#j: ha no for sure let’s go get a beer

[catgrandpa]

No more Tim flinching away from him and Jason brooding about Tim being scared of him. It should be like this:

Jason: has a flash of panic/rage after seeing Tim do something particularly triggering in the Robin suit and lashes out a little

Tim: flinches back hard and falls into a defensive stance

Jason:

Tim:

Jason: lmao dude did u think I was gonna kill u or smth? weak shit

Tim: kinda, but at least I can drive down the road without being triggered by a stop light. embarrassing.

[giuliettagaltieri]

His Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat

Warning: Angst, cursing

Word Count: 4532

Part 1 • Part 2

You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that. 

Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.

And perhaps you were. 

JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks.  Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out.  He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends. 

You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night.  He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.

Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup.  It was too much, even for him.

You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at.  His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.

“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.”  JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you.  You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him.  “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”

Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you.  JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless.  Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade. 

“I really had fun hanging out with you.”  You say sadly.  “You’re a good friend.”

He scrunches his face.  “Good friend.  Yeah.”

“JJ, come on.”  You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile.  “I really enjoyed being with you.  It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”

“I know.”  He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man.  “He looks like shit.”  He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.

Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.

“Y/N, he’s not a baby.  Let him take care of himself.”  JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching. 

Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain.  Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.

“I don’t know, J.  I haven’t seen him that drunk since…”  You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match.  “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”

JJ’s brows slowly rise.  “Really?  Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”

You shake your head.  “No, not even then.”  You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go. 

“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?”  JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.

Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ladies.”  JJ starts, throwing you a wink.  “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”

You take your time, heading to the bathroom.  Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.

The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway.  The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums.  And with every step you take, the more you hear.  You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.

You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted.  And is he crying?  You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.

Quietly, you twist the knob open.  He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in.  You stand there, watching his shoulders shake.  His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.

What has happened to you, Rafe?

“Rafe?”  You gently call his name and he turns to you.  His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times.  You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.

“Hey.”  He drawls.  “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?”  He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out.  His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him.  “Shouldn’t be here.”  He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Rafe.”  You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes.  He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again.  “Are you alright?”  You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.

“Yes.”

You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric.  “You don’t look like you’re alright.”  You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.

“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?”  He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand.  He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.

“You drank too much.”  You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.

“No, shit.”  He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again.  He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor.  He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.

Have you always been like this to him?

Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times.  Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?

“Come back.”

You pause.  “What?”

He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing.  His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric.  “This…this is mine.  You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!”  He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall.  “That’s fucking un…unacceptable!  You like ME!  You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!”  He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.

Your finger jabs at his chest.  “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat.  Did you just…did you just curse at him?

“Fuck you, Rafe!”  You repeat in annoyance.  Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you. 

You glare at him again and he actually flinches.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You have no right to decide for me.”  You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball.  “This is your polo?”  You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst.  “Here!”  You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off. 

You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.

“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?”  You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.

He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again.  You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys?  You made it clear that you don’t like me.”  His head shoots up when you say that.  “I’m not waiting for you forever.”

Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.

“Y/N, please.”  He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs.  You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately.  “’m sorry, please.  Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”

You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach.  “Rafe, let go!”

“No!”  He sobbed, his shoulders shaking.  “You’re mine!  You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”

“Rafe!”

He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.

“You have to let me go.”  You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head against your stomach.  You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.

Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby.  You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler.  A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk.  His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else.  Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.

“You’re a mess.”  You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking.  “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”

Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment.  You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself.  He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.

“Wanna wash your face?”  You giggle.

He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him.  You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief.  Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.

“’m sorry.”  He slurred as he watched you tidying up.  “Was so stupid.  Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.”  He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him.  “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.”  He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door.  “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat.  Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.

“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?”  You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch.  “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.”  You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.

“I’m not.  Please!”  Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe.  His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.

You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him.  You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine.  But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest.  “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee?  Let you sober up?”

He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you.  “Fine.  But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’.  Please.”  He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.

“Alright.”

Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously.  He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.

The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens.  A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.

It was JJ, heaving.  He probably ran the moment he saw you.  “Hold on, you’re leaving?” 

Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up.  His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.

“Rafe, please.”  You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid.  In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment.  “JJ, I’m sorry.  I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, you won’t!”  Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him. 

Kissing his teeth, JJ nods.  “Yeah, sure.  Let me know if you need anything.”  He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner.  “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”

When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze.  You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.

“Keys.”  You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.

Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.

He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him.  Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive.  You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours.  He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.

Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out.  But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up.  He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment.  This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.

Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again.  That shit’s evil.  Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips.  He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.

He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs.  Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him.  You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.

After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.

Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips.  His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes. 

Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up.  Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you.  He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.

“Y/N.”  He attempts to speak but you shake your head.

“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.”  You smile softly to reassure him.

Rafe smiles back before taking another sip.  He watches you turn to the road outside again.  There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring.  Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.  

He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again.  He takes another sip of coffee.  “It looks better on you.”

You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile.  “…Thanks.”

“Sure.”  He nods.  Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.

Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you.  Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it.  His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.

“Listen.”  He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea.  He never knew what to say.  Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow.  “I know I hurt you.  And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.”  He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts.  “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”

You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.

“Your kindness and efforts.  Your…feelings.  They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.”  He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table.  “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”

Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.

“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.”  He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you.  He hated how hurt he made you feel.  He felt like shit.  He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.

He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all.  Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone.  Until you came along.

Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name.  He missed your smile and scent.  His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.

“I regret everything I said and done.”  He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing.  “And if you want to be my…friend again…”  He takes a deep sigh.  “I’ll do better.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.

“You promise?”

Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours.  “Yes, I promise!  Just don’t shut me out again.”

Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.

“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.”  You look away.  “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”

“I thought we’re okay already?”  Rafe was dumbfounded.

“We are.”  You say, equal confusion in your eyes.

“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?”  He asks in frustration.

Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.

“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.”  You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.

“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?”  He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now.  “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck.  “Rafe.”

“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.”  He beams in a surge of confidence and affection.  “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.”  He laughs, making you smile too.  “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?”  He presses a kiss on your knuckles.  “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have.  I just want you with me again.”

At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod.  You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.

After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night.  Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.

Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something.  Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.

He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.

When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen.  But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you.  But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.

“Uhm…thanks for the ride.”  You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown.  “Rafe-”

He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours.  It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse.  You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.

But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms.  He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.

Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes.  “Tell me you still love me.”  He begs while he cradles your face.

“Rafe.”  You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking. 

“Tell me, please.”  He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving.  He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.

His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.

“I love you.”

It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring.  Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth.  He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable.  He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once.  He has you.  Just as you have him.

He laughs and kisses you breathlessly.  “God, Y/N, I love you.  I love you, I love you.”  He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip.  “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”

You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh.  He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl.  His girl.  His girl.

God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication. 

“I love you.”  He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.

And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”

Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once.  You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing.  And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.

Not Your Girl • Not Her Man

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 5: ‘they’re all lying’

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (meeting the pogues, anxiety, jj being adorable, drinking, mentions of weed, embarrassing stories.)

not proofread! send reqs!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“I’m nervous,” you admitted softly, JJ’s hand in yours as the two of you walked down the street towards the Chateau.

The blonde let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. He gave your hand a squeeze, trying to comfort you so you didn’t take offence from his amusement. “You have nothin’ to be nervous about.”

“I do, J!” You bickered, pouting over at him with a look of irritation. He laughed again, making you pull your hand away from his. “It’s not funny.”

He stopped walking, grabbing your waist so that you would stop with him. His hands rested on your hips as he smiled down at you. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re right, it ain’t funny. But trust me, you don’t need to be scared. All we’re doin’ is sitting around drinking beer.”

“They’re gonna be judging me the whole time, making sure I’m good for you,” you argued, avoiding eye contact with him.

Deep down you knew you were over-reacting. JJ’s friends, the Pogues, were known for being the most chill group around the island. All they did was smoke, surf and drink. But this was different than meeting any old boyfriend’s friends; you were meeting his family. You were well aware of JJ’s childhood — his mom leaving and his dad being an asshole — so you also knew how much his friends meant to him.

John B had been in his life since he was a kid, and the others came along throughout the years. He talked about them like they hung the moon and the stars, and all you wanted was for them to like you. You’d been putting it off for weeks, always coming up with excuses so you didn’t have to tag along but he could see straight through you. It was the most annoying thing about him.

“I promise, sweetheart, they’re gonna love you,” he soothed, one of his hands moving up to run through your hair. You swatted his hand away, having spent half an hour perfecting it.

“What if they don’t?” You asked quietly. Your biggest worry wasn’t that they weren’t going to like you, but that JJ would agree with them.

As said, he can see right through you, so the question sent all amusement off his face. “Hey. You don’t need to worry about us, okay? You’re my girl, right?” You nodded slowly. “Then there’s nothin’ to worry about. Now come on, let’s go get some booze in you.”

“Okay,” you hum, re-taking his hand to make the rest of the walk.

You weren’t even in the backyard before you could hear the sound of laughter and chatting, JJ gave you a reassuring smile and lead you around the side of the house to where they were sat. Kiara had her legs thrown over Pope’s lap, a joint in hand, John B was sipping on a beer and talking with Pope and Sarah was on her phone next to him. Very chill.

“The main attraction has arrived!” JJ yelled, getting all their attentions and a glare from you.

“There they are,” Kiara grinned lazily over at the two of you. He lead you closer and she held her hand up in a wave. “I’m Kie, nice to meet you.”

You introduced yourself, giving her a shy smile as John B stood up and threw his arm around your shoulders. “So you’re the girl that JJ’s utterly obsessed with?”

“Uh… I hope so,” you laughed, making the rest of them chuckle too.

“Come sit,” Sarah instructed, tapping the space beside her. “We want to hear all about how JJ is as a boyfriend.”

You looked back at JJ, who gave you a nod. Sarah beamed as you sat down beside her, instantly asking you every question that came to her mind to do with you and JJ; how you met, who initiated the first kiss, what his love language is. After Kie wasn’t quite so high, she came and joined the two of you to get in on the details.

A couple hours had passed, you were having fun with the girls as the three boys listened in every now and then — just to have some extra ammo to tease JJ with later on. It was the time of the night that you were all buzzed and the embarrassing stories had begun.

“He had this serious crush on her, no need to get jealous he was only nine, but he decided the best way to get her attention was dump mud all over her at recess,” John B explained, a wide grin on his face.

You giggled as JJ covered his face with his hands, embarrassed. “Did it work?”

“No!” John B exclaimed, chuckling. “She told the teacher on him so he put bugs in her pencil case.”

“What a romantic,” you teased, turning to a red-faced JJ beside you. He flipped you off, and then turned to John B and kept it up.

From that story, more just came to the Pogues. They spent the next excruciating (for JJ) hour telling you everything they could think of. There was the time he got caught pissing in a bush by an elderly couple and tried to explain it away by saying his pants fell down. Sarah was so excited to tell you about him accidentally wearing Kie’s jeans to school after a heavy night that she fell right off her chair.

You were leant against JJ’s shoulder, giggling still. The stories had died down, but every time they replayed in your head you’d fall into a fit of laughter once again.

“They’re all lying,” JJ stated, sipping on his beer with a small smirk.

“We have photographic evidence,” Pope argued, pulling his phone out. JJ was tackling him to the ground in seconds.

You weren’t sure what you’d been so worried about, in reality JJ should have been the one panicking.

[httpwintersoldier]

『sweet little thing p.2 | b. barnes x reader』

pairing: bucky barnes x afab!reader words: it's real long okay, it even has a third part! summary: what happens when the guy you have a crush on happens to have a dad, who is older, hotter and rougher? 『 part 1 』 『 part 2 』 『 part 3 』 『 part 4 』

fluff ; angst ; smut

"I don't think the text was for me, darlin', but for the record, it looks good."

Your widened eyes stared at the text until the screen of your phone locked again due to lack of activity.

You couldn't believe you had been so stupid as to send without checking the contact beforehand! You cursed your slippery fingers, and the fact that their names started with "J". Thankfully you didn't mention any names in the text, or else you'd probably have to drop out and move elsewhere...

Once the embarrassment had washed away ever so slightly, you let his words sink in - "but for the record, it looks good". You gripped your skirt and pressed your thighs together as you imagined the man leaning closely and whispering that in your ear, telling you just how good you looked.

Another dilemma popped into your mind - now that he knew you thought it was slutty, should you really go out in it!? On one hand, Bucky told you it looked good, but on the other you'd basically admitted to knowing too much showed in that outfit...

The sound of a car honking outside broke you from your trance, and you walked over to your bedroom's window to find your ride already waiting for you. You muttered a small "fuck" under your breath gathered all of your things and stuffed them in a bag before taking one last look at the mirror.

"Oh, whatever, can't get worse than it already is." You said to yourself, grabbed a large jersey and threw it on top of the cheerleader outfit you decided to wear.

You sprayed some perfume and left the house, with your heart wanting to find Bucky right away, and your mind wanting him to stay as far as possible.

You all rode in the same car in direction to Andy's house, which meant that at least you wouldn't be alone with Bucky yet again - that alone calmed you down quite a bit. The ride was loud and full of music, but you couldn't stop thinking about your little (big) mistake.

Your friends noticed, but as far as they were aware, you had a thing for Andy, so they just brushed it off as being nervous to be around him or something of the sort.

Fortunately, Andy was the one opening the door this time, and he greeted everyone with a big, adorable smile that would have made you fall to your knees just a couple weeks ago.

"Guys, I need your help carrying the beer cases, the ice and the thermal boxes. Y/N can you and Jas go to the garage and bring the boxes? There's four of them, they're empty so you should be alright bringing two each."

You and the other girl nodded, following his instructions as to how to get to the garage. Once you got there, however, the boxes were nowhere to be seen.

"Can you go ask him where they are, Jas? I'll keep looking."

Your friend nodded and turned around, leaving you alone to look for the boxes by yourself. You tried not to make too much of a mess while searching for them, but you had looked as hard as possible without moving anything, and yet you had no luck finding what you were looking for.

"What happened to that little number I saw?"

You jumped and shrieked at the deep voice behind you. When you turned around you saw those steel blue eyes looking down at you, with a little knowing smile.

There was no point in playing dumb, you both knew what he was talking about. His eyes flew down to your hands that played with the hem of your jersey.

You felt so small under his gaze... You had never felt like this with any other guy - sure, you had been shy before, but when it came to Bucky it was like the words were caught on your throat and your whole body caught on fire. Maybe it was because he was older, maybe it was the confidence and power in the way he conducted himself - the image of a man who wasn't, for once, all bark and no bite.

He stepped forward, reaching right beside you to claim the beer he had left open on the counter that you were leaning against.

"Decided against my advice?" He took a swing of his beer, the playful, devilish smile on his face spreading wider "Andy would've liked it."

He was teasing you. He knew you were embarrassed and he was using it against you, for amusement.

"Why? Did you like it?"

The both of you were shocked at the words that left your lips - you didn't know where those words came from and Mr. Barnes wasn't waiting for something so bold to come out of you.

He chuckled and his eyes suddenly seemed to be darker, but that darkness wasn't the lack of emotion you had seen that day at the store, it was a different type... there was something sensual about his gaze rather.

"Maybe I did."

The two of you heard footsteps heading towards you. Bucky stepped away from you and faced the door just as your friend came in.

"Andy said that his dad already- oh, hello Mr. Barnes!"

"Hi there. Can I help you?" He asked Jas.

Bucky acted as if nothing had happened, as if he and you had just been having a casual conversation, as if the air was thick and tense from the sexual tension burning between your bodies.

"Andy told me and Y/N to fetch the thermal boxes, but he didn't know you had brought them out already." She explained.

"I see. Well, have fun girls." He said, looking between you and her, as you walked towards the door to leave with your friend.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your mind, a little bit of revenge for what he had just done to you. You needed to act fast, so thinking twice about the idea was out of the question, you just... did it.

"Aren't you going to watch the game, Mr. Barnes?" You asked teasingly, turning back around to face him.

Bucky scoffed, knowing exactly what you were doing calling him 'Mr. Barnes'.

"Might stop by and watch it, why sweetheart?" The man asked, with a curious look, taking another sip of his beer, something he did often to hide his smirk.

You took off the jersey you were wearing over your outfit, revealing the cheerleader getup you had just talked about, and handed him the item of clothing.

"You don't have anything to support the team! I can lend you my jersey." You said, your voice honest and innocent, as if you didn't know exactly what your words and actions meant, as if there wasn't a second meaning to what you did.

Bucky wasn't exactly subtle in the way he looked at you. His eyes were eating you up, from top to bottom, slowly taking in the view in the flesh. Eventually, he reached for the jersey and took it.

"Thanks, sweetheart, I'll make sure to give it to you when the game is over."

You mumbled a "don't mention it" and walked back into the house with your friend, so you could help everyone set up for the game.

"Dude, his dad is a real DILF." Jas whispered as you two made it to the front porch.

"I know, right?" You smugly agreed.

Whistles and compliments echoed in the room when you pulled up with the cheerleader outfit after ditching the jersey. Andy's eyes in particular stayed the longest on your body, and you felt a little guilty for nor caring about what he thought - the feedback that you truly wanted had already been received.

Bucky had joined the group not long after the game started, and you didn't miss the way his eyes stole glances at you whenever possible.

The man himself didn't know what was wrong with him. He was nearly twice your age, he could be your dad, it was a very possible scenario since his actual kid was your classmate, but for some reason, ever since you had walked into his house with that pretty little skirt and those big, shy eyes, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about you.

He knew he wasn't being subtle when eating you up with his eyes, but Bucky wanted you to know, to see what you did to him.

Both of you were aware of the painfully tense and erotic situation, as you'd spread your legs and cross them more often than not, giving Bucky a good view or your exposed skin, making him yearn for more.

"Shit, we need more chips." One of the guys complained.

"I can get them." You offered, since you weren't really interested in the game, and stood up, taking the two empty bowls with you.

It seemed to be impossible to ever be in that house without being left alone with James Barnes, but that time it wasn't accidental at all. As you were opening the chips and dumping them on one of the bowls, footsteps echoed behind you.

Suddenly, Bucky placed his hands on your waist and flipped you around, pressing you against the counter and trapping you between the furniture and his body.

"What are you doing, darlin'?" He asked, looking straight into your widened eyes.

"I-I'm refilling the chips..." You responded, pointing at the bowl behind you with your thumb.

"Fuck the chips, you know exactly what I mean, pretty girl." The man said, cutting right through your act, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you to him.

One of the corners of your lips twitched upwards, discarding the innocent façade.

"I'm doing just what you are doing."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Y/N."

The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine, it rolled off of his tongue in a manner that couldn't be described in any way other than sensual.

"And you aren't?"

He chuckled, licked his lips slowly and then brushed his hair back with his hand, out of frustration. Your naive side had him going insane with desperation, but your bold side had the man wishing to fuck the brat out of you.

"You know what?" He said, taking his hand and softly placing the pads of his fingers right above your knee "I'd love to bend you over this counter and fuck you with this little skirt still on."

His hand trailed up your leg, slowly lifting your bottoms, revealing your white panties with a pink bow in the front. Bucky smirked and chuckled, a small patch of wetness was clearly visible.

"But?..." You questioned, teasing him as you slid one of your thighs between his legs.

"Y/N! How are those chips coming along, dude?" One of the boys yelled from the living room, snapping the two of you into reality.

"Yeah- coming! One second." You responded.

"I guess we'll have to finish this later, Sergeant."

