you strip your worn clothes and step in, letting the grime and sweat wash down the drain in a swirl of sudsy soap. It feels weird being in Joel’s shower, but you’re grateful anyways. He could’ve said no, could’ve kicked you out, but he didn’t. He did the unspeakable.

He let you stay.

After relaxing for several minutes under the warm spray of the shower head, you cut the water and dry off, squeezing all the leftover water droplets from your clean hair, brushing your fingers through the tangled mess.

When you take a step out of the shower and onto the now damp rug, you freeze. There, right on the edge of the counter, is a folded up navy colored t-shirt that wasn’t there before your shower. Your eyebrows pinch together, questions rolling through your wide eyes. You didn’t hear him open the door, not when you were under the noisy shower head.

As you pick it up, you see it’s long enough to fall past your knees, and it’s soft and smells like Joel. A hint of pinewood and smoke lathering in the cotton of the material. You inhale his scent, breathing deeply in before you slip it over your head, the cool cotton molding to your body like a weighted blanket. All warm and cozy and his.

But why did he leave this for you? He could’ve left you to throw on your sweat-drenched clothes from earlier, could’ve given you some old ratty thing. But he didn’t.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let the door click open with the twist of the doorknob and step out, your eyes falling on his closed door like you could walk right through it, breaking every barrier down he had built against him. But instead, you decide to retreat to the couch and snuggle into the thick blanket, the worn leather sticking to your clean skin, your head hitting the pillow in just the right spot.

Visions of Joel flood through your mind the moment you close your eyes, remembering the intense knife lesson, his broad body hovering over yours, his dark eyes staring directly into your soul, tempting you to mold your lips to his. He wanted to kiss you, at least you think. And maybe you should’ve helped him take that leap, but you didn’t. And that’s your downfall you’ll always regret.

Sighing deep against the fluffy pillow, you toss and turn until you fall asleep. The soft pitter patter of the rain lulling you into a deep sleep after a brutal day in the heat. The last thing you see before you slip into darkness is the color of mahogany eyes haunting your mind.

Joel tosses and turns, letting the slick sheets wrap around his legs, groaning against the mixed feelings that swirl around his conflicted mind. You. You’re the reason he can’t sleep or think straight. All he sees are the flashes of your pretty eyes, eyelashes batting against the deep blush that painted your cheeks crimson when he was hovering over you on the kitchen table, your wrists constricted around his fingers, just a breath away from his mouth meeting your glossy lips.

He groans and lets the palms of his hands dig into the socket of his eyes, muttering curses under his breath. He doesn’t get feelings, doesn’t get wrapped around pretty girls’ fingers, but you have him wrapped tight like a noose around his neck, one step away from tipping over the edge to his death.

He can’t help himself, can’t fight off the way he wants you so fucking badly that he can hardly stand it. He shouldn’t want you, but here he is like a whiny dog begging for attention. He wants you to want him like he wants you. And maybe you already do. He doesn’t fucking know anymore.

He should’ve never saved you from Seth, but he’d never forgive himself if he let Seth lay one more finger on you. And then he invited you inside to shield you from the rain, offered to let you stay, kept you past curfew when he knew this would happen. He should’ve sent you off to Tess’s apartment, but he didn’t. He didn’t do one goddamn thing that he should’ve.

And now you’re trapped like a fly under his watch. Because now… he’s never going to let another man touch you. Not under his radar. Not ever. Unless it’s him…

It’s only a few steps from his bedroom to the couch, would only take a second to brush his palm down your cheek, let his mouth envelop yours, only a breath away from wrapping you so tightly around his tired body that you’ll never be able to let go.

He’s being selfish, but he can’t help it. He fucking wants you, but only time will tell if he’ll fully give in to what he truly needs.

You…

A loud clap of thunder stirs you from your deep sleep, nearly sending you tumbling off the edge of the sunken leather couch. Another big boom explodes across the dark night sky and has you tossing the blanket aside. Your stiff body shakes from the thrashing storm as you push yourself off the faded couch, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes.

You pull back the torn curtain and fix your eyes on the blackness of the storm, large lightning strikes splitting across the sky, reflecting off the foggy glass. Your slow breaths fill the room, your finger sliding down the windowpane, condensation dripping down the clear glass. You never were a huge fan of thunderstorms, unless they were calm. Slow, gentle rain storms were always something you loved but this? Well, it certainly had you on edge.

You spend the next few minutes pacing across the wooden floors, taking caution not to be too loud, not wanting to wake Joel up. You can’t sleep, can’t process that you’re in his apartment, in his shirt.

God, you really hope he doesn’t walk through that closed door because the only thing you’re wearing right now is his shirt and your lacy panties. Even though the length of the shirt covers your thighs, you still feel completely vulnerable and bare.

Chewing the edges of your long nails, you pace back and forth nervously against the wooden floorboards, careful not to step on a creaky spot. The thunder claps through the sky, startling you once again. You jump back with a jolt and hit the side of the coffee table, catching yourself from falling face down to the floor. But before that happens, you step on a particularly noisy wooden plank and an ear-splitting groan carries through the entirety of the room, alarming anyone who’s mere feet away of your mistake.

Shit.

And in less than ten seconds, Joel’s door pops open with a squeak and out slips Joel. Your eyes widen at the picturesque view that stands in front of you. You gulp and step back, taking in the broadness of his entire body, like it was being displayed in a fucking art gallery.

His tousled curls are disheveled and pushed back, making his deep brown eyes somehow brighter, like the midnight moon. A short sleeved white t-shirt clings to his bulky arms, the large veins cascading and spidering down the entirety of his tanned arms. His grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, one hand shoved deep inside his pocket, the other running smoothly through his greying locks.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you felt nothing for him because right now, your heart is thundering loudly in your chest just by standing in his presence, wearing his t-shirt. And suddenly, you feel exposed and completely naked.

“Thought I heard something in here. You alright?” he asks carefully, eyes locking like a magnet with yours.

You gulp and push a lock of hair behind your ear nervously. “I’m fine. Just the storm woke me up, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to,” you press, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of his shirt that clings like static to your clammy skin.

He holds out a palm to silence you, but he only shakes his head and laughs quietly. The sound reverberates down your body like music. “S’alright, darlin’. Didn’t wake me up. Wasn’t having much luck sleepin’ anyways.”

“Oh, I see.” Your hands clamp together behind your back in a nervous fit of jitters, your mouth suddenly as dry as a desert.

Why the fuck are you so nervous? He’s just a guy, but then again he’s not. He’s Joel Miller, and there’s nothing remotely average about him.

“The couch comfortable enough? I know it ain’t much, but it’s the best I got,” he drawls, flexing his bicep each time he runs his thick fingers through his soft curls, making you nearly pant at the sight of the ripped muscles pulling at the edges of his t-shirt.

“It’s perfect, Joel. Seriously, you didn’t have to let me stay.”

He chuckles and sighs slowly. “Like I said, it’s no trouble.”

“Thank you.”

Shaking his head slowly, he replies, “Gotta stop thanking me, sweetheart.”

“And for letting me shower and borrow your shirt. You really didn’t have to.” Your fingers pick at the frayed edges of the t-shirt, your eyes widening when you see his dark eyes roam the expanse of your body, flicking his gaze up and down your legs at an extremely slow pace, your cheeks burning with redness seeping in.

You don’t know why, but his smoldering stare sets your core completely on fire.

“Again, don’t mention it. And uhhh… it looks better on you.” You nearly choke on the words that just slipped free from his lips, like it was all casual and not a compliment. He basically just told you how good you look in his clothes. And that in itself makes your insides smother with need.

“You didn’t have to, you know,” you laugh, eyes peeling to the floor, a nervous flutter kicking inside your chest.

“But I really did…”

Your eyes snap back up to his, tension forming like the thick fog that covers the windows. And suddenly, the room feels much hotter than it should be. Almost like a suffocating sauna.

He takes a step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath him, and then he takes another, one step closer to you. His eyes flick down your legs once more, his golden brown irises glistening with something like mischief and fire igniting with every glimpse of your skin.

The scent of pine cones and autumn permeate throughout the still air, igniting your heightened senses, kicking them into overdrive the closer he gets to you. His smoldering eyes rake over your body, a smug smile tugging at his plush lips, and there’s trouble written all over that smug look. The kind of trouble you wouldn’t mind falling into.

Thunder crashes outside, making you jump at the sudden explosion of the raging storm, putting you on edge even more than when Joel walked into the room.

“You scared of storms?” he asks quietly, eyeing you closely, eyes roaming down your bare legs in slow motion, lurching your heart in your throat.

“No,” you barely mouth, gulping as you watch his hand rake down his patchy beard slowly, his eyes devouring your skin. Fire burns hot in your core the longer you watch him. Maybe he’ll pounce, put the fire out himself or make it burn ten times hotter.

“You sure ‘bout that?” He smirks, lighting the fire into a full on inferno. You’re burning.

Another step closer, thunder vibrating in the dark sky behind you, his breath fanning warmly across your face, conjuring feelings that shouldn’t even be blooming in the first place.

“I said I’m not scared,” you mutter courageously, holding your breath, scared of what you might smell if he takes one step closer.

“Then why are ya shakin’?” He takes two more slow steps toward you, prowling like a starving wolf, ready to sink his sharp teeth into the side of your neck.

“I’m not.” But that’s a damn lie. You might as well be shaking the entire floor with the way you’re shuddering violently in place.

Another step and then he’s toe to toe with you, the smell of mahogany and pine trees invading your body, making you want to just melt into the fragrance of his scent.

He smells like honeydew and a warm summer’s day. And you’re fucking addicted.

“You are. Fuckin’ tremblin’, sweetheart.” You audibly gasp when he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, lingering his fingers slowly down your jawline, pulling out need and yearning like you’re dying for just a drop of his taste, his tongue.

“I’m not scared of the storm…” you answer calmly, your voice giving away with how badly you need him.

God, you want him. Almost as badly as you want to be out of the QZ.

“Then what? You afraid of me?” He cups your chin and lifts your eyes up to his, pulling out a sound that almost sounds like a moan. He chuckles at that. You’re so embarrassed.

“No…” you murmur, your voice deceiving you once again.

“Well, ya should be,” he smiles, his honey eyes turning into deep black pits, making you want to drown in his dark pools of lust.

“Why’s that?” you whisper, voice cracking when his other hand pulls you by the waist, your body flush with his broad chest.

“‘Cause you scare the hell out of me,” he states with a sharpness to his deep timbre.

“But I didn’t do anything…” you mewl, too scared to back up, not wanting to break the thick tension that permeates like fire around the room.

Another crack of thunder makes you jump, but he only pulls you tighter, his warmth coursing through your entire body.

“‘Course you did. Comin’ around here with those big, beautiful eyes. Tryin’ to sweeten up my life. Causin’ a bunch of ruckus and trouble. Who gave you the right, huh?” he asks accusingly; his voice soft but ravenous.

Your eyes widen at the meaning of his words. He called you beautiful. “Joel… I’m not trying to...”

“Ya are. And I won’t stand for it. Won’t stand a goddamn second of it. Now c’mere and fix the mess you started.”

Before you can say anything, he cups the back of your neck and pulls your mouth to his. He crashes his lips desperately against yours, knocking the breath clear out of your lungs. It’s not soft or slow, it’s reckless and electrifying as you match his energy and kiss him in the same starving-like way.

You part your lips and let him slot in. His tongue dances wildly with yours, a sultry tango that spins out of control. You wrap your arms tightly around the back of his neck and he picks you up and wraps your legs around his hips, pinning you against the crumbling walls while you moan desperately into his mouth.

He takes his lips off yours for just a breath, enough to pant out a series of serenaded words. “Christ, you taste better than a cold glass of whiskey. Might have to brand you as my new favorite flavor, trouble.” He clashes his mouth back on yours, moans bleeding into each other like the whiskey that burns through his bloodstream.

“Joel, need—” you whine between thunderous kisses.

“Know what you need, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Gonna take real good care of ya, babygirl.” You moan at the name babygirl and let him whisk you away to his bedroom.

The door crashes against the wall as he barrels through the room, throwing you on his large bed, your fingers brushing against the cool sheets. He hovers over your body, eyes marinated in complete darkness, dying to sink his teeth in your skin.

