#like i do not give a fuck i gave you a week to figure out an approximate time slot.. i know it might be surprising but i am also a grown up

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[simpee9000]

You Were A Dream ~ 2 ~ T. Amajiki

Blurb Idea : Part One (this is the last part btw) Description : Tamaki was always shy, but with you? He was doing everything he never expected. All with his best friend's sister. it felt like the words cruel joke on him. Yet for you, it was all like a dream. Word Count : 5.7k Warnings : Angst, Hints to Smut but none fr

---

"Are you okay?" your brother asked when he opened the door to your apartment. The first question he's asked since.

And you ignored it.

Going straight to your room and slamming the door.

Falling face-first into your pillow so you could cry.

The realization of the gap between you and Tamaki was painful. The fact that you were so mentally in the relationship while he was still unsure? That was unthinkable.

A sinking feeling was being pressed into your chest, hurting your lungs as you took rapid breaths in, trying to stop crying.

The sinking feeling that Tamaki might not be the one at all. That this past year might of been a waste of hopes and false dreams.

It put a damper on everything.

Moping slightly around the workplace, shining a smile when needed just like your brother would. Just to drop the act at home. Dragging your feet and keeping your head hung low.

It felt pitiful. But you put your all into this relationship. You thought through everything with him, you told him everything.

Mirio started questioning you after a week.

"I didn't think Tamaki would affect you this bad," he was crossing his arms, a concerned look on his face as he left half his thoughts unspoken.

You gave him a dead stare, turning back to your phone and once again ignoring any conversation about this.

If Tamaki didn't want to talk to you about it, you didn't want to talk about it.

And while you were upset. You weren't going to throw him under the bus just to rant. His feelings were realistic, just entirely different than yours.

So you've been reevaluating everything.

This relationship might not work, and maybe you were stupid for thinking it would.

''Hi, beautiful."

You turned your head away from the printer, giving him a soft smile, "Hey Kaminari."

"Why so glum?" he walked next to you, leaning onto the side of the printer, eyeing the stack of work reports you were printing out.

You sighed, "Lots of stuff."

"Boyfriend?"

"Something like that," you shrugged, mindlessly watching the papers slide out of the machine.

"I'm all ears," his cheerful smile made you consider it.

"I just-" your eyes caught onto Tamaki's white hero hoodie, one he was holding down with his hands and turning away from you.

Kaminari glanced where you did, "Is he avoiding you or something?"

"Kind of? I don't know," you shook your head, taking your eyes of his figure and back to the papers.

"What happened?"

"We're just at different points in our relationship," you spoke softly, trying to keep your voice indifferent as you picked up your finished papers, "Might not be much of a relationship anymore."

"Oh, fuck- I'm sorry," Kaminari took the joy from his face as he gave you an apologetic look.

"It's fine," you walked to your office, having his steps behind, "It's my fault really, I got ahead of myself."

"Look," Kaminari stopped you just before your door, "Don't blame yourself for your feelings and don't apologize for them. It doesn't fix anything. You are allowed to feel stuff."

His unusual pep talk made you smile, "Thank you, I needed to hear that," you laughed lightly at how Kirishima has influenced the boy, "I've been telling myself I was overthinking."

"Nah, it's all normal," he smiled brightly at you, patting your shoulder before seeing himself off.

You watched after his figure, thinking over how to go about everything while respecting how you felt and how Tamaki did.

"What was that about?"

"Holy fuck!" You jumped at the voice behind you, "Die. Literally die, Mirio."

"What has you smiling? Boyfriend?"

You glared at him, giving him a disgusted look, "No, get out of my business."

"That look says you and your boyfriend aren't on good terms," Mirio hummed as if he cracked a code.

"No, that look means to fuck off," you walked into your office, shutting your door in his face.

He phased through anyway, "Come on, just tell me what happened, it's been two weeks."

You looked at the calendar on your computer, your anniversary is today.

"What just happened?" Mirio spoke more calmly, "You went from annoyed to just sad."

"Can you please go?" you set your papers down and slouched in your office chair. Rubbing at your eyes to push back the emotions.

"Sis-"

"Please?"

Mirio frowned, stepping out of the office and giving you as sad smile.

All you could do was stare at your computer. The date is brightly marked in your brain and on the screen.

Just for your phone to be void of anything.

For good measure, you opened your phone again, checking your messages.

The last ones just being saddening.

"Can't wait to see your costume!" "I look stupid" "Maybe you'll let me take it off you then?" "oh"

After that there was nothing. No calls, no texts, no stupid Instagram reels. Nothing.

You turned off your phone, tossing it screen down on the desk with a sigh.

The urge to cry was strong, but when you held your head in your hands and looked down, you reminded yourself of all the work you had.

You'd cry when you got home.

Barely getting into your apartment before tears started falling.

You along with them. Shutting the door behind you and slumping against it.

A year wasted felt horrible. You wanted this to work so bad. But if he couldn't talk or come to you after clearly hurting you, then it wasn't worth it.

Sure, you could text him. But the communication on your side was fine, yet he never discussed his. You felt blindsided somewhat.

You deserved more from that.

So you took a deep breath and forced yourself to stand.

This was your anniversary after all, and maybe you wanted that box of brownies buried in your cabinet all for yourself.

Uncovering it and starting to mix it all together, ignoring how you were supposed to make these with Tamaki.

"Hey," Mirio dragged out the word when he opened the door.

"Not sharing," you continued to mix the brownies.

"I brought you someone."

"I don't really wanna hang out with your girlfriend," you tried to decline nicely.

"You sure?"

"Mirio-" you turned around and saw Tamaki messing with his fingers.

"I'll leave you to it," Mirio chirped, "Don't know what happened but I want it resolved."

You slumped further, "Don't bother Mirio, it's fine."

"Huh?" he stopped his steps out.

"He's all yours," you shrugged.

"You don't wanna fix this?" Tamaki spoke softly.

"What is there to fix?" you looked at him plainly, trying to mask the fact you cried over him an hour ago, a day ago, and a week ago.

Tamaki looked between you and Mirio.

You took a deep breath in, ready to let go of the past year.

"Our relationship? Do you just want to break up?" Tamaki asked, voice wobbly.

"Huh?"

You blinked at him, ignoring Mirio's confusion. "I don't want to break up, I thought you wanted to?"

"No, I just-" he looked at Mirio again, "Can we talk about this? Like- somewhere else?"

"Why?"

He nodded his head towards Mirio.

"Do you not want him to know about our relationship? Because you just announced it," you crossed your arms. It seemed like he was okay with dating you, just didn't want Mirio to know any details.

"That's not-" he shook his head, shutting his mouth and looking at Mirio, "We've been dating for a year. I'm- I'm so sorry for not telling you."

"Oh," Mirio shifted how he was standing, "We can talk about that later. Sort out whatever happened, Imma go see Hado." Giving you his signature look of 'call me if you need me'.

Tamaki watched him leave in silence.

"He's going to hate me," he mumbled.

You shrugged, "I doubt it."

Silence rang throughout the room, leaving you to set your brownies into the oven.

"I'm sorry I never talked to you," Tamaki spoke softly, ashamed. You went to turn around before his voice stopped you, "Please- don't look at me. I won't be able to say what I need to."

"I can't be with someone who can't look at me," you sighed, "and don't be someone you're not for me."

"I want to though, I want to better myself for you."

You turned to face him, "Then I need you telling me to my face."

He frowned, lips wobbling as he looked at you.

Deciding not to let the conversation start off so bitter, and completely in his hands, you took a deep breath, "It's our anniversary."

"I- I know," Tamaki tightened his hold on his hand, "I wanted to see you sooner."

"Why didn't you?" You crossed your arms, leaning to rest on the counter behind you, "You could of texted, or called."

Tamaki looked down, ashamed, "I thought you'd ignore it."

"So you didn't even bother trying?"

"I felt like you deserved more, wanted more- So I waited until I could come over without Mirio being suspicious," Tamaki rambled slightly, "Then I realized that was stupid- so I just asked to talk to you through him."

You hummed in agreement, looking at the brownies cooking in the oven rather than him.

"I don't care if he knows, not anymore-"

"Tamaki," you sighed, "That's hardly the thing I'm upset about."

"It's not?" he asked quietly.

"No, I understand you not wanting to tell him- Hell, I hardly wanted to because of how he acts- but the way you went about it? The afterward?" you turned to look at him now, trying to stress your point, "I can dismiss how you said you'd never wanted me to meet your girlfriend. It was a panicked response, hurtful but I can understand your side."

"I truly didn't mean for it to come out that way- I just didn't want Mirio to think I'd choose someone else-"

"That's the issue," you cut him off, wanting to get to the point, "You should choose someone else sometimes- and the way you view our relationship as new? We have entirely different viewpoints and priorities. I can't understand how you told me I'm new- I just- do you know how unvalued that made me feel?" you let your arms fall to your sides, defeated.

Tamaki just blinked at you for a moment, soaking in each word you just said. Watching how your shoulders slump and the way you curl in on yourself. "I didn't mean to- I was just trying to make you see my point."

"By hurting my feelings? I get you were stressed but you completely disregarded me, and our relationship. When I pointed out it'd be a year in two weeks- you just shrugged it off," you huffed, feeling the tears weld behind your eyes once again. He was just proving your thoughts correct. "You didn't even try to call me."

"You didn't text me so I thought-"

"Stop thinking so negatively of me. If you think I'd act in an intentionally hurtful way then why be with me? It's just sad to hear what you think of me. I didn't think for a second you were intentionally trying to hurt me, I just thought you were stressed," you shrugged aggressively, hands thrown into the air "Maybe that's me being naive, I don't know. But you should have reached out, you were the one who hurt me and I made that clear."

He just stared at the floor. Body frozen. So you did the same, unable to look at him as you tried to steady your voice.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, "Maybe we just aren't right for each other. I need someone who matches my priorities and can communicate with me fully- or at least attempt to. I don't think that's too much to ask. It'd make your friendship less awkward too."

"That's not-" Tamaki spoke out panicked, stepping closer to you as you looked up, "I don't want that- at all. I need to work on that, a hundred percent- I'll start right now. You are my top priority, I just completely panicked. I don't care if Mirio knows or if he's mad- well I do in case we get married- I wouldn't want your brother to hate me. But- you mean the most to me. I should have reached out but I got too stuck in my head over how you'd react. It wasn't fair."

His eyes were flickering across your face, trying to catch a glimpse of the slightest change.

"I should have thought more- should have told you more about what I thought," Tamaki lifted his hands briefly- pausing in an attempt to grab your hands before dropping them back to his sides. "I'll do better- I'll prove that my priorities match yours. I just needed to get over telling Mirio- and I did-"

"What happens the next time there's a bump in the road? Will you shut down again and assume the worst? Will you run away from me after being hurtful?" you were closing yourself off, crossing your arms. You didn't even know how to think.

If this were your friend, you'd tell her she is dumb if she believes he's going to change. But you wanted to believe it too. Maybe Tamaki was different, he has always been someone who adapts to things overtime. Maybe you were just dumb.

"I don't know for sure what will happen then, but I know I will try to be better. I want you to be there for me and I want to be there for you- I just don't know how and I should have asked. I'll work on it all- I should have done it sooner," he spoke quickly, slowly getting closer to your space.

You looked away, overwhelmed with his presence, "I don't think I can get over how you dismissed our relationship and our anniversary."

"I just panicked, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'd do if you told me the same. I um- I got you a gift for it- but I don't think now's the time-" he shuffled awkwardly, grabbing something in his pocket briefly before dropping his hand. "I can't explain how sorry I am."

You took a deep breath, he sounded genuine but you were still hurt, "Can I have some time to think about it? I want to believe you- I just don't know how a relationship would work if you didn't communicate to me more."

He stepped away from you, hurt, "Yeah- we can do that- Um- I'll give you your space."

"I don't want space, I just want to think on it," you clarified, hoping he'd get what you meant.

"I'll let you do that then," he shuffled back awkwardly, making his way to the door, "I'll- I'll just leave this here." He took a box out of his pocket and placed it on the counter, awkwardly patting it before speaking, "It's an anniversary gift- don't feel like I'm trying to change your mind- I'm just going to leave you." He blabbed as he fumbled with the door to get it opened.

"It's fine, get home safe," you watched him leave.

He peeked his head back into the room, "I love you- don't feel the need to say it ba-"

"I love you too, get home in one piece," you held back a giggle at his anxiousness and the way his face brightened at your words, ears turning red as he held his head down and walked out of your apartment.

The beeping of the oven caught your attention just as the door closed behind him.

Leaving you to eat the brownies while they were still burning hot.

You're glad he came to you- even though it took two weeks. He still came to you. He said he'd changed, so all you could do was wait and see.

"Home, I hope the brownies you made hit the craving you talked about"

He texted you, so that was a start.

When Mirio came home you were curious about his response to everything.

So seeing him come home with his brows furrowed and his mouth in a frown alarmed you.

"You good?" you asked, half chewing the brownie you cut out.

"Tamaki's the guy you've been seeing? The dude you've been upset over?" He crossed his arms in front of you, standing across the counter from where you sat at the island.

"Yeah," you shrugged, you didn't want a lecture.

"How come you guys never told me?"

You gave him a pointed look, "Really? You got weird when me and him were in the same room."

"Because I knew he liked you and I didn't want him to make you uncomfortable," he huffed, "I'm fine with you guys dating- I just wish I was told. I had a feeling anyways."

"Sure," you rolled your eyes.

"I did! He looked at you odd," he pouted, before taking on another serious face, "Did you guys resolve the issue?"

You shrugged again, "I don't know, It's a mess right now."

"What even happened?" he asked as he slumped into the couch you were sitting next to.

You slumped further into your seat, "The thing he said at the party started an argument is all."

"He was telling me he wasn't talking with you, like communicating well," Mirio added, trying to show he knew some details.

"Yeah," you shrugged, "I don't really wanna talk about it all."

"Okay," he drummed his fingers on the couch, "That movie you talked about is on streaming, wanna watch it?"

Since then, Tamaki has been trying every day. He was also trying to let you think for yourself so that led to awkward moments. He'd ask you to come over then fumble for an excuse to cancel. He was proving he'd try, and that's all you wanted.

He also started to bring you a coffee in the morning before scattering off to his own work.

"Denki, that's single-handedly the dumbest thing you've ever said," you laughed, he just said he didn't understand what you were talking about when you mentioned an article over 'human connection' and asked what that even meant.

"I'm just confused," he threw his hands up, "What's human connection?"

"Socializing," you explained, "Like, humans interacting and making a connection, stupid."

"Oh," he blinked at you.

You rolled your eyes and caught Tamaki's eye across the room, looking at you with a frown. Not really at you either, mainly at Denki.

Denki noticed your far off look, looking over his shoulder to see what you were. "Should I go?" he laughed awkwardly.

You shrugged, "If he has an issue with it, he can tell me." You looked back at Denki.

"Okay, I guess," he dragged out, shuffling on his feet, "I took your advice."

"Hm?"

"With Jirou, I asked her out finally," he spoke as if a weight on his shoulders disappeared. He's been talking to you about her for the past few weeks, wanting to be a cheesy couple during the holidays.

"Really?" you jumped up, "What happened?"

He sighed, "She's um, she's dating Momo, Creati if you didn't know."

"Oh, Denki that sucks, but at least you know," you frowned at him, "Did it affect how she treats you, or anything?"

"No, she's not the type to do that, she kinda just brushed it off and told me she had a girlfriend," he shrugged, looking around the office rather than you, "It sucks though, I've had a thing for her since first year."

She seemed to go about it in a nice way, he just seemed disappointed. "Didn't you say Kirishima's new assistant caught your eye?"

"I don't even know her, with Jirou I actually saw a personality behind the looks."

"That just means you need to do that again, you'll get that interest again, just gotta look for it," you shrugged, looking at the time on the clock and grabbing at your papers, you had a meeting in five minutes.

"Says the one that's with her childhood crush," he huffed, "I wish I had that spark."

"It's not all that it's cut out to be, but I see what you mean, I thought the same thing until it happened to me," you tried to reassure, giving him a pointed look, "You'll find someone, just gotta actually look for them not just their looks."

Denki scoffed, "You sound like Kacchan, hopeless romantic bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," you laughed, "I'll help set you up with a friend if you want? Text me if you do, meeting time."

"I think about it," he hummed, "Good luck with your meeting."

You padded towards the meeting doors, opening them to make a beeline towards your assigned seat with all the papers you had over your assignments this month. Smiling at the coffee cup sat next to your nametag with a little T written on it.

Though he gave you a smile during the meeting, you only got to talk afterward.

"Why'd Chargebolt look so upset?" Tamaki asked first thing. You were still collecting your papers into a pile when you asked so you looked at him confused. "Earlier, when the two of you were talking, he- this isn't a jealous thing- I'm just confused- Isn't he the I don't know, happy one?"

Happy with the confirmation of why he was asking, you answered, "He asked someone out and it didn't go to well, he's liked them since forever too."

"Oh," he hummed, "Sorry, I just noticed the way your face dropped with his- I thought maybe something bad happened and that you wouldn't- never mind."

You raised your brow at his rambling and the cut-off, tucking the papers neatly into your arm before looking at him with your full attention.