You didn't give him time to respond, as you grabbed the two bowls and walked back into the living room, the wet spot between your legs now larger than ever before, seemingly.

What Bucky was feeling was wrong. He stood there in the kitchen, thinking about you, thinking about how he towered over you and how you looked at him with those eyes that switched back and forth from innocent to fierce, to tease him, to lure him even further.

His pants were tight and his head was filled with thoughts of your body, leaving over and pressing against every surface of that house, with him inside of you.

It was torture, he couldn't handle it anymore, and he couldn't go back into the living room with such and obvious problem - and with the source of the problem sitting so close.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mr. Barnes going up the stairs, with a serious face and a quick pace. No one else seemed to notice, however, as they were too focused on the game.

"I'm going to the bathroom, anyone need anything from the kitchen?" You lied, looking for an excuse to leave the room as quickly as possible without being suspicious.

You had just come back from the kitchen with the chips, so everyone shook their head or mumbled a "no", so you stood up and followed up the stairs, looking out for any noise to find out which door Bucky had gone into.

As you walked down the hallway, you could hear faint grunts that grew closer with each step. Eventually you found the door of what you assumed was his bedroom, and your whole body froze. There was only one door between you, and the thing that you had fantasized for so long.

"Fuck..." You heard him groan from the inside.

Your hand grabbed the doorknob and slowly turned it, as the heat between your legs was too much to bear. You opened the door, just enough to be able to see him sitting on the bed, back against the wall and head leaning back, as his hand stroked his cock.

"Are you enjoying the show?" He asked, continuously jerking his shaft as he lowered his head and looked straight at you, his hair falling beautifully over his face.

Your face was burning up and your heart was racing, but your nerves were nothing compared to the pure hunger and desperation you felt for the man. You stepped into the room, carefully, as if stepping into a wolf's cage, and closed the door behind you.

Bucky watched as you walked over to him, eyes shifting between his hand's movements and his face.

His free hand flew to your hip, slowly guiding you down until you were sitting on his lap, your wet, clothed pussy applying pressure on his cock.

You stared at each other's lips for a very long time. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek and, slowly but surely, brought you closer, until there was no space left between you.

What started out slowly very quickly progressed, and the second your lips connected, his hands were all over your body, gripping you ass and toying with the little skirt he loved so much. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging on it ever so often as his tongue got bolder.

The two of you pulled apart, your lips were swollen and your eyes were glazed, obviously displaying how much the two of you needed more.

His eyes fell to your lips and he kissed you softly once more before looking up at your eyes.

"We shouldn't do this..." His mouth said something, but the curious fingers that played with the waistband of your panties told you a completely different story.

"Why?" You asked softly, placing small, wet kisses on his neck, causing him to close his eyes and groan.

"My son... Fuck- Andy likes you." Bucky said finally, gripping you tightly as soon as those words left his mouth, as if he thought you'd slip away at the confession.

You kept on kissing his neck, as that confession didn't faze you - if it was something that you would've been over the moon about just a month ago, it was now irrelevant. Bucky came into your life and took over your mind completely, you felt as if every release would feel subpar, unless he was the one helping you reach it.

"You really wanna stop? Hm?" You asked teasingly, as your hips began grinding against his, your wet panties rubbing on his cock.

The conflict on his face was brief, as he eventually threw his head back and let out a low groan. The male gripped your ass cheeks and flipped the two of you over as he attacked your neck.

His hands expertly slid your underwear down your legs, and the male began kissing down your neck, your chest, and your stomach, until he reached your pussy. Bucky teased you for a second, kissing your inner thighs, but he was just as desperate to taste you as you were to feel him.

As his tongue begins licking your cunt and circling your clit, your right hand covers your mouth, while the other grips his hair.

"Aren't you a sweet little thing?..." He whispers, after tasting you.

You almost came at those words, the pure filth of the whole situation leaving you dizzy with pleasure.

The man's cock throbbed against the mattress, but he was too drunk in your taste to let go - Bucky wanted to taste as much of you as possible. His tongue slipped in and out of you as he took a break from teasing your clit, and he didn't stop until your back arched, as Bucky wanted to make you cum with his cock.

Bucky's lips met yours once more, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. That kiss was meant to muffle your sinful sounds as he slipped inside of you and slowly pushed himself fully into you. His girth stretched you out in the most satisfying way, and, somehow, the thing you had fantasized about for so long was even better than you had imagined.

He started out slowly, looking into your eyes as if testing the waters, and picked up the pace when he saw you were comfortable enough. Thankfully the TV was loud enough to drown out the echo from the skin slapping sounds, but they wouldn't drown out much more.

Bucky covered your mouth with his hand as his hips snapped against yours at a feral pace - he wanted to make you scream in a way that you wouldn't be heard.

"Want to be a whore? Hm? Parading yourself in front of me with those pretty little skirts thinking I wasn't gonna fuck the shit out of you?"

Your tits bounced to the rhythm of his thrusts, and you thanked for the hand covering your mouth, allowing you to be as mouthy and as loud as you wanted to.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you looking pretty like this, sweetheart." He said, between pants.

Bucky wouldn't last long, as your ever-tightening walls and the erotic look on your face rendered him weak, but thankfully you were also near your climax - he could tell from the way your back arched slightly more by the second.

"Wanna cum for me, baby?" Bucky questioned, removing his hand so you could answer.

"Y-yeah, please, Sir."

He chuckled and smirked at the nickname that, to your credit, did have a nice ring when you were begging under him.

One of Bucky's hands slid between your bodies and circled your clit, until your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your toes curled. You had to bite your lip harshly, to stop yourself from moaning out Bucky's name. The latter pulled out and buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning and panting as he climaxed, spilling all over your stomach.

Knock, knock.

"Hey dad, have you seen Y/N?"

For a second your face went white and your blood froze - you begged that he didn't open the door, or he would come face to face with a rather unfortunate view. You simply stared at Bucky, trusting that he would come up with something

"Huh?" He said, pretending to be clueless at first, "Oh yeah, she had a bit of an accident." Hinting that you had gotten your period, a clever lie that Andy wouldn't question due to its nature "She was embarrassed and didn't want to tell everyone so I told her to just go home."

"Oh... Okay." Andy's voice seemed sad, and you heard his footsteps dragging on the floor and becoming quieter as he walked away.

Bucky looked into your eyes before pressing a kiss to your jaw.

"Guess you don't gotta go back down... Plenty of time for another round. Or two."

'minors do not interact' banner credit: @cafekitsune

[alchemistc]

Tommy has a bad date and goes to visit Abby at her loft, only shocker, Abby left months ago and The Himbo is staring at him from the other side of the door.

He tips his chin. Raises an eyebrow. Scans down, back up, just in time to meet the kids eyes.

"U - uh hi?"

He gets it immediately. What would have drawn Abby in despite the age difference, despite the knowledge that all her friends and family were gonna give her shit, despite -

Well. He's fucking adorable, for a start. Bright bright blues eyes that look like maybe they're always a little wet, the foundation for a really great muscle base, even though he clearly hasn't figured out how to balance cardio and weight lifting, pink full lips, an adorably puppy-dog slash to his face, legs for fucking days. God. Yeah okay. Tommy'd been younger than Abby too but not this young.

"Is Abby home?"

Something strange crosses his face. Confusion, upset, maybe some genuine pain. He shakes his head, opens his mouth. Snaps it shut. Tommy's had a shitty night and honestly for a second he thinks making the look on this kids face go away for a few minutes would fix him.

"Patricia?" Tommy asks, because maybe at least Pat will be lucid enough to sit and with him and mope to the tune of whatever's on Hallmark.

The kid swallows, brows knitting together. "She uh. She passed. A - a few months ago now."

Tommy has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from being rude as hell. Sure, things with Abby hadn't ended great but Christ he'd loved Patricia. She could have at least sent him a fucking pigeon. Smoke signals. Something. It's not this kids fault though.

"And Abby ...?"

This kid doesn't know him from Adam. He'd have every right to kick Tommy off the welcome mat and shut the door. Something sad and vulnerable crosses his face. "Are you Tommy?"

Tommy's brow jumps. His posture shifts. "Cross my heart I'm not here to steal her back from you." He doesn't know what Abby's told people. He'd promised he wouldn't do what he'd done to her to another person and left it at that. They'd been together for years and Tommy honestly doesn't know if she'd go the bitter route and tell everyone, or if she'd be ashamed and hide it.

The kid laughs, watches Tommy's fingers make an x over his left pec. The face falls after a moment. "I - uh - I actually don't think she's coming back," he says, choked up just a bit, rising inflection on the end of his sentence. The wet eyes look a little watery now. "S -she went to find herself after her mom died and I don't think - I don't think I'm gonna be a part of whatever she finds."

Yeah. Fixing him will definitely make Tommy forget how terrible his date with Frank had been.

"Can I buy you a drink, kid?"

He blinks. Swallows. Does a piss poor job of hiding the way he's feeling, and Tommy wishes he remembered how to be so open. "Evan. Buck. I - Evan Buckley."

Tommy nods. Grins. "Kind of a mouthful. You mind if I just call you Evan?"

Something passes across his face. He takes a step back. "Uh - if you're serious, I would - that'd be - I just have to grab my wallet?"

Tommy shrugs. He'd offered to pay, but it's entirely possible he still gets carded at bars. "I've got time."

Evan opens the door wider. Gestures him in. Tommy passes the threshold and takes in the space. It looks fucking exactly the same. Evan hasn't made a mark on this place at all.

Tommy's got no room to resent Abby, but if he did...

Evan reappears in record time. He's changed his shirt.

Tommy is absolutely not going to read into that.

"You like craft beer, Evan?"

Evan pulls a face, and Tommy laughs, letting himself be ushered right back out the door. His keyring, Tommy notices, only has a house key and a car key.

Tommy slaps him on the back. "Fine, I won't subject you to my refined palette. I know a place that has a PB&J special."

Evan's stride is fucking ridiculous, as he keeps an easy pace with Tommy down the hall. He turns his face, his body, fully into the space Tommy occupies. Tommy's just waiting for him to trip over his own goddamn legs. "W-what uh - what's a PB&J?"

He already looks brighter than he had five minutes ago.

If Tommy were a shittier person, he'd spend the night trying to to get straight into his pants.

"Pabst and a shot of Jameson?"

He blinks. "Oh. Hey, that's clever. Sorry, when I bartended all the drinks were either in Spanish or some hokey touristy lingo. I mean I memorized like a thousand drinks but no one ever ordered them."

He's honest to god pouting as he says it. Tommy wants to bite that bottom lip.

He babbles all the way down the elevator, across the parking garage to Tommy's truck. Doesn't even pretend to make a fuss about driving separately. Tommy's a virtual fucking stranger and Evan just hops right in the passenger side and asks him about his license plate.

"No shit? I'm at the 118!" Evan says, and Tommy forces himself not to make the joke about stranger danger he'd been planning. That's an awful coincidence, unless it's not. Maybe a few drinks in he'll feel a little less tight lipped about the Abby of it all. Maybe this kid will do just as good a job of patching Tommy's night as Tommy plans to patch his.

He barely stops to breathe the short drive to the bar, and Tommy can already tell he's in way over his fucking head.

After he drops him off, tucks him into bed if he needs it, he's pretty sure he's gonna have some choice words for Abby.

Until then, he's gonna spend the next few hours doing everything he possibly can to keep the sad look off his face.

[loudstan]

You promised

Summary: Jisung unlocked a new fear: you leaving him.

Pairing: Werewolf Jisung X noona female reader

Warnings: smut, insecurities, jealousy, mentions of baby traping, switch Jisung, handcuffs, some angst (you know me)

Note: the first scene takes place during Chenle’s story, so if you haven’t read that one it may be confusing, but you don’t need it. And to my followers: thanks for waiting! This is just a short scenario to get back into writing and grammar/spelling wasn’t checked but oh what the hell, enjoy!

“A WHAT?!”

Jisung's usually deep and quiet voice turned into an uncharacteristic squeal as a response to what his best friend had just confessed. Any other day he would have immediately apologized to the other customers, who jumped and turned around, surprised at his sudden yell, but he was so scandalized that all he cared about right now was for Chenle to tell him he had misheard him.

“A memory loss spell…,” Chenle repeated, his eyes looking empty as he took another sip of beer.

“WHA–,” Jisung caught himself before he could scare everyone in the pub again and proceeded by lowering his voice. “But you two are mated!”

Chenle nodded slowly. “And we are so bad at it that our pack leader himself told us we were better off never seeing each other again. Forgetting the other ever exists.”

Jisung opened and closed his mouth dumbly before trying to come up with an alternative solution. “You guys j-just need some time and–”

“We've been together for months, Jisung. She…,” Chenle sighed and entangled his fingers in his hair with frustration. “She hates me…”

There was a moment of agonizing silence until Jisung's own eyes became watery when he heard a quiet sob coming from Chenle.

“But…” the younger one insisted. “It was so hard for you two to get together…you c-can't just forget everything…”

“Maybe it was hard because we weren't meant to be together,” Chenle said bitterly, still hiding his face behind his palms, like this would keep the other from finding out tears were rolling down his cheeks. “I literally forced her to stay with me and it still didn't work.”

Jisung’s hand hesitantly reached for one of Chenle's to uncover his face and meet his reddened, swollen eyes. “There has to be another way, Chenle.”

Chenle forced a weak smile. “Yeah? What would you do if your mate hated you so much she wanted to forget you and leave you behind?”

Jisung froze. His brain couldn't even phantom the idea of his mate leaving him. He had assumed once a wolf had bitten his partner they were bonded together forever. He had had a really hard time making you understand that he was serious about you and accepting him as a mate. But now he was finding out that not even the mark on your neck could secure you by his side.

“Why? Did she say something to you?” Jisung finally asked, tightening his grasp on Chenle’s wrist.

“No, why would your mate tell me–?” It was Chenle's turn to be confused. “She and I barely interact unless you're around. You know that.”

“Then why would you say that?” The younger wolf insisted, not letting go of the other.

“I was just asking what you would do if she wanted to leave–”

“She won't,” Jisung stated. “She fucking won't.”

“I'm not saying she will!” Chenle insisted, with a frustrated groan and forcing Jisung's fingers to let go of him. “I'm asking for advice! What would you do in this kind of situation?”

Jisung sat back and exhaled shakily, trying to get a grip. Right, you weren't actually leaving him. It was all hypothetical, because you would never ever do that to him. It was impossible, considering the way you looked at him with so much attention and adoration that he often forgot what he wanted to say and blushed like an idiot. Or the way you played with his hair when you cuddled. Or the way you stuttered whenever you paid close attention to his hands. Or the way your body arched when he touched you…

No, he was sure you would never do that to him. But if he ever found out you had such thoughts he would–

“Take her far away,” he murmured, still lost in his thoughts, and not even aware he was saying it out loud. “Somewhere no one else could find us. Just the two of us. And keep her there for as long as I have until she changes her mind. Make sure she needs me the way I need her. Baby trap her if I have to–”

“You're terrified of children,” Chenle pointed out, taking Jisung out of his trance.

JIsung blinked quickly and looked at Chenle with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“Being a dad scares you,” Chenle reminded him, arching his eyebrows inquisitively. “Yet you said you would… baby trap your mate?”

“B-baby–,” Jisung stuttered, blushing. “I didn't…I– did I?”

Chenle squinted at him, momentaneously forgetting about his own problem because something was clearly wrong with Jisung as well. “Are you having your rut anytime soon?”

“Yeah, I–this weekend probably, uh…yeah…”

“That's why you're saying weird things…” Chenle sighed. “You have the most possessive instinct I've ever seen in a werewolf.”

Jisung laughed awkwardly.

Chenle analyzed the younger man as he fidgeted on his chair. For a while now, he had been wondering if they were losing Jisung to his animal side because sometimes he did and said things that his introvert best friend would never.

Should he alert the others? Just in case?

His thoughts were interrupted by Jisung spilling beer all over his clothes and clumsily trying to clean up after himself. Chenle snorted and grabbed some tissues to help him.

What was he even thinking?

Jisung wasn't dangerous.

So Chenle pushed those thoughts away to focus on his own problems with his partner.

Jisung, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about that stupid hypothetical scenario. He kept telling himself that things were fine, that you had shown no sign of wanting to end things and that he had nothing to worry about.

Until the moment his rut was due.

You both had planned to spend it together in your apartment, because he was too shy to do it at his place, with the rest of the pack around. He showed up with a backpack with clothes and some essentials, trembling hands, and a light blush on his cheeks. The implications of what he was here to do made him feel dirty, but at the same time he had been anticipating this all week. His rut hadn’t started yet, but he was already feeling a little feverish and weak, so you made sure to take good care of him by drying his hair after a shower, feeding him something light, and cuddling him to sleep.

You caressed his face gently as he inhaled and exhaled peacefully. He was adorable. It was hard to believe he had presented as an alpha.

You pressed your thighs together at the memories flooding your head. You were feeling a bit needy since the moment he had shown up at your door, but you knew it was better to let him rest during pre-rut, so you pulled away and got up, walking out of the room quietly.

Grabbing your phone and your wallet, you decided to go to a store nearby before it was too late, so you could buy some extra snacks. Last time Jisung had devoured everything he could find in your kitchen once he wasn’t feeling horny anymore, so it was better to be prepared. But as soon as you opened the front door, it was slammed closed by Jisung, who was towering over you from behind.

“Where are you going?” his raspy deep voice asked, panting next to your ear.

“I–,” You tried to turn around to face him but he growled, so you stayed still. “I was g-gonna buy us some snacks–”

“We have plenty,” he said curtly. “You checked earlier.”

“We could get some more, you know, just in case?”

“In case of what?”

“In case you need more food? You’re a big boy and–”

“Man.”

Right, he hated you calling him that. “You’re a grown man,” you rephrased, stressing the word that seemed to be so important to him. “And you may get hungry.”

“Hungry?” he echoed, taking a step back to give you some space to turn around and look into your eyes. He didn’t seem to fully believe you.

“Yes. So don’t worry about it, and go back to bed, okay?” you said, pushing him lightly to guide him back to the bedroom.

But suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the room with him, locking the door behind him and leaning on it as if he was guarding it.

“You can’t,” he said, barely audibly.

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“You can’t leave me,” he clarified, speaking up slightly. “You s-said– you said you would spend my rut with me.”

“I–, it’s just the store…”

Lies.

“Lies,” Jisung repeated what the voice in his head told him.

“Wha– why would I lie about that?” you asked, cupping his face.

“You can’t forget me,” he pleaded.

“Forget you?”

“You regret this,” he rambles incoherently. “You regret us.”

“No!” you quickly reassured him, pressing your palm more firmly against his fevered cheeks. “Of course not! I love you.”

His gaze softened and he nosed your palm. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you whispered.

Jisung fought the voice in his head telling him that you’re deceiving him. That you’re waiting for him to lower his guard to sneak out and disappear forever.

With a pained groan he pulled you closer by your waist and kissed you urgently, hoping this would shut his wolf up. And it worked, for a moment, because he was very distracted by your tiny gasp and your fingertips grazing his nape.

But it came back quickly. As he walked you back to the bed and pushed you gently on it, his wolf insisted.

She’s playing dumb.

Jisung glared at you, but he didn’t see any malice in your flustered, confused, pretty face. He shook his head, as a way to tell his wolf that he was being stupid and got on top of you occupying himself by placing wet kisses on your neck and collarbone.

You’re a poor excuse of an alpha.

He growled, giving you goosebumps and wondering what had him so worked up.