“You look mighty pretty in my t-shirt, sweetheart. But you’re gonna look even better when you’re completely naked in my bed.” You pant as he rips the t-shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your lacy panties that are completely ruined.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, taking his large hand and slowly dragging his fingertips down your body, slowly making his way between your breasts, down to the waistband of your panties. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You buck your hips up to try to get friction, and he just chuckles as he leans over and hovers his large body over yours, slipping his white t-shirt off until his hairy, bare chest is flush with your skin, igniting your nerve endings like the lightning that strikes the dark sky outside.

His mouth suctions to your collarbone, sliding up to ravish your neck, sucking and biting till you pant his name out, his fingertips trailing over your core. You suck in a breath when he takes his thumb and slides it between your clothed folds, rubbing light circles over your clit.

“J—Joel,” you gasp, a fresh wave of slick covering the lace with the friction he’s giving you.

“S’that right, darlin’? Haven’t even gotten these off you, and you’re already fuckin’ drippin’ for me,” he smirks, teasing his fingers beneath your waistband, making you practically beg with your wide eyes and open mouth.

“T—take them off, please,” you whine, thrashing beneath his hold, begging for more. You want more, need more.

“That what you want?” he smirks, lust-filled eyes black as midnight, feasting those deep pits right on you, threatening to swallow you whole.

“Y—yes,” you choke out, gulping when he brushes over your clit again, eliciting more slick in your lace.

He smirks devilishly up at you while he drops to his knees on the rickety floor, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You gasp when he takes his time pulling your panties down, savoring your naked body under the moonlight, licking his lips when he sees you bare and writhing for him, your slick reflecting in his glassy irises.

“Goddamn it. You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. C’mere.” He gives you no time to comment back until his large tongue is flat against your slick core, slowly licking a thick strip up the entirety of you.

“Ohhh,” you moan while he meticulously circles your puffy bundle of nerves, eyes blown wide at the mere bliss he’s giving you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Like sweet, sticky honey. Fuck.” He growls as he slips two thick fingers inside your dripping hole, caking his fingers in slick while he makes out with your puffy clit.

You thread your fingers through his tousled curls, hear him groan as you rake your fingernails against the crown of his head. And when he hits that spot, you arch your back as he repeatedly curls his fingers against the spongy, sweet spot inside that you can never reach yourself. Your eyes roll back into your head, your body humming with electricity. And soon you’re every single lightning strike that flashes in the cold, rainy night. He’s the thunder that crashes through your veins, bringing you to life with every flick of his tongue and motion of his experienced fingers.

You’re right on the edge of coming undone, your hips writhing beneath him, slick covering his thick beard. The sight makes you want to spill right there just by looking at the glistening slick sticking to his beard, his mustache, his lips. And God, you fucking love the sight of him covered in you.

“Joel, I’m gonna—”

“C’mon, baby. Come for me. Cover me, spill for me. Wanna taste jus’ what I do to you,” he growls, releasing his fingers and filling you with his tongue instead. He tongue fucks you fast and hard, making you snap as the feeling takes you over the edge.

“Joellll—” you cry out, feeling the white-hot heat slide down your body, releasing a flood of arousal and slick against his mouth, covering him in your orgasm. He slowly laps it up like it’s the breath of life, consuming all of you until there’s nothing left between your thighs except his thick fingers and warm tongue. And then you’re nothing more than the glistening raindrops that pelt the side of the bedroom window softly.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, crawling over you, crowding his sweat-covered body with your own, slowly lifting your legs over his shoulders. You have no argument, can barely speak, but you need him like you need air to breathe.

“Joel—need you. Need you to…” He stops you right there, smirking when he starts to pull his grey sweatpants lower. Dark coarse hairs appear, and you choke on a gasp when you feel just how hard and big he is against your thigh.

“Shh. Save your breath, trouble. Gonna need it for what I’m about to do to you next.” He smirks like the handsome devil he is, his pupils blown as he stares at you like his next meal.

His grey sweatpants and black boxers fall to the floor, and your mouth drops open as his thick, hard cock springs free against his soft tummy. He’s massive. Deep veins twist around the underside of his cock, his tip angry, red, and leaking precum. He’s so fucking beautiful from his glowing dark eyes, to his disheveled hair, to his broad body, and to his giant cock.

He’s all just so fucking perfect, and you want him to be yours.

“You gonna keep starin’ with your mouth wide open, sweetheart?” he teases, taking his tip and smothering it over your folds, collecting more slick as you groan beneath his touch.

“Maybe,” you giggle, grinding your pussy against his tip, begging him to take you.

“You want this, sweetheart? Want me?” he asks softly, staring down at you with vibrant chocolate eyes, golden flecks glittering bright under the moonlight from the window.

“Yes, want you, Joel. Please, take me. I’m yours.”

He smiles and then he crashes his lips down on yours, smothering you in him. He pushes inside you slowly, stretching you out like you’ve never been stretched, moaning into his open mouth as he starts to rock back and forth, thrusting as deep as he can go inside you until you feel him bottom out.

Pretty soon Joel’s matching your moans, an exchange of pleasure coursing through your bloodstreams. He feels like heaven each time he claims you with his cock, rutting deeper and deeper until you can feel him everywhere inside you. It’s a euphoric bliss, thunder crashing outside the window, lightning tearing through your veins.

Joel Joel Joel. He’s all you feel, all you see, all you hear. He’s everything all at once. The missing piece you’ve desperately been searching for your entire life.

“You feel so perfect, sweetheart. Takin’ me so well. Want you to come again. Come for me, baby,” he coos, teeth clenching with every deep thrust he gives you.

“Ohh,” you moan when he takes the pad of his thumb and starts circling your puffy clit, putting just the right amount of pressure where you feel it the most.

“Come on my cock, babygirl. Let me feel you. Fuck. Squeezin’ me so tight,” he grits out, your walls clenching tight around his thick length. You scream out his name as you come undone around him, your release drenching his cock as you squeeze him.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his dark eyebrows threading together as he concentrates to hold on. “Where do you want me, baby? Not gonna last much—longer,” he seethes, teeth clenched from his own building release.

“Inside me,” you whine out, panting.

He speeds up his thrusts faster and faster, and then he spills his warm seed inside you, both of your moans crescendoing together like a symphony of rolling thunder. He takes his time slipping out of you, dragging his release between your thighs. He grabs a towel from the bathroom and cleans you up, then pulls you toward the head of the bed until both of you are collapsed, panting breaths and glossy eyes staring back at one another.

You both just lay there for minutes, bolts of lightning lighting up his beautiful, sweat-covered skin, igniting fire in his onyx eyes. He almost looks ethereal, so flawless that no one could touch him. But you touched him, and he lit you up like a thousand galaxies colliding straight into your heart.

Another moment passes and then he’s softly tracing the pads of his calloused fingertips across your cheek, mapping lines that connect right back to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers out, brushing a loose strand behind your ear as softly as the rain that patters lightly against the window.

“You think so?” you ask quietly, eyes wide and mouth dropped open the moment the word beautiful slipped off his tongue.

He takes the pad of his thumb and runs it along your bottom lip, gently humming in response. “Yes, sweetheart. So beautiful,” he repeats, the words sounding like melodic music to your ears.

“Joel, I—like you,” you say bravely, your fingers tracing the coarse hair on his broad chest.

“And I like you. A lot,” he smiles, eyes melting into a warm, syrupy color. One you want to drown in.

“Enough to be mine?” you whisper out meekly, afraid of what he’ll say.

“Sweetheart… I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you. Wanted you the minute you stepped foot into my apartment that first time. Wanted you the second those beautiful eyes of yours tore open my soul.” His soft brown eyes are tearing your walls down, and you’re stunned in awe.

“You… want me?” you breathe out, breathless.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckles, tracing heart shapes on your skin. “There’s not a second I don’t want you. You’re mine. Now c’mere.” He pulls you to him, his lips colliding with yours, and then you slip into the softness of him, tangling your body with his until you’re one.

When the kiss ends, he keeps you against his warm chest, his hand running lazily through your hair, his lips brushing against your forehead. You get lost in his warmth, in his musk, in his woodsy scent that you revel in. He’s everywhere, surrounding you, melding into your soul. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

You’re falling hard, fast, but he’ll catch you. Every brush against your skin just solidifies that, his lips making it official. You’re mine. His deep timbre lingers in your mind, and then you’re falling into a deep sleep in his arms while the rain soothes you into bliss.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #qz!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #protective joel #soft joel miller #joel tlou

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clairdelunelove · 1 year ago

Text

around the clock

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (working drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, handyman!ghost

synopsis: ghost finds comfort in always being busy, whether that'd be completing household maintenance or chores but what does he do when there's nothing else to fix? well, it's simple, he goes over to your place–

a.n. hi lovelies! life's been picking up BUT it's finally spooky season! 🕷 pls take handyman!ghost to compensate for the fact that I dropped off the face of the earth for a bit <3

ghost would definitely have the characteristics of being a handyman– specifically, yours.

paid leave was a valuable but rare benefit that many military personnel took advantage of. traveling, relaxing, or staying with family were typically on the itinerary for most. to catch up on lost time. to ground and comfort them with the humanity that they might’ve forgotten about while on the battlefield. a solace for their minds, souls, and hearts to rest. service members could request leave at any time, fortunately, but ghost never had a reason to. he found comfort in being constantly busy. proved to be less on the mind. an escape from the pain that frequents him whenever he opens his eyes and follows him into his sleepless nights. he recalls price mentioning his unhealthy coping mechanism– the word ‘escapism’ leaving his lips in a sympathetic grimace. a sensitive emotion that reached the captain’s eyes and caused ghost to uncomfortably shuffle on his feet. he wouldn’t label it as ‘escapism,’ per se, just favors his hectic life. so when he chooses is forced to take his paid leave, ghost keeps himself active; repairing his plumbing system, fixing broken light fixtures, or testing any of his home appliances to ensure they’re working properly. he’s continually restless. likes strenuous and taxing work. makes it easier to fall asleep at the end of the day. and, by the off chance there’s absolutely nothing left to maintain in his compact flat (because a couple bare rooms, small porch, and no backyard is hardly a feat to clean), he’ll sit on his threadbare couch. might tap his fingers against his thigh while the living room clock obnoxiously ticks. the silence is deafening, ironically. his heavy-set eyes float to glance at the time and upon noticing this is the predicament he’ll be in for a couple more weeks, he abruptly gets up, pockets his keys, and makes his way to you.

ghost who stiffly stands at your front door when you answer the familiar knock. frankly, you’ve noticed the way he knocks on your door is strikingly different than how he does on missions. a strong rap but not powerful enough to scare you. it’s a sign that’s irrevocably him. served as an indication of his presence. it was up to you whether you wished to entertain his trivial inquiries. you peep your head out first, not quite believing the sight before you, and he raises a brow at your widened eyes. “simon?” you ask incredulously. his plain balaclava shifts when he catches how you intuitively open the door wider for him. to make room for him in your home. “remembered you asked about patchin’ and paintin’ your walls,” he explains like it’s ordinary to recall a conversation from weeks ago. astonishingly, he was right. you had, offhandedly, mentioned that you nailed picture frames to the wall which created noticeable holes that you didn’t know how to fix. you reminisce at how he held back an amused scoff when you emphasized that it was an honest mistake on your part. didn’t entirely think it likely that he’d personally fix it. “oh,” you glance at the rather large toolbox in his hand as your voice trails off, “like, you want to fix it right now?” he offers a singular nod as a response.

ghost who’s a second away from packing up his home repair tools/gadgets and heading back home when you glance behind you to stare at your place in contemplation. your lower lip caught in-between your teeth. he hesitates. isn’t accustomed to the sensation even when he has a weapon in his grasp. his mind whirs. the green-eyed monster of jealousy bleeding its way into his heart. “unless,” he dreads the words before they leave his lips, “you have a bloke to help ya with it?” his words are stiff. ghost shifts to lean against your doorframe in an attempt to ease off the bitterness in his voice. drawn to the movement, you can’t help but become aware of how he fills the entire entryway with his physique. your cheeks burn. a quick shake of your head followed by a resounding, “no, I don’t and I haven’t called a handyman either.” and it’s the perfect remedy to quell his discontent. his rigid posture loosens with the answer. while you step to the side to welcome him in, you hurriedly clarify with an awkward laugh, “had to think for a bit because I didn’t want you to see how much of a slob I am,” and hope that the joke lands. the universally polite comment to excuse the untidiness. ghost isn’t focused on the clutter, however. he’s basking in the fact that you’re not seeing anyone. offhandedly throws in a murmur of, “not a problem, sweetheart,” when he eases by you. and the way it borders raspy satisfaction reduces you to a puddle.