He let out a sigh, "I was worried something happened, and that you wouldn't tell me. I'm kind of- insecure I guess, lately, since I don't know what we are and how we stand on that stuff."

"Fair, I don't know where we stand either, I still need to think it over. I can see that you're trying though, I appreciate it," you smiled, "But just know that you're probably the first I'd go to still," you added, feeling somewhat guiltily that you had his strung along.

"Okay," he smiled back, "I'd go to you first too."

You continued on with your day separately afterward.

Falling asleep and waking up to the same dream since you've told him to wait.

The dream of how you guys used to be, it was cute, it also made you yearn for it. The dream went over the before, then to the fight, then ended with you going to his apartment and confessing your love and want for him.

You've been sitting with it for a while, he's shown change but you wanted to know fully. The decision was made but you still wanted to be confirmed you wouldn't regret it.

The light in your room was dim, but the light through the window casted a prefect sliver of light on the jewelry box that Tamaki left with you after the fight.

You still haven't opened it.

Not wanting it to be attached to a negative memory of him, you left it to the side. Knowing that if you opened it then, you'd only think of the fight when he gave it. So you waited till your mind was made up.

Which it was, and since you couldn't act like how you did in your dream and run to his apartment in the middle of the night, it felt fair to open it now.

So you rolled yourself out of bed and turned on your desk lamp, lighting up the box perfectly. It was a deep navy velvet, the coating all fancy ring boxes have. Clicking open easily to shine your favorite tone of jewelry shimmering with a very pale blue butterfly being held as a pendant. Something he mentioned was his favorite, something he said he gave to those he loved most.

Something Mirio was never gifted.

His mom had a bracelet with small gold butterflies making the chain, he got it for her after his first paycheck. She was the only one he had given one to, until now.

You shouldn't have immediately compared yourself with your brother, but you couldn't help it. You fully had something he didn't.

Now you really wanted to act on your dream and run to him. Already throwing on a hoodie and pants, and shoving your foot into a slip-on shoe before you could think. Grabbing your keys off your desk before running out the door.

Ignoring the sirens going off faintly in the distance, another hero could deal with it, and running towards his apartment in the snow.

Ever the romantic, you were, you were inwardly laughing to yourself at the cheesy romance. Feeling giddy as you pressed his floor number in the elevator. This was just like every rom-com ever. The love interest running through bad weather to reunite. It was like everything you dreamed of.

Pounding at his door as you bit your cheek, nerves running through you at the fact you were getting your relationship back.

After a few knocks, you went to check your phone for the time, noticing the lack of weight in your pocket and the fact you didn't know your phone.

You knocked louder, disappointment settling in.

You heard a door click open behind you, and a groggy mumble of your name as well.

"Denki?" you turned towards Kirishima's door, "What are you doing here?"

"Kiri asked me to dog sit," he looked at you weirdly, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting back with Tamaki- speaking of which- do you know where he is? I don't have my phone," you rocked on the heels of your feet, the nerves of talking about it all, getting to you.

Denki's face dropped, "You don't have your phone? Did you walk here?"

"Yeah- why do you look so freaked out?"

"The fucking news- I thought you would have seen it- fuck- hold on," he walked back inside.

You stepped near the door, confused, "What news? You're freaking me out."

He grabbed his keys and shoved his feet in crocs before motioning you to walk with him, "I don't- Amajiki is in the hospital- it just fucking happened- I'm surprised you didn't hear it on the way here."

Your feet stuttered as you walked, tripping you to run into him, "The fuck?"

Denki picked up your hand and pulled you into the elevator, "The building clasped on him while he was helping people evacuate from a fire. The news stopped broadcasting it afterwards."

Everything that was running in your body stopped, you felt nothing.

"I tried calling you- I'm sorry- fuck I'm so sorry."

You didn't even register anything until Mirio was wrapping you into a tight hug at the hospital. Mumbling frantic 'I'm sorry' and 'I tried to save him's.

Soaking in the look of the hospital. Nurses and doctors running around to each hero on the floor. Some from the same incident as Tamaki and some from another horrific event.

Being a hero, and friends with heroes, meant a secure fact of never being safe and never a promised day. You weren't living some type of fairytale dream, no matter how much you believed that. You just never imagine how it'd feel to look at your loved one while they were being stabilized with fluids and oxygen.

It felt like there was cotton shoved in your ears. A weight in your chest and something stuck in your throat. Nothing of you would function as you stood at the end of his bed. Listening to the nurse discuss his state and not being able to ask anything further. Just feeling lost.

A lot of smoke was in his lungs, it was the main reason he was in the hospital. He was on oxygen because of that. Then he was on fluids because of how his quirk worked, it depleted him of what he needed as he used it before he passed out from all the smoke. He also broke his arm, shattered from the ceiling caving in on him.

All you could think was that you were glad he wasn't dead.

It only took him a couple of hours to wake up, luckily. With how guilty your brother acted and how sorry Denki looked, you felt like he was dead. Yet you still felt nauseous when you heard him speak.

"Could I get some water?" he croaked. You jumped from your seat, not expecting his voice as you zoned out on his broken arm.

His voice was absolutely shattered, and he chugged the water the second you handed it to him. Listening to you tell him everything the doctors told you and calling the doctors in to talk with him about staying until the afternoon for his vitals to stabilize fully.

"Sorry I scared you," he mumbled quietly after the door clicked shut, his thumb tracing over your knuckles, you held his hands when the doctors came in.

"You were saving people, it's your job," you spoke for him but also yourself, you wanted to be mad that he could have died before you got to confess everything, but you couldn't be. You were the one who waited after all.

He just stayed silently for a moment, "Is that the necklace?"

You reached your free hand to touch it, "Yeah."

"Why now?"

"I um, I put it on before I knew anything happened. I was coming over to your apartment to talk about everything- and then Denki told me what happened," you squeezed his hand tighter.

"You were going to talk to me? What about?" his voice was still shot but he sounded more nervous, his heart rate shower higher on the monitor.

"It's not something we should talk about in a hospital room" you laughed softly, "It can wait."

"I wanna talk about it now, I don't care," his voice was somewhat firm but was also pleading. It made you look at him more, his hair was a mess, hardly in the shape he tried to keep it in. He had smudges of ash on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. Skin paler than normal. To word it simply, he looked horrible. The last thing you wanted to do was make him anxious.

"I've decided," you turned to sit next to him, moving to have his hand in your lap as you looked at him, "I definitely want to be with you, though our problems definitely still need to be communicated more, we should do that together."

"You're not saying this out of guilt right?" he mumbled, a frown and worried eyes showing his worry.

"No, I was already at your apartment before I knew, I made up my mind a couple of days ago."

"Thank fuck." You laughed at his uncommon swear. "I'll do everything I can to keep you happy," he squeezed your hand this time, and when you hummed in reply, he moved past it, "Do you like the necklace?"

"I love it," you smiled, "it's perfect."

He blushed, "I was worried you'd hate it, I had to keep checking your jewelry to know which you liked more, gold or silver."

"Well you were right, I'm never taking this off- by the way," you laughed softly, wanting to go in for a hug but noticing him flinch his broken arm away. "-Shit- sorry."

"We- can- if you want-" he coughed out of awkwardness, not smoke, before he mumbled, "kiss."

You took his offer instantly, connecting your lips gently for the first time in almost a month. Feeling the spark from before and tasting the smoke he inhaled. Pulling away with a laugh when his heart rate monitor started blaring at how fast it was beating. 

After he was cleared from the hospital, you stayed with him. Having Hado bring you a bag of clothes so you wouldn't have to leave him alone and after a long joking, but not joking, sex talk with Mirio, you were left alone with him.

You were babying him, you'll admit it. But you felt bad, you basically left him and while on the way to get him back you ignored him almost dying. You didn't know, but you should have.

Dishing up the ordering of his favorite food while he watched his favorite show on the couch.

"You don't have to do all this, you know," he mumbled when you handed him the dish.

"Let me have this," you sighed out, "I should have told you I wanted to continue our relationship but I made you wait- then it led me to-"

"It's not your fault," he cut you off, leaving you to huff and sit next to him.

Not knowing what else to say, that he wouldn't object, you settled on the truth, "I love you."

As always, he flushed red and choked on his ramen. Only mumbled a quiet 'I love you too' after he got his food down correctly.

You let him enjoy his food before saying anything else, letting him place the empty bowl on the table with another 'thank you' before you start talking about it again. "I had a dream before all that happened too," you looked down at your hands, "It was super cheesy- I did basically what I ended up doing before I found out what happened. I rushed out of my house in the middle of the night, running through the snow to get to you."

He let you think over your words, noticing you were just trying to explain how you felt.

"I just rushed out without a thought to grab my phone- it was dumb of me."

"You could never have known," Tamaki placed his hand on your knee to drag your attention to him, "It's not like your dream could have predicted that- life isn't like dreams."

"It is with you," you whispered when you looked up.

"Cheesy," he cringed, voice still soft with a smile regardless, his nose wrinkling, "You were a dream too."

He leaned in for a kiss, laughing along with you at how corny everything felt. It was everything your younger felt hoped for with just a bit more realism, it was beautiful.

You deepened the kiss once the laughter faded, going to grab his shoulder before he jerked away in pain. "Shit- sorry," you mumbled, pulling back to look at his arm.

"It's fine," he pulled you into him again with his good arm, dragging you partly in his lap, as much as he could, before he settled his hand on your hip.

"Really?" you pulled back and gave him a look, your hips were perfectly over his.

He blushed, "It's been a while since we kissed," he said in explanation.

"If only you weren't broken," you laughed, giving him a peck on the lips before moving to get off his lap.

"Hey," he held you to his lap with his hand, face still shy, "Not all of me is broken."

"Tamaki, we are not having sex for the first time with you injured," you laughed at how out of character he was being, "What happened to you being shy?"

"You told me to communicate," he frowned, "We can still kiss then? I just- I wanna be close to you. I missed you.."

"I didn't expect you to communicate sex stuff," you laughed at how he was truly going above and beyond what you asked.

He rolled his eyes, "Can we?"

"Of course," you smiled before leaning back in to kiss him.

Younger you would faint at the position he had you in once his arm was healed a week after from healing quirks.

Dreaming that he'd be so soft and loving- and while he was- he was also lost. The second he slipped his dick into you after all the foreplay, he moaned so loud. He let go of any shyness he had and started whimpering in your neck.

And that's just to put it nicely.

---

~ Part one ~ My Full Master List ~

I'll probably make a few blurbs about this if people want but I could not for the life of me write a full smut scene.

Happy Holidays!

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there. 

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi. 

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account. 

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated. 

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

 “I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening. 

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this. 

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you. 

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely. 

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay.  You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you’re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window. 

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,” 

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind. 

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

 “How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

 “Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this? 

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,” 

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket. 

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts. 

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business. 

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you. 

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it! 

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god… 

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible,  your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

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a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[unholyeverything]

I just realised tomorrow marks the 7ths week of me being sick and feeling like garbage lol It's some ups and downs but generally it's been a while since I've been healthy and none knows whats up which is nice.

[no-144444]

quick tweet, big problem- o.piastri

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summary: you and oscar are together, but the world doesn't need to know you're engaged. lando decides they do.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! kravitz! reader

(context in case you don't know him: ted kravitz is a skyf1 presenter)

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“Red flag, red flag, come in,” Tom said.

Annoyance surged through him. This race was not going his way at all. He started slowing down, following closely behind Lawson. “Who’s off?”

“Colapinto,” he explained. “It’s a big one, probably a 20 to 30 minute red flag.”

For fucks sake. Oscar had told them it was too dangerous. They didn’t listen. He paid the price. Now Max was up into p2, and Lando was stuck in p5. Oscar couldn’t even do anything to help. He grunted, getting out of the car and following Tom back to the garage. 

He was ushered over to his engineers, but honestly all he wanted was to see you. Being Lando’s race engineer, Oscar had seen you around the paddock in some of his first weeks and befriended you, on top of that, he’d fallen madly in love with you and asked you out 11 months ago. You two had been going out for 11 months now, and, while he could see you between the screens as his engineers and Andrea gave him advice about the race, he kind of tuned them out, too busy staring at you.

“Jesus, loverboy, just go say hi and come back, alright? We need you thinking with your head, not your dick,” Zak scoffed, finally allowing him to see you. 

Quickly, Oscar rounded the corner of the desk and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on the top of yours. You didn’t stop talking to Lando, explaining the plan for the rest of the race. 

“But I fucking said to stay out,” Lando whined. 

“No, you told us to box you. We told you to stay out,” you explained, your voice calm. 

Lando just scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” then walked off to go brood somewhere else. 

“Shitty weather, eh?” you mused.

“Awful,” he nodded. 

“Is that sweat or rain?” you asked, feeling how wet he truly was. 

“Both,” he sighed. He knew there were about forty cameras on the two of you. Moments between you two that the public saw were few and far between. You liked it that way. He liked it that way. Privacy was something he essentially gave up when he became a public figure, but that didn’t mean you had to. “How’s Lando doing?”

“He’s just pissed away his chance at World Champion,” you took a deep breath, leaning into him. “And I’ll be the one he screams at during the end of the race. I’ll be the one having to explain it to Zak, and I won’t get home until probably tomorrow. And my dad is staring at us.”

Oscar groaned. “Fucking hate dealing with this shit.” 

You nodded. “Me too. But at least there’s no race for two weeks.” 

“We’re off to Melbourne,” he reminded you. “Have to do the family rounds, since we’re engaged,” he beamed. Over the last break, Oscar had proposed. It was the happiest moment of your lives (closely followed by Oscar’s win in Baku), and now you were on your way to visit his extended family for the first time. Since he’d met most of your family (especially considering Ted Kravitz was your father and Oscar met him before he met you), it was only fair that you make the trip and meet his.

Before that though, you had to get through today. 

“You’d better go chat with your engineers,” you took your hands off his. “Zak is giving me dirty looks.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to.” 

You chuckled. “Go,” you urged him. “If you get higher than p9 I’ll give you a kiss at the end of the race.”

“Good deal,” he pondered. “Or I could just kiss you now,” and with that, he pressed his lips to yours quickly, before running off to his side of the garage. 

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Lando was an idiot, but he was Oscar's idiot, so you didn't kill him. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone slipped up, whether it be your dad, you, or Oscar. You didn't suspect it would be Lando, though. You did enjoy watching Oscar shout at him though. That was pretty funny.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[slytherinshua]

BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK

genre. vampire au/bthb au. established relationship. warnings. sunghoon is very jealous. profanity. kissing. slightly suggestive maybe. reader wears a dress. pairing. vampire!sunghoon x fem!witch!reader. wc. 1k. request. no. a/n. bthb is probably one of their best mvs ever it was so well made like omg?? giving tim burton film vibes esp at the end and every scene was just so stunning, obv it gave me fic ideas ksdjks. written esp for @blue-jisungs @hursheys and @loserlvrss

“Jesus, fuck, Sunghoon—” You shrieked when you entered your apartment, not expecting your boyfriend to be hanging from the ceiling, eyes staring at the door. He floated down to the floor, not moving a muscle. You were used to his… supernatural way of moving around by now, but you hadn’t expected him to jumpscare you like that.

“What did I say about hanging from the ceiling?” You muttered, brushing your coat off. Sunghoon slid over to you, hovering over your shoulder, eyes piercing your cheek. You figured something must be up. He didn’t act so vampirish unless he was pissed, reverting back to his old habits of hundreds of years.

“What did I say about going out without telling me?” He grunted in response, a very evident scowl etched on his face.

Ah, that’s why he was pissed.

“I did tell you, dumbass.” You slid your heels off next, padding your bare feet over to your shared bedroom. Sunghoon followed you, still too lazy to use his legs. 

“You didn’t say you’d be going in that outfit.” He countered, scarlet eyes shining brighter with his annoyance. 

“Seriously? I thought I looked pretty.” You huffed, grabbing one of his hoodies draped over a chair and glancing at the full-length mirror. You quite liked the dress you had picked out. Sure, it was a little revealing for your taste, but you wanted to try something different. All your friends were going to be dressing up nice. The dresses in your wardrobe were all gloomy colours and long-sleeves; very witchy thanks to your profession. 

The dark vermillion stained dress was sleeveless, adorned with jewels and a slit on the leg. You had bought it the week previously with your friend after trying it on and falling in love with how it looked. The colour reminded you of Sunghoon’s eyes. 

“You do look pretty. That’s the problem.” He muttered, biting his lip with his fang.

“There’s no need to be jealous, babe. I wasn’t looking at anyone else.” You assured him, pulling his black hoodie over your head. 

“People were looking at you, though. And for the record, I’m not jealous.” He frowned, his eyebrows furrowed as he too looked at the mirror, seeing the obvious absence of his reflection next to you. He hated that. Why did he always feel invisible?   

“Whatever you say.” A hint of a smile played on your lips. No matter how annoyed and angry Sunghoon got, you were never intimidated by him. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was secretly a softie. You pulled on his arm, and as he held no resistance, his body fell perfectly into your arms. 

“Geez, you’re burning up. Sure you’re not a little jealous?” You giggled, feeling his forehead and cheeks. Although they didn’t hold any colour, they were warm to the touch. You knew enough about vampires to know feelings of jealousy made their stolen blood boil. Literally. You had focused on vampires in your witch studies. 