You think she’ll stay with you, when you’ve barely presented?

She doesn’t actually see you as a man. You have to remind her all the time.

He sucked on your neck and dug his fingers into your waist.

“Jisungie…”

She’s leaving as soon as she finds out about the memory spell.

“Fuck,” he growled, and his fingertips were pressed a little bit too hard on your soft skin.

“Ji, hold on–” you winced, grabbing his hands and trying to soften his grip.

If you don’t do something, she’ll disappear.

“FUCK! I KNOW!” he exclaimed, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head, catching you by surprise.

You look up at him with wide eyes, wondering what you have done to upset him. His furious expression switches to a remorseful one.

“I–uh…I wasn’t yelling at you, noona…”

“...Then who?” you barely whispered.

“Me…I mean, not me, but…that side of me,” he mumbled.

You gulp and try to free your hands, but his grip tightens. “What is that side of you saying?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s dumb,” he said quickly.

���It’s not dumb if it makes you react like this,” you insist.

He keeps quiet, biting his lip. “Just…don’t go, kay?” he finally says.

You nod. “If we need more food I’ll just order some.”

“No, I don’t mean–,” he sighed. “Not just the store. I mean…in general.”

“Ji, I’m your girlfriend,” you rolled your eyes. “And I literally have your mark on my neck. Where would I go?”

“What if there was a way to leave me, even after being marked?”

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious, but he mistook your curiosity for eagerness.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asked with an accusatory tone.

“Oh my god, Jisung,” you laughed incredulously. “You are the one who brought it up! I just asked a question!”

“Don’t laugh at me, noona,” he warned you, but his voice broke.

At that moment you understood that his pre-rut was probably messing with his head and that he really thought you wanted to leave him.

“How can I prove it to you?” you asked him seriously. “What can I do?”

He licked his lips and his reddened eyes traveled from your face to your captive hands. “I don’t know if it would prove anything, but… it would make me feel…better.”

“Anything,” you encouraged him. “Just tell me what it is.”

“Okay, uh…I’m gonna– c-can you close your eyes?” he asked nervously. “And don’t move,” he added when he freed your hands.

You nodded and closed your eyes, trying to comply with his simple requests, knowing that he was in a very vulnerable state and needed as much reassurance as possible. You felt his presence gone when he got up, his hurried steps, the zipper of his backpack, and what sounded like him looking for something. Then, he hurried back, and you felt the warmth emanating from his body on top of yours, while something tickled your wrists and then, a sudden click sound made you snap your eyes open.

“Jisung?” you opened your eyes to see his hungry gaze fixated on your wrists, which you couldn’t move. You looked up to see both of your hands handcuffed to the bed frame, with a pink fluffy pair of cuffs adorning your wrists like bracelets. “Ji, what–”

“Haechan hyung gave these to me,” he said, sitting back to appreciate the view. “I know he was just trying to mess with me when he packed them in my bag, but…they ended up being useful…”

You laughed nervously. You had never had your movements restricted in this type of context, and Jisung being the one to do it was unexpected. “Ji, there’s no need for this. I told you I won’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, touching the cuffs and grazing your forearm delicately. “Now you won’t.”

“Then how am I going to touch you?” you pouted, trying to reason with him.

He halted and frowned. He hadn’t considered that. He really liked you touching him, but was it safe to uncuff you now?

Absolutely not.

“Later,” he declared.

“Later when?”

He bit his lip. For him, later meant when your legs were trembling so much you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. “Later,” he repeated.

“Can I at least get a kiss, then?” you asked.

“...You want that?”

“Do I want to kiss my handsome boyfriend? Duh, of course, Ji!”

A timid smile formed on his lips. For a moment he forgot all the negative thoughts that had plagued his mind and all he saw was you, pliant under him, wanting him, loving him.

He leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on your lips, delighted at the way you immediately whined when he pulled away.

“Want more?”

You nodded and he kissed you again, licking your bottom lip suggestively only to pull away again when you parted your lips.

“Ji…”

“Hm?”

“More…”

He complied, kissing you slowly and sensually, occasionally pulling away only to hear you whine and press his lips on yours more urgently than before.

But of course his wolf wasn’t done tormenting him.

She’s trying to free herself.

His hands flew to your wrists to check that the cuffs hadn’t magically opened during your makeout session.

“What are you doing?” he asked agitatedly, as the insecurities started coming back.

“Kissing you?” you breathed out confusedly.

Distracting you.

“You keep pulling at the cuffs,” he said, looking at you like you with wide eyes, like you had betrayed him.

“I didn’t– I didn’t even notice, I–..I just wanted to feel you closer…”

You could tell by his conflicted expression that he didn’t believe it.

“Ji, don’t you trust me?”

His eyes widened and he withdrew his hands. “I…I trust you but…”

He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth dumbly. He trusted you. He loved you. But his stupid rut was making him dumb and his wolf kept telling him that you were still trying to distract him. Maybe it would shut up if he was the one distracting you instead.

Before you could ask him to explain what was wrong, he repositioned himself between your legs and took off your shorts swiftly.

You gasped and tried to close your legs out of reflex, but he held them open effortlessly by grabbing your knees, his eyes fixated on the wet patch on your panties.

“Ji?”

He let out a sound between a moan and a relieved sigh. You were turned on because of him. You weren’t lying when you said you wanted him. He caressed your mound with his fingertips, barely grazing the fabric, but it was enough to have your legs flinching.

Taste her.

Fuck yes, they finally agreed on something. He nodded quickly (to what, you didn’t know) and removed the tiny piece of clothing from you before diving in. He made out with your folds gently, adding his tongue to the formula encouraged by your moans.

“You’re so good at this, Jisungie…” you praised, lost in pleasure.

He moaned and humped the bed, sucking a bit harder.

“Ah!” you gasped, opening your legs wider for him. “Can tell you ate out a lot of girls…”

He shook his head absentmindedly, unconsciously creating a new pattern with his tongue that made you see stars.

“No?” you insisted. “Are you sure?”

His eyebrows furrowed, and he detached his lips from your center to look up at you, confused. Why were you talking about other girls? “What?”

“Just a thought…” you murmured, looking away, a little embarrassed. This was something that had bugged you since your first time with him, but you hadn’t been dating for long and there had been no chance to bring it up. He knew about your past with Jaehyun, but he never mentioned anything about his previous partners. It shouldn’t matter, but you were so curious…and maybe a bit insecure. Now you felt silly. “It’s nothing–”

“Tell me,” he commanded. His voice was soft, but firm.

You sighed. “Remember our first time together?”

He hummed and kissed your inner thigh. How could he forget?

“Well…you uh…acted like you knew exactly what to do…”

He blushed. “Oh…”

“Yep…” you nodded, waiting for him to admit to his promiscuous past.

“I just–I read online what girls like…” he hesitated. “I watched some videos too…I wasn’t too sure about what you would be into, so I just did whatever that felt right…”

“There’s no way that was the first time you gave someone head,” you said incredulously.

“It was…”

“You even made me sit on your face!”

He groaned, pressing his hips harder on the mattress at the memory. “Did you like it?”

“Y-yes, but…”

“It was so good…” he whispered, going back to flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh…” you arched your back and tried to remember what you were talking about.

“T-then…to the other girls, the ones before me–”

“There’s no one before you,” he said between licks.

“R-right, like a guy like you doesn’t–ah! d-doesn’t have girls lining up to suck you off…”

He paused and looked up at you again. “Noona, are you…jealous?”

You could feel your ears getting hot at the accusation and looked away.

“You are!” he exclaimed. He sounded relieved. Happy even.

She’s possessive of you too.

The sound of his laugh angered you a little, but you couldn’t think of a comeback with the way he suddenly sucked your clit into his mouth and moaned loudly.

“AH! F-fuck!” you moaned, fighting the cuffs uselessly.

He circled your clit with his tongue a few times before going down a little to circle your entrance. You squealed when his tongue entered you, drinking all you had to offer. His eyes rolled back when he felt you contracting around the slippery muscle, and he went deeper, rubbing his nose on your clit just enough to make you come with a gasp, releasing directly in his mouth.

He licked you clean softly until your legs were shaking, landing one last kiss on your hip and resting his head on your stomach before he spoke again. “You’re the only one I’ve done this with, noona.”

You breathed out shakily. “What about o-other things?”

“Went on a few dates when I was a teen. Nothing serious,” he admitted. “And there was this girl…she gave me a handjob a couple of years ago…”

You felt your stomach drop. Jealousy really was an ugly feeling. But you tried not to sound too disappointed. “Oh, that’s…nice…”

“I moaned your name,” he confessed.

“You WHAT?!”

“I had already imprinted on you,” he mumbled, drawing figures with his finger on your belly. “I was really horny but you wouldn’t even look at me. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try…maybe gain some experience…but it didn’t feel good and I uh– couldn’t cum until I thought about you and then–yeah…”

“...That’s it?”

“Well, she told everyone I was small down there after that incident, so not many girls tried to approach me. I didn’t want anyone else so it worked out great, I guess…” he murmured, kissing his way back to your center. “And then I finally got to make you mine…”was the last thing he said before he started eating you out again.

“Jisung! Hold on, w-wait–” you squirmed under him, because there was no way he was planning to keep going when you were still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

“Don’t move,” he groaned.

“I think one w-was enough–ah!”

“But you said I was good,” he reasoned, giving you a long lick.

“Y-you are, Ji, you’re s’ good b-but– Oh, my g-god!” you moaned when he gave your clit little kitten licks that added to the painful pleasure. “Jisung, Jisungie, please–”

He circled your thighs with his arms and sucked hard, chuckling when you screamed his name.

She’s perfect like this.

“Ji, p-please, please,” you mumbled, shaking like a leaf at the new orgasm approaching too fast, too strong, too much–”JISUNG! F–...Aaah!”

He hummed, approving of the embarrassing sound that escaped your lips as you came in record time because of him. He rutted the bed and his dick twitched at the thought of doing it again and again–

“Jisungie, no m-more…” you begged, tugging at the cuffs desperately.

He sighed and climbed up to grab your wrists. “Stop that,” he warned you. “I told you already: you can’t leave.”

“I’m not trying to leave,” you whined.

“Then stop squirming and let me make you feel good,” he said, trying to go down on you again only for you to quickly close your legs and turn to your side. “Noona!”

You shook your head and he growled, easily manhandling your legs open for him to fit between them once again.

“Enough,” he said, his voice sounding deeper, dangerous. His red eyes and his body temperature made it clear that his rut was about to start, and his alpha instinct was not happy with your behavior. “You’re my mate,” he reminded you, like you could ever forget that.

You nodded.

She’s yours.

“You’re mine,” he said, pinching the soft skin of your thigh.

“Y-yes…,” you whimpered.

You can–

“--Taste you as many times as I want,” he declared, starting to lower his head again.

“BUT–But I want to taste you too,” you said quickly.

Jisung visually malfunctioned, halting his movement and looking at you with wide eyes, then frowning like he thought you may be deceiving him.

“Please, Ji, don’t you want my mouth?”

He could feel the precum staining his pajama pants. “Noona’s mouth?”

Instead of replying, you parted your lips, opening wide and sticking your tongue out slightly, all while maintaining eye contact with him and being cuffed to the bed. No video online had prepared Jisung for such a view.

He had never moved so fast in his life, straddling your chest and pulling the elastic of his pants down just enough for his erection to pop out.

“Want it,” he panted, placing his hips closer to your face. When he felt the first lick on the tip he moaned loudly, grabbing onto the very same bed frame you were cuffed to for support. “Yes, noona, please– Oh!”

You circled the head with your tongue playfully before bobbing your head slightly, loving the way his abdomen contracted and his head fell back in pleasure.

“I love your mouth so much, noona–” he rambled, trying his best (and failing miserably) not to thrust his hips into the delicious warmth.”C-can you take some more?? Just a little–Ooohh yes, yes–Ah!”

You felt a little bad for all those girls who blindly believed he had a small dick and avoided him in the past, because they clearly missed out, but at the same time you were thankful that only you could see him like this. You had never been too possessive but for him… you obviously were.

He lowered his hips even more, caging you under him and starting to fuck into your mouth. “I’m gonna—just ah…just like this– you don’t mind, yeah, noona?”

You moaned, making his legs tremble due to the pleasurable vibrations. “Fuuuck,” he groaned, grabbing your hair with one of his hands to keep you in place as he went faster, deeper. “Yeah, noona, like t-that ah, ah, haa…” he let out a whimper when you gagged.

It felt so good he just had to use his other hand too, now grabbing your head with both of them to bring you impossibly closer. You choked and teared up when your nose touched his navel, and nothing could describe the bliss that took over him, finally cumming down your throat with a deep groan.

“Oh–Ooohhh, f-fuck…”

You coughed and whined when he finally let go of your head, trying to calm down the burning sensation in your throat. Once the tears subsided and you were able to focus again, you noticed that your boyfriend’s hard cock was still on your face, as he jerked off furiously.

“Haa, haa…” he panted heavily, getting off at the beautiful sight under him.

“Jisung–” you were interrupted by your own gasp at the drops landing on your face.

“Aaah!” he moaned, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch his cum paint your face. “Pretty, s-so pretty…” he sighed, finally slowing down to a stop and climbing off you…and going straight back to eating you out.

“NO!” You shrieked, squirming and kicking.

“You’re wet again,” he pointed out, not bothered by your aimless kicks, still licking your folds.

“Of course I’m wet! I’m with you,” you tried to defend yourself.

He let out a soft moan. “You can’t say something like that and not expect me to pleasure you until you go numb.”

“I want you to fuck me!” you whined, making him malfunction for the second time in a day.

“Yeah?” he breathed out, boring his eyes into you.

“Please, alpha,fuck me–”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Actually, you couldn’t even finish the sentence before he was sitting up and sliding into you, causing you to let out a broken moan. It had been a couple of weeks since you last had him inside of you like this. Not because you weren’t horny, but because he insisted on letting you rest as much as possible before his rut to avoid hurting you. But what he achieved instead was to make both of you lose your minds as soon as he entered you.

“Haa…” he let out a shaky breath, pulling out and pushing back in weakly, fighting the dizziness that took over his body.

You tugged again, desperately wanting to touch him. “Ji, take these off,” you begged.

He shook his head. “I like you like this,” he admitted, fucking into you again.

You whined. “I want them off!” you insisted.

“And I want to keep you tied to the bed forever,” he whispered, drunk in pleasure and lust, accelerating the movement of his hips to have you moaning weakly. “Pumping you full again, a-and again–Mmh…waking you up with m-my tongue that y-you like aah…you like s’much…”

You curled your legs around his waist, bringing your bodies closer together and he sobbed.

“N-noona…Close–” he admitted, embarrassed. There was something so arousing about having you so vulnerable under him, with no choice but to take everything he gave you.

Pups.

He gasped and stilled his hips, much to your dismay. You tried to move under him, tried to make him hit that spot again, but he quickly grabbed your hips too and kept them in place.

“One s-second, noona…” he said with a pained tone.

“It’s okay, Ji, I’m close too,” you assured him, not knowing what the real problem was.

“That’s not–”

Give her your pups.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, looking at your belly.

Now, before she tries to leave again.

He quickly looked at your wrists which already had some marks due to the chaffing of the cuffs, and then back at your stomach.

“Jisung?” you asked nervously. Something was off with him since he arrived. He looked like he was constantly fighting something, but what?

He finally looked into your eyes, and his were clouded with tears.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Do your wrists hurt?” he asked back, his voice barely audible.

“Oh,” you had forgotten about it for a minute. “Just a little,” you admitted. “But if it makes you feel more at ease…”

As soon as you said you felt pain, even if it was just a little, he reached for the key on the nightstand and unlocked the handcuffs. He waited anxiously for your next move, but you immediately grabbed onto him, pulling his upper body towards you and hugging him tightly.

You felt him sigh on your neck and pepper it with kisses. “You’re staying?”

“Of course I am,” you said. “Do you trust me?” you asked once again.

He nodded.

“Then I want you to relax and let me do something, okay?”

He nodded again, but he tensed when he felt you push against his chest.

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

He slowly relaxed and let you move, and in a few seconds you had him on his back with you on top, his hard cock still pulsating inside of you. With wild eyes, he moaned softly at the sight. Having you under him was hot, but you on top was crazy. He didn’t think he could choose. His hands immediately held onto your waist as you started bouncing on his cock hard and fast. If he was close before, he was going to explode now.

Cum inside.

He whined, but he didn’t have the strength nor the will to stop you. Instead, he thrust up into you, trying to ignore his wolf’s words. He looked up at you, eyes full of doubt.

“Wanna cum inside, baby boy?” you purred, feeling your climax approach again.

Yesyesyesyes…

His mouth opened into a silent moan, and he nodded.

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss, moaning as he held you in place to take his thrusts.

Fuck her until it takes.

He shook his head. “Noona’s on the pill,” he mumbled against your lips, licking your lips and swallowing your moans while saying (what you thought were) incoherent words. “‘s okay, it;s okay it’s…It’s s-safe…”

“That’s what’s been bothering you?” you laughed softly, kissing his cheek lovingly. “It’s not the first t-time we do this, y-you know it’s safe–AH!”

It wasn’t the first time you slept together, but it was the first time his wolf asked asked for pups and Jisung was freaking out because now was a terrible moment to be a dad but —

“Noona, noona, noona–oh, oh, oh–OOOHH!”

He let go, and his knot finally started forming, keeping you both in place while he filled you with his seed, and his wolf purred with delight. You rutted against his pelvis a couple of times until your own body trembled with pleasure, collapsing on top of him and into his arms. He held you tightly and let you rest for a bit. After all, this had just been his pre-rut. You both needed to rest before the actual rut started.

Pups…

He nodded, smiling dumbly and allowing himself to enjoy this fantasy only this time.

[fanaticsnail]

You Deserve Better

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 5,835

Synopsis: Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Warnings: Pollen!Zoro x afab!reader, smut, mdni, p in v, mutual pining, apprehension, longing, giving in, pollen, NSFW.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314

Notes: This was the brain child between me and sordid from waaay back when. Needed to be finished, and here it is!

Zoro had gotten lost, his own confident footing carrying him in a rhythmic trudge towards where he assumed the meeting place for the crew was occurring. It was only when he apprehensively knocked on a door of a strange hut, asking the resident for directions, that he was made painfully aware of truly how far away he was from the coordinates. He missed lunch, he missed the meeting and introductions of the town; his absence truly being noticed due to his status as first-mate to the Straw-Hat Pirate crew. 

Turning back around, he began the long trek to the docks. His shoulders crushed with unfamiliar twigs, branches, bushels and foreign leaves he was yet to learn the proper names for. Losing his footing, his right foot fell within a small catchment; a deep puddle of water causing him to stumble in his footing, and fall face-first into a bushel of white flowers. He coughed, the pollen entering his lungs through his nostrils and parted lips. 

“What the fuck,” he growled, swiping at his face and blowing puffs of air from his nose and gasping for breath. The floral scent stung at his eyes, a rasp catching in his throat and forcing his Adams apple to bob painfully as he gulped his collected saliva in to rid the tang from his tongue. 

Sneezing, coughing and sputtering all the way back to the ship, he felt strange. His skin felt hot, his clothes were scratching his skin and overwhelming him beneath the fibers of mixed cotton and twine. He was too hot, he was too sweaty and he was– –what was this feeling? No stranger to rage, anger and frustration; he simply pegged it to be one of the three as he continued to stumble-trip his way back to the ship; his dampened boot leaving a trail of mud behind him.