ghost who allows his gaze to wander to your decorated walls and dainty furniture while you explain where the tactless gaps in the walls were at. picture frames encasing friends and family were thoughtfully tacked onto the walls. trinkets lined the shelves to serve as memoirs. he stops himself from reaching up and picking one up for closer inspection. wouldn’t be fair if he did. truth be told, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d put up a photograph in his own flat. his loved ones and comrades stayed etched in his mind. recurrent and persistent. your place, on the other hand, seems well-inhabited, lived-in, and loved. he could almost spot the glow that you managed to sprinkle everywhere you went regardless of the situation. a feature that endlessly puzzled him. the addictive familiarity that accompanied you and made every place feel like home. ghost likes it. it’s comfy and cozy– you. and his mind slips into the possibility of adding a few pieces of him in your home. his work boots at the front door. his toothbrush residing beside yours in the bathroom. his shirt in your closet. “need any tools to help fix the damage I made?” your witticism forces him out of his train of thought. halts the delusion from straying too far. he’s quick to recover, however, and murmurs, “got everythin’ I need here,” while his eyes are solely fixed on you. a declaration that’s spoken as profound as a pass of thunder. and you wait with bated breath, mind whirring to reciprocate the sentiment but ghost is already trekking past you. he gets to work almost immediately by using a putty knife and a joint compound to patch up the holes in the walls. but goodness– his eyes. the raw dedication that manifests and bleeds out when he glances over to you. his words are a certainty that he grasps onto.

ghost who, unsurprisingly, fixes the blunders in the walls with ease. it’s a minor task that’s covered with a gentle hand and some paint. nothing that he can’t fix. but truthfully, the afternoon passes far quicker than usual. with fleeting smiles and stolen glances whenever his focus shifted to you. it was spotting your figure, halfway hidden behind the kitchen entryway, from the corner of his eyes. it was finding you tampering with his tools whenever his back was turned and hearing your soft laughter when he halfheartedly chided your roaming hands. a serenity disguised as a luxury that ghost could never afford. “want to hear a construction joke?” your voice fills the house; he prefers it that way. yet, your inquiry falls flat because he’s short-circuiting. with a hand on his shoulder, you lean forward to inspect the spot that he’s working on. forces the two of you closer. your breath is a hot puff against the shell of his ear and he visibly pauses. you’re warm. he turns his head sideways, purposefully staring ahead, and decides to indulge you, “sure.” “hm,” you hum and the pleasant noise goes straight through him, “I’m still working on it.” and when you’re rewarded with an amused huff from his lips due to the punchline, a grin stretches across your face. it’s a meager detail that he imagines as he trudged back (with heavy feet) to his bare flat later that evening. yet, it’s the only solace that allows him to sleep a little easier that night.

ghost who questions his rationale when he’s hauling his lawnmower and other tools onto the back of his pickup truck just for you. well, he supposes you never did ask him to mow your lawn but your front yard is in need of his care. his personal touch. afterall there were various benefits of keeping a lawn clean and tidy. encourages new grass growth and deters pests– or so he justifies. surely it’s not due to the appreciative smile you throw him when you tug your curtains back to find him trimming the edge of the grass. he hears the click of the window opening before your voice calls out to him, “you didn’t need to, si!” but ghost has never given half an effort to seek your favor. lives his life in extremes. so he spares you a glance while genuine words leak from his mouth that he attempts to mask in his surly voice, “jus’ wanted to.” and hastily wretches the starter cord on the lawnmower so it roars to life. pretends not to catch onto your longing stares when the sun’s rays are scorching and he’s compelled to shed a couple layers off. sure, you had tasks at hand rather than blatantly gawking but it could wait. and he didn’t particularly mind the attention. especially when you’re seated by the window so prettily with your face perched atop your hand. admiration pooling in your wide eyes. you watch with bated breath as he one-handedly tugs off his bulky sweater to reveal a fitted black shirt and dirty jeans. a combination that has you visibly gulping as he continues pushing the machine across the lawn. he’s a tantalizing brew of brawn and power. a darkness that you wish to traverse upon. satiates you with a knowing look when he stretches and the fabric of his shirt is pulled taunt across his broad chest. and he huffs in delight when you hurriedly reach out to yank the curtains closed.

ghost who picks you flowers (weeds) but doesn’t know the difference. he ends up discovering a clump of golden dandelions growing near the edge of your fence and decided to pluck them. pinches the stems in between his fingers until it breaks. ends up harvesting a handful of them. the question is: what does he do with them? he saunters over to your front door, raps his knuckles against it, and patiently waits for you to answer. of course. then, he hands the dandelions to you, unblinking but brimming with good intentions. because he’s not aware that dandelions are the most notorious weeds that many desire to get rid of. just acknowledges that they’re pretty and you’re pretty– so it only makes sense. another gift for you. anything for you. he watches as you absentmindedly twirl the stems in your grasp, speechless. and, without warning, he’s flushed for a reason far beyond just the weather. a terrible queasiness that was unlike any he’s experienced. his mannerisms are fidgety, mind itching to leave, and save him the humiliation of offering you weeds. but then your lips break into a wide smile. a dazzling one. knocks the breath out of his lungs. you’re uttering repeated ‘thank you’s’ though, clearly too distracted to notice his predicament, before scurrying into your kitchen. he’s left stunned while you call out, “how did you know I have a pretty vase to match with these?”

ghost who’s knocking at your door in the early mornings, greets you with a gruff, “mornin’,” and slinks past you into your home. doesn’t even pause despite the fact that it’s barely the crack of dawn and the sky is still hazy from the remnants of last night. the birds are barely tweeting out to each other, still testing to find a harmony to start the day. you’re as bright as the sun, however, when he offers a glance to you. an expression of stupor and excitement conveyed on your face due to his arrival. he’s stopped by a couple times now yet the warm buzz never dims: if anything, it flourishes like the row of flowers he planted on your front porch. vibrant and all-consuming. “still finding stuff to fix, si?” you joke while tilting your head. you stop him by the kitchen counter just as he’s about to state that everything looks maintained for now. “‘course,” he rumbles as his gaze sweeps to you, “soon you won’t need me though.” his statement is heavier than he expected and he opens his mouth to thwart the abrupt negativity but you beat him to it. the words tumble from your lips, “pretty sure I can always find something here that needs to be fixed.” your voice is soft as you add, “just as long as you want to stay.” he watches as your eyes flicker to the floor but it’s too late. ghost has already seen the tenderness that belongs wholly to him. your vulnerability that he wishes to cradle in his grasp. his hands clasp and unclasp by his sides before he finally mentions, “your fence needs fixin’ today. don’t want the strays comin’ in and fuckin tramplin’ on everything.”

ghost who’s true to his word and tirelessly works to replace your fence posts even in the scorching heat. scratches the back of his neck while muttering something about how they’re rotted on the bottom. and it’s almost hypnotizing to observe how he works. methodically checking each panel’s angle to see how severe it is. he detaches the surrounding pickets and stringers from each post in order to pull the wooden planks out. it’s demanding manual labor, more exhausting than his previous projects, which is why he requests your help. “just need ya to hold these up for me and I’ll straighten out the rest. can you do that for me, pup?” he explains as he hands you a singular fence post. and you try– you really do since he asked so nicely– but the wood is coarse against your fingertips and the sweltering sun hits the nape of your neck too harshly. you huff, voice bordering a whine, “I can’t do this anymore, si.” and ghost, the saint he secretly is, just raises his head to peer up at you. he’s currently on his knees, denim jeans caked in dirt, and dripping with enough sweat that the edges of balaclava curl at the edges to expose slivers of pale skin. “be good for me, will ya?” an inquiry that sounds more like a command due to his thick accent. his dark eyes search for yours, squinting in the sun’s rays, before he goes back to digging around the base of the fence post. however, when even the rare sight of his bare skin does little to serve as a reward against the extreme heat, you’re pouting again, “can’t we do this another day–” “oi,” he interrupts you when his large hand blindly reaches back to clamp over your knee. his thumb moves to caress the inner portion of your knee and you can vaguely discern how each of his fingers press against your skin. featherlight touches that sear your skin. his gaze snaps to yours, a dark brow arching at your unwillingness to move. the next demand leaves his lips in a low, tempting voice, “behave.”

ghost who’s a sucker for your large, beseeching eyes and only shakes his head when you prance back into your house. you’re humming a light tune when you skip up the steps, away from the harsh weather, and leaving him to continue angling fence posts alone. it’d be a crime for him to deny your wish. and it’s not like he bends to your every whim. sometimes. he huffs, half in amusement and half in disbelief, before hauling another slab of wood. it’s not like the task was terribly difficult. he’s proficient– a machine that rather enjoys ruthless duties. just assumes that teamwork would lessen the strenuous work. and having your company was always pleasant. he’s in the act of lifting another fence post when he spots you bounding towards him, a glass cup in your hands, and a radiant grin on your face. his heart flips. pounds against his chest like a sledgehammer beating against fragile wood. “made some lemonade,” you offer and raise the glass to him, “for the hard worker.” notices the hesitant tremble in your fingers and your sudden shyness compels him to inwardly crumble. like you weren’t already the cause of his peace. there’s a swirly straw and a decorative umbrella in the drink which catches his attention. calloused fingers skimming the edge of the vibrant garnish, he’s silent. has never gotten this treatment from another person. it's foreign to him but not unwanted. his eyes are unblinking, caught in a trance, before he’s murmuring honest appreciation for your generosity.

ghost who prods, a bit of humor in his voice, as he sips at the beverage, “a bit sweet, yeah?” coerces himself to ease the smirk that threatens to overtake his face when he recognizes how your eyes widen in alarm. recognizes the panic that spreads within you when you quickly suggest, “is it? let me try.” and he’s more than happy to comply. wordlessly edges the straw between your glossy lips so you can take a sip. half-lidded eyes trained on how your lips curl around the straw, an action that serves as his newest vice. one that he’s certain will take ages to treat. constant time that’d be spent with you. always you. “you’re right. it’s kinda too sweet,” you naively remark, flicking your eyes up at him. you’re so sweet to him– soft voice and all. he’s not looking at you, however. no, ghost lifts the straw to take another sip and as he pulls away, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. to chase after the taste of you. memorizing it. saccharine and gloss. a primal act that has you aching for more. “m’fault then,” his amused voice was snuffed by his blank expression as he gently gripped your jaw. you watch as he slowly blinks, blond lashes sweeping against his cheek, and lowly hums, “forgot I like sweet things.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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girlokwhatever · 6 months ago

Note

will there be a part 3 to meet the martins? 👀

there will be many parts 🤭🤭

๋࣭ ⭑༊*·˚𐦍༘⋆‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ welcome to vegas,,

(part three of the meet the martins series)

kate martin x fem!reader

the move to vegas was… difficult to say the least.

moving halfway across the country was never easy, especially when you were leaving all but one thing behind. you felt like the time you had to say goodbye to your childhood was unfulfilling due to your attention being pulled elsewhere. every second was spent packing valuable possessions or planning flights instead of giving your family a proper goodbye.

kate did everything she could to alleviate your stress. she could tell you were losing sleep, too fixated on whether or not everything was in order. there’d be moments when kate would have to comfort you late at night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to coax you into relaxation.

both of your family’s gave an emotional farewell at the airport as you boarded your flight. numerous ‘i love you’s and ‘good luck’s had been exchanged, everyone contagiously sharing their affections with kisses and hugs as well.

kate never took her eyes completely off of you, always preferring to have you in arms length once you started to board the plane. she’d give you a few sneak kisses every now and then to comfort you and herself. she was beyond nervous too. she’d been at iowa for countless years, meeting amazing people and building friendships she hopes will last a lifetime. but kate knew if you had you by her side, nothing else mattered.

after a long week of planning and prepping for this moment, you and kate were finally seated and on your way to vegas. it was a surreal feeling, a little sad but definitely exciting. your fiancé noticed your nervousness more than anything, slight worry etched on her own features.