“The room is just hot.” He made up an excuse, dipping away from your reach before you could see that he was lying. You shook your head, amused at him. He pursed his lips, taking a seat on the bed and avoiding eye contact with you out of spite.

You slid the dress off under his hoodie and grabbed a pair of pyjama pants to put on instead. His clothes were always the perfect amount of oversized on you, plus the added bonus of smelling just like him. It was like you were wrapped in a warm hug at all times.

“Burn it.” Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence in the room. You turned back around to him, quickly figuring out that he meant the dress.

“Good grief, you’re ridiculous—” You started to protest, but seeing his serious look painted in his eyes, you figured it was probably best to not test him when he was sensitive. You picked up the dress, using a simple spell to burst it into flames.

“Happy?” 

He nodded, satisfied. He tilted his head, and you felt a tug on your sleeve; his sorcery yanking you gently, a silent plead to come sit with him. You complied, knowing already what would get his mind off the burning jealousy he was feeling.

“Need your kisses now, hm?” You ruffled his hair lovingly, enjoying the grumpy expression on his face. Sliding his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, you drew closer to his face. He couldn’t wait a second longer to taste your lips, his scorching possessiveness creeping in every cold vein of his body, heat shuddering through his skin.

He was annoyed at you and how you occupied his every thought. He just couldn’t get you out of his head, whether you were by his side or away from him. His entire life had turned upside down the second you walked in and trampled all over his heart. Now, he was stuck, inexplicable feelings swallowing him whole. He wasn’t used to it. No one else had such a big effect on him. He loved you too much.

He poured out his frustration into the kiss, fangs nipping at your lips, one hand holding the side of your neck to pull you closer. It wasn’t enough. Even as his tongue melted with yours, it wasn’t enough. He still felt the jealousy creeping up his spine, the thought of other guys seeing you look so pretty distressing his mind. 

You pulled apart for air, the eagerness of Sunghoon’s kiss depleting your breath quickly. He peppered kisses to your face and neck as you rested, tracing over every inch of skin he could reach as if to dispel any doubt that you were his. 

“Still burning up.” You mumbled to yourself, feeling the skin of his neck and shoulder junction. You smiled, wondering how many kisses it would take to cool him off again. Something was telling you that you would be there for a while.

↳ enhypen taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,, @delcakoo,,

@kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @nicholasluvbot,, @dimplewonie,,

@50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,,

@forever-atiny

[sweetnans]

"K', new situation"

The remote was out of your reach because you kept pausing the shows, and Katsuki had enough of watching every episode like there was a connection problem.

"Hit me," he said, resting his head on the wall of your dorm.

It became a habit that you and him watched shows together at your dorm, every Thursday night, no excuse. Last week, you started watching "Queen Charlotte," and even though Katsuki didn't want to watch the show, you convinced him to give it a chance, and now, he was the one who didn't want you to pause it.

"What if...-no, no, ok, let me start over." You tripped on your questions, and Katsuki found it adorable. "Imagine this, you are royalty and someone with more power than you, force you to marry someone you don't know...are you following me?" You paused at his quizzed face.

"Yeah, I am," he simply answered.

"So they force you to marry someone you don't know and you have no interest in. What would you do?"

"Mm, I would probably cheat on her multiple times, make her so unhappy, and be a dick of a husband," he side eyed you while answering because he couldn't get his eyes off of the screen and because he wanted to watch you freaking out at his answer. He could do both.

"Are you serious?" You couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth. "Jesus, Katsuki, what an asshole"

You stomped to his body and reached the remote to put the show on pause.

"Not again. Why do you do this to me?" He whined. He was getting upset, but you were more upset because he wasn't taking serious the situation game.

"Why are you like that? Don't you think that maybe an arrangement marriage is the perfect occasion to find true love? You obviously skipped a step, but now you have all the time in the world to know a person, the details, the way they like their tea in the morning, the things that make them upset. I think it's lovely and romantic. " You day dreamed, and Katsuki couldn't bear the fact that you and him were so different. He liked it, finding a way to make opposites attract situations happened in his life.

"I think it's opposite ends. There's only two ways to go. It's extremely good or extremely bad"

"Yeah, you're right," you gave in. He was the one who didn't believe in love after all. You've had multiple boyfriends in the span of two years, always falling for the jerks, like Katsuki always said, but you never denied the opportunity of starting over. You put the show again and sank on your spot.

Your quietness made Katsuki uncomfortable. You spent the rest of the episode without pusing the show, not for situation game or going to pee and that was very weird of you.

Before the next episode started, Katsuki himself paused it.

"You didn't like what I said," he stated looking at you.

You were dissociating, actually, you weren't mad at him, you were just thinking about him, about how you were feeling towards his feelings, you were upset because you knew that If you had feelings for him (that you already had) he wouldn't give himself a chance with you and you would be head over heels for him, making the situation unfair to you and your feelings. What you were thinking wasn't any close to the situation that you gave him. It wasn't something settled between you and him. It was more about his vision of love, the opposite ends example.

"No, it's not that it's just -" you sighed. You didn't want to make things awkward between Katsuki and you. You found a steady ground where you could enjoy each other's company without making it any weird. "I don't know, Bakugo."

He seemed astonished.

"Mm, last name basis now, huh? Must be something serious. " he moved from his seat to put his figure in front of you. "Use your words, I know you can fucking talk"

Sometimes, he called yourself for eating his ear off because you couldn't shut up. He was trying to make you feel comfortable with him again.

"See, it's just... I'm feeling kinda worried about you because I've never seen you with someone else. I want you to find love, to be happy, to face love, and dare to take a chance on someone, you know? And maybe I'm misunderstanding things here, and you don't want any of that. " You stumble through your words, taking his face in. He looked like he was thinking, but his eyes were analyzing your face like it was the first time he ever saw you. "I don't want you to think that I'm pitying you -"

"I do want to experience love," he said, glancing briefly to your lips and then your eyes. "And maybe I'm just waiting for the right one," he muttered, getting closer to you.

You were stoic in your place. Thoughts running in your head, the gears in your brain trying to figure what was happening and if it was just a dream. Maybe you were just imagining things, and now you feared to take the wrong step.

"You do?" You asked, feeling his presence in your space asking whatever came to your mind so you could have more time to think about this situation.

"Yeah, but she keeps dating assholes"

He grinned a little, trying to give away the slightest clue about his feeling but the exact amount of it so you could realize what he was saying.

For his own luck, you were pretty clever sometimes.

"Well, maybe, no one ever showed her better." You squeezed yourself between his legs while he was still sitting with his legs crossed. He parted his legs at your movement and grabbed your waist to keep you close. "I dated assholes because you were too busy demonstrating you didn't care when I dated them"

"Is that so?" He asked humming.

"Yeap," you nodded like a child, playing with your hands in your lap, concentrating in them.

"I'm sorry for not interrupting sooner," he moved his head to his side, trying to catch your eyes.

"You better be," you told him, giggling. It was an unexplored field. You were distracting yourself for the upcoming event.

"We haven't even kissed yet, and you already have an attitude with me? Get a fucking grip" he joked while taking your hands apart.

"Jeez, you should check yourself and look for the stick that's up in your asshole. You are so dense sometimes. "

You pushed him slightly, and he tugged your hands against his chest, caging you without any escape routes.

"Just shut the fuck up"

Without any warning, he crashed his lips against yours with feverish force. His grip in your hands fell so he could touch every part of your body thoroughly. Your arms clinged behind his back, closing the gap between the two of you. Your fingers touched the nape of his neck, tugging his hair every time he bit your lips.

You two were out of air, so you were forced to step back a little. His nose touched yours, and he gave you soft pecks in your lips before opening his mouth.

"No more dating assholes" he warned.

"Mmhm," you nodded, biting your lip. "You better stop acting like one then"

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[xxlelaxx]

I'm so over people making their problems someone else's problem. Listen buddy, you got issues, you take care of it. Don't make everyone else around you do it. Figure it out cause everyone else has to do that too <3

[miaoua3]

Scoups spicy headcanons

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Warnings: sex, mentions of oral, just nasty piece of work tbh lmao, MINORS DNI

Kind of a continuation of my tiktok post

Note:…i need to get dicked down, its been too long…anyway enjoy this

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•his kisses are always soo deep, its just that pace that changes- when he’s desperate, his kisses become fast and filled with urge and need, when he wants to savour both you and the moment, he takes his time

•the type to spread his arms on the back rest of the couch while you sit on his lap and make out with him, will not touch you until you start whining and pleading of him to touch you

•loooves leaving hickeys. not only on your neck, but on your chest, your hips, your thighs and sometimes even your ass cheeks (in a shape of a little heart❤️)

•also likes it when you leave hickeys on him too, it shows to others that you both belong to somebody, except he doesn’t like to hide his while you literally spend tons of time and makeup trying to cover his piece of work

•two words: size kink. nothing gets him going quite like watching and comparing how much bigger he is compared to you, how his big hands can easily wrap themselves around your neck, your hands, your hips, anywhere really

•likes to just let his hand rest on your neck while kissing. not outright choking, but just…lets you feel the heavy weight of it on your thin neck

•a service dom, idk how people came to think that coups is this mean dom who just enjoys inflicting pain on you, like nuh-uh, this man literally lives to serve you, will listen to everything you got to say, if you say ‘a little more of this, a little bit less of that’ consider it already done. your pleasure is his first priority

•which brings me to- he won’t fuck you until you have cumed on his fingers (and/or face) at least two times.

•the mirror that’s facing your bed🤝him, loves nothing more than to fuck you from behind in front of the said mirror, loves just looking at your dazed look, how hard you try to keep your balance, how his hand looks around your neck

•very talkative in bed, from asking if you’re still okay to asking you things like “look at you, so pretty. who’s my pretty girl? hm? is this all for me baby? so wet, just for me? can you give me another one? cmon, my pretty girl, just one more, cum on my dick one more time, i know you can do it” NCHSIDBSIADBAI

•praise kink>>>>>>, idk who convinced yall that he would like degrading you, bro literally LOVES you, he has no reason to talk to you like that, he’s always just like “you’re doing so good, baby, taking this dick. fuck, so good, you’re taking me so well, can you take on more? of course you can, my girl can always take on more, cmon, that’s it” (currently manifesting this man in my life🙏)

•loooves it when you scratch his back unconsciously, just likes to look at it the next morning, wears it like a gold medal

•oh i just know he has a big dick, don’t even try to convince me otherwise, its both long and girthy, it’s always so overwhelming having him inside your pussy

•i always say- having a small dick is no excuse for being a bad partner, the universe gave you 10 fingers, a mouth and a lot of imagination. if you still can’t figure out how to please your partner, then it’s a you problem….lets just say cheol has no problems-with his size, his fingers skills, his tongue nor his imagination, he’s such a good lover, he will literally make you see stars

•speaking of-he asks you to sit on his face and literally to almost suffocate him at least two times a week. he just loves feeling your weight on his face, your smell surrounding him, you looking down on him while he’s living every man’s dream

•loves holding hands while in a missionary, it just makes the atmosphere that much more intimate and romantic, always intertwines your fingers and he finds that so…comforting

•now, he doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on you (he enjoys leaving a good spank and a little bit of choking), that much is clear, but he still likes seeing you with tears down your cheeks from the immense pleasure he’s bringing you

•is the king of body worshipping. on the nights where he’s feeling extremely loving, first, he takes off your clothes slowly, then he kisses you for a few moments, and then he starts leaving kisses everywhere-from your lips, across your jaw, on your neck, going down to your chest, a few ticklish kisses on your stomach, leaving a few teasing kisses on your clit, looking up while kissing your thighs, on the scars on your knee, all the way down to your ankle. and then the same route upwards, all while whispering soft words of praise to you

•if you ever thought that this man is anything other than an ass man, you are delusional. from spanking you, fucking you from behind, to literally kissing your cheeks better after a few particularly hard spanks and leaving hickeys on it, rubbing it gently in comforting way with a comforting hand, there isn’t a way this man hasn’t interacted with your behind lol

•loves to pull on your hair lightly during the slow make out sessions, but also enjoys it when you pull on his hair while he’s laying between your legs, eating you out as if you were his last meal

•loves how he can just pick you up and fuck you against any surface available, it gets him so turned on knowing that he can carry you so easily and manhandle you into any position he wants you in

•low-key has a breeding kink, he loves watching his cum leak out of you, and stuffing it back in, knowing that he could impregnate you any time he comes inside, it’s always so thrilling to him (plus he really want to start a family with you)

•he’s the aftercare KING, sometimes he spends more time talking you down from the height, cuddling you, cleaning you, kissing you and letting you know how much he loves you than he spend on the sex itself, he’s a natural caretaker so he enjoys taking care of your body and your mind after your sexy escapades

in conclusion: SCOUPS PLEASE I CAN TREAT YOU SO WELL JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE PLS BABY

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 10: Turn the Tide

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A devastating discovery leads you back into Joel's arms. But do you both have what it takes to make it work?

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, mountains of angst, miscarriage (discussions and descriptions included, not terribly graphic, blood is mentioned, please skip if this is triggering for you), hurt/comfort, fluff, brief mention of vomit, anxiety, reader has long-ish hair, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering, protected piv sex, secrets are revealed and explain some underlying anxieties/trust issues

WC: 16.6K

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

"Jesus Christ, this place is doing a number on my allergies," Celine whined when she opened your apartment door to find you curled up on your couch with a heating pad. She looked around the room and shook her head, dropping her purse and keys on your floor because every single flat surface was being taken up by flowers. Flowers Joel had been sending you every fucking day since he dropped you off. "How can you stand it in here?"

"I can't," you muttered, staring listlessly at the television while she opened up the windows as far as they would go. "Been meaning to look into places where I could donate them but I'm in the middle of the worst period of my fucking life."

"Yeah, I can see that," she replied before collapsing in a huff on the other end of your couch. Her eyes skimmed your coffee table, filled with pain killers, water and tea before she asked, "Have you eaten?"

You nodded and pointed to the empty bowl under the table. "I heated up some soup."

"Maybe you should call your doctor, are your periods usually this bad?" she asked before picking up the dirty dishes and heading to your sink.

"No," you groaned, rolling onto your back with a wince. "I'm on the pill. They're usually a breeze."

"Then you should definitely call," she said over her shoulder. "Can't hurt to get checked out."

"Yeah? With what health insurance?" you countered angrily as you forced yourself to sit up.

"Still no luck finding a job?"

You shook your head then sneezed, scowling at the roses nearby like it was their fault.

"Then use some of the fifty fucking thousand dollars he gave you and see a goddamn doctor!" she exclaimed after drying your bowl and putting it away. "I know you don't want to use it but it doesn't matter, he won't know either way."

Fifty grand. He had wired you fifty grand instead of twenty. You spent a week going back and forth with your bank, making them reject the funds over and over until you finally caved because you couldn't stand to waste any more time on the phone with them over it. You had decided you would donate it like he suggested, but you never figured out where. Between that and all the flowers he kept sending, you couldn't decide if you should be flattered or pissed off.

On that particular day, with your uterus trying to extract itself from your body, you chose to be pissed off.

As if on cue, your buzzer rang and you could have screamed at the top of your lungs, already knowing who it was. Celine got to the intercom first and pressed the button.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Jim, got today's flowers."

You grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, deciding to give into your urge.

"Alright, buzzing you up."

You heard her press the other button and hold it a few seconds before unlocking your door and leaving it cracked.

"He's in love with you," she said matter-of-factly from the door.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," you replied, making her laugh.

A light tap on the door came a few minutes later and Celine pushed it open to greet Jim, an older man with a white beard that reminded you of Santa, before she signed for the flowers.

"Jim, don't you have someone you could give these to instead?" you asked from the couch. He shook his head and grinned before handing over the vase of peonies, dahlias and roses.

"You know I can't do that."

You made a face and collapsed into the back of your couch.

"Maybe if you just call him, it'll end," Jim offered, "although I don't mind. You're keeping the shop afloat at this point," he joked.

"That's exactly what he wants," you replied. He shrugged and gave you a wave with a see you tomorrow, then disappeared down the hall. Celine closed the door and looked around the room for a clear spot before giving up and setting them on the ground.

"Maybe flower guy was right. Maybe you should call him."

"He's just used to getting his way. He can pull this shit with anyone else but I'm not gonna give in," you told her while simultaneously picking up your phone, fingers tapping angrily at your screen. She grinned and found her spot back on the couch.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Joel and telling him to knock it the fuck off," you growled.

Celine tipped her head back and laughed. "Same thing! You're talking to him! You're giving him exactly what he wants."

"Okay, so I'm not perfect! What else is new?" you snapped after shooting off a text to Joel that said stop with the fucking flowers, I mean it.

Before Celine could reply, your phone vibrated in your lap.

Does this mean you're willing to see me? Or should I switch to chocolate?

You frowned and Celine knowingly tilted her head to the side.

"Girl. Come on. Hear him out. Maybe if you just meet up once and let him talk, he'll stop. I've never seen a guy text back as quickly as him, and he's got an actual successful business to run! Do you have a magic pussy or something, what the hell did you do to this guy?"