After his boots finding residency back in familiar territory, he slowly made his way below deck to the kitchen. If he could just avoid everybody, take a drink of water and a shower, he was sure that would quench this rising feeling in his chest. Everything was burning; his face, his esophagus, his chest, his thighs, his calves, his cock —- why was everything so hot?

Of course the cook was in the kitchen, where else would the waiter be at a time like this. Sanji’s lips were moving, his tone lengthy, low and likely taunting him. Zoro paid him no heed, focussing on slowly breathing as his body propelled itself forward to follow through the motions. Just get to the cupboard, get a cup, take the cup to the sink, fill the cup with cool water, drink the cool water, place the cup in the sink, go to his bunk for the night, strip himself naked, furiously pull his cock until his cum painted the inside of one of his old socks, and finally rest. That is what would fix his ailment, he’s certain of it. 

Instead, his small calculated routine was halted before he placed the cup back into the sink; his thirst quenched.  Following his meticulously thought out actions were stopped by the burning initiated by Sanji’s hand placement on his shoulder, gripping him to gain his attention.

“-there were so many beers and ales, and you didn’t get to sample any of them,” Sanji dryly laughed his taunt back into Zoro’s shoulder. Sanji was expecting Zoro to taunt him back, their comradery being one built on mutual taunts and jabs. Instead, Zoro clenched his jaw harder, his hand almost shattering the cup he was placing in the sink beneath his firm grip. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sanji asked him firmly, pushing the swordsman’s shoulder to turn him to face his grey-blue hues. Zoro kept his eyes shut, his jaw almost breaking with how tightly his teeth were wrenched together. Feeling another rise of the scratchy tickle within his throat, he had no time to bring his palm up to stifle the cough - a small amount of the foreign pollen extending from Zoro’s lips into Sanji’s breathable oxygen. 

“Fuck, man, cover your mouth next ti-,” Sanji’s pupils immediately dilating, his waterline swelling with glossy water, “-why doI-I-...” Sanji felt the effects immediately. Eyes widening with panic, a warm blush rising to Sanji’s cheeks, he fled his grip against the swordsman’s shoulder and hastily sprinted out of the kitchen to barricade himself in his crew quarters. 

Zoro grinds his teeth, clenches the bench to steady himself against it - nearly breaking with how hard he's clutching it in his white-knuckled grip. Breathing exclusively through his nose, hissing as the elevation of his lungs propels further torture and the flushed heat downwards to sit in his abdomen. Every part of himself was now tense, hard and fighting this rise of emotion. 

Alerting Nami you were going to the kitchen to see if everything was okay with the swordsman, his absence missed by the Straw-Hat crew as you all ate foreign foods, drank foreign drinks and learnt the customs of this unfamiliar land. You saw Sanji rush past you, his irises wild, on your way to the area Zoro sat. You became even more unsettled seeing Zoro red-faced and seemingly in excruciating pain as he gripped the sink and benchtop to steady himself against it. 

You closed the door of the kitchen behind you, slowly approaching the green-haired first-mate and presenting your palms out to indicate you were not a threat. 

“Zoro?” you asked him, keeping your voice quiet but firm, “Are you okay? Is something the matter?”

“I’m fine,” he spat in a winced growl, his eyes clamped shut, “Just get out and leave me alone.” 

You furrowed your brows at his harsh tone, unsure of what exactly is coming over him. Both the tone and words catch you by surprise. You almost always kept each other company; finding one another at the end of a grueling battle, sitting side by side at meal times, and often repairing damage to each other’s bodies that were ill-achieved by yourselves. Beyond that, he’s never sent you away. While you’ve seen him snap at others, you’ve yet to be on the receiving end - especially for simply asking him how he is.

Instead of listening to his verbal words of warning, you approached him. While his eyes were shut, you knew he didn't need them open to keep track of your approach. You knew this was a fact for sure when you see his lips curl into a grimace as you get closer, prompting you to wonder if you really should just leave. 

Truthfully, the reason for the grimace was coming from the fact he can hear every shuffle of your clothing dragging itself against your body. Your soft breathing rang melodically in his ears, the scent of your warm, spiced perfume dancing with the comforting smell of your skin held his every follicle rising on edge. He was having to pull his mind to reign it in, tethering it on a tight leash to keep it from gnawing on the idea of what it’d smell like if he pressed his nose into your hair or neck or chest. How you’d taste as he gnawed on the flesh of your stomach, how burying his face between your thighs and dancing his tongue against your tender flesh would feel-.

“-You’re making me worry, Zoro,” your soft voice called to him, the small pat of your footsteps indicating to the broody swordsman that your approach was now uncomfortably close. The back of your hand lands on his forehead to check his temperature and he pulls back like you’ve burned him. 

“What’s wrong-,” he’s struggling to form the words through the images of your thighs spreading beneath his firm grip. “What’s wrong,” his deep inhale through his nose did little to settle his elevated heartbeat, “Is that you’re touching me when I told you to go away.” 

He finally opened his eyes and you were struck with the intensity of them. His snarling mouth, furrowed brow, and scrunching eyelids certainly looked furious, but his eyes were glossy and shaky and darkened by blown pupils.

“Zoro, did you take something? Should I get Chopper?” Sighing out a small breath through your lips, looking between the hazelnut hues of Zoro’s eyes and forming your own deductions. He wanted to close his eyes again because you looked so, so pretty. Too pretty not to touch. 

Your eyes widened in confusion as he began to sway forward towards you. He was moving in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times, those times when he’d manage to find enough alcohol to actually become inebriated under the influence of its fermentation. 

“Zoro, I’m-,” he lunged in a deep stoop, falling forward to let his face fall into your stomach below your breasts. Allowing a deep inhale, he exhaled a low, shuddered groan into your skin. His body shivered and you feared this may be the worst fever you’ve ever seen of him. No injury, inebriation nor affliction had ever found purchase enough against the first-mate to cause you to worry - until now. 

“I’m gonna get you some help, okay?” You informed him, stepping back to get Chopper, only halting your exit as two hands stopped you. One fisted tight enough into your shirt for the seams to pop in protest, while the other sank into your hip. 

“Don’t,” he panted. This whole interaction has left you at a loss but you were truly astonished when Zoro nuzzled his face into you and massaged his hand into your hip. “You’re not going anywhere,” he grumbled, letting his voice vibrate against you through your clothes.

“Yes I am. You’re not okay, and I have to take care of you,” you hardened your resolve, reaching down and banding your hands around his wrists. 

If it were any other time, his heart would be aching at the worry in your tone. He adored how you cared for him, feeling all of your concern for his well being. However, at this current moment; he can only think of how your voice is so pretty and your body is so warm. And your scent, the intoxicating aroma your glistening skin was whispering and beckoning him to fall trap to your body. How could anyone smell so, so sweet?

You managed to actually get a step back, breaking the brace against his body and placing his hands away from you. Zoro is strong in his grip, but your concern had you force more strength than you thought you could muster. You heard a small rumbled sound, high in pitch and lengthy in elevation. 

Zoro whined. 

He had the gall to whine at you, making your hair stand on end to be thrown so far from your norm. With you at a distance, Zoro’s strength really did leave him. Your absence drained him, his body deprived of a necessity while writhing. He was a man starving with not a single scrap of sustenance, parched without a single drop of liquid to quench him.

His resolve hardened, his unanswered questions being answered with that single thought. You were a necessity. You would fix whatever this was; he just had to sink himself into by claw, tooth and nail you until no person could possibly tear him off of you.

You watched the towering form of the first-mate sink hopelessly onto his knees, his arms first reaching and clutching for you as soon as you shied away from his embrace, before stuttering them away in retreat. He was trembling, his hands resting on his large thighs with his head hanging low to shield his eyes from your gaze. 

"Zoro," you softly called to him, bringing yourself low and resting your weight on your shins. Inching your way forward, you witnessed him suck in a breath and hold it in his chest with his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

"Zoro," you said, reaching your hands down and claiming his wrists in your circular grip, "if you don't want me to get Chopper," you released one of his wrists to collect his chin, "you have to tell me how to help you. What do you want? What can I do?"

Zoro fought harder against himself, every fiber of his being forcing him to continue to hold his breath to halt his urgency to claim you within his arms and never let you go. All of his thoughts were consumed with you: your scent, your softness, your voice, the way you tainted the air with your sweet flavor he desired to taste. He slowly, apprehensively, hissed out a breath, his shoulders quivering and shaking under the influence of the pale pollen propelling his unholy desires and sinful thoughts forward. 

"I w-want," he began, halting his words and wincing under your fingertips. Although your touch burned him, he could not bring himself to shy away from your hand. The way you felt, the way you so desperately craved for him to speak his desires and birth them within the air. He stifled once more, every second passing led to more of his control over himself lessening. 

"Zoro, let me help you. Whatever you need, know that I'm-," your words were claimed from you, Zoro's towering form caging your body beneath his strong arms. He hovered above you, eyes black with lust and lips parted with longing. He was an animal, the temperature falling off of him elevating your own beneath it. 

Wasting not one more second, he collapsed on-top of you, bringing his lips down and pressing rough and desperate kisses along your neck and jaw. All passion: tongue, teeth, lips and caresses - Zoro was consuming you as if he was a man starved and desperate for sustenance only you were able to give him.

The whining, the whimpering, the groaning as his hips begin to roll against your thigh we're spurring your confusion to swirl within the recesses of your mind. While unable to fully process the actions, Zoro began pleading with you; his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending a shiver up your spine. 

"I can't-... I-I can't stop," he growled, continuing to rut himself against you. The rough smack of his clothed hips did nothing to hide his impressive length and girth from you. His grinding down into you, the way your body writhed beneath him, propelled him enough to staple you to the ground beneath his hips. 

A strong arm had snuck its way beneath you, a splayed hand could keeping your chests pressed flush while his other guided your thigh over his hip. You eagerly wrapped both legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, feeling his taut muscles move and shift under your hold. 

He forced both of his hands to your hips, intending to hold them still and pull away, but you rolled them in his grip. His eyes followed suit, rolling back and leaving him to blindly bury his face deeper into your shoulder. “Please let me, I’m s-so so sorry, I cant-...hnng-... I c-can't stop. I n-need you-uu.”

"It's okay, it's okay Zoro," you gasped, your cheeks pressing firmly against his as you heard him stagger his breath and hold onto every word. You raked your fingers through his moss-coloured locks, reassuring him and soothing him by whispering your silencing shushes. Although some dark part of you wanted to continue listening to him beg for you, you instead offered only support and continual reassurance.

You turned your cheek inwards, breaking contact flush against his cheek to press a small brush of your own lips against his smooth skin. This apprehensive and timid gesture prompted him to groan beneath your lips as his skin ignited further. 

“More,” he mumbled fervently after the kiss, the affection doing much more to ease his stress than your words were, “Give me more.” The gentle peck was too achingly sweet to only placate him, instantly holding him hostage to his need to feel more of you. 

The squeeze of your legs on his waist, and the heat he could feel pressed against his cock even through your clothes, strung him tighter and pulled him further from sanity. The hand in his hair and the brush of your lips, made the haze on his mind feel welcome; The boiling in his veins feel more natural. 

You gave him more fluttered kisses on his cheek, then floated your lips up his temple before tilting your head back to cradle him beneath your chin. You raked your arms over his shoulders, your fingertips leaving trails of flamed temptation beneath each pad and digit. Each motion was done to the tune of “more”, “so good”, and “please”. 

You were heavily tempted to let him keep you trapped against the floor and caged beneath his weight, being used for his needy grinding; but a moment of clarity hit you. You were in the galley, and your crew members could swing the door wide and see you both like this; writhing and grinding pelvises together in a cruel dance of lewd gyrations. 

While you had your own qualms with this, you were sure Zoro would rather die than have him looking in his current state getting back to the ship’s chef. Casting all inhibitions aside at one particularly harsh grind against your clit from his painfully hard cock, you verbalized your concerns for him.

"Zoro, you're behaving like an animal- a beast: wild and rampant with lust,” your whisper carried itself up to his awaiting ears. You didn’t know what came over you, but you retreated away from holding him and pushed him up to view his expression.  

“You’re frightening me," you whispered into his face, claiming his cheeks beneath your palms. Both of you were whimpering, panting; eyes wide and lips parted. You leant up to his face, your lips almost meeting for the first time since he caged you beneath him. Holding back the meeting of your lips, you spurred him on with a single three-worded command.

"Do it again."

Zoro growled as he broke away his hand clutching your thigh, fumbling at his hips to unsheathe one of his three blades attached to his belt. As soon as he grasped the hilt of the blade, he tore his torso away from its place against your chest and threw the object to imbed itself within the doorframe: barring the entrance to the kitchen under its sharpened steel. 

Looking up at his body, his entire being was overwhelmed with sweat, pooling from his green hair to trickle down his temples to his neck and jaw. The silvery trail of desperation and lust dripped down his chest beneath his shirt and drenching him further beneath the pull of the powerful pollen. 

He was not himself, fighting every urge to hold control over his body. He wanted this - he wanted you. Just not like this. He wanted to do things right by you; courting you properly, enjoying his time learning everything there was to know about you. He adored spending his time silently by your side - often shielding you from harm's way and protecting you within the thralls of battle, not that you truly ever needed it. 

But the way his cock was straining behind the shield of his pants had his mind cloudy, eyes stinging while attempting to hold the final remnants of control over himself. 

“Y-You don’t know what you’ve asked for, Princess,” Zoro growled, his eyes slowly tilting down from contact against the door to slowly fall to meet your widened gaze beneath him. Your breath hitched as you were met with something completely feral overcoming him. His expression depicted his title flawlessly. You were now completely helpless, pinned beneath the towering intense muscle known as Roronoa Zoro: the former demon bounty hunter, pirate, and king of hell. 

His eyes held the vibrant lustful intensity of raging flames burning flesh, his predatory grin snapping his face with his grimace. His brow was furrowed in a deep frown, the final band of his control straining against the stretch; thin, pale and ready to snap. 

As Zoro gazed into your eyes, holding all that he was from tearing off your garments and sheathing his cock deep within your walls and chasing his release of tension, he continued to clasp onto his final band of control to ensure you were truly okay with your body being used in such a way. 

Sensing his apprehension, you swiftfully and gracefully bucked your hips up to meet his, rolling him off of your body and pinning him beneath you. Your hands grasped his wrists and placed them above his head. His teeth grit against themselves, grinding them down painfully to continue holding himself back from ravishing you. He was a swordsman. He was disciplined under the way of the blade. 

“Zoro,” you began, sighing down with your eyes upturned in concern, “I know you are not well, and this may be the only solution to your problem.” You reassured him, claiming both of his wrists between your left hand, you placed your right hand over his heart and pressed gently on his chest. 

“Let me help you like this, okay?” You offered him a half-smile, “We can work out what it means once you’re through the worst of it. I just want my swordsman back,” you placed your lips against his forehead, feeling the scorch of his flesh burn your lips as he whimpered into your touch. “My knight, my protector,” you whispered against him, pulling back from his face and uttering affectionately, “Just let go. I can take it.” 

If you’d held any fondness for your pants and shirt, or your undergarments, there was no ribbon left salvageable as Zoro all but clawed them from your body. His own shirt and pants were not fairing in any better condition lying beside them. The throbbing of his veiny cock curving painfully hard upwards towards his stomach had you wincing in empathy at how hard he was holding back. 

The slit was slickened, pearled beads of precum glistening against the shine of his reddened mushroom tip. You could almost see the harsh thundered beat of his heart depicted in the rush of blood swelling his shaft, the veins protruding and pulsating in the air. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, nor halt the fluttered hitch in your breath at the girth of it.

“I-I wanted this to be different,” he breathily confessed, his body moving against his will to cage you beneath him once more. His cock twitched at the opening of your walls, a shuddered groan igniting tingles over his back as his tip prodded you, “I wanted to warm you up, stretch you wide with my hands some so you could take me easier. Y-You deserve better.”

A small shocked scream fell from your parted lips as his body lunged forwards, his hips snapping to fully sheath himself within your walls in one fell strike. You were thankful you allowed yourself to give into the lewd grinds and circled thrusts from earlier to allow some slickness to coat your walls with your arousal. He filled you completely, your body contracting and adjusting to him with each passing flutter.

He bit his lip painfully hard, his eyes scrunched shut as he felt each quiver of your walls soothing over his burning flesh. This was the remedy his body was searching for. He needed you. All of you. Every fibre of you. The taste of you, the smell of your flesh, your sweet cries falling from your parted lips as you adjusted around him. He wanted so badly for this to be as good for you as it was for him, holding his concentration to allow you a moment to catch your breath. 

“I can still take you like this, Zoro,” you taunted him with a gentle hum of encouragement. He snapped his eyes to yours, his pupils completely dilated and the corners of his eyes still stinging with concentration to not rail you completely into the harsh floor. You noticed his panicked expression, knowing exactly what his mind was plagued with. 

The words left unspoken holding heavy in the air, his eyes begging you to understand his meaning instead of attempting to articulate his words. The throb of his cock within your warmth propelled your heartfelt encouragement onto him.

“D-Don’t you worry about me, okay?” you reaffirmed him, your eyes depicting nothing other than adoration and affection for the first mate, “Use me,” you drew your palm up to his cheek, holding your gaze intimately with his, “Just let go.” 

At that final command, he drew his hands over your thighs and hooked them over his hips once more; starting a heavy laden rhythm with the smack of his hips. He withdrew himself almost to his slit before pistoning his cock within your walls fast and harsh. You clapped your hand over your lips to stifle your cries of pleasure as his velvety cock continued its bullying of your cervix. 

Every fiber of your being was alight and adjusting to quench the fire of Zoro’s insatiable lust, adoring the chase of his release being pushed brutally into your quivering walls. His cries for you, reciting your name like a prayer as he quested for his salvation buried within your body. 

He was an animal, a wild beast possessed his body and propelled him onwards to seek out his pleasure within you. His eyes never left yours; the man you knew before the beast lurking beneath his glazed gaze. Zoro was expressing gratitude and almost sorrow behind his lustful alterego. 

“I-I’m so-....nmff-... I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, his pace accelerating harshly. The grip of his hands on your thighs bruised their way up to find purchase on your hips, You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, shaking your head and hooking your arms over his shoulders to draw his head into your neck.

“It’s-... hhah-... okay, Zoro. It’s o-okay, truly,” you reassured him, your voice hitching on each syllable as the snap of his hips accelerated in their bruising thrusts, “I’m okay, y-you’re okay.” Your reassurances held his voice sighing out his relief while he continued to chase his high within you. 

His words became jumbled, the mixture of his precum and your arousal squelching sinfully with each harsh slab and thrust of his cock sheathing itself within your walls. If anyone were to walk past the kitchen, they would know exactly what was going on against the floor. Breathy chants of your name fell from Zoro’s lips as the coil within you began to tighten and spark the wick of your approaching orgasm. 

Unknown to you at present, as soon as Zoro initially sheathed himself within you; he was holding himself back more to ensure this was an experience as enjoyable for you as it was for him. He was biting his lip so painfully to ensure he didn’t cum as soon as his pelvis met with your own. He wanted to watch you cum, he didn’t want to be a selfish lover and use your body to chase his own high. No matter how torturous it was to hold himself back, he was accustomed to pain and this was no different. 

But you noticed. The way his brow was intensely furrowed as his forehead hid itself against the skin of your shoulder. The quiver of his own shoulders and his whimpered cries against you gave you cause to draw such a heinous conclusion. Zoro was in pain, and he was still not seeking the treatment your body was giving him. He was still putting you first.