“you’re not having second thoughts right?” she jokes, but part of her is genuinely asking.

“of course not kate.”

“okay good, cause you’re kinda stuck with me now.”

kate playfully shrugs, a big smile on her face as she looks at you. now that the hard part is over (saying goodbye to your family), you feel a bit more at ease. kate’s presence and enthusiasm has that affect on you usually, it’s one of the things you love most about her.

“kate baby, ive been stuck with you for awhile now. i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

her smile grows uncontrollably at your words, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. kate knows she hit the jackpot with you and she’s very honest about that to anyone who asks. that’s why she never second guessed her choice in proposing to you or asking you to live with her. she just knew you were the one.

hours passed with hushed whispers and laughter, the two of you striking up random conversation to help pass the time. kate had always been the best flight buddy. in between naps you watched movies and ate random snacks the flight offered all while kate rested on your shoulder.

it was nice.

it was almost midnight when you landed. during the last few minutes of the flight you gawked at the las vegas lights, purples and yellows decorated the skyline to create a beautiful welcoming view. in the not so far away distance you could spot the ‘welcome to fabulous vegas’ sign.

the light alone brought you out of your groggy state, eyes immediately widening in awe. kate pulled you out of your seat, hands on your waist as the two of you walked out together to get your bags. you almost fell asleep again just waiting for them to show up. the whole time your back was pressed to kate’s chest, your head lolling back into her collarbone as she snuck her arms around your midsection to hold you close.

“hold on baby, i see your bag.”

kate pulls away from you and takes her warmth with her, leaving you standing alone. your eyes follow her path to the luggage, not being able to control your wandering eyes as she bends over to pick your bag up out of the masses. once she returns you fall back into your previous position leaning against her. your fiancé kisses the top of your head a few times, rubbing smooth hands up and down the length of your torso. you’re almost standing asleep but she pulls away once more because she finally spotted her bag.

time after that went by quickly, one blink and you were already at kate’s new apartment. she was beyond excited to show you the new home you’d be sharing with her. you’ve already seen it over the phone when she had looked into buying it but never saw it in person until now.

kate wanted you to feel comfortable here. that’s why she brought all your favorite miscellaneous items from home to place here, littering the space with notes of you. pictures of you and kate were scattered throughout and it made your heart warm to know she took the time to print them out and find the perfect frame.

“i know it’s a bit empty right now but i wanted us to go furniture shopping together so…”

“it’s okay kate, i love it so much already.”

kate closes the already-small gap between you to seal a kiss, hands gentle as she pulls you in closer by your waist. you could feel the last of your worries wash away, only having enough room to hold your love for kate.

that night kate showered you with love, immediately pulling you into bed once your pajamas were on.

most of your time before sleep was spent lazily making out, holding each other while wordlessly melting into one soul filled only with love. you were molded into the sheets with kate as your limbs tangled together into a knot. you could hardly breathe, only finding few seconds where kate would let you pull away.

she needed you. she needed to know that you needed her too.

once she let you part from her swollen lips she admired you in the dim light. she wanted to keep you like this forever, messy and lovestruck in her bed.

“i’m really glad you’re here.”

“i’m glad to be here.”

kate really couldn’t help it when she started crying. you followed her movements as she sat up, face hidden deep in her hands. you weren’t aware yet of her state but her sudden change concerned you.

“kate?”

“yeah?” her voice was meek, so quiet you could hardly hear her.

“baby what’s wrong? are you okay?”

“i’m fine, really. im just.. so happy. i can’t even believe you’re real and we’re going to be married. you’re my biggest dream come true, y’know that right?”

her words leave you speechless. kate’s always been a big softie, constantly saying sweet things that leave you breathless and in awe. this has to be one of those moments because it makes you fall even deeper in love with her, appreciating the peace her words bring to you.

“kate, this is my dream too. you’re my dream. i can’t wait to be your wife and spend the rest of my life with you, i swear.”

“you swear? like a pinky promise swear?”

“yes, a pinky promise swear.”

kate finds herself pulling you in for the millionth time that night. this time her kiss is targeted and firm, wanting to really show you how much you mean to her. you can feel her conviction, especially when she cups both of her hands tenderly around the sides of your face.

your first night in vegas with kate— the first night of your new life— was spent in the embrace of the woman you love most. the same woman that gave you love and helped you find some sort of purpose. you were both confident that almost every night following would be spent the same.

it was your vow to love kate forever.

welcome to vegas!

๋࣭ ⭑༊*·˚𐦍༘⋆‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

OK INTRO TO VEGAS DONE (but not spell-checked 🤭)

what do you think is next???? 😏

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bellawoso · 11 months ago

Text

Enchanted

Ona Batlle x fem!reader

-> Ona being a flustered mess around her ‘cute doctor’

Definition of love at first sight for my darling onita!!

Ona Batlle hated medics. It wasn’t that she hated them as people, she actually really admired people who dedicated most of their youth studying to help others. What Ona Batlle hated was being treated by medics. During both training and matches Ona would go to extreme measures just to hide an injury so that she wasn’t sent away to ‘waste’ valuable time that she could have been playing football as she says.

However, due to the amount of time she has been caught attempting to hide her pain, Ona’s hate for being seen by medics is infamously known by every player in the Barcelona Femeni team.

So therefore when Ona went down due to a mistimed slide tackle which resulted in someone’s studs harshly connecting with her ribs, Alexia’s ‘hawk eyes’ as Ona calls them, immediately noticed the wince that Ona tried to suppress with every step she took in attempt to ‘walk it off’.

“Off now Ona.”

At hearing this Ona’s eyes widened in shock as she realised she had been caught, everyone including Ona knew that it was useless trying to argue with Alexia, who was the most stubborn player on the team. In attempt to show the captain her annoyance, Ona let out an exaggerated sigh, which was ignored by Alexia, who instead shooed the defender off the pitch.

Ona made a point to walk as slowly as possible off the pitch and shoot a harsh glare at the player who injured her. Ona was annoyed. She had been deeply looking forward to the match against Real Madrid, and was excited to assist Barcelona in keeping their winning streak against them, only to be sent off just 27minutes into the game which she suspected she would have been playing full time for.

When she got to the sidelines the physios told the young spaniard to head to medical room 5 for a scan to check for broken ribs making the brunette internally groan at the possibility of having to miss any more time playing football due to some broken bones.

———————————————————————

When Ona eventually arrived at medical room 5, she had a mental battle while staring at a spot on the floor whether she should stay and get checked by a professional or go back to the locker rooms and get a long relaxing shower while it was quiet. However, her train of thoughts was interrupted by the door suddenly clicking open and a soft voice grasping her attention.

“Hello, can I help you?”

Ona was about to reject your offer and return back to the locker rooms, but as she looked up to match a face to the voice, her future words of dismissal died on her tongue.

“Oh- uh, t-the physios. My ribs.”

Ona internally cursed herself at her unusual nervousness and flustered state. She wouldn’t admit it but she also cursed you for making her feel like there were a million butterflies in her stomach, and she prayed that you mistook the blush on her cheeks for a visual of the past half hour she had spent running around the pitch.

“Of course, if you’d like to come in? What’s your name?”

Ona however had stupidly decided to try act casual by taking a large gulp out of her water bottle, but had hurriedly swallowed it in order to not leave your question waiting, which resulted in the brunette entering a coughing and choking fit. You quickly sprung to action and rubbed soothing circles onto the spaniards back until the coughing subsided, and Ona felt the tips of her ears burn as she looked at the ground.

The silence didn’t last for long though, as it was almost instantly interrupted by laughter that filled the air. Ona hated it. Ona was used to making girls laugh after a sarcastic quip she made in a bar, when she flirted her ways into someone’s bed, however Ona was definitely not used to a girl laughing at her, after she had almost basically died due to how much of a blushing mess you reduced her to.

However, as much as Ona hated your laugh, she could not resist the tugging of the corner of her lips at the soft giggles that you emitted. Ona was down bad instantly.

“Hola, soy y/n.” You said with a cheeky grin adorned on your face which made Ona swoon.

The brunette couldn’t help but chuckle at the heavy northern accent coating your words.

“Your pronunciation is terrible.” The defender replied with a smirk of her own.

“As is yours.” You said, but the truth is, Ona’s pronunciation was practically flawless, but she didn’t need to know that.

“No it isn’t, my pronunciation is perfect.” Ona said.

“Arrogance looks good on you.” You replied as you looked into her eyes. As cliché as it sounds, Ona’s eyes were beautiful, a gorgeous deep brown with specks of gold and green littered near her pupils. Little did you know Ona was also admiring your eyes aswell.

After sitting her down on the examination bed and taking some quick x-rays of her ribs, you ruled out the possibility of them being broken, and instead decided to feel the area to see the extent of the bruising.

At the sight of her abs up this close your breath hitched, and you prayed that Ona didn’t hear, on any other day Ona would have noticed and would make an effort to tease you for it, but today Ona was fully focused into trying to not let you see the effect you had on her this close.

At first, Ona relished the addictive feeling of your cold finger tips trailing around the area, but as the gentle touches faded into harsh prodding at the people and blue tinged skin, Ona’s wince became apparent for you.

As soon as you noticed Ona’s discomfort, you were quick to mutter a soft apology, and while Ona thought about her embarrassing first encounter with you, she realised something that she felt like kicking herself for. Ona had forgot to tell you her name.

Of course you knew who Ona Batlle was, your studies the entire team after you scored the job as their personal doctor, but you hoped that asking Ona her name would help you two get to know each other on a personal level.

“Ona.”was all the spaniard uttered quietly.

“What was that?”

“My name. My name is Ona.”

As you looked down at her, you couldn’t help but notice the dozens of freckles littered on her nose, and couldn’t help but smile softly at the defender.

You placed an ice pack onto the bruised area, strapping it to her skin with a bandage, then tugged her shirt back down and Ona took this as her que to sit up and wait for your diagnosis.

“Well Ona I’m happy to say that you have no broken ribs but you do have severe bruising in your ribs so I would recommend sitting out the next match to prevent further injuries, okay?”

Normally Ona would have freaked out at the idea of not being able to play the next match, and would have probably argued with the doctor until they told her she could play. However, with you Ona wanted nothing more than to listen to and respect your judgement. Ona knew she had fallen for you.

As you followed her to the door, the spaniard turned around to see you a last time before she left.

“Bye y/n”

“See you around Ona” You said with a grin.

———————————————————————

As Ona walked into the locker room she was shocked to be met with her teammates emerging from the showers and going to get dressed. How much time had she spent with you?

As her teammates noticed her arrival, Ona was immediately faced with questions about her change of opinions on medics, its safe to say that no one actually thought Ona would actually go to the medical room.

Patri immediately came over to her and bombarded her with questions.

“Why did you go to the medics?”

“Are your ribs broken?”

“Why are you happy after returning?”

Fortunately Ingrid came to Ona’s rescue and led the brunette over to where Alexia and Mapi were sat. The two best friends stopped their conversation as soon as Ona neared them, also confused at why Ona actually went to the medic.

“I can’t believe she actually went” Mapi said under her breath.

Unluckily for her, Ona heard.

“I went because they told me to” the defender said with a scowl upon her face. To which Alexia raised a brow in disbelief.

The questioning was soon interupted at the sound of the locker room door bursting open, making the multiple conversations stop.

But upon seeing who entered, Ona wished the ground would open and swallow her whole to save her from the relentless teasing she is bound to receive from the team after this.

There you were, stood at the doorway looking around the room until your eyes made contact with Ona’s and you offered her the same reassuring smile that Ona fell in love with.

You rushed up to the spaniard, only to hold out your hand.

Dammit. Her water bottle.

“Here you forgot this, but try not to choke this time” you said with your signature cheeky grin, before saying “adios” and turning to leave.

“B-bye y/n” Ona said, her flustered state returning at the realisation that her whole team had found out what convinced her to go to the medic, you turned around to shoot her a smile until the sound of the door clicked behind you.