You cracked a smile for the first time in days. You didn't go into much detail with her since you came back. She knew you slept together and she knew he broke your heart, but everything else remained a mystery. And because she knew you would tell her in your own time, she never asked.

"I just think he's not used to hearing the word no," you told her, ignoring his text and setting your phone down on your coffee table.

"Or he's madly in love with you and doesn't know how to handle it," she countered with a raised eyebrow.

You opened your mouth to object, to remind her for the fourth time that Joel didn't fall in love with anyone, when a sharp pain shot through your legs and you doubled over with a deep groan. Celine lunged forward to rub your upper back, her smile long gone when she saw how you badly you were struggling.

"That's it. I'm calling your doctor," she said, snatching your phone from the table to scroll through your contacts.

You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, not bothering to stop her when she dialed the phone.

You sat on the exam table, a loud and irritating white piece of paper separating your thighs from the padding as your doctor sat before you, gently explaining what was happening while a low ringing began to echo in your head.

Miscarriage... hCG levels... four or five weeks... bleeding will end soon.

You just sat there in complete shock, a dumbstruck look on your face as she continued to explain it was nothing you did or didn't do, that it's extremely common, that you would likely go on to have a perfectly healthy pregnancy if you wanted. Then she said your name softly and your eyes refocused onto her bright blue ones behind her wire rimmed glasses.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked with a comforting hand on your knee.

Those glasses didn't suit her face at all, they were too round. Why didn't anyone ever tell her?

"Uh," you croaked before clearing your throat. "I'm... I'm on the pill. How did this happen?"

"It's ninety nine percent effective but it's lower if you skip days or forget to take them at the same time. Did that happen last month at all?"

Last month. When you were on the island with Joel. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Um, well, I was in Fiji last month," you began, fingers twisting anxiously in your lap. You still only had a pink paper gown to cover you after your exam. You felt so exposed and raw that your skin hurt.

"Did you account for the time change?" she asked. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your chin to your chest.

"No." How stupid. Why didn't that occur to you? "I might have forgotten a day here and there, too. There was one weekend we were away and I forgot-" you stopped yourself and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Doesn't matter, I guess."

She patted your knee again and gave it a little squeeze.

"It's alright, you're going to be okay," she assured you. You nodded and swallowed thickly before looking back up.

"I know. I just... I thought if this ever happened..." you trailed off as you struggled to find the right words. "I thought I'd feel..." you couldn't finish your sentence but she seemed to understand anyway.

"It's completely normal. You didn't even know until it was already over. You're probably just in shock, it's a lot to take in," she said before kicking off the floor so her stool would roll over to the wall that held various pamphlets. She plucked a few from the hard plastic holders and held them out to you. "These will help explain more of what you're going through, but if you have any questions or if you're finding you need a little extra help to get through this, please give the office a call. We have a twenty four hour service, they'll connect me with you, day or night."

You thanked her softly and stared blankly at the pamphlets while she gathered her things before slipping out of the room, giving you some privacy to get dressed.

It was surreal, driving back home, burdened with this brand new knowledge, this thing you had no idea how to process. Shouldn't you be sad? Shouldn't you grieve the loss in some way? Maybe your doctor was right. Maybe you were in shock.

As you walked up to your building, a familiar olive green truck rumbled up to the curb, tapping out a light beep in greeting and shaking you out of your funk.

"Oh, hey," you said, smiling weakly at Jim when he jumped out with a wave.

"Good timing," he replied before climbing into the back of the truck to hand you a teddy bear with a little rose pinned to its chest. "He's switching it up," Jim said, smile falling when he saw the look on your face. "Hey, everything okay?"

You nodded quickly and reached for the pen to scribble your name. "Yeah, sorry, just tired."

He pressed his lips into a thin line before taking the pen back and giving you one last look.

"Well, get some rest, yeah? Need some help getting up to your place?"

"No, thank you, I'm good," you told him sincerely, then gave him a little wave before heading up the stairs to your building. He called out his usual see you tomorrow and you forced a smile before disappearing inside.

You supposed it was good you hadn't found a job yet. At least you could waste away in your bed until this strange feeling passed and you could process everything.

After you changed back into comfortable clothes with the plan to find some shitty movie to zone out to, you heard your doorbell buzz. With a confused frown, you shuffled back out into the living room, wondering who it could be. Jim had already dropped off Joel's daily gift and Celine had a key.

For one stupid, foolish moment you thought it might be Joel. Like he had somehow, from across the city and with absolutely no knowledge as to what was going on, found out about the miscarriage and came to scoop you into his arms and tell you everything would be okay.

The mere thought caused tears to sting your eyes and you quickly blinked them away, chalking it up to hormonal changes and the emotional morning.

"Yes?" you called weakly through the speaker.

A man's voice replied with your name posed as a question, followed by got a delivery here for you.

You buzzed him in and curiously craned your neck out into your hall, chewing your lower lip until the elevator dinged and a man dressed in an all brown uniform emerged carrying a large, flat, square package.

When he approached, he confirmed your name again before handing you something to sign, which you did blindly as your focus was still on the box at his feet.

"Where's it from?" you asked, stepping to the side so he could set it against your wall.

"Uh..." he trailed off, distracted momentarily by all the flowers, and then squinted at the paper you just signed. "Fiji Islands. That's pretty rad. Hope it's a vacation," he joked before tucking the clipboard under his arm and exiting back out into the hallway.

It took about ten seconds after he left for you to realize what it was, yet you still shakily opened the box, your palm cupping your mouth when the bubble wrap fell to the floor and Ellie's painting sat before you. You crumpled to the ground and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of pink seashells and stolen kisses and warm brown eyes and whispers of my girl. But it was staring you in the face. The painting that spoke to you before you even understood what it was saying, the painting Joel bought for you without a second thought, before you slept together, before it all fell apart.

Hot tears trickled down your face when you fumbled for your phone, your thumb hovering over the call button next to his name.

Just do it. Just call him. You wanted to hear his voice. You wanted him to hold you close and tell you it wasn't your fault. You wanted him to stay with you until the blood and the agony passed and everything from the past few hours became a horrible, distant memory.

Perhaps the shock was beginning to wear off.

At the last second, you scrolled up and tapped Celine's name instead. When she heard the broken sound of your voice, she dropped what she was doing to rush over, not even asking for details until you had stopped crying on her shoulder. You told her about your appointment. About the painting. About the seashells. About Brooks. About everything until your voice was raw and your face felt swollen and hot from crying.

She tucked you into bed and laid curled up next to you. She softly told you about her own miscarriage she had when she was nineteen. She told you the pain would go away, that the void inside would eventually fill again. But halfway through some movie she had found that mostly served as background noise, she turned to you and said the words you needed to hear. Like you were waiting for someone else's permission to give in.

"You gotta tell him, babe."

You couldn't even remember how you got there, standing in front of his hotel five days later, body now mostly recovered and fueled by caffeine from the shop three blocks away. It felt like you were drawn to him, like you weren't even making your own decisions, telling yourself you were just going to take a short walk to enjoy the weather and clear your head after downing an iced coffee.

Certainly if you had known you would have been walking through the doors of his lobby, giving the same man from that first day in the same pristine black suit a nervous smile before making your way across the room, sneakers squeaking on the floor as you walked, you would have prepared a little better.

It was quiet. The concierge looked bored and tapped her pen on a pad of paper, chin resting in her fist as she pretended to work. Elevator cars silently whirred up and down on both sides of you, the glass walls allowing you a sneak peek at guests going up to their rooms.

You cleared your throat when you approached reception, your mouth opening to give them your name when a man's surprised voice said it for you.

Swiveling around, you locked eyes with a dark haired man wearing thick rimmed glasses and a black bow tie over his tight fitting white shirt and tailored pants. You gave him a small smile, but your confusion must have been obvious because he blinked and shook his head before stepping forward and offering you his hand.

"I'm Liam," he began, "Joel's assistant."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, shaking his hand while the gears slowly turned in your head. "Oh, so you're the one who bought all the clothes and stuff."

Liam grinned and nodded, dropping your hand so he could wrap both arms around the pad-folio pressed to his chest.

"I had pictures to work with when I was choosing colors. You know, so I could best compliment your hair and skin tone. I hope you liked everything."

"Yes! Oh, yes, everything was beautiful, thank you so much," you said hurriedly, then lowered your voice when you realized you were echoing. "Uh, is he in?"

Liam's shoulders sagged and he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Yes, thank god," he breathed, waving you over to an elevator and pressing the button. "I was afraid you were just here picking something up. I'm so glad you want to see him, he's been -"

You frowned when Liam seemed to realize he was saying too much and he cut himself off, lips pursing as he stared at the unopened elevator.

"What?"

Liam shook his head and shrugged right when the doors slid open. He beckoned for you to enter first before following, pressing the pad of his finger into a scanner and tapping a button. Only when the doors shut did he turn back to you.

"He's been worse than usual. I think he's upset about whatever happened," he explained, then waved his hands in the air and added, "I mean, he didn't tell me anything, but I'm assuming something happened because he's picking out flowers every single morning and asking me to have them delivered."

"He's been picking them out?" you repeated.

Liam just nodded. "It's none of my business, but he's never had me do this for anyone before. And I've worked for him for ten years," he said dramatically, raising his thick eyebrows at you knowingly.

"Oh," you said softly, dropping your gaze to the floor.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open, leading you out into the same hallway you walked down over two months ago when you first met. Butterflies instantly bloomed in your stomach as you followed behind Liam, keeping your gaze low while you tried to regulate your breathing. You had no idea how you were going to tell him, no rehearsed speech, nothing.

"He's in a meeting right now, but it'll be over in," Liam glanced at his watch, "twenty minutes. I'll take you to his office and let him know you're here when he's done."

You nodded and turned the corner, Joel's office already in view when you walked by the executive conference room. It looked the same as it did in your memory, the wall that bordered the hallway made of glass and inside, a long table with high back leather chairs. Only this time, people were inside having what appeared to be a very important meeting. Men and women in suits filled the table. Papers, mugs of coffee and laptops were scattered everywhere. The flat screen televisions projected extremely big numbers connected to various cities, presumably the locations of The Parador, but what made you stumble was seeing Joel at the head of the table.

His black tie was loosened around his neck, suit coat draped over the back of his chair as he stared at the screen, then his phone, gaze bouncing back and forth while next to him, a sweaty looking man gripping a laptop with one flat, shaky hand, spoke about the numbers.

You unconsciously slowed, unable to tear your eyes away when Joel stood up. His gaze was pinned to something on his phone, which now rested on the table. He was still listening to the man on his left but the more he spoke, the angrier Joel looked. You saw his nostrils flare and his jaw set while he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the irritation rolling off his tight shoulders until he finally snapped.

Their voices were muffled, but you probably wouldn't have been able to understand what they were talking about, anyway. Joel's brows were knit together, lips curled into a sneer as he spoke loudly enough to the group for you to hear the deep timber of his voice from where you stood in the hall.

Liam didn't say a word, allowing you to come to a standstill and watch Joel with a sly smirk from a few feet away.

You couldn't explain the feeling you had as you watched him, never before seeing him at work with your own two eyes. You knew he was important, obviously, but there was just something about the way he commanded the room, the way full grown men practically cowered when he began to pace around, his finger pointing at the sweaty man and then the screen. It made your heart race and your lips part as your breathing grew shallow, like you were in a trance.

And then Joel spun around, his eyes locking on yours through the glass like he suddenly sensed your presence, and the room went silent. His back instantly straightened and his brows relaxed and then a moment later he was storming towards the glass door.

"Joel?" you heard one of the men at the table call out when the door flung open.

"We're done, meeting's over," he tossed back over his shoulder. If you could have looked away from him, you would have seen the relieved look on all their faces as they began to hastily gather their things.

He stalked up to you, slowing to a stop when he was a couple feet away, then scanned you up and down, like he couldn't believe his eyes.

Neither of you spoke. You just stared at one another, hearts thundering wildly in your chests.

"Hey," he finally breathed, afraid if he spoke any louder he might scare you off.

"Hi," you replied timidly. Your gaze flickered around to Liam, to other people pretending to work within earshot, and to the people filing out of the conference room before meeting his eye again.

He finally snapped out of it and held out an arm, ushering you towards the direction of his office.

"C'mon," was all he said, and you quickly scurried down the hall with Joel hot on your heels.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?" Liam called. You could hear the smile in his voice before you turned around and said, "Water would be nice."

"I got water in here," Joel said gruffly, his hand gently grazing your lower back. He turned around to Liam and said, "No interruptions," before closing the door behind you both.

You looked around his office, everything just how you remembered it. Massive mahogany desk, dark green couch and chair near the well stocked bar, the entire room surrounded by bookshelves, awards, and various decor items, but no picture frames. How didn't you notice that before?

"Have a seat," Joel said, sliding past to get you ice water from the bar. You sunk down into the green couch, feeling just as nervous as the last time you were there.

"Thank you," you said when he placed the glass on a coaster. He nodded and seemed to take a moment before deciding to sit in the chair, giving you your space.

"I'm glad you came," he said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Your eyes dropped to your shoes. Your dirty sneakers pressing into his expensive carpet and your frayed jeans... you couldn't even remember the last time they were washed.

"Yeah," you replied, voice sounding nothing like your own. You reached for your water and took a sip before carefully setting it down, fearful of even one drop landing on the rug or table. "I'm sorry. You were in a meeting, I would have waited."

"Fuck 'em," he said, and your eyes rose to find his. God, they looked so soft and kind, the way the sunlight hit them took your breath away. "Would rather talk to you than any of 'em," he added with a little smile.

"I got the painting," you told him. "It's beautiful, thank you," you added warmly, then frowned a bit when he excitedly stood to hurry behind his desk.

"That reminds me, I got somethin' else for you."

"Oh, Joel, please don't tell me it's more flowers," you begged, and he laughed lightly before bringing over a small black shopping bag. There was a designer label stamped on the side and you frowned.

"It ain't that - just open it," he insisted, handing you the bag before sitting back down on the edge of his seat.

Hesitantly, you peered inside, and what awaited you tore your heart in two.

"Joel..."

He smiled. He couldn't help himself.

"Was gonna leave it by your door or somethin' later," he said, his brown eyes sparkling as you lifted one of many pink seashells out of the bag to get a closer look.

"When did you -"

"Had to go back for a couple days and sign some paperwork," he explained. Your eyebrows pulled together and tears welled in your eyes as you stared down at the beautiful seashells he had collected, all for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, gingerly setting it back into the bag and placing it at your feet.

"You're welcome," he replied, his soft tone matching yours.

Alright. It was now or never.

You took a deep breath, rubbing your palms anxiously over the tops of your thighs, but before you could get a word out, he spoke again.

"I wanna tell you everythin'," he said. All the air left your lungs and you swallowed tightly. "I mean it. I'll tell you everythin', and not 'cause you want me to, 'cause I want to. I've been doin' alotta thinkin', and -"

"Joel," you interrupted. He scratched his eyebrow with his thumb and shook his head.

"Just hear me out."

"No, Joel, I need to tell you something," you said. He must have heard something change in your voice because he stopped talking. He searched your face for any indication of what was to come, but of course came up empty.

"Okay," he said slowly. He watched your fingers fidget nervously in your lap and suddenly you couldn't make eye contact with him anymore.

"I don't really know how to say this," you began.

Oh fuck, you've met someone else, was his first thought.

"I, uh," then you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your lips into a tight line and panic seized his throat.

Something was wrong.

"It's okay," he said soothingly. He tried to inch forward but if he moved any more he would fall off the damn chair. "Go ahead, darlin'. What's goin' on?"

One single tear slid down your cheek and he swore he stopped breathing when you said the words I had a miscarriage.

"What?" he whispered, pain and confusion clouding his face.

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at him.

"I had a miscarriage and I just thought you had a right to know."

Your voice trembled and cracked as you forced the words out and he couldn't hold back any longer. He stood and rushed to your side, just like you always knew he would, just like you wanted. He enveloped you in his arms and pressed his lips against the top of your head. He rocked you back and forth, strong arms curled around your midsection, and you melted. You melted into him and didn't even try to fight it. For the past week, hell, for the past month, it was all you wanted.

"When?" he choked out. You circled your arms around him and your legs were suddenly pulled across his lap. He smelled so good, like that cologne you never could identify but was so distinctly him. You dragged in a deep breath, unaware of the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"About a week ago."

Joel's grip around you tightened.

"You shoulda called me, baby. I woulda been there."

"I know," you sniffled. You rubbed the back of your hand under your nose and tried to breathe deep. "I know. But I didn't know it even happened until I went to the doctor."

You told him the whole story. Told him how you thought it was a bad period, how Celine called your doctor, how she explained what likely happened and that it was your own stupid fucking fault for messing up your pill.

"It ain't your fault," he told you, his voice reverberating in his chest. You closed your eyes and leaned into him, fingers grappling at the fabric of his shirt.

"You're not mad?" you whimpered.

"Baby, please," he begged, "'Course I ain't mad. Don't go carryin' this 'round. Don't carry that guilt. If it was meant to be, it would be, alright?"

Your tears flowed, then, unstoppable as they barreled down your cheeks. Your sobs could probably be heard from the other side of the door but you didn't care. Joel continued to hold you, cradle you, and hum soothingly against the top of your head until your tears slowed and your breath grew ragged.