You sighed as you felt his cock continue to quiver within you with each harsh snap, the pleasure he was bringing to you was overwhelming with the bruising pace he still held. Hardening your resolve, you reached your hands down and dug your nails into his ass cheeks and propelled him to grind himself against you further and deeper. You refused to have this pain elongate further for him, and felt the urge to remind him as such.

“Zoro, cum,” you ordered him, his breath hitching at your command, “I know what you’re doing, idiot. Cum in me. I want you to shoot your cum deep in me. I want to feel you ride out your orgasm with each pulse and throb of your cock. I want your cum so bad, Zoro. Cum in me-.”

“-Fuck! F-Fuck,” He barked, biting down on your shoulder harshly as his cock began to release his built up load immediately into your plush walls. Ribbons of his white translucent paint splashed against your walls, the muffled screams of Zoro’s voice crying praises while latched against your skin. He continued the harsh stuttered pace as he rode out his release. 

He was so built up with his relentless pleasure that the pressure of his cum brushed against the underside of your clit, his pubic hair grinding on the topside at the same time and prompting you to ride the waves of your own orgasm alongside his. Lights danced behind your eyes as the spark drew into a vibrant flame. 

Your fingernails continued to dig in the muscle of his ass as you both cried in bliss, your mouth agape while his teeth continued to clamp over your shoulder. His tongue lapped behind his teeth as his groans and whimpers began to die down as his hips came to a staggered halt. His cock remained fully sheathed within you, the final twitches and trembles relinquishing his body of the final spill of his load emptied within you. 

Panting of dual breaths within the four walls of the kitchen, the fuzziness of Zoro’s mind became once again his own, his eyes losing their glaze and his cock twitched its last within you. You whimpered as you came down from your high, the pain of Zoro’s teeth remaining latched on your neck had the realization dawn on both of you at once. 

“I-I…” he stuttered once he released your shoulder from his teeth, “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He stuttered, pulling out of you with his cum spilling from your opening and pooling on the floor beneath you. His eyes were wide, his lips swollen and bruised. Your own eyes widened at his panic, immediately rising to your elbows and looking up at him.

“You’re sorry we-,” you began, only to halt as he spoke over you.

“-No,” he barked his confession over you, stooping his body over yours once more, “I’m sorry it happened like that.” He wanted so desperately to relay all of his affection onto you, all of his adoration, all of his love - but was now lost for words as your eyes met his. 

You darted your eyes between focussing on each of his hazelnut orbs, shifting your focus as you witnessed his afterglow. His body was lighter, his mind no longer plagued by lust. He was once again-.

“-Roronoa Zoro,” you uttered, collecting his hand beneath your palm and allowing a warm smile to spread over your lips, “I don’t regret helping you like this.” You drag your hand over his cheek, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and hold his focus with the intensity of your eyes. “I’m glad you’re back to yourself again. If this is where we leave our tryst-.”

“-Absolutely not,” Zoro growled. The rumbled tone of his voice had your breath hitching and mind halting its springing to conclusions, “I want you more than you could ever know.” He leant forward, his eyes shutting as he met your forehead against his own; your cheek still claiming his cheek beneath your palm. His temperature was more bearable, the warmth you were more accustomed to bringing you comfort. 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch and allowing him to shepherd your body to the ground once more. He combed his fingers down the crown of your head, his fingertips gently raking their pads over your jaw as he finally claimed your lips beneath his in a slow and intimate kiss.

He parted his lips, dragging his tongue to meet against your own with a small groan of bliss. You felt him smile against your lips as you drew your arms around his neck once more. Toying with the small hairs at the back of his neck, you angled your jaw upwards to claim more of him against yourself. 

The rattle of a door handle broke you away from this moment of private intimacy, the wobble of the door shuddering beneath a strong grip immediately caused you panic. You were naked. Naked on the floor in the kitchen. Your clothes lay beside you in ribbons, nothing aside from a dish towel could be used to shield you from prying eyes. 

“Oi, Zoro! What’re you guys doing in there?” The voice of your captain called to you, “You better not be getting all the meat from the fridge! I took that from the celebration, it was your own fault you didn’t get there in time to try any-.”

“-We’re not eating your meat, Luffy!” Zoro roared, breaking his lips away from yours to answer him, “Bring us my yukata and some of my pants, would you?”

“Your Yukata and pants? What happened?” Luffy asked, puzzled momentarily before slyly asking into the door, “And what do I get outta it?” Zoro growled a woeful sigh, lips curling up to a snarl. Your warm smile and giggle broke him away from his anger, his eyes softening as they met yours once more. 

“Just bring them, will you? Then we’ll let you get your meat, Captain,” Zoro chuckled while leaning down to press his lips against yours once more. Although the air was lighter, your body began to succumb to the feeling of warmth falling from Zoro in waves. He hoisted you from the floor to sit atop his lap as his back sat flush against the kitchen counter. Seeking out the small bite he’d left on your shoulder, he began pressing fluttered kisses in apologies against your flesh. 

“I’m sorry,” he confessed once more between kisses, “I want to do this properly - be with you properly. You deserve better.” You sighed at his words, exposing your neck more to him in a gesture for him to continue pressing kisses into more of your available skin.

“I can take it,” you gasped, feeling his teeth rake slowly against your flesh as he moulded the skin of your back beneath his splayed fingertips. He gasped into your skin, still dizzy from coming down from the risen high between you both but mind truly clear of all prior affliction.  

“I know you can,” Zoro grinned into your skin, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. All affection was mirrored between you; eyes half lidded and smiles dopey and tired, “But you still deserve better. Let me treat you better.”

[webslingingslasher]

j! its been so long but omg hi

i was super obsessed with ur frat!peter hows he doing?

i just saw a tiktok that was about a frat boy yelling at a party “if youre not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!” has this been brought up in the frat!peter circle?

i have so many scenarios in my mind like at the different stages! when they first started and trouble isnt super stable in the relationship and she goes to head out but peter (or ethan omg) grabs her arm and hes like ur part of that demographic trouble. im melting 🫠

or when theyre like broken up/taking a break and she goes to leave and peter goes all sad puppy dog eyes :((

omg yes queen::

*a little something ya'll can wake up to. <3

---

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

you hold in a sigh, the party's over. ally won't make it home with you tonight, she ditched you thirty minutes ago to 'go with matty,' aka, you won't see her again until tomorrow.

you glance down at your drink and debate chugging it, if you do you know you'll leave with a woozy stomach. you take two sips and dump the cup in the kitchen trash, it sends two empty beer cans falling, you shrug at the mess and keep walking.

a girl stumbles into your shoulder and profusely apologizes with tears in her eyes, you keep telling her it's okay but she doesn't let it go until her boyfriend nudges her out of the house.

the house music cuts, any stragglers were just seriously kicked out. you follow the crowd and prepare for the cold walk home, a hand loops around your upper arm before you can get through the threshold.

'where do you think you're going?' you turn around and grin at your friend. 'home? where are you going?'

'also home. i'm just waiting for everyone to clear out first.' ethan pulls you away from the dwindling party. 'you know, brother duties.' he sends a wink your way, you nod along like you understand.

'yeah, but i'm not a brother so i don't think i should help with that.'

ethan stops you again. 'parker is a brother, yes?' he is. he's also not there tonight. something about going to queens being more important than the typical friday night party. 'he is.'

'and you're fucking him, right?' you love when ethan has a little liquor in him. 'i am.'

'okay, so then you fit the requirements. hang back with me and we can go to my place together.' it's not a hard sell but you'll act like it is. 'are you sure? peter's not even here, do those rules still apply?'

'i'm a god damn chapter officer, i get to make the rules and it's everyone else's job to follow them. how about that?' you pat ethan's shoulder, you're not arguing one bit.

'can't fight you on that, can i? you twisted my arm good enough, lorax. i'm yours until peter gets home.' ethan holds out his hand, you shake it like it's a business deal.

'good. he told me to make sure you stayed.' he says it with a wink, a gentle suggestion he wasn't supposed to tell you that but you're glad he did. it makes you warm thinking peter didn't want you to feel excluded, especially because he was missing in action tonight.

'well... i am fucking a brother, right?'

'you are. and you know what that means? you have to stay here after every party.' he says it like it's a bad thing but you can get used to being on an exclusive guest list.

it feels nice. so, ‘hell yeah.’

-- vs. after the breakup--

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

hearing it makes you sad. no one's going to make you stay or tell you that those exceptions still apply to you. ally gets to stay here and you have to tuck your tail between your legs and scoot out the door.

'i can leave with you.' your best friend is kind for offering, you're an even better friend for saying no. 'that's okay, stay with matt.'

'are you sure? you shouldn't have to walk out of here alone, that kinda blows.' it does and you don't like the reminder. you'd prefer if ally stays, actually. you don't want her pity.

'it's fine. beats the alternative, right?' she looks at you to say what the alternative is, you do it with a sigh. 'fucking peter. that's my other option.'

'who said it had to be peter? there's like forty guys in the frat and you're buddies with at least five, take your pick.' you've thought about it but frat boys, especially the ones from sig nu, make you queasy.

'it's fine, ally-cat. i'll walk back with one of the other girls in our dorm.' the same faces you see in the hallway at your dorm are gathering their stuff to leave, they'll have no issue with you tagging along. 'boo. i miss when we would have frat house sleepovers.'

'good. blame peter.'

'and i do. he hates to see me coming his way, he really does.'

another brother screams out the same line, you frown and decide to leave while you still have friends in eye-distance. when you reach the door you look behind one last time to send a wave to your best friend. ally sends one back and blows a kiss with it. you catch it and slam it to your cheek, she giggles, you grin. your eyes flit up to the stairs, someone's already watching you.

peter sends you a sorry smile, he hates that you don't get to stick around anymore either. you match his melancholy and give him a shrug, more like a 'whatcha gonna do?' vibe. rules are rules and you're no longer a fitting member for the requirements they need.

'you can stay.' peter mouths it, you pretend not to know what he just said. 'wait.' you're still pretending, you turn around and walk a little faster down the steps- peter catches you on the bottom step.

'i said you can stay.' you have no reason to stay behind. you're not a brother and you're no longer involved with one. you point to an imaginary watch on your wrist, 'i'm about to turn into a pumpkin.'

'yeah, you almost left a shoe running out of here so fast, cinderella.'

you grin, 'i'm just following the rules.'

peter wavers his stance, he doesn't care who said what- he wants you to hang around a little bit more. he likes seeing you around. 'you're still included. i mean, we're involved, aren't we?'

you look at him like he's crazy, you swear you see him blush before he starts fumbling over his words. 'i just meant that i'm not moving on and you're not moving on and i'm trying to get things back to how they were- no, wait, i'm trying to get things better than they were before. not that they were bad! well, i mean they were bad but not... trouble, help me out here, you know what i mean.'

you do. you just like ignoring it. 'you're cute when you grovel for me.'

'i'll get on my knees right fucking now.' he's not even drunk and he's willing to beg for you in front of his party goers. you have to hold in a smirk of pride. 'to ask me to stay or to convince me with your mouth?'

peter's eyebrows raise, 'if you're asking me to go down on you the answer is yes. it's very much a yes, my place or yours? fuck it, let's go to the bathroom.' you're halfway back inside before you realize what you started.

you rip your hand away from peter, you refuse to go back to what it was. you need more than a few apologies to make you crawl back into his bed, you need a real confession. 'nuh uh, not happening. not in a damn bathroom.'

'okay, that's fine, my place is closer.'

you have to stop yourself from following him a second time. 'no, wait! i meant no, it's not happening. period.'

'i don't care if you're on your period, i'll still do it. that's how committed i am to you.' you manage to keep from gagging at the visual, instead you shove peter's shoulder. 'ew! you're so gross! i'm not on my period, you dolt. i'm just not having sex with you.'

'cool, don't have sex with me, let me just show you i can still make you come in under five minutes.' he has no idea how tempting it is. you're being braver saying no than he is for asking, post-breakup included.

'go find another girl, i'm sure there's a whole line-up waiting to get picked on.' peter's nose wrinkles, he doesn't even think of it as a cheap shot. 'gross, other girls are icky.'

you shut it down. 'peter, i'm not a brother and i haven't touched you in two months. there's no reason for me to still be here, goodnight.' you try to leave, a whine follows behind you.

'but you're still-'

but you're not, no matter how much he says it.

'if you changed the rule to 'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or used to fuck a brother, then get the fuck out!' how many girls would stand around and wait on you?' peter looks at you, he doesn't say anything and silence always screams that you're right.

'mhm. rules are rules, goodnight.'

there's a sense of succeeding when all you get is a wistful goodbye behind you. it lasts until the next week when the routine friday night party comes to an end with the normal call.

'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or go by trouble, then get the fuck out!'

ally squeals and tells you 'that's you!' but you're too busy glaring at peter's smug face to celebrate. it's his turn to shrug, his mouth forms four words that fuck you over.

'rules are rules, trouble.' 

[growth-opportunities]

A woman tried taking pills to grow her breasts just a small and reasonable amount, but immediately became hopelessly addicted.

Okay, so, you know how some people have not-so-great coping mechanisms? I mean, we all know that smoking is bad for us, and yet some people, not me, but some people need a cigarette or two to make it through a bad day and another to relax after making it through. And then you have the barflies who stop for a few beers every day after work "just to relax" and then we let those guys drive home! All I'm saying is that everyone has different ways of coping with stress, so I really don't need judgement just because my vice of choice is growth pills.

In my defense, they were advertised as temporary! One pill was supposed to grant three cup sizes for a few hours and then they'd go back down again. If Bobby Barstool can get drunk for a few hours and then go about his life, then why can't I have a few hours of fun for myself? The first time I did it, I only took one. And god it felt good. I forgot to take my bra off (I guess I really didn't think that they would work) and so watching my tits grow and bulge out of them was... fuck. Words fail me, is the point. The eroticism of that alone was intense but the increased sensitivity really sold me on it. I barely noticed the time passing, very nearly getting used to them at that size before they shrank away, leaving me with my modest but respectable C cups.

And it went like that for a while. Got home from work, shed my work clothes, popped a pill, blissed out for a few hours, and then made dinner. Occasionally, I'd take one before a night out on the town, but their sensitivity made it a lot more tempting just to stay home and play with them. It was a simple routine.

But, y'know, it's one of those slippery slope things. I had one really, really bad day, so I said fuck it and I took two pills instead of one. J cups, man. Instant J cups. And from there it was easy to go up to three pills, then four pills. It was incredible. They lasted a little bit longer when I took more of them, but it was safe, reliable, and the pleasure was only slightly addicting.

Well, maybe not entirely safe.

So, it would seem that I didn't always go back to my normal size when the pills wore off. Not completely. I wound up being a little bit bigger. Taking one pill at a time, the effect was barely noticeable, easily chalked up to a bit of swelling. But the longer it went on and the more pills I took, the more obvious it became. The crazy thing was that, even though I was actively, legitimately growing, not just temporarily, they still felt small! Coming down from a P cup to a D cup was still a big drop and so it was hard to gauge just how fast I was growing. And I tried to stop or just slow down, but, fuck, sometimes you just gotta take the edge off by turning yourself into a fat-titted cow, drooling over your own cleavage while you pinch your nipples and moan like a whore. And even though I told myself that it was only a little bit of growth here or there, given enough time, it starts to add up. And the bigger I got, the less difference three cup sizes made, so I had to keep taking more which just made me grow faster and it fed on itself until, well, I don't even think there are cup sizes when you're this big.

Oh, gosh, sorry, I get a little rambly. I know you've probably got to take other calls. Anyway, all of that is to say are you sure your company can't make me a compression bra for a bust measurement over 100 inches? ...Hello?

[janeyseymour]

The Other Woman

I'M BAAAAAAACK. With this short little one shot thanks to @jeridandridge and her big brain ideas that she let me steal

Summary: you have another woman that melissa has the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. Jealousy ensues.

WC: ~2.8k

It’s been about three years since you’ve started at Abbott Elementary, and honestly? It’s been challenging. Challenging, but rewarding. You’ve found a work family that you actually want to be a part of. But you’re also in a tougher area in Philadelphia, and on top of all of that, you’ve been working on your masters in reading since landing the job as the third grade teacher who took the load off of none other than Melissa Schemmenti.

You feel like you’ve been up to your eyeballs in work, both for your students and for yourself. But now, hopefully that you have your masters degree, that work load will lighten significantly.

The other thing that’s been quite challenging? Masking the feelings that you have for a certain redhead. She always gave off that she was hardheaded, stubborn, and difficult in most situations, but you’ve seen that she has a softer side. You’ve seen the way that she loves her students and former students like her own, how she makes sure that both Jacob and Janine are eating something that has actual nutritional value, her softer side for Barbara Howard, even the simple gestures of bringing Mr. Johnson takeout menus to places she thinks he’ll enjoy. And she’s been incredibly nice to you from the start- something that you’ve learned is entirely out of character for her. She claims it’s because you helped lighten her load, but the truth of it is that she quite likes you- enjoys you even.

Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary school, would never have the same feelings that you do- at least that’s what you think. So, after about a year of harboring these emotions, you decide that you have to simply get over yourself and the feelings that you hold. You throw yourself into your work and your classes. During the last semester of classes that you took, you ended up finding a sweet girl who works as a teacher at a school in the suburbs. She helps you to repress the love that you have for the redhead while you’re with her, but as soon as you walk into Abbott again… it’s like Emily doesn’t exist.

It’s not like things with Emily are official either. Yes, she’s met Jacob and Janine at a happy hour once or twice, but aside from that, you would say you’re casually dating her. She would say the same, which is nice. There’s low commitment, minimal effort, outstanding sex.

“So, we’re thinking us going down to Oscars after work on Friday,” Jacob mentions casually at lunch on Tuesday. “You in?”

He knows you’re going to say yes. You love Oscars, and you almost never turn down a good time with two of your coworkers. “You know I’m there. Us four?” You gesture to yourself, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory.

Janine glances to her partner in crime before cutting in. “Us four, Mel, Barb, Mr. J, and Ava?”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “So this isn’t happy hour- this is getting hammered.”

“We just thought it might be nice to go out and have a few beers to celebrate you getting your masters,” Jacob shrugs with a blush creeping into his cheeks.

And so, after the school day is done and your door is shut for the weekend, you make your way into the lobby of the school where the rest of your little work family is. You all shove your things into your cars and lock them before you begin the short walk down to your favorite dive bar.

“Oh, I invited Emily by the way,” Jacob says offhandedly as your group travels.

“Who?” Melissa’s rough voice asks.

Your brow raises. “You did?”

“I thought you might like to have your girlfriend there,” he tells you.

The second grade teacher’s face hardens. “You have a girlfriend?”

“No,” you state quickly, shooting your friend a glare. “Emily is just this girl I’ve been seeing casually. It’s not- she’s not my girlfriend.”

“You sure about that?” Janine asks.

“Yeah,” Melissa huffs. “You sure about that?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Yeah, Lis. I’m pretty sure. It’s drinks maybe once a week, and then it’s just sex. Isn’t that what you were doing with the Captain?”

Green eyes stare at you as she quirks her lips, raises a brow, and folds her arms over her chest. She essentially stays that way for the rest of the walk down to Oscars, making for some uncomfortable tension between the group.

That tension is quickly gone when Ava orders a round of drinks for you all. After that little spat that you had with your favorite redhead (ironically, not the woman that ends up in your bed almost every weekend), you realize that your goal is to get absolutely hammered today. Little do you know, that Melissa also feels that way now. After downing the drink that Ava treated you all to on the company card, the second grade teacher drags her best friend to the bar.