“Because we told you to, huh?” Alexia said with a teasing smirk.

“Shut up, she was cute”

———————————————————————

A/N : There will be a part two to this, and hopefully I will have it written by the end of this week! Feel free to send in requests for your favourite footballers! 🤍

#ona batlle x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle #lucy bronze #keira walsh #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #mapi león #ingrid engen #fc barcelona #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #Spotify

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soft-girl-musings · 9 months ago

Text

Stranger Danger

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

MK Spring Bingo entry #5

tags: reader is being stalked & responds in a way the author (a woman) has been taught to, emotional protector steven grant to the rescue, no use of y/n

wc: 1,138

fic summary: There's safety in numbers, do you want mine? (too soon?)

_____________________

“Oops, careful!”

Steven drops the last of his veggie wrap as a pair of kids rush past the bench he’d been hunched over. As he picks up the debris, he sees where one of them dropped their hat. He picks it up and half-jogs after them to return it.

“Gotta stay aware of our surroundings, yeah? Don’t want to lose our valuables.” The kid rolls their eyes but thanks him before running off to catch up with their friend.

“Oh my gosh, hi!”

Steven turns around to find you walking swiftly toward him, your smile too wide and tone too familiar.

He’s never seen you before.

“... hello,” he answers cautiously, taking one step back but failing to put much distance between the two of you. You practically cling to his side when you approach, takeaway cup and phone in hand.

“Sorry I’m late, but you are terrible at giving directions, mister.” Taking his arm, you begin to walk away from where you’d appeared.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s forgotten conversations or plans. But as he racks his brain for something, anything tied to you in his memory, Steven notices the panic in your eyes and the slight waver in your voice.

Your hands shake a bit as you unlock your phone, passing your cup to him. He takes it, still bewildered but obedient. “I swear, the cafe never spells your name right. Let me make a note for next time.” You type swiftly, showing him the screen.

being followed, please pretend you're my boyfriend

Steven doesn’t know you.

But he nods, grasping your arm closer with his free hand and gives his most convincing grin. “Steven with a ‘V’, love.”

Relief instantly washes over your features and you relax a little. “Right. I’ll remember that… Steven.”

His smile grows before he remembers why you're holding onto him. “Do you want to sit down? Or go somewhere else, maybe I could call someone–”

“N-no, it’s fine. Let’s just sit. In plain sight,” you half-whisper. Steven nods, ushering you back to the bench in the middle of the busy square. When you sit, you don't let go of his arm.

Instead, you type into your phone as you speak. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Steven glaces at your notes app again.

do you see a man in a black jacket?

Steven scans the area, careful not to look too suspicious. Unlike the person he’s sure you’re referring to: a man in dark clothes, hands shoved into his pockets and rigid as he looks around with increasing urgency. His prominent frown grows when he sees Steven next to you.

“Yeah,” Steven says to both your questions. He looks away from the menacing figure, but sets your drink down and wraps his arm around you. He's glad to feel you settle into his side, still shaking but catching your breath.

“I take it you don’t know Mr. Black Jacket?”

“No, I do. Sort of. He’s a regular customer of mine,” you sigh. “One who doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Ah.” Steven keeps the guy in his periphery, splitting his focus between him and you. “Stalker, then?”

You freeze up at the term. “Yeah… he’s been pretty relentless.”

You meet his eyes, which are swiftly filling with concern. “Thanks again for… this. I usually find a mom or another woman to walk with me until he leaves, but I saw you with those kids and just… panicked, I guess.”

“S’not a problem, love.” Steven knocks your foot with his, drawing a small smile from you. “Glad to help you feel safe.”

You laugh a little. You let your gaze drift over to the man in black, an uneasy pit growing in your stomach when you briefly make eye contact.

“He usually goes away after a while. I've told the police, but they can't do anything unless he… you know.” Your brow furrows as your grip loosens. “I don't mean to take over your afternoon, but would you mind waiting with me?”

In that moment, you could have asked Steven for the moon and he'd find a way to lasso it down for you.

He squeezes your hand. “‘Course I can. Lovely day with lovely company, quite the ideal afternoon in my books.”

Steven dives right into talking about anything and everything that comes to mind– which, as you learn, is a lot. Normally he'd hit a wall after a few minutes, either because he'd realized he had talked himself in circles, or his less-than-captive audience was visibly zoned out. But you hang on his every word, grateful to be arm in arm with a stranger describing the supposed viscosity of ancient Egyptian embalming oil. It's a welcome distraction.

So distracting, in fact, that after an hour you realize the crowd has thinned around you. With Mr. Black Jacket nowhere in sight.

“I think he's gone,” you sigh with relief. Steven stands when you do, handing your things back.

“Patience won out in the end,” he beams. You see a brief look of panic cross his features.

“He doesn't know where you live, does he? Do you need an escort?” Steven's already taken a ludicrously long lunch break, but the inevitable lecture from Donna would be worth it if it meant ensuring your safety.

You shake your head. “I've been careful.” Extending your hand, you smile. “It was nice to meet you, Steven with a ‘V’.”

“Likewise, love.” He shakes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Another look crosses his face before he continues.

“Do you want my mobile number?” His words come out too fast; if you hadn't spent the past hour listening to him, you might have missed what he said. “Just in case you need someone to wait with you again, or keep an eye out. Would that be alright?” He shakes his head, stepping back. “'Matter of fact, forget I said anything, don't want you to think you've traded one creep for another–”

“Sure.”

Your simple answer stops him in his tracks. “Oh, you don’t have to–”

“No, it’s fine. Really. When you offered, it felt nice to know someone could be in my corner on this side of town.”

You take out a scrap of paper and a pen from your bag. “How about this: you write it down, and I’ll add your contact if I ever need my knight in shining armor again.”

Steven concedes, pen and paper in hand as he scribbles his number down (then asks for a new paper in case the first was too illegible).

When you leave, he watches until you turn the corner. He goes the opposite direction, back to the museum. Part of him hopes you’ll never have to reach out, for your own sake. The rest of him hopes you do anyway.

_____________________

A/N: oh steven, the man that you are. a couple more bingo prompts will be focused on this dude, which is excellent practice for some exciting projects down the line...

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #just edited the word count lol #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant/fem!reader

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chosok-amo · 28 days ago

Note

Hi suki🫶 may i request umemiya taking care of sick reader? I read your satosugu x reader, and i wonder what umemiya will do😋 thank you

NASTY FEVER : UMEMIYA HAJIME

you’ve been mia since yesterday, making your boyfriend worried. when umemiya comes to your bedroom, he finds you unable to move from your nasty fever.

warning. established relationship! umemiya, fluff.

THERE WILL BE PART TWO (A SMUT, HIHI).

umemiya had been staring at his phone screen all morning, watching the line of unanswered texts he’d sent you. he tried calling you again, but once more, the call went straight to voicemail. he frowned, checking the time and realizing how unusual this was. you, of all people, ignoring him? the thought alone made him uneasy. you were the spoiled, clingy one, always texting and calling him at odd hours, demanding attention with the playful charm he adored. but now? complete silence.

unable to shake the worry gnawing at him, he decided to go see you himself. he climbed into his car, a sleek black vehicle that he only drove when visiting your estate, the car he bought after working for hours just to provide you the things you deserve—because otherwise, his bike was more his style—and set off.

when he arrived, he was greeted by your enormous mansion, an estate tucked behind towering iron gates, with manicured lawns and rows of imported flowers lining the driveway. the building was a sight to behold, almost as if it had been taken straight out of a modern fairytale: wide, high-ceilinged windows, intricate stonework, and a massive fountain in the front courtyard. he drove up to the entrance, where a valet opened his car door, and he tossed the keys over, barely pausing as he walked inside.

as he entered the grand foyer, the high ceilings and chandeliers reflected the wealth surrounding him. marble floors gleamed under his boots, and the soft sounds of a piano playing in one of the far rooms filled the air, likely a recording from one of the estate’s speakers. without wasting a second, he made his way to the staircase, a luxurious spiral lined with deep red carpet and framed by golden banisters, leading up to your bedroom. he took the steps two at a time, the worry he’d tried to keep at bay now growing with each step.

reaching the top, he walked through the expansive hallway, glancing at the opulent decor along the walls, each piece more valuable than the last—priceless paintings, crystal vases, intricate carvings. but none of it mattered to him now. he pushed open the double doors to your bedroom, stepping inside and glancing around the enormous space.

your bedroom was like a world of its own, with floor-to-ceiling windows draped in silk curtains, furniture so plush and ornate that it looked like it belonged in a palace, and a chandelier above the bed, casting a warm glow that softened the room’s already rich tones. his gaze landed on the king-sized bed at the center, where you were curled up under the layers of silk and velvet blankets like a tiny cocoon.

“hey,” he whispered, his voice breaking the silence as he stepped closer, heart racing a little. you looked so small, so fragile, wrapped up like that in the middle of your extravagant room.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently pull the blanket down from your face. as the fabric slid away, he could finally see you: your features relaxed, your eyelashes casting soft shadows against your cheeks. he exhaled, a mixture of relief and worry swirling in his chest. “you had me worried sick,” he murmured to himself, his hand finding its way to your cheek, brushing gently.

as umemiya sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze softened, finally getting a close look at you. at first, he felt relieved just seeing you there, but the longer he watched, the more he noticed something wasn’t right. your skin, usually full of warmth and color, looked pale and drained under the soft lighting in the room, almost as if the life had been sapped from you.

a frown creased his brow as he reached out, his hand hovering near your face for a moment before gently pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. instantly, his eyes widened in concern—you were burning up. your skin was hot to the touch, feverish in a way that made his stomach twist.

“hey… you’re burning up,” he whispered, his voice laced with worry as his thumb brushed gently over your cheek. even in sleep, you looked uneasy, your face drawn and slightly flushed from the fever. beads of sweat glistened along your forehead, and he noticed a shiver pass through you despite the heat radiating from your skin.

he couldn’t remember ever seeing you like this. usually, you were lively, bright, and demanding in the best way, always pulling him into whatever you had planned for the day. but now, curled up and silent, you looked fragile, too still for his comfort.

swallowing the worry building in his chest, umemiya leaned closer, his hand moving to cup your face gently. “baby, wake up,” he murmured, trying to rouse you without startling you. his thumb continued to trace soft circles on your cheek, hoping that the gentle touch would bring you back just enough to talk to him.

your eyelids fluttered, opening slightly, and you let out a quiet, barely-there groan. your gaze met his, but it was hazy, like you were looking through him rather than at him. “haji…?” your voice was a weak whisper, barely audible.

he blinked at the sound of his name on your lips, relief mixing with concern as your eyes fluttered open, albeit just barely. the way you looked at him—through him, rather than at him—sent a chill down his spine. it was like you were there, but not quite.

“yeah, it’s me, baby,” he murmured back, trying to keep his voice steady as he ran his fingers through your hair, his thumb sweeping over your forehead before moving down to your feverish cheek. your skin was like fire, the heat radiating off of you making him frown tighter.

he moved closer to the middle of the bed, sitting beside you and studying your face closely. he noticed the light shiver that wracked through your body, a contrast to the feverish heat of your skin. “you’re burning up, princess… how long have you been like this?”

he scanned your face, noting the way your eyes seemed to struggle to focus on him, and the slight crease between your brows from discomfort. gently, he brushed his hand over your forehead again, trying to push back your hair, but it only seemed to cling to your sweaty skin.

“why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of worry and a little annoyance. “i was calling you all morning and yesterday, you didn’t pick up. i was worried sick.”

you barely registered his words, the gentle timbre of his voice mixing with the heat pounding in your head. though you could feel his hand brushing your forehead, his fingers moving tenderly through your hair, it felt as if he was miles away. your eyes drifted closed again, too heavy to keep open, and the exhaustion pressing down on you made responding feel impossible.

“hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice tinged with an edge of panic as he saw you slipping back into that hazy state. “don’t go quiet on me now,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face and his thumb tracing gentle circles against your flushed skin.

your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and another shiver ran through you, making you curl deeper into yourself. he frowned, feeling helpless, as he watched you struggle even to keep your eyes open. “come on, sweetheart… just a little longer,” he whispered, leaning closer, almost as if his presence alone could shield you from the fever’s grip.

but instead of replying, you simply let out a soft sigh, your body giving in to the fever’s exhaustion once more. it was as if responding took too much effort, each second sapping your strength further, until you couldn’t do anything but sink back into the comforting darkness.

a mixture of worry and frustration rose in his chest. you were so weak, so unlike your usual self… it was all so sudden too. he’d seen you just a few days ago, and you were fine then. so how the hell did you end up like this?

he shook his head, pushing back the barrage of questions and focusing on the more pressing matter at hand. you were sick, and sick bad. he needed to do something. he gently shook your shoulder, his fingers applying a light pressure. “baby, stay with me. come on, open your eyes.”

he kept his voice soft, but firm, not wanting to startle you, but also desperate for you to respond fully. his hand slid from your shoulder to your cheek, gripping you a bit tighter.

“i need you to wake up for me, princess. c’mon, you’re scaring the hell out of me.” his gaze traveled over your face again, trying to see if there was any change. you were so still, so unresponsive. it was like you were trapped in some sort of feverish stupor.

your body responded first, a soft jolt running through you as if your mind finally registered the gentle shake. your eyelids fluttered, the weight of exhaustion making each blink feel like an enormous effort, but at the sound of his voice, you fought to open them. hazy and unfocused, your gaze settled on him, trying to make sense of his worried face through the feverish fog clouding your vision.

“haji…?” your voice was barely a whisper, weak and breathy, as if even speaking his name took every ounce of strength left in you. your throat felt dry, the word scratching out as you blinked slowly, struggling to stay present.

he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a mix of relief and fear flooding his expression as his fingers brushed against your cheek. “yeah, it’s me, princess. i’m right here,” he murmured softly, but there was an urgency beneath his tone, a plea for you to stay awake, to stay with him.

you tried to smile, a faint tug at the corners of your mouth, but it faltered quickly as a wave of dizziness washed over you, making you close your eyes again. “i… i don’t feel good,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you shifted slightly, curling further into the warmth of the blanket but instinctively leaning into his touch.

as you spoke, his heart clenched in his chest. the sound of your weak voice, so unlike your usual bright and animated tone, just drove home how serious this was. “yeah, you’ve got a serious nasty fever,” he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “when did this start, princess?”

he shifted his position, moving to sit closer beside you on the bed, his weight denting the mattress as he adjusted the blanket around you. he reached out, gently brushing back some of the hair sticking to your forehead. you were burning up, but shivering like you were cold.

your head shook weakly, barely a tilt as you struggled to even keep your eyes open. “i… i don’t know,” you whispered, voice trailing off in a soft rasp. the effort it took to form the words felt exhausting, like even the smallest movement drained what little strength you had left.

you blinked, trying to focus on his face, but everything seemed blurry, like you were looking at him through a thick haze. “just… feels like it came out of nowhere,” you mumbled, your voice sounding as distant to yourself as it did to him.

you shifted slightly, wincing as a shiver wracked through you, your body’s warmth a painful contrast to the chills creeping over you. instinctively, you leaned closer to him, seeking out his warmth, the feeling of his presence somehow reassuring. your fingers curled weakly against the blanket, clutching it closer to your chest as you muttered, “sorry… didn’t mean to worry you…”

he exhaled through his nose, frustration mixing with concern. the uncertainty only heightened his worry. how long had you been sick without him knowing? how high did your fever reach before he showed up? it could’ve been dangerous.

he swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. you looked so delicate, so unlike your usual feisty self. normally, you’d be demanding attention and playing up how vulnerable you were. but now, all he saw was genuine fragility.

“don’t apologise… just stay awake for me, okay? just a few more minutes,” he assured, his hands gently running along your arms over your blanket, trying to soothe the shivers that wracked your body.

he leaned closer, one hand moving to hold your forehead, the other resting on your cheek. he had to keep you awake long enough to get some medication in you. “how long have you been in bed?” he pressed, his voice a soft prodding.

your eyes fluttered open, just barely, as you tried to recall. it felt like days, time blending together in a feverish haze. “since… yesterday? i think,” you murmured, uncertainty lacing your voice, the words coming out in a weak, almost questioning tone. the memories were fuzzy, each attempt to think it over making your head pound harder.

you swallowed, feeling the dryness in your throat and the weight in your limbs. “i… i tried to get up,” you admitted softly, closing your eyes again as exhaustion pulled at you. “but… i couldn’t,” you added, almost like it was an apology, frustration slipping through your voice as you pressed yourself further into the pillow.

he gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the wave of worry that washed over him. yesterday? you’d been like this for a day?

“why didn’t you call me, princess?” he asked suddenly, his tone sharper than he intended. but the thought of you being here, alone and sick for that long, just made his anger flare.

he immediately tried to soften his voice, realising that wasn’t exactly helpful right now. he leaned closer, one hand still against your forehead, the other tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “i would’ve come over. you know that.”

umemiya’s jaw clenched as he watched you slip back into that feverish haze, eyes fluttering shut once again, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. his gaze softened despite the frustration simmering beneath, taking in the flush that colored your cheeks, the way your lashes brushed against your skin. you looked fragile, far too fragile, and it made his chest tighten with anger and helplessness.

he let his eyes drift around the room, the opulent space feeling eerily quiet and empty, the silence amplifying his worry. how had no one noticed? how had no one thought to check on you? but he caught himself, remembering the countless times you’d insisted on your solitude, telling every worker in the house to leave you be able unless you called them—something he’d grown to understand and respect, even if it frustrated him now.

you’d always been strict about your quality time, loving your own space, always setting your own boundaries. he also knew about your parents’ long work trips once you told him days ago, leaving you alone for weeks. he felt a pang of worry, realizing how long you might’ve been curled up in this bed, too sick to even get up.

still, the thought of you here, curled up alone in this grand room, with no one to look after you gnawed at him. he exhaled deeply, a slow sigh escaping as he reached out, brushing a thumb gently across your fever-warmed cheek. his other hand moved to check the blanket, making sure it was snug around you.

“have you even eaten?” he whispered to himself, his voice thick with concern. he brushed his thumb gently over your forehead, feeling the heat radiate from you, and his jaw tightened. he’d never forgive himself if he left you to go through this alone.

you managed a faint shake of your head, your movements slow and weak, but it was enough to make his heart sink. even in your half-conscious state, you were honest, admitting in that small gesture that you hadn’t eaten, that you’d been here alone and struggling.

umemiya’s jaw clenched, again, his eyes darkening with both worry and a quiet anger at the thought of you lying here for so long, too sick to even take care of yourself. “damn it, princess,” he murmured, voice breaking with a mixture of frustration and affection. his other thumb traced softly over your cheek, his touch tender despite the tightness in his expression. “you should’ve called me… you don’t have to handle everything alone.”

as you shook your head weakly, the admission of having not eaten sent a stabbing pain through his chest. you’d been here, alone and vulnerable, and you didn’t even have the strength to eat. he could barely hold back the rush of anger and worry.

“jesus christ, princess…” he muttered, his hand move to clenching the blanket at your side, trying to keep his emotions in check. he didn’t want to upset you, not when you looked so fragile, but the thought of you here... “why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?”

he grumbled under his breath, anger simmering within him, the fact that you didn’t call him the second you started feeling unwell driving him crazy. he knew you were stubborn, but this was on a whole new level. you were sick, you were suffering, alone and in pain. without a word, he reached for the home phone on one of the bedside tables, dialing the direct line to the kitchen.

a soft beeping sound filled the room as he waited for someone in the kitchen to pick up. he still held your cheek gently with his other hand, feeling the heat radiating from your fevered skin. as the line finally connected, a familiar voice sounded from the other end.

“yes, sir?” the kitchen staff member greeted warmly to umemiya after hearing his polite yet firm voice, clearly recognizable from having worked in the house for years. your staff are already familiar with umemiya, so when they hear a man’s voice they instantly know it was him. “send up some food,” umemiya ordered, his voice firm with no room for argument. “soup—chicken noodle, and some water. no, wait. make that ginger tea, add some honey too.”

he looked down at you, your figure so small and fragile under the covers. he couldn’t shake the feeling of worry and anger from his gut. even after all this time, you were still so damn stubborn, and it frustrated him to no end.

“yes, sir,” the voice replied calmly on the other end of the line. “anything else?”

umemiya glanced around the room before answering gruffly, “yes. send some medicine—fever reducers and anti-inflammatory,” he paused, eyeing your weakened form. “and something for a sore throat too.”

“right away, sir.” the voice responded swiftly, understanding the gravity of the situation from the tone of his voice alone.

he hung up, placing the phone back on the bedside table, and turning his attention fully back to you. he moved his hand from your cheek, but not before letting his touch linger for a moment. he sat back a bit, letting his eyes roam over you again, seeing the small shivers that continued to wrack through your body. he leaned forward, pulling the blanket as tightly around you as he could.

a faint murmur slipped from your lips, barely above a whisper, “cold…” the word sounded so small, carrying a fragile edge that made umemiya’s heart twist. he took in the sight of your shivering form, noticing for the first time how thin your shirt was, your legs barely covered by your shorts.

“i’ll fix that,” he whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your feverish forehead before he stood up. he hesitated for a second, his gaze lingering on you, then he walked over to your walk-in closet. the sprawling space was filled with clothes and luxurious fabrics, but he focused only on finding something warm, something that would help ease your shivering.

as he picked out a soft, thick sweater and a pair of cozy sweatpants, he felt an urgency—an overwhelming need to see you comfortable again. he returned to your bedside, sitting beside you once more. “let’s get you warmed up, okay, baby?” he murmured gently, brushing a few strands of hair back from your face.

you responded with a small, almost imperceptible nod, your lips curling up into a weak, grateful smile. your eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion pulling at your body, but you still managed to muster a response, your voice a faint, strained whisper.

“yeah…”

he saw the way you watched him, though your eyes seemed heavy and unfocused, you still tracked his movements. he could see the relief in your gaze, a silent thanks for his being here. umemiya gave you one last reassuring look before he set to work, shifting and tugging at the covers.

unemeiya managed to get you dressed, the thick, comfortable material of the sweater and sweatpants providing some much-needed warmth to your shivering form. he tucked the blanket around you, making sure every inch of you was covered, trying to block out the chill that seemed to permeate every inch of the room.

he laid a gentle hand on your forehead again, the heat still burning underneath his touch. he noticed the sweat beading on your skin, your fevered state clearly taking its toll. he needed that medicine—now.

after a while, umemiya finally managed to settle you against the headboard, your back resting comfortably against the soft pillows he’d piled behind you. the blankets were wrapped snugly around your shoulders, a small comfort against the feverish chill that clung to your skin.

“here, just a little more,” he murmured, holding the bowl of soup carefully in one hand while lifting a spoonful to your lips with the other. his eyes softened as you blinked drowsily, barely managing to focus on him. even through the haze, you kept your gaze on him, as if anchoring yourself to his presence.

you parted your lips, accepting each spoonful as he fed you with a tenderness that spoke of his worry and care. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, tracing gentle circles in reassurance as he murmured, “that’s it… one more.”

with each bite, he stayed close, watching you carefully, his gaze never leaving yours for long. though weak, you could sense the warmth in his eyes, a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. it was enough to bring a small comfort through the fever’s hold on you, as he patiently helped you through each bite.

a weak chuckle slipped from your lips, catching his attention as he continued to frown, his brow furrowed in silent frustration. you could see that sulky look in his eyes, the kind he wore whenever he was quietly scolding you—this time for not telling him you were sick.

“what’s so funny?” he muttered, his voice laced with concern, though he couldn’t quite hide the hint of annoyance. you gave him a small, hazy smile. “you’re frowning like i committed a crime,” you teased weakly, voice barely above a whisper.

as your voice floated over, he couldn't help but huff a soft sigh, his lips almost curving into a smile. even when you were sick and exhausted, you still managed to be a smartass, still managed to find the humour in his worry.

he let his gaze travel over your face for a second, taking in the slight flush to your cheeks, the fever still leaving its mark. his fingers ran softly over your skin, feeling the heat that radiated off of you. “pretty sure being this stubborn should be a crime,” he muttered, his tone half-teasing, half-concerned.

he brought the next spoonful of soup to your lips, his eyes meeting yours. “open up,” he gently commanded. you were slowly but surely finishing the bowl, each spoonful a testament to your progress. you took each bite obediently, too tired to argue or protest. but the way you looked at him, the fire in your eyes still burning despite the fever, made him smile.

as he fed you another spoonful, he chuckled softly, a sound that rumbled in his chest. “look at you, all compliant. guess you’re easier to handle with a fever, yeah?” he chuckles.