"Are you okay?" he asked after you quieted down. His hand was flat against your back, rubbing wide circles as you continued to cling to him.

"Yeah, I think so," you said truthfully. "I just didn't expect it and then with the hormone change, it all kind of hit me at once, you know?"

"Yeah," he answered, "yeah, I get it. Is there anythin' I can do? Anythin' you need?"

You shook your head, biting down hard on your lip so you didn't say I just need you.

It seemed as though maybe he read your mind, or maybe he really had been giving things alot of thought because the next thing he said was, "I wanna do this right."

You felt the next wave of tears coming so you burrowed further into him, pressing your face against his neck, breathing him in and letting him slowly put you back together with each comforting stroke of his hand.

"Lemme do this right, sweetheart, please. Tell me how to fix it."

You didn't have the answer. Your eyes were dry and burning from all the tears you had just spilled and you felt completely drained. Every muscle in your body felt weak and useless, the last thing you wanted to do was think.

You continued to sit in silence, the only sound coming from the gold mantle clock slowly ticking away the seconds and some very faint murmuring when groups of people would walk by Joel's office. You closed your eyes, encased in his warmth, and let your mind drift back to everything that went wrong, wondering how you would do things differently if you could go back in time. Then you remembered something Joel had said on the plane and your eyes snapped open.

"What if we started over?"

His thumb, which was drawing slow, comforting circles over your arm, paused.

"You'd - yeah," he agreed, sounding a little breathless, "yeah, I think that's a good idea."

You sat up, untangling yourself from him so you could sit properly on the couch. You pulled your legs from his lap and tucked them underneath you before sticking out your hand and reintroducing yourself with a shaky smile.

He gave you a little grin before taking your hand in his, eyes glistening when he said, "Joel Miller."

It was impossible to keep the smile from your face when you heard the buzzer, followed by Joel's deep voice letting you know he was there to pick you up for your date.

Your "first" date.

With a skip in your step, you trotted to the elevator, tapped your foot impatiently all the way down, and practically ran out into the lobby with excitement. You caught yourself at the last second, making sure you looked more collected and cool than you really felt before pushing open the front doors.

And there he stood, in all his glory, at the bottom of your building's stone steps. His hands were in the pockets of his expensive black suit, and he grinned when he saw you for the first time, a stark contrast from the last time you each stood in those spots.

"You look beautiful," he murmured when you got closer, eyes dropping appreciatively to take in the light blue floral dress you chose, then bent over to plant a kiss on your cheek. The way his scruff tickled your skin had a wave of goosebumps flashing over your arms, making you shiver.

"Thank you," you said, scooting into the backseat of his car when he held the door open for you.

"Hi, Richie."

"Hey, honey," he replied with a smile and wink in the review mirror.

Joel rounded the back of the car and slipped in beside you, then gave Richie a nod to start driving.

"Wait, where are we going?" you asked as you buckled your seatbelt.

"Got a reservation at this French restaurant that just opened up. Supposed to be impossible to get in but, well..." he smirked a little and shrugged, letting his sentence trail off.

"Uh, I was actually thinking of something else."

Joel gave you a curious look. "Like what?"

"Like... maybe getting pizza at Sal's and then catching the 9:45 showing of Shadow Strike?" you offered with a cheesy smile. Joel laughed, eyes crinkling as he tipped his head back. Seeing him so relaxed and happy was truly a sight to behold.

"Anythin' you want," he replied, then leaned forward. "Hear that, Richie?"

"Yes, sir."

Joel patted the headrest twice and sat back, brown eyes dancing when they found you again.

"Hole in the wall pizza joint and a movie theater? I'm gonna regret wearin' these shoes, ain't I?"

You looked down at the shiny, black leather and giggled.

"How much were they?"

"Seven hundred."

"Oh, yeah, you'll definitely regret it."

The floors at Sal's left little to be desired, for sure, but the pizza was undeniably the best in town. One bite had Joel forgetting all about the stained laminate flooring.

"Right?" you asked excitedly when his eyebrows raised in surprise.

He only nodded, his mouth full until he swallowed and said, "Didn't think there was any decent pizza out here. Reminds me of New York pizza," before taking another large bite.

You giggled and leaned across the high top table to grab the shaker of parmesan cheese.

"I'll have to take your word for it, I've never been."

"You've never been to New York?" he echoed incredulously, and you shook you head as you took another bite. Joel gave you a fake look of disappointment before saying, "I'll have to take you with me next time."

"Do you go often?" you asked, tucking away the idea of traveling again with Joel for later.

"Yeah, 'sides the hotel out here, New York's my biggest source of revenue."

"For now, right?" you countered. He grinned and wiped the corner of his mouth with a thin paper napkin.

"We're a long ways off from openin' in Fiji, but, yeah, that one's projected to make the most."

You nodded, both falling into a comfortable silence while you finished your food.

"Alright," Joel said after balling up his napkins and tossing them onto his greasy paper plate. "Where're you from?"

You laughed and felt your cheeks warm when you replied, "You already know that."

"It's our first date," he reminded you with an adorable smile. His forearms were crossed and resting on the tabletop. He leaned forward like he was sharing a secret, completely oblivious to the looks he was getting when other customers saw him in his sharp, black suit, completely out of place for the setting.

"Okay, I'll play," you decided, leaning forward to mimic his posture. "I'm from Tennessee."

"And what brought you all the way out here?"

You laughed and said, "College."

"You lose your accent or did you never have one?" he asked.

"Uh, I might've had a small accent when I first moved, but I'm afraid it's long gone now. Not like yours," you pointed out.

When you first met, Joel refused to share anything about himself. You were delighted to find out that had changed.

"Grew up in Texas. Whenever I feel it fadin', I know it's time to go back for a visit," he joked, watching your eyes light up when he freely shared something about himself.

"W-where in Texas?" you stammered. You were still unsure of how much he was willing to share, so you figured you would keep your questions to a minimum. But once again, he shocked you.

"Austin. Parents are still out there somewhere. Little brother, too, pretty sure."

"Oh," you replied softly. You grew nervous at the mention of his brother, remembering how the last time he was brought up didn't go so well, so you chose to leave the topic alone and instead focused on his parents.

"Are you close with your mom and dad?"

Joel shrugged, appearing calm on the outside but he could feel his heart pumping faster and his foot began to tap anxiously. If it weren't for the noisy, sticky floor giving him away, you may not have noticed, but you did.

He was nervous, but he was still trying.

You reached out to gently squeeze his arm, making him smile.

"We don't have to," you whispered. We can go slow, it's okay.

"Not as close as I used to be," he said, ignoring the out you gave and allowing the words to tumble out of him all at once. "Y'know how families are. Stupid fights 'n all that."

You nodded vigorously in agreement. "Same with me. Well, I never got along great with my parents. I was always looking for a reason to leave. I applied to schools as far away from home as possible, then me and my best friend both got into UC and it was a no brainer."

Joel looked relieved when you pulled the focus back onto yourself. His shoulders relaxed a bit and he leaned forward.

"The friend you were tellin' me 'bout?" he asked, letting you fill in the rest of the sentence. The one who called the doctor.

"Celine," you offered, "yeah. We've been friends forever."

On the way back to his car, you told him a story from when you and Celine were in high school. Back when you were underage and dumb and drank too much at a house party to impress a boy and you ended up vomiting into some boxwoods while Celine held your hair back.

"The neighbor boy?" Joel guessed.

"You remembered," you said, sounding impressed. He gave you a knowing look, lips pulling into half a smirk, like he were saying of course I remembered.

"Well, yeah. The very same," you confirmed with a deep breath. You fidgeted with the skirt of your dress, trying to hide the sudden wave of shyness that washed over you. Even though you had history, that night somehow really did feel like a first date.

Joel took your hand when you stepped out of the car and he led you into the movie theater, only letting you go when he needed both hands to pay for your tickets.

"I had my first kiss in a movie theater," Joel said as he stood in line beside you for popcorn. You tilted your head to look at him, excited once again he was sharing something personal about himself.

"What movie was it?"

"Indiana Jones," he replied without hesitation. Then you laughed when he added, "I was so nervous the whole time, barely saw a minute of it. Kept psychin' myself up to make a move and couldn't think 'bout anythin' else."

"I can't imagine you nervous," you teased, then right before the clerk called you up to the counter, you locked eyes.

"You make me nervous all the time."

You blinked, stunned by his sudden vulnerability, and then a second later he was at the counter ordering.

"C'mon, don't wanna miss the beginning," he said as he handed you your drink and motioned towards the theaters, completely unperturbed.

When you picked the movie, you figured a standard action flick would be pretty safe. You steered clear of anything romantic, not wanting to inadvertently draw parallels to your own relationship, and you even avoided horror because you had a tendency to cling to the person you're with out of fear. Yet somehow you still found yourself inching closer to him.

At first, you crossed your legs and your foot grazed his knee. Purely accidental. You even apologized and shifted a bit to create more space. But then you kept leaning on the armrest between you and your head tilted to rest between both seats. You wanted to blame it on the fact that he held the popcorn bucket, but he was kind enough to move it closer so you wouldn't have to reach so far.

Around the halfway point of the movie, his hand found your knee. If you recalled correctly, it was during one of the rare funny parts of the movie and you both had leaned forward to laugh. His hand grabbed you for support and just kind of... stayed there.

After that, you had trouble following the plot.

"Wait... who is he again?" you whispered. Joel's fingers flexed on your knee when he leaned over and you were eternally grateful the dark room hid how flustered it made you.

"The marine? He's the brother from earlier."

"Oh, right," you replied, and you must not have sounded very convincing because he gave you a look and you giggled, slapping your palm over your mouth when the people a couple rows ahead of you turned around.

Joel grinned and remained where he was instead of straightening back up.

A few more minutes went by. You pretended to watch the movie but he was too distracting, being that close. Your gaze kept drifting off the screen and down to his hand, then from his hand up to his face, admiring the way the light from the film played across his perfect side profile.

He felt your eyes on him and he turned his head, still smiling when he asked, "You alright?"

"Mhmm," you hummed with a vigorous nod. Then you found yourself leaning a little closer and his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes again.

It wasn't your fault. He looked so ridiculous and handsome in his expensive suit eating buttery popcorn in an old movie theater. You simply couldn't help yourself. You both inched forward at the same time and gently pressed your lips together. At first, it was timid and sweet and sent a spark down your spine. It felt so nice to kiss him again after so long and after everything that happened, you easily lost yourself in him.

Too easily.

By the time the credits rolled and the dim lights slowly turned back on, you had both hands buried in his hair and his tongue halfway down your throat. When you realized that people could see you, you hurriedly pulled apart at the exact same time. Joel's hand, which had once been on your knee and had since traveled up the skirt of your dress, gave your thigh a little squeeze before begrudgingly untangling himself from you.

"Maybe we should go," you said, giving him a shy glance after fixing yourself up a bit.

"Yeah, just... gimme a minute," he replied, his eyes rolling to stare at the ceiling as he took a few deep, focused breaths. The theater was almost empty and you were about to ask what was wrong when you noticed the bulge in his pants. Heat flooded your face and you looked away to hide your laughter, but he caught you.

"Oh, you think it's funny?" he asked. He tried to sound serious but he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"A little," you admitted when you looked back at him. He grinned and finally stood up with a groan, tugging his suit coat closed before reaching for your hand.

"I'll remember that," he warned as he led you down the steps and back out into the lobby.

Once you were settled in his car with Richie driving through the dark, quiet streets back towards your apartment, you turned to Joel and asked, "Better than Indiana Jones?"

"Oh, no contest, baby," he murmured with a sly smile.

You giggled and let his fingers thread through yours on top of the seat. Your cheeks ached from how much you laughed and smiled that night. Admittedly, you had your doubts you would be able to really start over after everything that happened, but things felt so different now. In large part, that had to do with Joel and how much he was trying. He pushed himself to open up to you a little bit, despite his uneasiness, and he had no problem agreeing to a normal first date at the last minute.

He was really trying, and he was doing it for you.

"I got it, Richie," Joel said when the car pulled up to your curb and the driver had moved to unbuckle his belt. He gave Joel a nod in the review mirror and stayed put as Joel swung his door open to step outside. Then his eyes shifted to yours and he smiled.

"Have a good night, honey."

"Thanks, Richie, you too," you said warmly just as Joel opened your door.

He held out his hand and you took it, steadying yourself to stand, and gave him a grateful smile right when he pushed the door shut. Wrapping your arms around the crook of his elbow, he led you up the steps to the front door of your building, only letting you go to search for your keys.

"Well, thank you," you said, sounding a little more breathless than you intended, but Joel seemed to like it because his brown eyes sparkled and his mouth twitched when he heard the desire laced in your voice. "I had a great time."

"Me, too," he murmured as he casually leaned against the doorframe, playfully cocking his head to the side as he sized you up and down. "Y'know, I've never seen your place," he said innocently, but when your jaw dropped in mock offense and you gave his shoulder a gentle push, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Excuse me, I don't put out on the first date," you joked, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"No, 'course not. Was just pointin' out a fact, is all," Joel replied with a matching grin of his own.

"Oh, is that all?" you echoed, leaning forward and wrapping his tie around your fist, then giving it a gentle tug so he would meet you halfway.

"Yeah," he whispered right before your mouths found each other once again. You could still taste the salt and butter from the popcorn on his lips as he crowded you against the door, both his hands flying up to cup each side of your face, cradling it gently while his lips massaged yours. There was just something about him that always had you melting into a puddle at his feet, and that evening was no exception. You had to tear yourself away with a soft laugh before you broke your rule and invited him upstairs.

"Can we do this again?" he asked as you slid your key into the door. You pushed it open and stepped inside, turning back to face him.

"I would love that."

Joel grinned and promised he would call before you waved goodnight and disappeared into the lobby.

When your elevator opened up on your floor, you hurried to your apartment, exhausted but giddy with excitement at how perfect the date went. You flicked on your lights and locked your door before kicking your heels off and throwing your purse onto the couch, but not before digging out your phone to taken with you as you got changed and ready for bed.

You had just finished brushing your teeth, not ten minutes after he left, when your phone rang. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you saw his name, and you slipped between your bedsheets before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

You could hear the road noise in the background when you asked, "Did you forget something?"

"Nope. Just said I would call."

You laughed and pulled your blankets up around your chin.

"I thought that meant maybe tomorrow."

"Miss you, didn't wanna wait," he answered immediately. You bit your lower lip and even though he couldn't see you, you pressed your palm over your cheeks when you felt them grow hot.

"I miss you, too," you whispered.

After a beat of silence where you were each smiling like fools for no one to see, he spoke again.

"What do you wanna do for our next date?"

"Hmm," you tapped your chin thoughtfully for a moment. "How about you pick the next one since I picked this one? We can take turns."

You heard his deep chuckle on the other end and you grinned.

"I like it. You're on."

You figured Joel would pick something a little fancier than you, but you weren't expecting him to propose a date to the opera for your fourth date. It was a far cry from the shitty little dive bar around the corner that had a really fun trivia night you dragged him to a few days before.

Joel! I don't have anything to wear to the opera!

I kept all your clothes. I'll have Liam drop off some things before EOD.

Before you even had a chance to process the fact Joel had kept everything from your trip to Fiji and what that could possibly mean, your phone pinged with another text.

Told you you should've kept them

You grinned and shook your head.

And I told *you* I don't have the room

When are you gonna let me see this tiny apartment of yours?

You glanced around your living room, the space was cozy but definitely not spacious. It was hard to even imagine Joel there. Would he even like it? He was definitely used to a very different lifestyle than you. You were nervously chewing your nail, lost in thought, when your phone pinged again.

Sorry, not trying to pressure you, that's not what I meant

Shit, you took too long to answer and had him second guessing himself.

I know lol I was just reading an email - sorry

It wasn't entirely untrue. Your laptop sat open on your coffee table, your email program sitting before you.

Any luck on the job front?

No... not yet. Fortunately I have a handsome benefactor paying my rent for the next two months ;)

Your handsome benefactor would really like it if you let him help you find a job, baby

You rolled your eyes and sighed before typing out, don't you have a company to run?

I can do two things at once

You laughed to yourself and leaned back into your couch, staring at your phone longingly.

Since your first date with Joel, you had spoken every single day, approximately two weeks. What surprised you the most was the constant stream of texts he sent you throughout the day. You saw how he was in Fiji, you knew he was busy and had meetings and calls around the clock. How on earth he managed to do both still astounded you.

Because he was really trying, a little voice in the back of your head piped up.

He really did seem like a completely different man from the one you first met. Traces of him were still there: he hadn't yet come clean about his daughter or brother, but every time you saw each other, he made a point of sharing something new about himself. He told you a handful of stories from when he was younger, living in Texas. He told you his brother was a contractor but that was the only thing you knew about him. And that was okay. You wanted him to tell you about himself on his own terms, without feeling pressured, and that was exactly what he was doing.

Well I need to shower and figure out what to do with my hair for tonight. Unfortunately my phone's not waterproof so I guess I'll just see you later?

Looking forward to it - I'll let you know when to expect Liam

Like he promised, Liam arrived around four in the afternoon with an armful of dresses draped over one arm and a bag of shoes in the other.