“Girl, what’s got you so angry?” Barbara asks as Melissa takes another shot. “You were fine when we left the school.”

“I-” The redhead pauses to wipe the little amount of alcohol from her lip with her sleeve. “I didn’t know that Y/N had a girl. I was gonna ask her out tonight, but now that plan’s a load of shit, and I’m pissed I didn’t make a move sooner.”

“You heard her,” Barb shrugs. “It’s casual. You still could.”

Green eyes are rolled. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Then you need to try to keep this temper of yours under control, the jealousy too,” the kindergarten teacher chides. “We’re here to celebrate Y/N and her getting her masters.”

Melissa huffs before making her way back over to where you are- already taking your second shot of the day. But then your eyes lock with hers, and you hate how much it turns you on when she’s pissed off. As much as you love seeing her angry, you don’t want to be the one who’s making her feel this way.

“I’m sorry I was a bitch earlier,” you lean in, wrap an arm around her waist, and whisper into her ear. “I didn’t think you’d care if I was talking to someone.”

“I thought-” Whatever Melissa is going to say never gets uttered because Emily walks in, and Jacob and Janine both cheer and giggle. You’ve never moved your hand away from someone so quickly, and you hate that you have to in the first place. Your arm being around that waist felt so right.

“Hey!” Emily makes her way over to you, wraps an arm around your waist, and kisses your cheek.

“Hey,” you smile awkwardly as you return the sentiment. “Uh, let me introduce you to the rest of the group. You obviously know Jake, Greg, and Janine.”

She waves at them.

“This is Barbara, Ava, Mr. J, and…” you sigh softly when you see that the redhead has gone stone faced again. “Melissa.”

Emily smiles at everyone. “It’s great to be with youse, celebrating Y/N gettin’ her masters. I wish I liked my coworkers as much as y’all seem to get along.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” you tell her softly. “It took me some time to find my group.”

Emily is handed a drink, and you find that it’s quite nice that she already knows some of your friends- this way, she isn’t attached to your hip. You’re able to play darts with Jacob and Gregory, get in some gossip with Janine, challenge Ava and Mr. Johnson to a chugging competition, and chat with Barbara while your date mingles with your friends. It doesn’t go unnoticed that while you’re conversing with Barbara, Melissa stays silent. 

“I’m heading to the bathroom, and then ordering another drink,” the kindergarten teacher tells you as she begins to shimmy her way out of the booth. “Would either of you like anything?”

“Whiskey, neat,” the redhead grumbles.

“Angry balls,” you request.

Barb’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“Shot of fireball mixed with an orchard,” you explain. “Thank you.”

As soon as Barbara is out of earshot, you scoot in closer to the redhead. “So, you gonna tell me why you’re all pissy?”

Melissa scoffs. “I’m not being pissy.”

“Yeah you are,” you call the redhead out. “No smiles, arms crossed, brows furrowed. Quiet, for once in your life.”

“So maybe I’m a little pissed,” the redhead admits quietly, although she does uncross her arms, and one finds its way around your waist, pulling you in just slightly closer. Liquid courage.

“And why would that be?” you question. “It’s just the gang.”

“And that girl,” Melissa mutters under her breath, but you’re close enough that you can hear it.

“Emily?” you ask. At her nod, you roll your eyes. “At this point, I’m pretty sure Jake and Janine like her more than they like me. And like I told you earlier, it’s honestly just sex. I don’t want anything else with her, and she knows it.”

“Then why’s she here?”

“Because Jacob is convinced we’re goin’ t’fall in love or some shit,” you chuckle. “You know him.”

“An idiot,” the redhead sighs.

“He’s got a good heart though,” you quip. “Just like you. I like you more when you’re nice, you know.”

Your colleague turns to face you slightly, and you swear there’s a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you smirk, as you reach behind her and tuck the hairs that have threatened to fall in her face behind her ear. “It makes me sad when you’re all pissed.”

Jacob’s eyes follow where Emily is looking- at the two of you, cozied up together in the booth.

“You good, Em?” the social studies teacher asks.

The woman turns to face him with a sad smile. “They like each other, don’t they?” It’s not asked in an angry way, or even in a hurt way. It’s more of a statement phrased as a question. 

Jacob sighs quietly. “I- That’s a question for Y/N.”

Emily just purses her lips in thought before throwing the dart in the direction of the dart board.

When Barbara returns to the booth, it’s apparent to her that the two of you had reconciled. It almost seems to her that her best friend had admitted the feelings she has for you. Of course, she doesn’t voice that. Instead, she just joins the conversation with a smile, happy that things seem to be back to normal.

It’s a long while later that you’re all more than a little drunk, and the Abbott clan decides to call it a night. You thank your friends for coming out to celebrate with you, giving them all hugs as they depart from the bar. The only one that you give a quick kiss on the cheek to is Melissa- an act that does not get past your date.

And then it’s just you and Emily on the sidewalk.

“Did you want to go somewhere else?” you ask. “Or maybe just back to my place?”

“Maybe we could skip the next bar and just head to a diner? I could use some food, and I think we need to talk,” Emily tells you quietly, although her voice feels much louder now that you’re out of the dive bar atmosphere.

“Y-yeah,” you nod along, scratching the back of your neck. 

It’s not long before you’re in a small little diner eating burgers and thanking the waitress for her service. And then Emily sighs.

“Is- is everything okay?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“Yeah,” she smiles, although it doesn’t reach her sparkling eyes like it usually does. When you look a little harder, you can’t help but note that her eyes aren’t even sparkling the way they usually do when she’s with you. “I just-” Emily bites her lip nervously before letting the words tumble out of her mouth. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You don’t want to be in the way of what?” you furrow your brow.

“You,” Emily whispers. “Y/N, I care about you, and I want what’s best for you. Unfortunately, that’s not me.”

“What?” you ask softly. “Em, what are you-”

“I’m not mad at you,” the woman across from you promises. “But you have feelings for Melissa. Stronger feelings than you have for me.”

“I- I-” you stammer out with wide eyes. She’s right, but you don’t know how to say it.

“And that’s okay,” Emily smiles. “She likes you too. Anyone with eyes can see it, and I don’t want to be in your way of finding true love and happiness.”

“W- What?” you continue to flounder. “I- I-”

“It’s okay,” Emily assures you, yet again. “I saw the way that the two of you were flirting. The way she brightens up and comes alive when you’re near her. Your- your eyes sparkle when you look at her. I want you to be happy.”

“Em,” you breathe out. “I- I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” the woman promises. “You can’t help feelings, and we had a good run. I would still like to be friends- and I had a great time out with your coworkers tonight… well aside from Melissa.”

“She-”

“Once I knew why she hated me, I couldn’t help but understand,” Emily shrugs.

You take a bite of your burger. “How are you always so understanding of everything?”

“We’re teachers, aren’t we?” your date teases.

Despite the fact that the two of you essentially broke up at the diner, the rest of your meal is cordial, and you even gossip about how Gregory and Janine absolutely are going to end up married at some point. 

And then you’re seeing Emily off in an uber for the night before walking back to your own apartment for the night.

You take off your makeup and change into a pair of sweat shorts and an Abbott hoodie before settling on the couch with a beer and really taking in what Emily had said to you. She knows that you have feelings for Melissa. She also seems to be convinced that your redheaded coworker has feelings for you. 

Your eyes glance at the clock. It really isn’t all that late.

Before you know what you’re doing, you dial Melissa’s number.

“Hello?” the redhead’s gruff voice crackles through the speaker.

“Lis?”

“You dialed me, you know it’s me, hun,” Melissa quips.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles up out of you. “I know it’s a long shot, but would you want to come over?”

“Emily isn’t there?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “She and I- I think you and I need to talk, and I want to do it before I lose my nerve.”

You can hear the redhead pull herself off her couch. “Fine. But you owe me money for the Uber I’m going to take.”

“Deal.”

Your colleague shows to your house about twenty minutes later, and you can’t help the smile that finds its way to your face when you take her in. She’s just in a pair of leggings and a tank top, her hair tied up messily, but God does she look beautiful as ever.

“No just sex tonight?” Melissa smirks.

You shake your head. “Not tonight.”

“Well that-”

“Not ever again, if this goes well,” you tell her as you invite her into your apartment.

Sculpted eyebrows furrow. “What does that mean?” she asks as she settles on the couch.

You take the opportunity to sit next to her and pull her in closely. “Em and I- we… uh, talked.”

“Okay?”

“I- I don’t really know how to say this, so,” you trail off as you cup her cheek with your hand and pull her in for a soft kiss. Her lips are frozen against yours for a second before she fully comprehends what’s happening. She kisses you back before pulling away.

“Y/N, I don’t want to play-”

“Emily and I broke things off,” you tell her. “After we left the bar.”

“And why the hell would you do that?”

“Because,” you smile as you look into her eyes. You can see that she’s hoping you say it’s for her. “Because I have feelings for you, not her.”

“What?” she asks, despite her wish for you to admit that to her. It clearly shocks her.

“After everyone left, we went to get burgers, and… she told me it’s clear that there’s something between the two of us. I’m tired of trying to hide my feelings for you, Lis.”

That’s all Melissa needs to hear before she pulls you in again. 

@schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

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[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar : the date Part 2 - the bar

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: self-conscious, a whole lot of flirting, semi-public dry-humping

words: 3.6k

Summary: After a rather rocky start to your date, Jake takes you to a bar that's more your cup of tea and the date finally started to take off...

a/n: I had a really good time writing this chapter and I hope you have as much fun reading it!

Link to my masterlist

“Okay, now we’re talking!”, you mentioned as you entered the bar Jake had brought you to. The bar had little tables all around the room, a long bar and even a little stage on the other end. It was well filled and the atmosphere reminded you a lot of the Hard Deck minus the nosy looks of your favorite group if you had gone there.

This place was already a hundred times better, you thought to yourself as you stood next to Jake, taking in the place.

“Look, there’s an empty table back there”, you told him over the music and pointed across the bar. He nodded and led the way through the crowd. He took your hand like it was no big deal and pulled you with him. You bit down on your bottom lip to hide your smile.

At your table, he pulled out a chair for you. “Such a gentleman”, you observed. “You sound surprised”, he commented. “Let’s just say, I don’t have a lot of prove”, you countered as he sat down at the table to your left.

Jake rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and opened one more button at the top. You felt your mouth watering as you took in the sight.

“Come on, man”, you sighed and cocked your head to the side. “What?”, he asked confused. “I see what you’re doing there”, you told him and motioned at his collar and then his arms. His strong, tanned, beautiful arms.

“What? It’s hot in here. Don’t tell me you like that?”, he asked playfully innocent and held up his underarms, flexing a little. “Every woman that has a pulse likes that”, you retorted. With a smug smile, he interlocked his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, alternating flexing his left and right arm. “Stop it, you idiot”, you slapped his hands and got up.

“I’ll go get us some drinks. You want a beer?”, you asked. “Sure, one won’t hurt”, he replied. You grabbed your purse to get your credit card and Jake put a hand over yours. “Hey, take my card”, he said and held up his credit card. “No, you already got dinner. God knows that was expensive enough”, you told him with a tone in your voice that made him roll his eyes.

You chuckled at his facial expression, pulled your hand from his and walked over to the bar counter with your card in your hand.

“Can I get two beers, please? Thanks”, you placed your order and while you waited, looked over to Jake who was sitting at the little table, his eyes set on you.

You shot him, what you hoped was, a flirty smile and a wink which made his smile a little bigger and your stomach flutter. Damn, he looked good. You couldn’t believe that you were actually on a date with him. Out of all the women in this bar, and there were many, he looked at you. This sent another rush of tingles through your stomach. You needed to look away for a moment to regain some composure.

You let your eyes wander around the bar and noticed a bunch of women. Some of them already starting to notice Jake. He was a sight, that’s for sure.

“Here you go”, the bartender placed two beers in front of you. You handed over your credit card for a quick swipe through the machine and then walked back to your table.

For a second, you felt like there were several pairs of eyes on your back but you shook off the thought before you sat down.

“There you go”, you moved one beer over to him. You clinked with the necks of your bottles before you took a sip of the cold beverage. “Ah, that feels so good”, you said and closed your eyes for a second. Jake was right, it was warm in here. You pulled the sleeves of your dress up to your elbows and the elastics in the cuffs held them in place.

“I see what you’re doing”, Jake commented and nodded at your now bare lower arms. You were a bit confused for a second then you caught on. “Ha-ha”, you said dryly. “You like that? Huh?”, you held your arms up, playfully moving them in front of him. “Just wait ‘till you see my ankles. You’re gonna come in your pants”, you joked and made both of you laugh.

Only after the moment, you realized how much you both had needed that. The atmosphere between the two of you felt much lighter now and the real date could begin.

“You know, I’m not supposed to say this but I pretty much saved the day out there”, Jake said about his last mission. You weren’t sure if he was being cocky like he usually was or if he was being honest.

“And why are you telling me then?”, you asked and leaned forward, folding your arms on the table. Jake leaned forward as well, your faces close. “To impress you”, he said in a low voice, only for you to hear.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of a joke but all you could see was the bright green of his irises. Did he really mean it? Was it important to him what you thought about him?

“Well, thank you for your service”, you said and clinked your bottle against his before you took a sip leaning back in your seat, kinda ruining the moment. Things got a little too intense for you for a moment.

“I don’t know about you but I’m kinda hungry”, you said and reached for the little laminated menu that was placed in the middle of the table. “We’ve just come from a five-course-meal”, Jake reminded you. “Those portions were a joke. Especially for that price”, you pulled a face and let your eyes wander over the list of food items. “Ooh, they have chicken wings. And chili-cheese fries”, you spotted some of your favorites.

“If you’re still hungry, why didn’t you say so at the restaurant. We could have ordered something else”, he suggested.

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you serious? You don’t just order additional stuff to a five-course-meal, not at a place like that. They already looked at me weird. And also, if I could have, I would just have ordered the typical first-date salad but that probably would have just been one lettuce leaf with a stripe of mango on it at that place”, you told him and shook your head while thinking of that fancy restaurant.

“What is it with you and a salad on dates?”, he asked curiously. “Do you want the first-date-Y/N or not?”, you asked with a mix of a huff and a chuckle. “I want the real you”, he immediately answered.

“Look who can be romantic all of a sudden?”, you said approvingly and leaned forward again, resting your chin on your hand, your elbow on the table. “Looks like my little lesson paid off”, you added with a smirk.

“Yeah, looks like it”, he commented and leaned in a little as well. “I feel like that stormy night was more like our first date, anyway. So, could you relax a little?”, he asked.

“Our first date, huh? Who knew Lt. Seresin needed a natural disaster to get a girl to go on a date with him?”, you joked.

“Only for the important ones”, he answered without missing a beat and his sincere tone knocked you off your game.

“Also, call me Lt. Seresin more often, I like that”, he added. You felt his hand on your left knee where your dress had parted, slowly moving up, but not too far. The touch of his fingers on your bare skin made you swallow hard. You were never happier to have decided against the shorts.

“Then this was the last time you’re ever gonna hear it”, you countered a few moments after swallowing hard, trying to get back to your usual banter but you were a little bit distracted, to say the least. The smile on his face let you know that he knew what he was doing to you.

“Your thighs are doing something to me”, he said softly, almost whispering, after a few moments of silence and intense eye contact. His hand was moving up and down on your thigh, squeezing it softly.

"Yeah, probably crush you", you automatically commented. He shot you a look that let you know that he didn't like the way you talked about yourself and pulled his hand from your leg.

"Why do you always do that?", he asked. "What?", you asked innocently. "Always put yourself down when you get complimented", he said and his words hit a spot in you. You didn't think he would notice. You wanted to evade the question, present him with some lame excuse, but then you decided against it.

"It's kinda hard not to say stuff like that about yourself when it's all you've ever done", you explained and felt the embarrassment creep up your cheeks, making them burn. You looked down at your drink and pulled at the label on your bottle.

"I always try to say that stuff about me before someone else does even if I’m not always quick enough", you continued and shot him a quick glance before you looked down at your hands again, feeling Jake tense up next to you.

"I'm so sorry that happened. I still feel awful", he said and the expression on his face matched his words.

"I know. And you should. It hasn't been that long ago", you told him but your conciliable smile took the harshness out of your words.

"And I also know that at least 10 women in here already checked you out and can't believe that you're here with me", you told him.

“I don’t care about them. Like you said, I’m here with you and I don’t want to be anywhere else…with anyone else”, he declared. You felt his hand back on your thigh, his fingers giving it a little squeeze which made you swallow.

“You’re putting it on a little thick now, Seresin”, you diverted with humor again. This got a little too intense for you for a moment. Jake only chuckled at your words, knowing your tactics by now.

"I'm gonna go powder my nose real quick and be right back", you told him, pushing back your seat and walking over to the restrooms.

You had a quick pee and then checked your face in the mirror. Since it was a warm night, your face was a little shiny and you had some smeared mascara under your eyes. You took care of that with a paper towel and combed through your hair with your fingers, fluffing up the waves you had put in with the flat iron, or what was left of it.

When you came back out to the main bar area, you saw that a blonde woman was standing at your table, talking to Jake.

For a moment, your heart sank. You should have known that the women you had noticed staring before wouldn't see you as actual competition.

But then you thought about the evening you had spent with Jake so far, all the flirting and touching and what he had said right before you went to the restroom. You thought back to how he had asked you out for this date and it put a smile on your face.

You straightened your back and walked over to your table. When you came closer, you heard the woman laughing. She threw her hair over her shoulder. Jake's eyes found you behind her and, you wouldn't believe it if you wouldn't see it just now, his whole face lit up. A flutter ran through your stomach.

You just walked past the woman, took Jake's face in your hands and kissed him. Jake was startled but only for a second. You pulled back after a few moments, still holding his face in your hands.

"Dance with me, Seresin", you said. You felt the nod more than you saw it, his eyes looking at you in awe and then a cheeky smile forming on his face. You stood up straight and grabbed his hand.

"Excuse me", you said to the woman who was standing in your way, in more than one way, having her take a step to the side so you could walk towards the dancefloor area, Jake right behind you.

A few people were already dancing and you walked right in the middle of the space. It was a semi-slow song at the moment.

You put your arms around Jake's neck and he placed his hands on your hips, starting to sway from side to side. You swung your hips a little more than necessary, pressing into his hands, one at a time. His grip got a little tighter and he pulled you closer.

"Sorry for the impromptu kiss just now. I had to mark my territory", you told him with a shrug of your shoulders and a nonchalant tone in your voice.

"Okay, first of all, never apologize for kissing me. And second of all, I'm territory now?", he asked and raised one eyebrow but the tone in his voice let you know that he wasn't mad about that word.

"I was just annoyed that she just came over and flirted with you while we're clearly on a date. All of these women were ogling you all night", you explained to him and rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"Well, if the kiss wasn't clear enough, they will know now. Wanna give ‘em a little show?", he asked, but before you could answer him, he grabbed your hand and spun you out in front of him and pulled you back in. You landed with your back to his chest.

He grabbed both of your hands and put them on your hips, his hands over yours. Your hips moved together, the two of you being in your own world. You made sure to press your butt against his front, just for good measure.

You pulled your hands from his, letting them move up your body. You placed one hand on his neck and the other over one of his hands on your hips.

Jake made you feel sexy like no one ever has managed to before. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought to dance so sexy in front of other people but he managed to make you forget that there were even other people around. With every swing of your hips, your confidence rose.