“you’re lucky you’re sick as hell, otherwise i’d be yelling at you right now,” he continued, his voice taking a firmer tone, though the worry in his eyes betrayed the attempt to chide you. he lifted another spoonful of soup, holding it to your lips, waiting for you to take it before he spoke again. “do you know how worried i was, princess?” he asked, his frown deepening slightly, the question clearly rhetorical.

you managed a weak chuckle, your lips curling into a small smirk as you glanced up at him. “did i make you cry, haji?” you teased, voice raspy but playful, though you could barely keep your eyes open. despite the fatigue weighing on you, the spark in your gaze was unmistakable.

umemiya scoffed, rolling his eyes, though a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “yeah, right. you wish,” he muttered, feigning offense. “you might have had me a little freaked out, but you’re not getting any tears out of me.”

he brought another spoonful of soup to your lips, his eyes still watching you intently. “you should be focusing on getting better, not cracking jokes,” he chided softly, but his smile betrayed the warmth beneath his words.

as you took the spoonful, you gave him a small grin, savoring the way he fussed over you. “i’ll keep that in mind… next time i wanna make you cry,” you whispered, too tired to manage more than a lazy smile.

umemiya huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head at your sass. even with a fever, you were still as cheeky as ever. “yeah, yeah, princess. don’t push your luck,” he reprimanded, though his voice betrayed his amusement. he knew you well. once you were set on something, especially the act of teasing him, there was no stopping you.

he chuckled, gently brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “keep talking like that, and i’ll start charging for this five-star nursing service,” he teased back, though his hand lingered, his thumb gently stroking your temple.

after, he stirred the spoon in the bowl, watching the broth swirl around, then brought it up to your lips again, holding your gaze as he spoke. “one more spoonful. think you can manage?”

you gave him a small, weary nod, lips parting slightly as he brought the spoon to your mouth. though every muscle in your body felt heavy, there was something soothing about his presence, the gentle way he held your gaze, the warmth of his fingers as they lingered at your temple.

as you swallowed the last spoonful, a soft hum of satisfaction slipped past his lips. he placed the bowl back on the bedside table before he leaned closer to you, his eyes roaming over you. the slight flush to your cheeks was now more pronounced, the fever still holding its grip.

he reached out and laid a hand on your forehead, feeling the heat beneath his palm. he frowned slightly, the worry still etched across his features. “you’re still burning up…” he muttered, his fingers tracing the edge of your jaw.

you nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “still feel like shit…” you admitted, your eyes drifting to the glass sitting on the bedside table. the dryness in your throat only added to your discomfort. “and... thirsty.”

umemiya nodded, understanding your needs without you even having to say much. he reached for the glass of water, wrapping his fingers around the cool, smooth glass. he held it for you and guided it to your lips, gently supporting the back of your head. “try to take small sips, okay? too much too fast and you’ll throw up,” he instructed quietly.

he watched as you took small sips, making sure each one went down without issue. he observed your movements, noting the tiredness in your eyes, though he couldn’t help noticing the slight quirk of your lips as you looked at him. he chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving your face. “what’s that look for?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice as he placed the glass back on the bedside table.

you chuckled weakly, shaking your head in response to his question. “nothing,” you murmured, though a small smile lingered on your lips. there was something comforting about his presence, the way he fussed over you even when you felt your worst.

umemiya, noticing that you hadn’t finished the tea your staff had prepared earlier, picked up the warm cup and held it out to you. “you need to drink this too,” he insisted gently. “it’ll help with the fever.”

you took a few more sips, the warmth spreading through your body, making you feel a bit better despite the lingering fatigue. he watched you closely, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection, making sure you drank as much as you could.

once you managed to finish most of the tea, he reached for the medication, his demeanor shifting to one of gentle authority. “alright, time for your medicine,” he said, opening the packet and handing you the pills along with another glass of water. “just take it easy and swallow these down. i’ll be right here.” you nodded, taking the pills and the water, grateful for his insistence. as you swallowed, you felt the heaviness in your body begin to lift, even if just slightly. his nurturing care wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the discomfort you felt inside.

umemiya watched as you swallowed the pills, a sense of relief washing over him. he knew they’d help bring your fever down, make you feel better. his eyes still roamed over you, taking in your tired form, your pale skin, the way your shoulders sagged with fatigue.

he moved closer, his hand reaching out to brush a few strands of hair back from your face. “feeling any better?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern and affection. his fingers lingered at your temple, tracing small, soothing circles on your skin.

you raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk forming on your lips despite the fatigue that weighed you down. “oh, yeah, it feels like magic,” you said sarcastically, your voice laced with a hint of teasing. “a minutes in, and i’m already dancing around like a fairy.”

it was hard to keep the teasing tone out of your voice, even in your current state. the way he hovered over you, checking in with such genuine concern, warmed your heart despite the fever that still clung to you.

you couldn’t help but feel a little amused by his eagerness to gauge the effects of the medicine so soon. it hadn’t even been a minutes since you swallowed the pills, yet here he was, acting like he was waiting for some miraculous recovery. his affection was palpable, wrapping around you like a cozy blanket, and you felt a flutter in your chest. it was comforting to know he cared so much, even when you felt like a shell of your usual self.

umemiya chuckled at your sarcastic reply, his eyebrows lifting in amusement. he should’ve known better, even feverish and exhausted, you still kept your sass. your witty comebacks, the way you didn’t lose that edge, even in your state of illness— it was one of the things he loved about you.

he shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re a real comedian, you know that?” he teased back, his hand still tracing patterns across your skin, his touch gentle yet firm.

you laughed softly, a mix of sarcasm and playful defiance in your voice. “what can i say, baby? i’m a natural entertainer, even when i’m a hot mess,” you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes despite the fatigue weighing you down. the laughter felt good, a small reprieve from the fever that still clung to you.

“besides, someone has to keep you on your toes, haji. wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable playing nurse,” you added, a smirk dancing on your lips. it was a lighthearted jab, a way to keep the atmosphere from becoming too heavy. his smirk only deepened, and you could see the fondness in his gaze as he continued to gently brush his fingers along your skin, creating a soothing rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts.

“but really, i appreciate you being here. just don’t expect a standing ovation for my performance tonight,” you quipped, chuckling again softly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

umemiya chuckled, shaking his head again. only you could find a way to keep your spirits up, even in your weakened state. he knew it was a defense mechanism, a way to mask the discomfort behind your witty banter.

“oh, princess, i already have a standing ovation in mind for you,” he teased back, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “but it’ll have to wait until you’re feeling better.” he could see the fatigue in your eyes, the way they were starting to droop as you tried to keep up the banter.

umemiya felt a surge of warmth in his chest as he watched you, the fatigue beginning to win the battle against your spirited facade. wanting to comfort you in the best way he could, he moved slowly, shedding his clothes until he was only in his boxers. he wanted to keep you warm, and sharing body heat felt like the perfect solution.

sliding under the covers beside you, he nestled in close, a playful grin on his face. “come here, you little shit,” he joked, his voice light but laced with affection. wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you against him, your body fitting perfectly against his.

he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, feeling the heat radiate from your skin. “you’re stealing all my body heat, you know,” he teased, though the warmth of you pressed against him was comforting. his heart swelled with affection, grateful to be here with you, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal. “but i guess i can’t complain,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through your hair as he held you close, hoping his warmth would help chase away the chill of your fever.

you let out a weak giggle, the sound light and airy despite your fatigue. instinctively, you wrapped your arm around his bare waist, seeking comfort in his warmth as you nestled your head against his hard chest. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you was soothing, grounding you amidst the haze of your fever.

“guess i’ll take the heat, then,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled against his skin. there was a sense of safety in being so close to him, a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones. his warmth enveloped you like a blanket of sun kissing your skin in the morning, and for a moment, the discomfort of your illness faded into the background.

you could feel the tension in his body ease as he held you, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. it was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes of his care. the banter may have been playful, but this closeness was what truly made you feel better. with umemiya beside you, even the worst of days seemed a little more bearable.

umemiya relished in the way your body fit against his, the way you instinctively clung to him. it felt good to hold you like this, even if it was because you were sick. he held you closer, his fingers tracing soft lines across your back, feeling the shiver that still clung to your body.

“you’re always stealing my body heat,” he teased again, his voice low and rough. “just can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he chuckled lightly, the sound rumbling in his chest beneath your ear.

you hummed softly at his teasing, a playful smile tugging at your lips as your fingers began to run gently up and down his chest. the warmth radiating from him felt incredibly comforting, and the connection between you only deepened with each gentle stroke.

“maybe you can stay the night for today,” you suggested lightly, your voice playful yet sincere. the thought of having him beside you, wrapped up in each other’s warmth while you tried to shake off the fever, was immensely appealing. you loved how his presence made everything feel safer, more secure.

you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief despite your exhaustion. “what do you say, haji? an all-night nursing shift, just for me?” you added, teasingly batting your lashes, the affectionate banter bringing a bit of life back into your weary body.

umemiya chuckled at your suggestion, a flicker of warmth in his eyes at the thought. the idea of spending the night with you, watching over you as you fought off the fever, appealed to him more than he cared to admit.

“hmm, an all-night nursing shift, just for you, princess?” he repeated, feigning reluctance before a smirk tugged at his lips. “and here i thought i was already working overtime, given how stubborn you’ve been all day.” he let his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer into his chest.

“fine, but you owe me. big time,” he paused for a moment, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, taking a moment to relish in the feeling of having you close. “now close those pretty eyes and try to get some rest,” he instructed softly, his voice filled with a tender firmness. “the faster you fall asleep, the sooner you’ll kick this fever’s ass.”

you let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of your exhaustion wash over you. “all right,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you closed your eyes, succumbing to the warmth and comfort surrounding you.

you tightened your arm around his waist, pulling him even closer beneath the blanket. his steady heartbeat against your ear was soothing, and you focused on that rhythmic sound, allowing it to lull you into a sense of peace. the tension in your body began to melt away, the worry and discomfort fading as you nestled against him, feeling safe and cherished.

“just don’t let go,” you added softly, your voice muffled against his chest, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as you could.

umemiya chuckled lightly at your demand, a soft rumble in his chest. “like i could ever,” he muttered quietly, his voice thick with affectionate amusement. he tightened his arms around you, pulling you firmly against him, wanting to comfort you and provide you with the reassurance you craved.

he leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your forehead, leaving behind a gentle kiss. “go on, princess. just let it all go. get some shut eye, you stubborn little thing,” he encouraged gently, his fingers running lazily through your hair.

he continued to hold you, his touch gentle and soothing, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your back. he could feel your breathing begin to deepen, the steady rhythm of your body against his letting him know you were finally falling asleep.

umemiya looked down at you, the soft rise and fall of your chest against his, the way you clung tightly to him. he couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of protectiveness as he watched over you, ensuring you got the rest you so desperately needed.

he continued the soothing motion, his fingers moving along your scalp, trying to ease any remaining tension. “don’t worry about a thing, princess. i’ll be right here when you wake up,” he murmured, voice barely above the whisper with his lips on your forehead.

for hours, he remained in that space, his gaze flickering between the television screen and your peaceful face. the soft glow of the screen cast gentle shadows across the room, but his attention was mostly on you, the way you nestled against him, your breathing gradually becoming steadier.

each time he caught a glimpse of you, he felt a wave of warmth and protectiveness wash over him. he couldn’t help but smile as he gently pressed his lips to your forehead, the action becoming instinctual, a silent promise that he would be there for you. his fingers continued to stroke your hair, weaving through the strands, creating a rhythm that seemed to sync with your deepening sleep.

he kept the TV volume low, not wanting to disturb you, but found himself growing restless as the hours ticked by. despite your peaceful slumber, he could sense the occasional hitch in your breath, the subtle sign that your body was still battling the fever. he continued to soothe you with his touch, whispering soft reassurances that you might not even hear.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered quietly, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. the world outside faded away, and for him, nothing mattered more than ensuring you felt safe and loved in that moment. he stayed vigilant, anticipating the moment you’d wake, ready to shower you with affection and care. in the stillness of the room, umemiya felt a sense of peace settle over him, knowing he’d be right there when you opened your eyes again.