"Oh, god, here - lemme help you," you said when you saw how much he was carrying from the elevator. He shot you a relieved smile when you grabbed a few things from his arms and helped him inside your apartment. He took one quick glance around and said, "Cute," before laying the dresses out on your couch and unzipping the bags.

"Alright. I brought a few pieces I thought would work best. You're free to do whatever, of course, but I would recommend the Chanel dress with the Valentino shoes."

Your eyes darted around at the items suddenly taking up all of the space in your living room and tried not to look completely out of your depth, but he must have been able to tell because he snatched up both items and handed them to you.

"Oh, thanks," you told him. The Chanel dress was a slinky black number you never had a chance to wear on the island, and the shoes were strappy heels you thought you wore once to a dinner with Zoe.

"Have you seen La Traviata before?" Liam asked. You chuckled and shook your head.

"I've never even been to the opera before."

Liam smiled and clapped his hands together gleefully. "Oh, you'll have such a great time! This is a great one to see. Especially from the box. You'll be able to see everything and won't have to dodge horrible hairdos or top hats."

"B-box? Joel's got box seats?" you stammered. He laughed and began to open a small toiletry bag filled with jewelry.

"Of course he does."

Liam held up a few necklaces before settling on a thin chain of diamonds and setting it aside. He then dug out matching earrings and a bracelet while he asked, "What are you planning to do with your hair?"

You had washed and dried it but otherwise, you hadn't gotten further than that.

"Uh, just wear it down, I guess."

Liam straightened up and gave you a once over. "Want some help?"

Relief flooded your veins and you quickly nodded. "Do you mind?"

He smiled and shook his head before flapping his hands, ushering you towards your bathroom.

"Not at all. Let's see what you're working with."

"Jesus, you look beautiful," Joel murmured for the fourth time since he picked you up. He had one arm wrapped tightly around your middle, pulling you close to his side as you weaved through the lobby of the opera house. You owed it all to Liam. He was a lifesaver. He picked out your outfit and helped curl your hair where you couldn't reach it, keeping you distracted while he told you about his boyfriend's parents and their lavish home in Malibu.

"Thank you," you replied softly, looking him up and down in his sharp, black tuxedo before reminding him how good he looked, too.

"You wanna get a drink before it starts? We got 'bout ten minutes," he said, looking quickly at his watch before catching your eye.

"Uh, no, thanks. I'm good," you replied, looking past him to admire the ornate architecture. "Do you come to the opera often?"

"Not as much as I like," he told you while leading you towards a flight of carpeted stairs in the corner of the room. "Don't usually have many dates," he added with a little smirk. You smiled back, heart fluttering a little in your chest at how relaxed and happy he seemed.

He had been so good about opening up lately, you decided to test the waters and see how he would react.

"When was your last relationship?"

He faltered for just a quick moment when he reached out to pull back the red velvet curtain that led to your box seats, but he recovered nicely.

"You mean a real relationship?" he asked, and you nodded. He pulled out your chair and you swept the skirt of your dress underneath you before sitting down and thanking him.

"Well, that woulda been with Sarah's mom."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you twisted in your seat to look at him. He was fixing his suit coat, looking down as his fingers nervously fidgeted with the buttons while he spoke.

"Was a long time ago. Sarah's fifteen now," he added, clearing his throat before locking eyes with you.

You swallowed and nodded before forcing yourself to reply, trying not to look too eager to hear more.

"That's a long time."

"Explains why I'm so rusty," he joked, cracking a little smile which you quickly reciprocated.

"You're not as rusty as you think," you teased. "I've been having a really great time the past couple weeks."

His smile softened and he instinctively found your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"Me, too," he murmured, dark eyes sparkling in the dim lighting from the chandeliers hanging over the auditorium.

His hand rarely left yours the entire three hours. The brief moments where the audience was expected to clap were the only exception, and then his hand immediately fell to yours once again. There was something so sweet and tender about the gesture, it made your chest squeeze and had you wishing you could curl into his side and wrap yourself around him.

What was wonderful was he didn't expect anything from you in these two short weeks, but then again, he never really did. Not in the way you were thinking, anyway. But that particular evening, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about it. It might have been the heart-wrenchingly beautiful arias, or his thick fingers laced between yours, or how fucking good he looked in his tux, but whatever it was, it was driving you crazy. During the final hour of the performance, you were trying not to squirm in your seat too much and distract him because it truly was a beautiful opera, and you enjoyed it much more than you expected, but your close proximity and constant contact had your body reacting in ways that were not appropriate for the setting.

Even in the car on the way back to your apartment, you struggled to carry on a simple fucking conversation with him, allowing Joel to do most of the talking as he described his favorite parts while your eyes subtly darted between him and Richie, wishing more than ever that Joel would use that goddamn partition you knew the car had but he never seemed to utilize.

The three dates you've had before all ended the same way. Richie had figured out by now that Joel preferred to open your door himself, so he remained seated after giving you a quick good night over his shoulder while Joel slid out of the car to walk you up. He would kiss you, tell you what a fun time he had, maybe offer up a suggestion for your next date and probably give you a flirty little joke or comment before kissing you one last time with the promise to call.

This time, you only let him get to the first kiss before you whispered against his lips, "Do you want to come up and finally see my apartment?"

He pulled back like he had been electrocuted and you stifled a giggle at the serious look on his face. You could practically see the gears in his head turning as he tried to formulate a response.

"Or, you know, you could see it another time if you're tired," you added, hiding your smirk when you turned to unlock your front door.

"N-no, that's - y'sure?" he asked from over your shoulder. You pushed open the door and took one step inside before turning back around. Dragging your gaze up and down his body, you looked him dead in the eye when you said, "Absolutely."

Joel waved Richie off when you turned to drag him into your building, praying the ancient elevator wouldn't take forever like it normally did. You were in luck: it opened right away for once, and you quickly stepped inside before repeatedly jabbing the button for your floor. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist when the doors closed.

"That excited to show me your place, hm?" he murmured, his lips brushing over your bare shoulder. You leaned back into his chest, head lolling to the side and eyelids fluttering when his prickly mustache tickled your neck.

"Mhmm," you hummed, then bravely added, "especially my bedroom."

He groaned and gently bit at the skin behind your ear, teeth grazing over a tender spot, making you shudder.

"C'mon," you muttered once the doors slid open, grabbing his hand and hauling him down the hall towards your apartment. When you turned the corner, your eyes widened in surprise when you almost ran into your neighbor.

"Oh! Mrs. Adams! Hi... s-sorry," you stammered at the elderly woman wrapped in her robe with her tiny white dog cradled in her arms.

"Ma'am," Joel said with a friendly nod.

She said your name in greeting, then gave Joel a suspicious look over her shoulder before disappearing inside your abandoned elevator. You giggled and knocked your door open with your hip, pulling him inside and locking the door while flicking on your lights.

With one hand on your lower back, he looked around your meager apartment, standing in the middle of your living room slash kitchen in his tuxedo looking more out of place than you could have ever imagined, but it didn't bother you. Turned out, you liked seeing him in your space. You wanted to have memories of him sitting on your couch or eating at your table or taking a shower in your bathroom.

"I like it," he said, eyes still darting around to take in every little thing. Then he spotted some framed photographs on your entertainment center and he took a step forward.

"Can we look at those later?" you asked, tugging him back. He grinned and nodded before cupping your jaw and placing a tender kiss against your lips.

"You got somethin' else in mind?" he teased, but you just nodded earnestly and began to tug at his tie. He chuckled and watched you yank it from around his neck, dropping it on your floor before beginning to undo his buttons.

His hands fell to your sides, running up and down and plucking at the slinky fabric of your dress while you undid half the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Pleased to find he wasn't wearing an undershirt, you lunged forward and started to leave a trail of wet kisses leading from the center of his chest all the way up to the corner of his mouth.

"Missed you," he breathed, letting his eyes fall closed while you worked on sucking a bruise into his neck. Your fingers worked faster now, tugging the shirt from his dress pants and fumbling with the remaining buttons.

"Me, too," you whispered, lips still nipping at his skin, tongue darting out to press against his pulse. His shirt finally fell open and your nails lightly dragged down his chest when you added, "Need you. Please, Joel... kiss me."

You didn't need to ask twice.

His mouth collided with yours, all messy and urgent, and he began to walk you backwards towards the open door of your bedroom. He deftly worked the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down as he walked, mouth still seared across yours.

When you stepped through the threshold, your heels transitioning from hardwood to carpet, you blindly flung a hand out and flicked a light switch. In the corner of your room, a floor lamp turned on, casting you both in a soft glow when Joel finally pushed you down onto your bed.

His eyes, dark and filled with desire, dragged up and down your body while he unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged off his shirt. Your dress was unzipped but still hung from your shoulders as you watched him slowly work his belt with bated breath.

"I like your room," he told you, tone casual like he wasn't taking off his pants and palming his cock through his boxers.

"Thanks," you laughed as you began to squirm out of your dress. He grinned and grabbed a heel in each hand before sliding them off and tossing them into a corner. "I can't imagine the kind of bedroom you have. Probably as big as the entire floor of this building."

"You'll have to come over and see," Joel said, eyes glued to your dress when it slid to the floor. He knelt on the edge of your mattress, old bed squeaking under his weight, then fell forward to hover above you.

He traced a finger along your jaw, mesmerized for a moment as he admired you up close. When he heard your breathing stutter under the scrutiny, his gaze flickered up to yours and he pinched your chin.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For everythin'. For every time I pushed you away 'n every time I made you cry."

The sudden shift in mood stunned you for a second and he took the opportunity to press his lips firmly against yours, tethering you together for just a moment before pulling away.

"Thank you for givin' me another chance," he whispered, closing his eyes and nudging his nose gently against yours. "I won't fuck this up again, baby, I promise."

"You better fucking not," you sniffled, then wrapped your arms loosely around his neck to pull him into another deep kiss so he wouldn't see your eyes grow watery.

"There's my girl," he chuckled at your sass when he broke away to pepper kisses along your jaw. My girl. Hearing those words shot a bolt of arousal through you and your hips began to subtly rock upwards, seeking out some friction to soothe the ache between your legs.

"Want me to take care of you?" he murmured into your skin. "Want me to make you feel good, baby?"

"Yeah," you whined, hips bucking upwards to chase his hand that dropped between your thighs, fingers teasing at your seam through your soaked panties. Then he hooked the fabric to the side, his mouth finding yours right when he slid two thick fingers inside you, swallowing down your gasp and groaning at the sharp bite of pain from your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shit," you whispered when he began to plunge them in and out, curling and flexing his fingers inside your wet walls, soaked from the arousal building since you first saw him in his tuxedo when he picked you up.

Joel hummed, relishing in the familiar feel around him and trying to hold himself back from pulling his hand out from between your legs so he could bury his cock deep inside you, instead.

But he refused to be selfish. He said he wanted to take care of you, and he meant it. He meant it in every imaginable way.

All he wanted was you.

"So beautiful, y'know that?" he mumbled, mouth dragging over your jaw, teeth lightly nipping at your chin. "So warm 'n perfect, missed havin' you like this," he continued, lips twitching when he saw your eyes squeeze shut and mouth fall open when his fingertips brushed against that spot that had you reduced to a mumbling mess underneath him.

Joel could sense he had you right on the edge. He heard it in the way your breath came in staggered gasps and could feel it in the way your legs began to quake. He picked up the pace, breath puffing hot and fast from his nose, eyes locked on your face, eager to watch you fall apart for him after what felt like an eternity without you.

Then his face broke out into a cocky grin when the heel of his palm started to slap against your clit with each snap of his wrist. The noises you made for him were like music to his ears, a symphony of his name and more and don't stop and a litany of curses.

"Gonna come for me, darlin'? Gonna come 'n let me fuck this perfect little pussy?" he growled while biting gently at your earlobe. You whined and tipped your head back, pushing deep into your pillow as the pleasure mounted low in your belly, burning bright when it finally spilled over with a pathetic hoarse whimper. Joel groaned when your nails dragged down unexpectedly hard, leaving angry red trails over the skin of his back. Marks he would catch in the mirror on Monday and grin proudly at his reflection after he stepped out of his shower.

"Fuck, Joel," you panted, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him. You looked so beautiful like that. All fucked out, hair a mess, skin hot, lips swollen. He dove down and pulled your lower lip between his teeth, gently tugging before letting it go and slipping his tongue into your eager mouth. His fingers had slowed to a stop inside you, but he could still feel your cunt pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. It was a feeling he was very familiar with. A feeling he craved and now that he had it again, feared he may go insane if he didn't feel it around his painfully hard cock very soon.

As if you read his mind, you dragged your mouth away from his to whisper in his ear, "Fuck me, Joel," and he swore the edges of his vision blurred from just your request alone.

A high pitched moan slipped past your lips when he pulled his fingers out from between your legs. You rolled your head to the side, the sudden emptiness causing you to writhe in discomfort, but you wouldn't have to wait very long.

He reached around to unhook your strapless bra and tossed it onto your floor, like he was mad at it for keeping you from him. Then he made short work of your underwear, which you looked relieved to finally be rid of, before pulling down his boxers and freeing his throbbing cock. He caught your gaze drop and your teeth sunk into your lower lip before sitting up.

"I wanna suck it," you announced, but when you began to lean down, he grabbed your shoulders and hauled you up.

"Not tonight," he told you, and you whined a little as you reached down to stroke him. He groaned and tipped his head back, hips thrusting into your fist on their own accord.

"Please," you pleaded, lips puckering around his adam's apple. And you almost got him. He could hardly resist when you begged, especially with the promise of your warm, soft mouth wrapped around his cock, but he knew he wouldn't last long if he let you.

"Lemme fuck you, baby," he murmured when he gave you a gentle push. You flopped back onto your bed with a playful scowl, tits bouncing a little from the impact when he suddenly reached down to the floor to grab his pants. He pulled out a little foil wrapper and you frowned.

"We don't have to-"

"Just bein' extra careful, alright?" he told you, cutting you off as he rolled the condom on.

"I have an implant now. It won't be a problem like last time," you insisted, but he already tossed the wrapper to the ground and fell onto his elbows, hovering above you.

"Humor me," he said with a little smirk right before his hips pushed your thighs apart, wasting no time lining himself up with your entrance.

Normally, he would go slow. Normally, he would take his time and feed you his cock inch by inch, but on that particular evening, he was too desperate. With one deep grunt and rough thrust, he sheathed himself inside you in one go, making your jaw drop and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Sorry," he gasped, forehead falling to your shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation of your pussy gripping him so perfectly sending him reeling. "Sorry," he repeated as the both of you struggled for air, "I didn't mean, I - fuck -" his hips began to move just a little bit and he whimpered when your fingers drifted up to get tangled in his hair.

"It's okay, keep going," you encouraged him, taking a deep breath and forcing your muscles to relax.

"Don't wanna hurt you but, fuck baby, I want you so goddamn bad."

"I know, it's okay, it doesn't hurt," you told him truthfully. His mouth was open, pressed against your chest with his exhale fanning across your skin, making you shiver. You wrapped your legs around his waist and tilted your hips with a gasp. "God, you're so deep," you moaned, nails scraping his scalp when he began to move a little more steadily.

"I know, baby, I know," he murmured, voice sounding strained. It was all too much and, somehow, not enough. You clung to him when his hips began to snap against you, jostling your entire body with each earth-shattering thrust. His groans and your whimpers getting lost in each others mouths. Tears stung your eyes when he whispered, "Think 'bout you all the time. Never stop thinkin' 'bout you." And he growled when you admitted the same.

Your shitty little bed frame screamed underneath you the more desperate Joel became, no doubt grabbing the attention of Mrs. Adams across the hall. His hands never stopped moving. They cupped your breast, the back of your neck, your ass, and then his fingers hooked under your knee, pulling your leg to open up your hips.

Your eyes flew open and you cried out at the intense angle, his cock splitting you in two but his kiss put you right back together again. One of his hands fell to grab your hip, his other arm bracing himself next to your head and it felt utterly overwhelming, being completely consumed by him, that you wanted to do the same. You tugged at his hair, nipped at his throat, wrapped your other leg even tighter around his middle.

If he was going to destroy you, you wanted to give it right back.

He appeared to enjoy it. He groaned and his lips curled into a smile when you tried to take a piece of him. It made him slam his hips into your harder, had him plunging his tongue into your mouth with an urgency that sent your back arching off the bed, pressing your bare chest against his.

"You like that?" he mumbled into your mouth, lips barely leaving yours to speak. "You like when I fuck you like this?"

"So - good -" you moaned, each word bookended by a snap of his hips.

"You like gettin' me all worked up? Like drivin' me fuckin' crazy?"

"Yeah, actually, I do," you breathed, smirking at the sound of his words passing through gritted teeth. His chin dropped and his teeth grazed your nipple a little harsher than you expected and you yelped, which melted into a giggle when you felt him smile against your skin.