“You’re making it very hard for me to stay on this dance floor. Literally”, he said at your ear and his warm breath sent a tingle down your spine, let alone his words. With a smile, you pressed your ass a little firmer at him.

The next moment, he took your left hand from his neck, had you spinning away from him again, pulled you back in and dipped you backwards. You already knew that he was strong enough to hold you and this time you enjoyed the dance move.

When you came back up, your eyes were met with a very intense, hot stare of his green eyes. With the hand that wasn't still cradled around your back, he gently pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek, before he kissed you.

Compared to your kiss before, he was gentle, soft but still wanting. It was like he was saying sorry all over again and now marking his territory. And you weren’t mad about it either.

The kiss ended way too soon for your taste and you looked up at him with doughy eyes. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but you were quicker.

"Wanna get out of here?", you asked breathlessly.

Instead of an answer, he grabbed your hand and pulled you off the dancefloor. You got back to your table only to grab your purse before you left the bar. Jake held your hand all the way to his car that was parked on the parking lot right next to the building.

When you arrived at this car and he opened the passenger side door for you, you threw your purse on your seat, then you reached up to put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close to you. You crashed your lips into his and put your other arm around his neck.

You let yourself fall back against the car and pulled Jake with you, who braced your impact with his hands next to your shoulders.

You let your tongue run along his bottom lip, your fingernails lightly scratching at the nape of his neck. Jake pushed his body against yours, caging you in between him and the car.

Your kiss got more passionate by the second, more urging, wanting. It felt like the kiss you had shared with him at the Hard Deck during that stormy night.

You were parked in a rather dark corner as the next lamp post was a few cars down. That was the only explanation for basically dry humping him in public. The real explanation was that you were super horny for him and had waited way too long for a moment like this.

Jake’s right hand moved down to the slit in your dress and grabbed your left thigh. You raised it automatically and he put it on his hip. He pushed his pelvis forward and made you gasp at the contact.

Your tongues danced with each other while exchanging sloppy kisses, being hungry for each other. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging on it and scratching at his scalp which made him moan into your mouth. You loved the sounds he made, they turned you on so much.

Jake took a small step back and you lowered your left leg back down before he broke the kiss. Your eyes flew open, being heavy with lust. Your lips felt swollen and tingled from all the kissing. You thought he would take even more steps back, stopping whatever you were doing, but instead, you felt his hand on your left thigh again, moving closer to your center.

You arched your back in anticipation of his touch. Your right hand was on his upper arm, grabbing his biceps to hold on to something.

“Mhm, baby”, he moaned as his fingertips caressed you over your panties, discovering how damp they already were. You moaned in response, eyes closed again, enjoying his touch as your head dropped back against the window of the back seat.

Suddenly his hand stopped moving and you opened your eyes, irritated.

“What? What happened?”, you asked confused. “No comeback to baby? No being all snappy about a nickname?”, he asked. “No, I like baby. Especially with your hand between my legs”, you countered, a purring tone on your lips.

His fingers started moving again and it made you gasp. “It’s also hard to be snappy when you do that”, you told him and sounded a bit breathless.

“Is that so? If I had known that sooner…”, he said and started kissing your neck simultaneously.

“That…sounds weird. Don’t go around touching people’s crotches”, you told him off as a joke but also as a fair warning.

“Are you actually lecturing me right now?”, Jake asked in disbelief and leaned back a little to look at your face.

“I said being snappy was hard right now. I said nothing about a lecture”, you countered. “Oh, shut up, woman”, he told you off with a smile and sealed your lips with a hard kiss.

You giggled at his lips but only for a second. Then his kiss clouded your mind, making your knees weak and when his fingers resumed their part, every clear thought in your brain was gone. His mouth moved down your chin and onto your neck.

“Jake”, you moaned. “Yeah, baby?”, he asked, loving that he had finally found a nickname you didn’t push back on. You grabbed his face with both of your hands and made him look at you. “Take me home”, you told him. “Yes, ma’am”, he nodded.

Almost reluctantly, he let go of you. He made sure you got into the car and closed the door behind your before he hurried around the car to his side, getting in.

When he started the car and put it in reverse, you put your hand on his thigh, the tent in his pants clearly visible which made you kind of proud. His grip on the steering wheel got tighter, his knuckles almost turning white.

“I wouldn’t do that if you want to arrive at home safely”, he told you and it sounded pleading. You pulled your hand back with a giggle.

You adjusted your legs which caused the slit of your dress to fall open and reveal your left thigh. Jake’s eyes shot over for a second, noticing it. “Y/N, you’re killing me”, he said and you didn’t know what he was talking about at first as you hadn’t noticed. He nodded down at your lap and you quickly pulled the fabric back onto your legs.

“Focus on the road and get us home, Lieutenant”, you ordered him. “Believe me, I want nothing more. Well, maybe except for touching your thigh again”, he replied.

next chapter: part 3 - the apartment (1/2)

[jjslaybank]

rockstar!jj headcanons

content warning/s: fluff and a brief mention of suggestive content

rockstar!jj would never perform unless he is 100% certain that you were in the front row. he may be outgoing and confident off stage, but onstage knowing that there are a bunch of people whose attention was focused solely on him terrified the hell out of him.

seeing your smiling face in the front kept him grounded. he'd blow you a kiss, take a deep breath, and start the show.

he'd make sure to glance at you every once in a while, playfully sticking out his tongue at you or making a lewd gesture. you'd respond with a wink or jokingly raise your middle finger at him.

after the concert, he'd immediately look for you backstage. after exchanging kisses, "you did amazing"s, and "thank you"s, he would take you by the hand and lead you to his dressing room with a knowing smirk on his sweaty face.

both of you would smoke some weed and gulp down a few beers before making out sloppily, giggles slipping past both of your lips.

you'd say something corny like "play me like how you'd play your guitar." he'd laugh and run his hand down your body, stopping at the curve of your waist.

"you're the prettiest guitar i've ever played," he'd respond with a grin before attaching his lips back to yours.

PAINTING HIS NAILS!!!!

rockstar!jj would let you paint his nails any color you wished. usually you'd do black or white. simple colors. they'd remind you of freddie mercury and brian may from queen doing the same.

he'd be so scared to strum his guitar after you'd paint them - afraid that he'd chip off the polish you painstakingly spent a lot of time on to get perfect. every time he has to perform with painted nails, he'd use a guitar pick.

what he loves most about his painted nails is seeing you choke on them as he puts them into your mouth as he makes you cu—

anyways.

rockstar!jj loves teaching you to play guitar.

"it's too hard, j," you'd whine, your short fingers struggling to stretch across the guitar's fretboard.

he'd laugh at you, reaching over to press on the unreachable strings. "okay, babe, strum it."

he'd teach you songs and riffs to play - fully aware that the information was going in one ear and out the next. he could tell this by the way your eyes focused on his calloused fingers as he pressed on the strings, the way you'd brush away the stray locks of blonde hair as they fell across his face, and the way you would stare at his blue eyes as he made sure he was on the correct fret.

he didn't mind the fact that you didn't care, though. he was just happy to share a moment with you. besides, you would always thank him with a hug and kiss after being "taught" a new riff.

©️ jjslaybank, 2024.

[redhead1180]

I see you

Pairing - JJ x fem!reader

Summary - After Y/N, JJ's best friend, has an embarrassing encounter with another guy, JJ finally decides to step up and claim what he wants.

Warnings MDNI - Cursing, embarrassing situation in front of people, oral (m & f receiving), degradation (r degrades self), self-esteem issues, unprotected sex (p in v, wrap before you tap it), creampie, praising

Words - 4.0k

A/N - I don't usually write fluffy smut, but here we are, and I hope you like it. I usually don't describe readers, I want reader to put themselves in the story, but this one is a bit personal. It's kinda autobiographical in it is similar to how my boyfriend and I got together. I NEED to thank @jjxkiaraxpopexcleoxjohnbxsarah for the beautiful moodboard she made for my story. I love u girl 😘! Did not get beta read, wanted to get this out since I have had it almost done for a month.

I couldn't stop the tears that fell down my face, as I drove to my home away from home, the Chateau. I probably shouldn't be driving, but had to get away from the embarrassment at school. God I was such an idiot for thinking that Brandon might like me. For the past month, he had been sweet, a little flirty, getting to know me, but all he really wanted was to get in with Kie. He wanted her, not me. Kie didn't like him already and when she found this out was probably gonna punch him, which did make me smile. Kie was my best friend and always had my back.

I finally pull up to John B's house and take a deep breath. This place always seemed to calm me or maybe it was my friends. My family of misfits I started collecting at the ripe age of 5. It started with JJ, I met him on the playground and thought he looked like a lost puppy with his big blue eyes, unruly blonde (almost white) hair, dirt on his face, and torn clothes. I remember asking if he wanted a friend and he said sure and we became inseparable. Then in 3rd grade I collected John B, another lost puppy, then Pope, Kie, and last Sarah. Well honestly John B collected her, but she was family now.

Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I get out of the car and head in the house. I wasn’t sure if anyone was home, so I grabbed a beer and went out to the back porch. And there laying on the couch, on his stomach, fast asleep was the original lost puppy, JJ himself. His dad was out of jail and he hadn't been to school the last few days, which was never a good thing. Again, a calm washed over me, stilling my mind, and momentarily squashing the rage.

Walking over to the couch, I run my fingers through JJ's hair and whisper a "scoot" in his ear. He grunts but raises his head enough for me to slip under him and sit, before putting it back down in your lap. You guys sit there a bit in silence, me sipping the beer looking out at the marsh while JJ slept. Eventually he begins to stir and rolls over to look up at you.

"What's got you drinking in the middle of the day, princess?" he asks his voice all husky and sleepy.

"Bad day" I grumble, taking another long swig.

He grabs the end of some of my hair, swinging it around. "Ok, tell Papa J your troubles, let's see if I can fix them." he teases.

"I don't think you can fix this one J, not anything to fix really" I mumble as I look down at him tears forming in my eyes again.

"Woah, hey, hey, what's with the waterworks" he asks, concern in his voice, as he sits up and pulls me in a hug.

I shrug "Just another miserable day in my love life, if you can call it that" I sniffle.

JJ stiffens a little, although I don't pay it much mind. He pulls back to look at me and asks "Um, what happened"

"Well," I sigh "Turns out Brandon didn't want to go out with me, he just wanted to use me to get to Kie" I turn to take another swig of beer. "He decides today in study hall, he would ask about if I could give him Kie's digits. When I asked why, he said so he could ask her out. I must have looked confused, cause he laughs and says, Oh you didn't think I was into you did you?" I down another sip of beer "I said Well yeah, he laughs, literally laughs in my face JJ. I was so humiliated I just got up and walked out. He hollers back at me, so is that a no?" I down the rest of the beer.

I finally look at JJ and he is red in the face and has a murderous look in his eyes, "I'mma kill him" he growls.

"I might let you" I tearfully chuckle "I mean what is wrong with me? I know I'm not as pretty as Kie and Sarah. My hair is this ugly red and I'm covered in freckles, I hate it. But fuck. I know I'm not as brash as Kie or bubbly as Sarah, but I like to have fun. I know I seem bookish, but that is cause I really want out of this town. I just don't see why guys can't see me." I throw my head back on the couch out of breath.

*I see you" JJ almost whispers.

I snap my head up and look at him. "What?" I ask quietly.

JJ stands up and goes to the porch screen and stares out for a minute, I'm about to ask him again, when he looks down, does a little nod. I hear him mumble "fuck it" and turns back to me.

"I suck at this shit, but here goes. I see you" he says "No you're not as pretty Kie or Sarah, you're prettier. They don't hold a candle to you, nobody does on this godforsaken island" He starts to pace a little, wringing his hands, as if figuring out what to say "Your hair isn't an ugly red, it's the colors of the sunset. The reds, golds, and oranges that people take tons of pictures of cause it is so fucking beautiful, that's what I see everyday when I look at you. Your freckles? They make your skin glow in the summer, like your some kind of fucking goddess." He chuckles, "In the winter they fade to more a pink and make you look like you’re blushing all the time."

"JJ-"

"No, shut up" he demands "I just sat there and listened to you fucking degrade yourself, so you're gonna sit there and fucking listen to me now." He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Ok"

"Ok" he nods " As far not being brash or bubbly like Kie and Sarah, no you're not. You're feisty, temperamental, loyal, and can throw a punch better than most guys. I mean at 10 years old you threw a damn beer bottle at my dad and told him to fucking leave me alone. You have more guts than all of us put together. And yes, you are a blast to hang out with, I mean you can drink most guys under the table." He starts pacing again "Fuck I don't if we would all be friends if it wasn't for you. And I would wager your smarter than Pope, but won't say anything cause it's his thing. And do not ever fault yourself for wanting off this island"

I look at him with my mouth open, tears forming, but not cause I'm sad, but because I never knew anyone saw me like that.

"Do you know how hard it is to see you date other guys and help put the pieces back together for you, when I know, I KNOW, that I would never treat you like that." He says pleadingly "I have waited so long to be that next guy, and yeah it's my fault for not speaking up, but I am now." He comes and kneels in front of me and cups my face. "I want to show you how special you are and tell every guy to eat shit cause she's mine." He laughs.

I can only stare at him for the moment, my mind reeling from his confession. JJ is not one for sharing, even to me his best friend for 13 years. My emotions were all over the place. I felt tears well up on my lashline as realization slammed into me. I always loved JJ, he was my ride or die, but it hit me that I had been in love with him for awhile. I just didn't know it.

I must have taken too long, cause I saw JJ's face fall, he sniffed and looked down. He started to remove his hands from my face. I came back to reality and grabbed his hands. His head snapped back up and I smiled at him.

"JJ" I choked out over the lump on my throat "I didn't know, but I-" I took a deep breath "I want you to be that guy. I want to be yours."

JJ's eyes grew wide and he chuckled "Yea?"

I leaned forward and slammed my lips on his, I could tell he was shocked at first but it didn't last long. He wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and the other wrapped around my waist pulling me on his lap. I moaned as he slid his tongue over my bottom lip, asking me to open up. When I did, he slipped his in and our tongues danced for dominance. He slid his hand up through my hair, cupping my head and deepening the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into it, his other hand grabbing the fat of ass and squeezing.

Air was becoming a need as my lungs begin to burn. I was feeling slightly dizzy, not sure if was the kiss or needing air. I pull back enough to gasp, JJ chasing my mouth and kissing me again. My panties were soaked and a needy throbbing had settled into my core. I rolled my hips over JJ's dick; he leaned his head back and groaned loudly.

"Y/N if you want to stop, tell me now. I won't be able to if we keep this up" JJ murmured against my lips.

"I don't want to stop" I rasp out looking him in the eyes. "I want you to claim me, I want to be yours."

"Fuck" he growled "Wrap your legs around me" he demands.

I do as asked and he stands up with me in his arms. I can feel his ab muscles flexing and his thigh muscles harden, making me swoon a little. He smirks at me as he carries me to the spare, which is basically his room. He lays me on the bed and lays on me with his arms holding him up so he doesn't smash me.

"God I never imagined this would actually happen" he says as gently pushes my hair out of my face. "I have dreamed about it, hell, I've jerked off to your pictures more than I want to admit." He chuckles, his cheeks turning pink. "I never thought you would want me and I didn't want to screw up our friendship"

"It's real J, it's happening"

I reach to kiss him and he meets me, claiming my mouth in toe curling kiss. His hands play with the hem of my shirt and he looks at me for permission.

"Yea" I whisper.

"Arms up baby" he instructs as he tugs my shirt off and throws it behind him.

He kisses along my jawline down my neck. When he gets to a spot on my neck right above my shoulder, pleasure shoots through me and I buck my hips up at him. I feel more than see him smirk and hear a whispered "There you are".

He bites and kisses the spot, leaving his mark, as I feel a fire start in my stomach and I am whining and squirming under him.

"More J" I whine out, "I need more."

He continues his assault down my chest, kissing the areas of my breast he can reach around my bra. I feel his hand slide under me and he unhooks my bra with one flick. I giggle.

"Pretty slick move there"

He grins, "I've might've had some practice" he teases as he rips it of me and it flies through the air. He looks and stares at my breasts for a minute mouth slightly open.

"God your beautiful" he groans as he latches his mouth onto one nipple and his hand kneads and pinches the other one.

I arch my back up to him, moaning from the heat building between my thighs. "J" I whine.

He trails kisses down my stomach to the waistband of my shorts. He looks up at me again, his fingers on the button.

"You still good baby" he asks, his pupils blown.

"Mhmm" I hum out, getting antsy wanting his mouth on me.

JJ unbuttons my shorts and pulls them off. He trails kisses up along my inner thighs until he gets to my soaked panties.

"God your so fucking wet, babygirl. This all for me?" He teasingly asks.

*Mhmm baby, only for you" I rasp out.

JJ kisses my covered cunt before hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties and pulling them off. His hands caress my legs as they move back up to my hips. He leaves kisses along my legs until his mouth is back in front of my soaked pussy. He gently blows on it causing me to buck my hips and gasp.

"JJ" I gasp out, grabbing a fistful of sheets on each side of me. "Please" I beg.

He wraps his arms under and back over my thighs, pulling me closer to him.

"Please what, baby?" JJ coos at me. He is so close to my cunt; I can feel his hot breath against my lower lips. The mixture of his hot breath and the coolness from my wetness, gives me goosebumps and makes me shudder. The nickname causes me to clench around nothing and I hear JJ chuckle. With a feather light touch, he slowly rubs his finger over my lower lips.

"Please J I need you to eat me" I beg, rolling my hips to try get closer to his mouth.

He licks a strip from my hole to my clit and I loudly moan out. He moves my legs over his shoulders as he licks my ever-swelling nub. I realize he is licking two Js, certifiably claiming my pussy. I giggle and feel him smile when he realizes I figured out what he was doing.

His tongue moves down to my hole and I groan as he pushes his tongue in me. I grab his hair pulling it, the heat in my stomach growing with each thrust.

"Look at me baby" JJ commands.

I look down at him, staring into his eyes, almost completely black now. I watch him as he fucks me with his tongue. My core begins to tingle and I feel my orgasm close. I grind in his mouth, searching for my release. He moves back up to my clit, sucking and licking. He gently thrust one finger in me, I throw my head back and let out a breathy cry. He adds another finger, pumping both fingers in and out. I groan out, one hand pulling his hair and the other grabs the headboard.

"J I'm gonna cum* I gasp out breathlessly.

"C'mon baby, cum on my face" JJ moans, "God your so fucking sweet"

He curls his fingers hitting that sweet spot and bites my clit. I cry out as the band snaps in my stomach, causing me to clench around his fingers and juices to flow on to his face. He groans and I can hear him slurping up all my release like he had not drank in days. He rides me through it, finally getting up and laying down on me. His mouth and chin covered in my slick and he is grinning like a Cheshire cat. He snuggles in between my thighs.

"That was so fucking hot" JJ grins as he leans down to kiss me, letting me taste myself in his mouth. The kiss quickly heats up and I can feel how hard he is thru his shorts.

"You have too many clothes on." I pout, tugging his shirt. He reaches behind him grabbing the shirt and pulling over his head. I start unbuttoning his shorts and pushing them down his legs.

"A little eager ain't we princess" he chuckles as he gets up and takes his shorts and boxers off. His rock hard cock slapping his stomach and standing salute.

My eyes go a little wide. JJ wasn't extremely girthy, although it was big, but he was long the end curving slightly. He has the prettiest pink tip that was getting darker by the minute.

"Like what ya see baby?" He smirked.