#umemiya x reader #umemiya fluff #umemiya hajime #umemiya hajime x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #umemiya x you #wind breaker fluff #windbreaker imagines #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #windbreaker fluff #windbreaker x reader

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badkitty3000 · 8 months ago

Text

Physical Fitness

Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again

Words: 2800

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, masturbation

☂️Requests open!☂️

Link to my Number Five Fanfiction Master List

Five doesn’t always give you his utmost attention when he gets home. Some days he’s bursting through the door, pissed off about one thing or another, already in mid-sentence while he rants about the lack of brain cells in whoever was annoying him that day. So, you listen quietly, with an amused expression that you try and hide from him until he calms down enough for you to speak. Usually, all it takes is a soft kiss, a scratch down his back with your nails, and maybe even a stiff drink and he’s back to being putty in your hands.

You don’t care if he stomps around the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling the glasses inside. Or if he’s so worked up, he can’t sit still and he paces back and forth in the living room while muttering various curse words under his breath. You don’t mind because his anger is never aimed at you, and you are also the only one who can dare to try and calm him down without fear of bodily harm.

No, those things don’t bother you. What does bother you is when he outright ignores you. Those times when he hurries through the door, waves a hasty hello without even glancing up, and shuts himself away in his office. When you try and go to him, knocking hesitantly on the door and cracking it open, he’ll look up momentarily from whatever he’s doing, give you a brief smile, and he’s back at it again. On those days, you’ve learned to just let him be. But it still doesn’t make you any less irritated.

He knows it pisses you off. So, later, when you’ve gone to bed before him and you’re feigning sleep, he’ll slip in behind you and pull you close. He’ll whisper how much he loves you and place kisses along your shoulder and neck until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing back against him, having forgotten what you were mad about in the first place.

Those days used to be few and far between, but lately, it’s become a habit. Every day these past two weeks, it’s been one quick peck on the cheek or brief hug, before he’s back at his “research” and ignoring you behind closed doors. You’ve tried talking to him, and he says he’ll make an effort but so far you haven’t seen anything change. You know you have a solid relationship and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you’re not sure why he’s acting like this. Probably just because he’s an oblivious man wrapped up in his own world, but still, it’s making you worry.

When you are stressed, you usually throw yourself into some kind of physical activity. For a while it was kickboxing, and then it was tennis. Lately, it’s been yoga. It seems to work well for relaxing your mind while also getting a bit of a workout. Tonight you think about going to the studio that you usually frequent, but decide you’re too lazy and you’ll just do your own routine at home.

Five is still not home, but you aren’t going to wait for him. Not like it would matter anyway. You change into your sports bra and black leggings, pull your hair back in a ponytail, and fill up your water bottle. Once you are set up in the living room, with the lights dimmed and relaxing music playing, you begin with a few stretches and then move into some more advanced poses.

Your workout is an hour long and about 30 minutes in you have a nice sheen of sweat covering your body and you’re feeling good. The next half is more about cooling down and resetting your mind. As you are getting into position for the next pose, you hear Five open and close the door to the house, and his footsteps walking towards the room you’re in. You don’t stop what you’re doing. Your time is valuable too, and if he can’t be bothered to stop what he’s doing lately, then why should you?

You sense Five walk into the room just as you are bending over in downward facing dog, your hands on the floor in front of you and your ass in the air. You can’t see his face, but when you look through your legs, you can see that he has stopped in the doorway. Then you watch as his polished black dress shoes cross over one another and he leans into the door frame. When you stand up and look over your shoulder you see him casually watching you with a wolfish grin.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” he says, gesturing with his hand for you to continue. His shirt sleeves are uncuffed and rolled up his forearms as he crosses his arms over his chest in an air of superiority.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Is this what I have to do to get your attention these days? Bend over in tight pants?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

You huff, turning away from him. “Well, I’m going to finish my workout, so either sit there quietly or go back to your office.”

“Alright, I will,” you hear him say as you get back to your routine.

Assuming he was talking about the latter of your two suggestions, you’re caught off guard when you see him cross over and sit down in one of the armchairs facing you.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs with a smirk. “Sitting here quietly.”

Not really wanting to indulge him in whatever he’s up to, you turn away again with a loud sigh and move into another pose. There’s a few more minutes of balancing with your butt on display in Five’s direction, but he doesn’t say anything. Then you move onto the ground on your stomach, pushing the top half of your body up with your arms and looking towards the ceiling.

“So, what’s that one called?”

You sigh again. “Cobra. I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”

When you turn around again, your mouth opens in a partial gape as you watch Five in his chair. He is sitting with his legs splayed and his hand on the very prominent bulge in his crotch, eyeing you up like a hungry predator.

“I got your cobra right here, honey,” he says with a smile, and you can see he’s trying not to laugh at his stupid innuendo.

You try to hold in your own giggle but you can’t and you shake your head. “You’re disgusting.”

With another smart-ass grin, he pulls his tie off, discarding it on the floor. “No. Whipping out my dick and jerking off while watching you would be disgusting.”

Before you can make a comment, he starts doing exactly that; unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly to his pants. He pushes them down far enough to expose his fully hard cock and he gives it a long stroke with his hand, all while keeping his eyes on you.

You should be disgusted. Or annoyed, at the very least. But, fuck, he looks hot sitting there with his sleeves rolled up and his hair flopping onto his forehead; thick cock in his hand. Your breath speeds up just a little and you swallow the pool of saliva that has collected in your mouth.

You clear your throat and flip your ponytail over your shoulder with a sly grin. “Well…you do what you want, I guess. I’m going to finish this workout.”

As you turn away, you decide you’re going to give him as good of a show as you can come up with. You get down on the ground in child’s pose, making sure to spread your knees out wide and push your ass back towards your heels while you splay your arms out in front of you in supplication. You can’t see him, but the thought of what he is doing while watching you is getting you wet and creating a damp spot in the crotch of your pants.

You are slow and deliberate with your movements, and you are back on your hands and knees, only this time you turn to face him. His breathing is louder as he shamelessly works his fist over his cock, running his thumb over the head and jerking his hips up. You can hear the wet slapping noises as his fingers spread the continuous flow of pre-cum over his shaft and he picks up the pace. One side of his mouth turns up as you look at him but he doesn’t slow his movements.

“Fuck, baby, keep going,” he breathes out.

With a breathy laugh you get back to it, pushing your ass up and arching your neck back in a cow pose. It gives him a nice view of your tits in your skimpy sports bra and you hear him let out a quiet grunt while he vigorously pleasures himself. When you flip around and push your hips towards the sky, legs spread wide in a bridge pose, you hear him moan softly.

Turning back over and staying on your hands and knees, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes and start to crawl slowly towards him. His breath hitches in his throat when you stop between his legs, wetting your plump pink lips with your tongue and gazing up through a fan of dark lashes. Five lets out a long groan when you reach up and place your hand around his, guiding him as he slowly pumps his cock up and down.

“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?” you ask as sweetly and innocently as possible.

Five lets out a growl through gritted teeth as he thrusts his hips up into the tight fist around his dick.

“Yes. Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you.”

You lean forward and run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, keeping your eyes on him until he closes his and leans his head back with a whine.

When you pull back, taking your hand with you, he looks back down at you with a deep crease between his dark brows as you start tracing one finger over the top of his thigh and sticking out your bottom lip.

“Five, I want nothing more than to feel your big, thick cock inside of me right now, but here’s the thing. Unless you get that gorgeous, brilliant head out of your ass and start making an effort to acknowledge me around here, I’m afraid that cobra of yours is going to get mighty lonely. Understand?”

Five lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

You pout some more and then back away, shaking your head. “Sorry, baby. I’m very serious.”

Before you let him respond, your back is turned to him again and you’re bending over in an upside-down V shape while running a hand slowly over one ass cheek and down the back of your thigh.

“Fuck…” you hear him moan under his breath and you know you’ve got him. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding just a tad on the pitiful side. “I will make an effort to pay attention to you more.”

You look at him through your legs again, watching him pout with his dick in his hand, and you smile. “No more slinking into your office the minute you get home and ignoring me?”

“No, I promise. No more.”

You love that he’s practically begging you now, desperate and panting as you tease him with your tight, round ass in front of his face. You press back a little more to accentuate it.

“Alright then, as long as you promise. Now, what was it that you wanted to do to me?”

In a literal flash, Five is behind you, pants falling to the ground and his hands on your hips, tugging you backward. You shriek as he slams his pelvis into your backside, his solid cock pushing between your clothed legs. He yanks you back up to standing with a hand wrapped around your ponytail, his breath hot on your neck as his low and deadly voice buzzes over your skin.

“On your hands and knees. Daddy’s going to fuck you now.”

With a pathetic moan that is partly due to the fact that you can’t help yourself when it comes to his demands, you drop to the floor on your hands and knees. He’s behind you again, tugging at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down your thighs. When you feel his fingers slip in between your legs, your body instinctively reacts by pressing backward onto his hand.

“Five…” you whine, your head hanging down as he pushes his fingers inside you. “Please…”

“What’s wrong sweetheart? I thought you wanted more attention from me.”

You thrust your hips back and forth, fucking his fingers while you moan and gasp like some kind of feral creature. When he pulls his hand away, you feel his wet fingers on your back as he pushes your torso towards the ground. He’s teasing you with his cock, rubbing his leaking head against your clit and through your folds until you can’t stand it anymore.

“Five!” you cry, your face pushed against the floor.

“Let me hear you, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me! Please!”

Five doesn’t hesitate for a second, slipping inside of you, pushing all of the way in until his hips are flush with your ass. He grips your waist tightly, holding you there while you squirm against him.

“Fuuuck…” he groans. “You know exactly how Daddy likes it.”

After a strong slap to your ass, Five starts fucking you hard and deep, driving into you with enough force that your body is propelled forward and you know you’re going to have rug burn on your arms and knees. But it doesn’t matter, because everything he is doing is exactly right. Each time he pounds into you, and you feel his thick cock filling you up, you cry out from how good it feels. Your pussy is soaking wet and throbbing with each thrust and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

He's breathing loud and hard behind you, a loud grunt accompanying each snap of his hips, hands firmly clutching your body; holding you steady while he pumps inside of you.

“Oh shit, you’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he rasps.

With one expert move of his hand around the front of you, his fingers finding your clit and pressing into it hard, you yell out.

“Oh, god, Five! Yesss….oh fffuckk…I…I…oh shh…”

Your orgasm hits you hard and your fingers claw into the carpet beneath you, your knuckles white, and your body spasming uncontrollably against his. You continue moaning his name while he pounds into you a few more times before swearing loudly and exploding inside of you. You both stay like that, the muscles in your bodies tight and locked into position as your cries and whines soften and then subside. Soon, there is nothing but the ragged sound of your heavy breathing, and you feel him start to soften and pull out.

You both collapse onto the floor on your backs, chests heaving and shiny with sweat. When you look over at Five, you smile and then start laughing breathily.

“What’s so funny?” he smirks, turning his head to the side to look at you while he reaches down to pull up his pants.

You begin to pull up your own as you grin back at him. “You. If I had known all I needed to do to get your attention was stick my ass in your face, I would have done that weeks ago.”

Five chuckles and moves over next to you, propping his head up with one hand. He pushes a damp piece of hair off your face. “It definitely doesn’t hurt for you to do that, and I will always pay attention when that luscious ass is in my face. But I should have listened to you before. I’m sorry if you’ve felt ignored.”

“I just like spending time with you. I don’t mind you going off and doing whatever it is you do in there, but maybe sometimes include me too? You don’t have to shut me out of everything.”

He nods. “You’re right. And like I said, I promise I will stop from here on out.”

He leans down and kisses you while you run a hand through his soft hair. “I’m not sure why or how I love you as much as I do,” you sigh.

“Me either. But, god, am I glad you do.”

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