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and, with your lips still curved into a smile, reached down to grab his ass, giving it a firm squeeze while making sure to add a little pinch from your nails. It made him grunt, his hips changing their pace. What was rough, strong thrusts of his hips now faltered to deep strokes which he made sure to drive upwards so he could reach that spot inside you he knew would have you screaming his name.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, and he chuckled darkly against your throat. "Fuck! Joel... keep - going," you gasped. Your hands were back to clawing at his shoulders while he drove into you over and over. His forehead prickled with sweat and he could feel his curls beginning to stick to his skin but he refused to let up because you were so close. Your slick walls were clenching around him, making him see stars, while you repeatedly whined his name. He smirked to himself, pleased he got exactly what he wanted. Your voice was already hoarse and he could only imagine what it would sound like in the morning, all raw and thick with sleep.

"You gonna come f'me, baby?" he asked, voice deep and gravelly in your ear. You nodded, mouth still hung open in a silent scream. "Then do it. C'mon, wanna feel you," he coaxed. "Wanna feel your tight little pussy milk this cock. Go on, lemme have it."

The ball of tension growing hotter and brighter at the base of your spine finally broke. Your back arched up again and your head flew back into the pillows as your orgasm rolled through your entire body, his name reduced to just a mere whimper on your lips, unable to give anything else. Your muscles weakened and you collapsed back into the bedding, your brain in a fog. Meanwhile, Joel reared back and dragged your hips onto his lap, pounding steadily into your used cunt, all frantic and delirious in his movements until he slammed into you one final time with a deep, prolonged groan.

Your eyes slid closed, but his mouth was back on yours in an instant. Soft, tender kisses pressed shakily against your lips, silence filling the room except for the quiet sound of your combined heavy breathing and your bed springs occasionally squealing when Joel shifted his weight.

"You good?" he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours with a deep breath. You nodded then winced when he withdrew his softening cock from between your legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at you, searching your face very seriously for a moment. You opened your mouth to ask but the words died in your throat. Instead, you let him study you. Your eyes landed on the little wrinkles developing next to his eyes, the cute pout he made when he was deep in thought, the way his hair stood like a halo after your fingers pulled and tugged, rearranging the product that was combed through.

He kept looking at you, something happening behind his eyes, something meaningful. But just when you thought you were on the cusp of something, he blinked and cleared his throat, pushing himself upright.

"Lemme go clean up real quick," he said, glancing out into the hallway.

"Okay," you said quietly, watching as he sauntered naked through your room and disappeared into the bathroom. You could hear the sink running, then a minute later, the toilet flushing, and you suddenly felt cold. You reached for your blankets and slid underneath, and right when your mind was about to get carried away with self-doubt and too many questions, the door flung open and he stepped out with a determined look.

"I almost married Sarah's mom."

You sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to your chest with wide eyes. He was standing in your doorway, still naked except the condom was gone. His fingers fidgeted nervously at his sides and the romantic side of you found it poetic that he was fully naked and about to reveal something so personal, but you couldn't focus much on that.

"Why didn't you?"

Joel blinked.

"I thought I loved her, but I think it was just 'cause she was havin' my baby," he began. "I was thirty, just startin' to make a name for myself, made a huge fuckin' mistake and, I dunno, felt like I had to do the right thing."

"Thirty," you repeated, and he nodded. "Didn't you say that was when you built The Parador?"

He nodded again and finally moved from his spot in the doorway to join you on the bed.

"I was naive. I met her at this networkin' event with a bunch of other guys in the hospitality industry. She was just at the bar, all alone, wasn't even part of the event or a worker or nothin'. Shoulda been my first clue, but I was young and stupid."

"What do you mean?"

He pulled the blankets over his waist and leaned up against your headboard.

"I didn't know it, but she was goin' fishin' that night."

You tilted your head to the side, confusion written all over your face.

"She was lookin' to sink her claws into someone with money. She knew everyone at that event was somebody, so she cast her line and reeled one in."

Slowly, you began to connect the dots.

"She... she was using you for your money?"

Joel swallowed and nodded, his eyes darting around your face nervously.

"Did - you said the pregnancy was a mistake-"

"I don't know if she planned it, but it sure as hell felt that way after I found everythin' out. She was expectin' me to propose, thought she'd be set for life if she had my kid. Heard her on the phone one night with a friend who was doin' the same thing to someone else. Same night I came home early to surprise her after we found out we were havin' a girl."

"Oh, my god," you whispered in disbelief.

"It was wrong, I know it, but I was so fuckin' hurt," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I kicked her out. I know it wasn't Sarah's fault and I tried, I really fuckin' tried, but every time I saw her-" he pressed his lips into a thin line and dropped his gaze to the sheets. "Just reminded me of everythin', and I couldn't handle it."

"So... you don't have a relationship with her? Or with Sarah?" you asked. He shook his head but he kept his eyes shamefully fixed on his hands.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Joel's concern with Glenn and his emphasis on family, Tammy's vague insinuation on the yacht, Joel's inability to trust you, his resistance to opening up. It was all because he was afraid of being used again.

The fact he had never been in love sounded more like he had never allowed himself to fall in love.

But he was trusting you now. Something that was clearly very difficult for him to do while he sat in fear of judgement.

You scooted forward on the bed and tucked yourself into his side. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your chin on his chest, curling yourself around him, trying to make him feel safe. His heart fluttered anxiously under his skin, you could feel it, but he slowly picked up his own arms and coiled them around you protectively.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

"What- what're you sorry for?"

"For everything you went through. I'm sorry she broke your heart. I'm sorry you suffered for so long with this burden. I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me before, but I promise you, I'm not judging you."

"I know," he replied, kissing the top of your head. You took another deep breath before speaking again.

"And I'm not after you for your money. I can understand now why you -"

"Sweetheart, I know," he said, cutting you off.

You frowned and looked up at him. "You do?"

He grinned and nudged his nose gently against yours.

"Yeah. Probably the only goddamn sugar baby in the world who didn't want money, so... yeah. I know."

You giggled and pulled away from his grip so you could look him in the eye.

"I mean, it's kind of ironic... you seeking out a woman to pay to be with you? Why would you-"

"'Cause I woulda rather had all our cards on the table and know up front it was just a business deal," he explained. "Didn't need someone sneakin' 'round behind my back tryin' to take advantage of me. Rather know from jump."

You felt your chest tighten a little at that, and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning forward, giving him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. He pulled you over to straddle his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist, gazing up at you with stars in his eyes.

"But you wanted everythin' else except my money," he murmured. You shifted your eyes to the left and began to play with a curl above his ear, suddenly growing shy under his scrutiny. But he kept going.

"Always had a feelin', but didn't wanna believe it. Couldn't believe it, I suppose," he added, watching your eyes carefully as you continued to focus on his hair. "You never cared 'bout doin' anythin' extravagant on the island. Wanted to spend time with me at the beach, wanted to get food from a stand at the corner with our goddamn faces painted," he chuckled. You grinned and felt your cheeks grow hot.

"Then you left those envelopes," he said, and your eyes finally found his again. He let a heavy moment pass between you as you stared down at him. "Never even opened 'em. Gave you that first one the first night we were there. And you didn't open it."

You shook your head and a slow smile stretched across his face.

"Then with the hell you gave me and the bank 'bout the payment after we got back," he groaned, tilting his face to the ceiling like he was in agony.

"Fifty thousand was too fucking much!" you practically shouted, but he just laughed and pulled you closer.

"You actually fuckin' like me," he said in wonder. "Why would someone like you want anythin' to do with someone like me?"

You threw your head back and laughed, immediately recognizing your own words being parroted back to you.

"Because," you replied once your laughter waned, "you're a good man, despite what you may think. You care and you're sweet and you make me feel safe. You make me feel good about myself. You pay attention to things that mean something to me. You - I -" you cut yourself off with a quick shake of your head. "Yeah... I actually fucking like you," you finished with a slow smile.

He grinned and cupped the back of your neck, but before pulling you down for a kiss, he whispered, "How'd I get so lucky?"

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed. If it weren't for the incessant ache between your legs and the soreness of your throat, you would have wondered if it was all a dream. You reached for the other side of the bed and felt the sheets cool under your fingertips.

It was Saturday. You didn't think he would have worked that day, but then again, it was Joel, so maybe he did. But would he really leave without saying goodbye? After you were so raw and vulnerable with each other the night before?

That was when you heard it. Faint humming and music turned on low coming from your kitchen.

Oh, now this you had to see.

When you rolled out of bed, you almost reached for your pajamas, but then you spotted his shirt neatly draped over your desk chair and you couldn't resist. You picked it up and slid your arms through, rumpling the fabric underneath your chin and taking a deep breath. It still smelled just like him. A mixture of deodorant, soap, cologne and hair products. A unique scent that was quickly becoming a favorite of yours.

You stepped out of your bedroom and peered into your kitchen, a smile pulling at your lips when you saw him pouring coffee for you both, wearing only his boxers with the sweet sounds of 80s ballads filling the air. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, gaze slowly gliding over the strong, broad muscles of his back until he turned around and froze.

"Was gonna make you somethin' to eat and then I remembered... I don't know how to cook."

You burst out laughing and Joel grinned when he handed you your coffee.

"But you figured out the coffee machine," you said, taking a tentative sip and giving him an impressed look.

"That thing's a piece of shit, I'm buyin' you a new one," he scolded.

You dropped your jaw and frowned.

"No, you will not. It's not in its prime, sure, but it makes the best coffee."

Joel chuckled and wrapped the hand not holding his coffee around your ribs. Taking a step forward and dropping his chin had him towering over you seductively.

"Y'look real good in my clothes," he murmured, lips brushing against your forehead with a low hum.

"Couldn't help myself," you admitted softly, "smells just like you."

He pulled back a bit to give you half a smile. "You like smellin' like me?"

"Mhmm," you said under your breath, then nuzzled your nose into his bare chest and took a deep breath. "But now you smell like me."

Joel groaned and dipped his head lower, slotting his lips hungrily against yours. When his tongue slipped past your lips, you giggled and pulled away.

"I need some coffee first," you teased. He just smirked while his fingertips rubbed his bottom lip, like he were chasing the ghost of your kiss. His soft brown eyes were glimmering, so happy and content in your little living room slash kitchen. His cheeks were slightly pink and you weren't sure you'd ever seen him smile so much before.

While you sipped your coffee, you began to crack some eggs in a frying pan while simultaneously tossing some bread in the toaster. Meanwhile, Joel was nosing curiously around your apartment, inspecting little trinkets that he didn't have the chance to look at the night before.

"Snowglobe from Disney?" Joel asked, holding it up from across the room. You looked over your shoulder with a grin.

"My aunt and uncle are obsessed with Disney. They get me Disney themed shit every year for Christmas."

Joel hummed and placed it down gently on the windowsill before spotting a vase filled with sand and seashells. He smiled as he approached, too worried he would break it to pick it up when he asked, "When'd you steal sand?"

He heard you laugh and he turned back around.

"The day we were at the beach together. I had a ziploc for my sunscreen so, you know," you said with a shrug while you flipped the eggs. Joel gave the vase one more look, smiling to himself when he saw the new pink seashells scattered throughout.

"Where are you gonna hang the painting?" he asked when he saw it leaning up against the wall next to your television.

"I don't know yet. Maybe next to the door. Or maybe behind the couch," you answered, focusing on buttering the toast and turning off the gas before the eggs burned. You jumped when you suddenly felt his hands sliding around your waist.

"Supposed to go above the bed," he reminded you. Tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder, you grinned.

"You remember everything, don't you?"

"Sure do," he replied, giving your ass a playful smack before picking up both plates of food. "Where do you wanna eat?"

You both sunk into your old couch and balanced your plates on your knees, shoveling in forkfuls of food in between explaining the story behind every little thing that caught his eye.

Then he spotted your picture frames again. He leaned forward to put his empty plate on your coffee table and stood, his hulking, mostly-still-naked frame captivating you for a moment as he picked up a photo to study it.

"Your folks?" he asked, tilting the frame towards you. You squinted and nodded from the couch. "Any siblings?"

The question came out soft as he angled it back towards him.

"Nope. Just me. I've always wanted a sister but Celine was a pretty good substitute," you smiled as he picked up a photo of you and Celine on New Years Eve.

"'S'nice," he murmured thoughtfully, taking one last look at the photo before putting it back. He pretended to study a photo of you and your grandparents from your graduation when he added, "Probably best you got to pick. My brother's been a pain in the ass since I was old enough to ride a bike."

You perked up at the mention of his brother, folding your legs underneath you and setting your plate down next to his.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, still staring down at the picture. "Always usin' my shit and breakin' it. Buttin' in with me 'n my friends to do somethin' stupid. Got me in trouble more times than I can count with our Mama," he mused. He finally set the picture down and turned to look at you. "Then he got older. The fuck ups got more serious. Bailin' him outta jail every other weekend. Got a DUI one summer and had me haulin' his ass all over town."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise but you remained silent, just nodding your head and giving him your full attention, too afraid to spook him with any questions just yet.

"Then we grew up. I moved out here, six months later he follows, 'course," he said, sounded exasperated when he plopped down on the couch next to you. "Got a job at a hotel, 'fore you know it he's beggin' me for a job. Got 'em one workin' as a dishwasher in the restaurant inside the hotel but he fucked that up before I could blink an eye."

Before he even finished the story, you could sense where it was going.

"Finally, he finds his own way. Gets in with a construction company. And he did pretty good, too. I had my thing goin' on at the hotel. Learnin' from the manager 'n all that. By the time I was ready to renovate my first hotel, Tommy'd ended up owning his own company. It was small, but, hell... it was the best he ever got."

You chewed your lower lip anxiously, watching as his eyes slid over to your dusty television, staring at it blankly before he continued.

"So, I hired him. Hired his company to renovate part of the hotel. He even cut me a deal. Thought for once he'd finally pulled his head outta his ass and made somethin' of himself."

Joel fell silent for a few minutes, lost in thought while his fingers fidgeted nervously in his lap.

"Then what happened?" you whispered, worried if you had spoken any louder, it would have snapped him out of it and he would clam back up.

"Then... his company went under. He wasn't doin' shit by the book. Got caught payin' guys under the table and fuckin' up his taxes. And he had to start over."

You connected the dots even before he said, "He came to me lookin' for a loan. Lookin' to fix all his goddamn mistakes, like nothin' ever changed. And... I said no."

"And he never forgave you," you guessed. His eyes found yours and he nodded.

"Yeah. Never forgave me. Said I was turnin' my back on blood. Said he woulda done the same for me. But I just had fuckin' enough. I worked hard to get what I had. So, I refused and he had to move back to Texas. Last I heard he got a loan from our Pop and started a business down there."

You sat in silence for a moment, letting his story sink in with the only noise coming from horns blaring on the street below and your next door neighbor shouting at her husband to wake up for work.

"So... that's the brother story, huh?" you finally said, the corner of your mouth lifting when he met your eye and nodded. You shrugged and scooted closer to him on the couch. "That's not so bad. I understand why you did what you did."

"Had the whole situation goin' on with Sarah's mom at the time, too, but 'course he had no idea. Felt like he never asked me much 'bout my life unless he needed somethin'," he said solemnly.

You snuggled in close and lifted his arm to drape over your shoulders.

"It's never too late, you know," you told him softly. His thumb began to trace invisible circles over your shoulder.

"For what?"

"To make peace. With both of them," you replied. "If you wanted to, anyway. And if you ask me, it sounds like you want to."

"Oh, yeah? And how d'you know that?" Joel teased, pinching your arm and making you giggle.

"Because," you said, tilting your chin to look at him. "If you didn't want to, you wouldn't care so much. You wouldn't have kept all this a secret and you wouldn't think you're a bad person. But what do I know?" you said with a sigh before resting your head against his chest. "I'm just the sugar baby."

Joel's loud laugh echoed throughout your tiny apartment. You grinned when he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap to face him, dark eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you.

"You ain't a sugar baby, and you know it."

"Then what am I?"

He cupped the back of your neck and brought your lips down to meet his in a gentle kiss.

"You're the woman I'm fallin' in love with," he whispered, voice trembling a little. You locked eyes, the surprise and excitement coursing through your veins causing you to smile so wide that it hurt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied with a smile of his own. "Real goddamn inconvenient," he added, making you giggle and press another kiss against his mouth.

"Told you," you said breathlessly. "But we can take things slow, seeing as you're a newbie and all." Joel scoffed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

The dam had finally broke. All the secrets and lies were revealed. For better or worse, you both put your hearts in each others hands and trusted that the other would keep it safe.

As if reading your mind, Joel's hand dropped to your chest. He flattened his palm over your rapidly beating heart while you played with the curls on the nape of his neck.

"This is real," he stated softly, voice a little thicker than before. He had a look on his face like he couldn't believe it, and you smiled.

"Yeah, it's real."

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[tofics]

You Owe Me - Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Forced through circumstances out of your control to rely on Joel Miller, you end up traversing the country with him. You're not particularly enthralled with him, and neither is he with you - or so you think, until your period strikes, and you're practically bed-ridden. Or: Joel can't stop jerking off to you after he accidentally got a taste of your lips.

Warnings/tags: canon typical show/game violence, sort of dubious consent (reader gets kissed without being asked and only later agrees), age gap (reader is about ~25 years younger), enemies to lovers kind of, awful period + period cramps, jerking off, fluff

Word count: ~7.4k

Periods are not fun to begin with.

They're even less fun in a post-apocalyptic world, where sanitary products are hard to come by and more of a luxurious rarity than a given staple item in your average survivor's backpack.