"Fuck me" I gasped out in a whisper.

"Oh, I plan to princess” JJ smirks as he crawls up the bed. “I plan to fuck you until my name is the only one you scream” he kisses up my leg “until I have ruined you to anyone else” he kisses my clit “until I have kissed every inch of you” he kisses my breast, nibbling the nipple “until I’ve shown you how much I love you” he kisses me passionately, making me moan and thrust my hips up into him, and causing my toes curl. For fucks sakes, this boy knew how to kiss.

“JJ, please” I moan, “I need you inside me.”

“Shit babygirl” JJ groaned, “you can’t say that shit. I will blow my load, and I’m not ready to yet”

While he’s distracted, I flip us over and began kissing down his neck and onto his chest. I continue to leave open mouth kisses down his chest, over his stomach, nibbling along his happy trail.

“Fuck, Y/N/N” JJ moaned, “I thought you wanted me inside you”

“Got distracted” I mumble as I kitten lick the precum off his perfectly pink tip. JJ groans and his hands fly to my head, grabbing my hair. He pulls me up off him and back to his lips by my hair.

“As much as I want to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours,” he rasps against my lips, “the first time I cum with you will be inside you. Now you have a choice, ride me or lay down and spread’em” he growled.

I literally shudder from the amount of juices that gush out of me. He smirks at me, knowing he has me ready to explode, the little shit.

“Ride you,” I whisper as he pulls me up on his lap and I position myself to hover over him. I reach down and hold him, lining him up, I push the tip causing him to hiss. I look straight at him as I push myself down slowly, feeling every inch of his cock stretching me. Both of us are trying not to close our eyes in pleasure, not wanting to miss this moment. Finally, I feel his hairs against my clit, and I close my eyes and dig my nails into his chest. I moan from the feeling of being so full and I hear him groan “fuck baby”. I clench around him, causing him to moan and squeeze my hips. I pull up until just the tip is in me and slam back down, he throws his head back and hisses “fucking hell”. I slowly began to speed up my bouncing, another release quickly building up in my core. Placing my hands on JJ’s chest, I change the angle of my bouncing and feel JJ grab my hips and squeeze.

“Oh fuck, babygirl” he moaned, head thrown back into the pillow. I closed my eyes and felt him kiss my cervix. While I wasn’t looking, he wrapped his arms around my back and flipped us. I let out a yelp of surprise.

“What the hell, J” I fussed looking up at him. He gently slapped my thigh, causing me to clench around him and moan.

“Yea, we’ll explore that later” he smirked, “I wasn’t gonna last there, this pussy feels like heaven.” He breathed against my mouth, as he started to thrust into me. I moaned into his mouth as he claimed my lips, causing a fresh wave of juices to cover him. I wrapped my arms around his back, digging my nails in and, I know, leaving marks. He groaned sliding one hand to my hip and the other to grabbing my hair.

“Fuck Y/N, why didn’t we do this sooner?” JJ rasped out.

“I don’t know” I groaned.

“Har- harder, ple- please, baby” I stuttered out, the pet name making JJ groan. He put both hands behind my thighs and pushed them into my chest. I cried out from the new sensation, JJ slamming into me harder. I could feel the band in my stomach tighten as he thrust harder and deeper. I couldn’t form words, my brain mush, letting little “uh- uhs” every time he hit my G-spot. I scratched hard down JJ’s back, making him hiss, as my walls fluttered around his cock.

“You close babygirl?” he whispered in my ear.

I just nodded, words failing me. He reached around and used his thumb to rub my clit with little circles.

“Let go, mama” JJ moaned.

That was all it took and the band snapped. I cried out, arching my back, as my vision went blurry around the edges and all I saw was white. My legs shook from the intensity and my ears rang, drowning out JJ.

“That’s my good -fuck- girl -oh fuck” I barely heard JJ right before he slammed into me holding it. I could feel hot ropes of cum shoot into me as I heard JJ moan “fuckfuckfuck” in my ear.

JJ slowly began pushing in and out, riding our highs out, whispering in my ear “Fuck, you’re mine, you’re mine, baby” over and over.

“Yes” I gasped over and over until it was no more than a whisper.

JJ stopped and collapsed on me, still inside me, our sweaty, sticky bodies suctioning together. Both of us panting, trying to catch our breath. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead.

“I kinda can’t believe we just did that” I giggle into his hair. He raised his head up, smiling, looking at me.

“Yea, me either. It was pretty amazing” he says leaning in for a kiss.

I smile into the kiss and giggle “Yeah it was.”

We hear the doors of the Twinkie, open and close, and soon hear Kie yelling my name. JJ pulled a blanket over us, but didn’t get off.

“In here” he yells and gives me a shit eating grin. I gave a him a confused look.

Kie walks in and jumps and screams, slamming the door closed. Then opens it again to get a better look, then slams it again.

“REALLY JJ” Kie yells, but you can hear the laughter in her voice. “I heard what Brandon did and was concerned for Y/N, but seems like you cheered her up.”

“Yup got it covered” JJ hollered back.

“By the way, I punched him for you” Kie hollered back. “Thanks” I yelled laughing.

“What the hell is going on?” you hear John B ask, simultaneously hearing Kie “No, don’t open!”

Next thing you see is John B with the door open, you burying your head and groaning into JJ’s chest, Pope behind him, eyes all bugged out. Sarah trying to peek between Kie and John B’s arms.

“Oh, hoh” John B grinned, while Sarah squealed and giggled.

“Guys, can we have a little privacy” JJ smirked looking at you.

“Yup, just glad it all worked out” John B smiles while closing the door.

I looked up at JJ, smiling “Yeah it sure did” as JJ leaned in for a kiss.

Tagging some moots: @haven247 @princessmaybank @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @pankowkisses @pankowperfection @babygorewhore @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @kraekat29 @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @starfxkr

[me-and-your-husband]

i’m starving, darlin’ (let me put my lips to something) || j. miller

summary: you won’t let joel eat. he has something else in mind, modern!au, still takes place in 2023.

warnings: joel fucks the reader with a beer bottle (no, it’s not empty...), dirty talk, kind of exhibitionism?, female reader, reader wears a dress, modern!au, not proofread

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is just me being so fucking feral. y’all saw my “ellie fucks the reader with her pistol”? same idea. don’t think about the logic cause i sure as fuck didn’t. title credit to @tieflingpride . i too am obsessed with hozier’s new song (been a hozier girlie for awhle). let’s not talk about the fact that the song is actually about generations exploiting new generations thru capitalism! only pay attention to the slutty base intro! also the idea that joel can’t cook is kind of from @textsfromeponinet ‘s blurb. i wrote this in like forty minutes.

The hot summer air clung to your skin as you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your chair, pulling your dress down over your thighs. The golden evening sun was peeking out through the trees in Joel’s backyard, coasting over the four of you in a comfortable glow. You sat next to Joel, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as you chatted with Tommy and Maria. Sarah was at a friend’s house, missing out on the barbecue. The only part of cooking Joel could pride himself on was his barbecuing. 

“Not sure how much I trust your cookin’ Joel. Not after the time back home when you lit old Mrs. Garcia’s kitchen on fire,” Tommy said to Joel with a smirk, making both you and Maria look to Joel and laugh. 

Joel grinned. “If I remember right, that fire only started ‘cause I had to pick your ass up from that party and I forgot I had shit cookin’,” he said, tilting his head to the side and tilting his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a swig. 

“He’s better at barbecuing than he is…anything else. I promise,” you said, making Tommy and Maria chuckle. Joel squeezed your thigh. 

“Reminds me. Should go sauce the steak,” Joel drawled, getting up from his place next to you and walking a few feet away towards the sizzling barbecue.

Maria leaned in closer to you, “Please tell me you made those salads I saw in the kitchen earlier.” 

You laughed and assured her that you made them. “There’s caesar salad, pasta salad, potato salad, macaroni salad, you name it. Joel eats like a man starved, so I always make sure we’ll have leftovers for a couple nights. Y’all can take some home if you want,” you offered. 

“We’ll definitely take you up on that. Tommy here takes after his brother.” You and Maria laughed as Tommy rolled his eyes with a smile. 

“I’m pretty sure last time someone let Joel around anything that couldn’t be grilled, everyone went home with food poisoning,” you joked, jolting when you felt hands begin to gently massage your shoulders from behind. 

“That right. Darlin’?” Joel laughed. You smirked at him as he sat down. “Steak’s almost ready. I’d say in five.” He took another swig of his beer. 

“In that case, I should go inside and put the dressing on the salad. Didn’t want it to get soggy or I would’ve done it earlier,” you said as you got up from your chair. 

“Oh, let me help you!” Maria said, standing.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Sit! I’ll be right back.” You opened the back door, shutting it gently behind you. The kitchen windows were open. You could still hear small bits of the conversation going on outside if you listened hard enough.

You began pulling the different bowls of salad out from the fridge and onto the counter. You grabbed the caesar dressing and added it to the salad, mixing it around. You looked over your shoulder when you heard the back door open and shut, still mixing.

“Just grabbin’ another beer, honey,'' Joel said, grabbing you by the hips and moving you gently to the side so that he could get in the fridge adjacent to you. Joel grabbed another bottle before closing the door. Hand still on your hips, he peered over your shoulder at what you were doing. He brought the lid up to his mouth, cracking the lid off with his teeth and throwing it out. He downed about a third of the beer, only stopping when you turned to place the bowl on the kitchen island. However, you ran into his broad chest, his frame stopping you from moving past him. 

“You’re drivin’ me crazy with that little dress you’ve got on, pretty thing,” he groaned. His breath smelled like beer, but you knew he wasn’t drunk. Just tipsy. 

You giggled. “Joel. I’ve gotta finish up. The people want to eat,” you said, trying to move past him.

“Hm, so do I, darlin’,” he said with a smirk, pulling you back into him by the wrist.”

“Joel!” You gasped, smacking him playfully on the bicep. He took another swig of his beer, grabbing the salad bowl with his other hand and throwing it on the counter. “Joel, not now. We can finish this later, I pro-”

He cut you off with his lips on yours, hands cradling your face, the cold surface of his beer bottle pressed up against your cheek. You whimpered into his mouth as he pressed your back into the island.

He broke away. The grin on his lips was almost permanent, an ever-present reminder of his constant desire for his woman. “You won’t let me taste you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take something else for me, honey.”

Your brows furrowed. He lifted you onto the counter and you squealed. “Joel, what if Tommy or Maria come in?” 

He pressed another kiss to your lips. “Shh, baby. Window’s open.”

His rough hands lifted your dress higher and higher until it was bunched around your hips, your dampening panties the only thing shielding you from the air. Noticing the wet spot pooling there, Joel’s thick fingers traced it, fingers ghosting over your pussy, leaving silent kisses there.

“Already this wet for me, huh?” he whispered before taking one last sip of his drink. “You feelin’ brave, sweetheart?”

“Anything for you,” you said, becoming too wet to care or resist. 

He hummed and moved your panties to the side. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

You gasped as you watched him lower his bottle to your core, running the cold tip through your wet folds, making you shudder. “Trust me?”

“Always.”

He smirked. He lined the cold tip of the bottle up with your entrance, pushing in ever so slowly, watching the way it disappeared perfectly inside you. You bit your lip as he worked it deeper. You couldn’t help but moan when it bottomed out inside of you. 

“Gotta keep quiet for me, honey,” he said as he slowly pulled it out and worked it back in. He pulled you so your ass was barely supported by the island, his arm doing most of the work. “Look at you, takin’ my bottle like a slut,” he chuckled. You didn’t care. You let out quiet, breathy moans as he worked it in and out of you.

“Faster, please Joel,” you moaned softly. He obeyed, thrusting it in and out at a faster pace, eyes transfixed on your slick collecting around the neck of the bottle. You could feel the familiar pressure in your core building up. One of your hands found his hair, pulling gently for some reprieve. His other hand moved to circle your clit, hell-bent on seeing your release. 

You bit back your moans as your release crept up on you, Joel trying his hardest to coax it out of you. He thrived off your little moans of his name, begging for your release, knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.

“That’s it, baby. Come on, know you can do it. Cum for me, pretty thing. That’s right.”

The coil finally snapped, Joel clamping a hand over your mouth immediately in an attempt to quell your moans. He worked the bottle in and out of you through your orgasm, your back arching and body writhing up off the counter. 

When you came down, Joel took his hand from your mouth and gently worked the bottle out of you, watching the way your puffy hole clenched around it, then clenching around nothing. As you tried to catch your breath, Joel brought the bottle up to your eyes. You blushed at the sight of your cum running down and inside the bottle, mixing in with the liquid left still inside. 

“Look at that, honey,” he said before bringing it up to his lips, taking a savory sip before kissing you once more. He grinned as he began to make his way outside. 

“Joel?” You called, still wanting more of him. Always more. 

“What? The people need to eat, baby.” He laughed before going back outside. 

A few minutes later, after straightening yourself out, you walked outside with the salads. Your eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards Joel, sprawled out in his chair, still sipping from the bottle.

permanent taglist:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs 

joel taglist: 

@sunxflowerxx @mmeerraa @chrry1ovr @milly-louise @jordie-gvf @themusingkitten @anxiety-made 

[rayslittlekitten]

My First Night

“You Got This” Masterlist

A/N: Okay I've been wanting to write this for a looooong time and i think I finally figured it out. I wanted this to be tender and sweet (maybe a bit idealized as my first time was NOT any of those). I honestly miss these two. "My First Night" by Mya was the song that inspired this (YT link below).

Update: I fucked up. I prematurely posted this and have now updated the fic.

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: ~1,300

Pairing: Teenager!Jax Teller x Teenager F! Reader/OC (Opie's sister)

Plot: You're finally ready to take the next step with Jax and lose your virginity to him.

Contains: underage teenage sex, first time sex, losing virginity, PiV, fluff and tenderness

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jax asks, his eyes locked on yours.

You stare back and nod your head as you let out a shaky breath.

"It's gonna hurt a lot," he warns you.

"I-I'm ready," you reassure him.

Jax leans down to give you a kiss on your forehead before looking down to align himself with you. You wince as he starts pushing in. He pauses when you emit an unpleasant sound and he then sees your face contort.

"We can stop-"

"No, I want to do this," you tell him.

"Okay," he nods.

He continues to gently push in as he watches for your reactions. You try to control your breathing as you feel yourself being stretched out.

"Ow! Ow!" A tear spills from the corner of your eye.

Jax stills his hips again.

"Okay I'm pulling out-"

"No!" you sniffle. "J-just go slowly. How much more is there?"

Jax glances down between the both of you.

"I only got the tip in."

Jax starts placing butterfly kisses on your face, hoping to help soothe the pain.

"I don't wanna hurt you," Jax reminds you.

He thought he got you wet enough, but now he's thinking maybe he should have prepared you more. He got a bit too excited when you told him you were finally ready to lose your virginity to him. The two of you got comfortable enough to do everything up until sex. He would penetrate you only with his fingers and every time, he would make you orgasm, drenching his hand each time. But this time, he may have not given you enough foreplay, rushing it a bit to finally be able to do this with you. He thought the lubricant on the condom would also help. A lot has to do with teenage hormones, but a part of him also wants to do this with you because he wants to, in his own words, make love to you. You thought that was sweet and it made you feel even more special.

"M-maybe if I smoke some weed or have some beer-" you start rattling off ideas, partly to distract yourself from the slight discomfort between your legs.

"No," Jax shakes his head. "I want you to be sober. I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of you. We can try another time-"

"Please, Jackson," you plead. "I want this."

Jax is torn between his raging hormones and his feelings for you. He's even surprised at himself for having so much self-control right now.

"I gotta go all the way in if you want to get past the pain," he says with his brows turned down.

"I can take it," you nod. "Do it."

Jax finally nods and leans in to give you a tender kiss. He watches your reaction again as he pushes in. You wince but don't make a sound. Another tear slips out from your eye and he frowns.

"Keep going," you tell him.

With that, as gently as possible, he slides himself all the way to the brink, making you gasp. He stays still, letting your body get accustomed to the new sensation.

"Fuck, you're so tight."

You start crying, feeling the burn of getting stretched out.

"I know, I know. I’m sorry." He coaches you and guides you through your first time. "It'll feel better. I promise. Just relax."

He wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs and plants a kiss on your forehead. He then starts kissing you again, making out with you for a bit to distract you from the pain, which subsides after a few moments.

"How are you feeling?" he checks up on you.

"It doesn't hurt as much as anymore," you tell him.

"I'm gonna start going in and out, okay?"

You nod and brace yourself. He gives you another comforting kiss before he starts moving. His hips pull back and push in, slowly and gently. You let out a sigh, taking in this new feeling. When he senses your body in a more relaxed state, he picks up the pacing. The old and worn out wooden bed frame creaks as he rocks. The lumpy mattress that’s probably been stained with so many bodily fluids, dips below you. The clubhouse dorm room isn’t where you imagined your first time, but you and Jax had limited options. With the club on a run and Gemma running errands, this was the best time and place, but it doesn’t matter because all that matters is who you’re with.

You were self conscious of being completely naked for the first time in front of Jax, but all those insecurities have gone away. Instead, it is replaced by the feeling of his naked body rubbing against yours. You feel so connected to him in a way you've never expected. His skin is so soft and smooth. The nerves of your skin get more sensitive with each stroke. You want to embrace him with every inch of your body and stay like this forever. You slip your arms behind him, feeling his bare back under your palms as his muscles flex. The burn between your legs has transformed into a more pleasurable feeling and you can feel yourself getting more aroused. Suddenly, Jax pauses, remaining still while inside of you.

"W-what happened?" you ask, wondering if you may have done something wrong.

"I'm just... pacing myself," he replies. "If I keep going, I'm going to bust in like two pumps."

"I-is that normal?"

"For guys my age? Yeah. But I'm also just over excited. I rubbed one out before I came to see you, but obviously, that didn't help."

You catch him studying your face. There's a smile that reaches his twinkling eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jax shakes his head. He opens his mouth again, but he stops himself.

"What is it?" you press.

He simply slots his mouth over yours before moving his hips again. This time, his pacing is a bit quicker and more forceful. You moan into his mouth feeling a warmth forming below your belly. You instinctively wrap your legs around his lower waist and hook your ankles together. His kisses turn feverish as his thrusts pick up. Your fingernails dig into his back.

"Jackson..." you pant. "It feels so good."

Jax groans as he tries to hold back, delaying his release for you. He shifts his hips, changing up the position a little and you moan when he hits a new spot. A somewhat familiar yet new sensation rapidly multiples.

"Oh god," you yelp. Your body tenses and the tightening in your gut spreads.

"Let it go, darlin'," Jax grunts, resting his forehead against yours. "Let it all go."

He punches up against you as he quickly starts spiraling. You moan and cry out when something inside you snaps and the warmth floods your entire body. Jax lets out a growl and lets himself go as soon as he feels your wall contracting, no longer able to wait. You arch up and look up at him, your face contorting as your orgasm takes over you. You gasp when you feel him pulsating inside you.

"Fuck!" Jax growls.

He continues to pump inside of you until all of his seed spills out and collapses on top of you. His face is buried in your neck as you both catch your breaths. Your heart is pounding hard against your chest and you wonder if Jax can feel it as well.He finally pulls back and looks at you again with that same look he did earlier..

"I love you."

Your heart is so full right now, you can cry.

"I love you, too, Jackson."

In this moment, you are so happy, you are certain there is absolutely nothing that can take it away. Jax nudges his nose against yours and your hands cup his face before your lips meet again.