You knew you were bound to begin your cycle eventually, and had you had more time, you'd probably have prepared yourself some way or the other. But, with the way things had gone in the past two weeks, you had not had any time to think about bodily functions beyond what your every day efforts demanded of you, and even that was hard to care for.

Ever since the night that you fled Boston's QZ, you hadn't had a proper night's rest, let alone a hearty meal to replenish your energy with. Your escape had been 'spontaneous' to say the least, a necessity brought upon by circumstances that you'd stumbled into rather than purposefully involved yourself in, and before you knew it, you were pointing your finger at Joel Miller, of all people in the world, hissing threats through gritted teeth about how he at least owed you this much if he was going to get you involved in his business without your consent and how you weren't gonna get hanged just because he'd dragged you into his bullshit.

Joel, of course, was not a man you could just point your finger at and demand things of, much less in a hissed tone, even less in the form of threats.

And yet, he'd smuggled you out of the city in a cloak-and-dagger-operation that same night, despite his hard glares and hushed warnings to keep your mouth shut. You'd been anything but prepared when he'd appeared at your side like a magician out of thin air. He'd laid his arm around your neck like a lover might on an evening stroll, but the gesture hadn't been kind, his arm too tight around your throat, pressing on your airway as he'd instructed you - commanded you - to follow him, like you'd have had any other choice with his arm wrapped around your neck like a boa constrictor, all the while a smile on his face that feigned nonchalance to possible onlookers. Nothing to see here, just two lovebirds on their way home after another long, hard day of work.

You'd shaken him off once the two of you were out of sight, ripped his arm off of your throat as you swiveled out of his headlock. "What the fuck, Joel," you'd hissed and he'd stared back at you with that same cold and hard look you knew him by. "Do you want out of the city or not?" His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his tone matching the iciness of his eyes. Your jaw tensed. The nerves of this guy. "The hell are you talking about?"

He scoffed like you were being dense. "Out. Flee the nest. Hit the damn road-" You cut him off with another pointed finger. "Don't be cute. I know what you mean. What I'm asking is, now?!" He eyed your finger like he was debating cutting it off if you jabbed it into his face one more time. His jaw ticked. "Yes, sweetheart, now." Your nostrils flared at the sarcastic tone of the nickname, but he gave you no time to interject. "Got tipped off. They're gonna do a raid tonight, hit everyone they know I'm involved with. Since you got all flustered about my - 'involvement' of yours-" "Oh, is that what you call that? Grabbing and kissing me out of the blue?" "-I figured I'd do you a solid by giving you a heads up," he talked over you, ignoring your comment entirely. You were seething. "Ever heard of a thing called 'consent', Joel?" He flicked his tongue, rolled his eyes. Clearly, he had no time to entertain your attitude. You didn't care. "It's when you ask someone if they wanna do something, and then only do it if they say yes. Now I know that concept might be a little hard to grasp for you-" You were slowly advancing on him, getting up all in his face, when his hand closed around your arm tightly. Your gaze fell down to his grip, your lower jaw pushing out slightly. His eyes flicked over your face like he was waiting for your next outburst. "Are you quite done? Cause we gotta go. Unless you'd like to stay and be questioned by FEDRA officers? I'm sure they'd be very interested in your lecture about consent." Joel's upper lip curled back in an ugly sarcastic smile.

And so you'd let him lead you through the city, begrudgingly at first and then bewildered when you realized you were heading in the opposite direction of your apartment. "What about my stuff?" He'd only shaken his head. "No time for that. We gotta go now. Got some backpacks waiting for us a couple blocks ahead."

He only realized you'd stopped walking when he was at least ten steps ahead. "You comin' or what?" You could tell by the tone in his voice that he was nearing the end of his patience, but as far as you were concerned, you were already at the end of yours. You didn't budge, just stared him down from where you stood, shooting icy daggers out of your eyes and your pursed lips quivering as insults swarmed in your head, all fighting to be let out at once. He looked back at you with dull disinterest in his eyes. "By all means, take your time. Ain't like we're on a clock here or somethin'."

"Oh, you son-of-a-bitch, you ignorant little cock-sucker, you absolute blithering idiot-" The stream of affronts sputtered out of you. Joel quickly closed the distance between the two of you and forcefully grabbed you by the arm, dragging you with him once more. "Walk and talk, yeah?," he said over your flood of offences, the jabs seemingly rolling off of him like water droplets against plastic. You kept up your clamor all the way down the next block, until he dragged you into yet another side-alley to avoid a group of FEDRA soldiers marching past.

The two of you stood closer together than both you and him would have liked. If it hadn't been for the parade of soldiers walking past you, you might've scratched his eyes out, something you made sure to convey with your eyes as you stared him down in silence. His indifference only fueled your rage. "Do you have any idea what you're asking of me?" You hissed at him when most of the parade had passed by. Joel wondered if he'd ever hear your normal tone-of-voice. "Come again?" He cocked his head. "The way I recall it, you asked me to get you out of the city, not the other way around. Now who's imposin' on who?"

He saw it coming before it was looming in his face again. That damn finger of yours, pointed right at his nose once more. His lips pursed, his hand twitched on the handle of the blade he kept concealed on his waist. Just one quick swipe. Your howls would likely attract the guards. Not worth it. Yet.

"We're only in this predicament because you couldn't keep your damn hands off of me!" You almost spat in his face, your voice all hoarse from trying to keep your shout down to a whisper. Your head looked like it was about to implode. Joel flicked his tongue again.

"You wanna discuss bygones again or you wanna get goin'? Time's not waitin' on us, sweetheart."

"Oufff." You growled in response, your finger so close to his face you'd take out an eye if he moved an inch in the wrong direction. "Get that thing out of my face," he finally snapped and smacked your hand down. "Now quit whinin'. You wanted out of the city, you're gettin' out of the city. Giddy up. Time's a' wastin'."

Without another look to check if you were following, he dipped out of the alleyway and marched down in the direction of his - your - first pit stop. You stood between the tight walls for another moment, breathing heavily. If FEDRA hadn't been breathing down your neck, you would've turned around on your heels and sent Joel off to whatever miserable adventure he was about to embark on, but alas, he'd made his miserable adventure yours against your will. You cursed under your breath, then hurried after him.

"All I'm saying is, what about my shit? You think I don't have any sentimentals at home? Necessities? Stuff I wanted to bring when I left?" You whispered to him as you kept up with his pace beside him. It could've been your imagination, but the people out on the street looked more hurried than usual. Something was definitely in the air. Joel's tip-off likely had been right. Something was brewing.

"You win some, you lose some," came his sullen reply, paired with a shrug. You had to stuff your comeback back down your throat as the two of you filed into the crowd of people heading home, hurried steps and hard, concerned faces all around you.

Escaping hadn't been easy. Every single guard had been on high-alert. It seemed that the tip-off must've come out - the number of guards had been tripled, and you and Joel had a hard time going by undetected, despite the added benefit of nighttime and the rain that had picked up, muffling your steps as you hurried from dark corner to dark corner.

The Firefly attack took him as much by surprise as it did you and the soldiers. The booming sound of an explosion just a few hundred feet ahead made you flinch and Joel instinctively pulled you down with him. Rubble rained down on the two of you, crashing into the muddied floor just inches besides you. You gasped and flinched away, losing your halt on all fours, but a strong arm caught you around the middle before you could slump to the ground. "Let's go," Joel urged in your ear and dragged you up to your feet in one swift motion.

Shouts erupted around you from all sides, then got droned out as FEDRA's sirens kicked up. You scrambled after Joel as he evaded spotlights that swiveled across the floor from all directions, keeping the two of you safely tucked away in the few shadows that remained. Smoke burned in your nose and lungs as you sprinted from safe haven to safe haven. Loud cracks cut through the uproar of your surroundings, accompanied by deep thudding sounds as more rubble fell to the floor. The fire from the explosion site was now spreading out, slowly licking at buildings in its path. Many of the decrepit structures quickly crumbled away under the heat, porous and unstable to begin with.

It was disorienting, frightening. For the first time in over a week, you were glad for Joel Miller. If it hadn't been for him, you wouldn't have made it out of the chaos alive.

Granted, if it hadn't been for him, you wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place, but he kept his word and got you out.

You'd never meant to stay with him, but as things would have it, you weren't presented with much of a choice in that either. You made it out of the city just fine, save for a few jump scares along the road, but then ran into a hoard of infected that had been attracted by the ruckus of the explosion, just a few miles outside of the quarantine zone.

How you made it through that encounter alive, you didn't know, you just knew that Joel was a more-than-worthy asset in that debacle, as much as you hated to admit it. As if that hadn't been enough, you barely had one peaceful night before a group of raiders pulled through the section of outskirts where you and Joel had holed up for the night. It was an 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' kind of turn of events that kept you and Joel running and fighting for your lives for almost two weeks straight, stumbling from one disaster into the next, until finally, finally, you seemed to leave your losing streak behind.

It had now been three whole days since the two of you had found yourselves in mortal danger last, and though it felt almost wrong to be hopeful for a peaceful stretch of days, you couldn't help but be just that.

Until, of course, you felt that familiar sharp pull in your abdomen.

Crap.

"You didn't happen to pack anything female-related when you packed this, did you?," you asked as you rifled through the contents of your backpack. Well, Joel's backpack really, since it was the one he'd bestowed upon you the night of your escape. Your own backpack was still back in Boston, probably picked apart by FEDRA by now, along with all of your other belongings.

"Like what?" Joel was poking at the fire he'd set out to build. The flames wouldn't quite take, a few feeble blue streaks dancing between the twigs he'd collected.

"Like, I don't know, a pad, maybe? Tampons, if I'm allowed to dream?" You had almost emptied out the entire backpack now, and even though the contents you were bringing to light were certainly useful, none of them were what you were looking for.

Joel looked up, a kind of perplexed look on his face. You took in his facial expression and sighed. "I'll take that as a no. Crap." You slumped down on your butt in defeat. "That's gonna be a problem."

Joel scratched behind his ear, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "Yeah. Sorry, kiddo. Wasn't on my radar when I was packing." It could've been the dim light of the barely lit fire playing a trick on your eyes, but you could've sworn that some color rose in his cheeks. You just sighed once more and shrugged. "Eh, can't blame ya. Not something I'd expect to be on the mind of a..." You looked at him, eyebrow raised. "...something year old man."

He snorted. Sparks flew up from the twigs as he kept poking around. "Fifty-six," he said after a little while. "If you must know."

"Huh."

"What." He eyed you over the now growing flames. It looked like he was ready for you to pounce on him.

"Nothing." You raised your arms in defense. "Just... wouldn't have thought so. I just mean," you quickly added when you saw the expression on his face, "you've held up better than I would've thought. Jeez, relax. I'm not coming for your age."

"Right. Cause you ain't been jabbin' at me for just about anythin' else. S'cuse me if I'm just prepared."

"Cause you been jabbin' at me for just about anything else," you mocked under your breath. "And I got a right to. Need I remind you, I wouldn't be in this mess if-"

"-I hadn't dragged you into it." He interrupted you with a groan. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first trillion times. You ever gonna let it go?"

You scowled at him over the flames. "No." He quirked an eyebrow at you, and the exhausted apprehension on his face made you crack up. "Fine. Maybe. The jury's still out on that."

A day later, the sharp pull in your abdomen had grown into full-sized cramps, one of the four horsemen of your period riding in in full stride. You tried to ignore it as best as you could, but your period pains had always been on the worse side, sometimes leaving you crumpled into a ball on the floor. Your cramps could be debilitating, and a gnawing pit of worry formed in your stomach as the day went along.

Back in the QZ, you had your ways of coping: hot water bottles or hot potatoes wrapped in tinfoil tucked into a sweater so that their warmth radiated throughout your belly. There was even a bottle of emergency ibuprofen tucked away in a little secret corner of your bedroom. You longed for it now as the cramps begin to grow in intensity and longevity. You'd certainly planned to bring them along for your escape, but alas...

A groan escaped your lips as another cramp pulled on you from the inside. Your steps faltered and you leaned over for a moment with a hand pressed to your lower belly.

"Hey. You good?" Joel had been a few steps ahead of you, but he'd turned around at your groan. You'd been a trooper for the last two weeks, making him think more than once that getting you out hadn't been such a bad bet after all. You fought like hell, and when you weren't busy being mad at him, you followed orders quite well, especially when yours (or his) life depended on it.

Of course, he'd never say that out loud. You were still routinely giving him an earful about how he'd made you leave everything you owned behind, how you'd have had more time to properly prepare if he hadn't just dragged you into his mess, if he hadn't just kissed you that night-

You never missed a chance to remind him of all his wrongdoings, bickering on and on and on about the predicament you now found yourself in. As if he hadn't been the one to get you out. Sure, yeah, he did owe you as much after... having dragged you into his mess (his jaw clenched at the thought), but he'd paid his dues in full, as far as he was concerned. Hell, not only had he gotten you out in one piece, he'd even packed a whole get-away bag for you, survival essentials included. Had you thanked him for it? Certainly not. You hadn't complained about it either though, that was for sure, and Joel was certain that was about as much of a thanks as he was going to get from you.

You straightened, a somber and tight expression on your face as you nodded, but Joel could tell you were in more pain that you were letting on. Two weeks of fighting like crazy and just minutes of sleep to go on for days, and he hadn't heard a peep outta you. He had to give it to ya - you were tough, a fighter through and through. When you complained, it had nothing to do with where you slept, what you ate, who you fought. You just did it. He appreciated that quality in you. It made you a decent travel companion - if it wasn't for your bickering about everything else. That, he'd had decidedly enough of.

Today, though, you had been unusually quiet. You had yet to point an accusing finger at him, and though he could do without another finger pointed at his face for the rest of his life, he couldn't help but notice the change in your demeanor. Your pace was slower than the weeks before, even though you were now eating and sleeping better than you'd had in all previous fourteen days combined. Your movements seemed sluggish, almost lethargic, and you were hanging behind more often than not. This wasn't the first time you'd stopped either.

"We can rest for a moment, if you want." Joel gestured towards some trees on the side of the road. "Sit a moment in the shade. Catch our breath."

You looked like you were about to throw a snarky remark his way, but then you just nodded and trotted over to the patchy area of shade.

He sat down beside you with a groan, then stretched his aching legs out on the ground. Even if you thought he'd held up just fine, his legs certainly disagreed. If anything, they felt older than fifty-six. More like bordering on sixty.

Joel took a sip of his water, then nudged you with his elbow. You looked at him through hooded lids, exhaustion written all over your face. "Drink. Gotta stay hydrated."

Another wordless nod from you. No snarky comment. You got your own bottle out and gulped down a few sips.

"You sure you're good?" He eyed you carefully. There was a light sheen of sweat above your upper lip, some more pearls glistening on your forehead.

"I said as much, didn't I?"

Ah. There it was. Joel nodded. "There we go. Thought you were dyin' on me or somethin'."

You shot him a quizzical look.

"You haven't talked back to me all day. Was startin' to get worried," he shrugged with half a smile on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed at him. Joel Miller? Worried about you? Yeah, right. "What, you sweet on me or something, Miller?" A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Uh-huh. Glad to see you still got your wits about ya. C'mon." He got to his feet and dusted the dirt off his pants. "If you can jab, you can walk. Let's go."

You knew you had a couple of hours, maybe less, until hell's gates would open and the floods would come raining down your legs. Literally.

At least your periods were dependable that way, always following the same pattern.

Evening was fast approaching, and so was a town in the distance, just down the hill that you and Joel had just reached the top of. He raised a hand to his eyes, shielding his view from the evening sun that hung low on the horizon.

"Best bet is to go around it," he assessed, one hand on his hip. "No way to tell what's waitin' down there. Easier if we don't find out."

"Yeah, umh, about that."

He turned to you, a golden glow around the outline of his head. He looked like an angel. You blinked, cleared your throat.

"I need to find some cloth. Preferably clean, but anything will do, really. I know there's a spare shirt in my backpack, but I really don't want to cut it up..."

Joel frowned at you, visibly not understanding what you were getting at.

"Pads, Joel. I need to make pads. I'm about to start bleeding like a slit throat. I'm talkin' Niagara Falls."

He blinked, scratched behind his ear. "...right. Yeah. Okay."

It irked him that he hadn't thought of anything for your period. Granted, he hadn't had to deal with the topic in a long time, no woman in his life sticking around long enough (he made sure of that) that the topic could even come up. Still, he was a man who prided himself on being prepared, and he felt anything but as he helped you rummage through open and broken drawers to look for anything that might be useful.

You were tensing up more frequently now, pausing in whatever you were doing with shut eyes and a tight expression on your face. He knew what that meant, even if it had been a long time. You were cramping, and by the looks of it, quite hard.

Joel was irritated to find that he felt sorry for you. Though, no, that wasn't what irritated him. He may have been gruff and closed off on the outside, but he was still human after all, capable of empathy. What irritated him was the need he felt to alleviate your pain. More than once, he felt the urge to reach out and stroke your face, or worse even, to pull you into his arms into a comforting hug. Once, when your back was turned to him, he even saw his arm lifting on its own accord, and he had to bring it back down with his other hand before it made contact with you.

What the hell are you thinkin', he scolded himself. This ain't no more than a cargo run. She's cargo. Quit daydreamin'.

He scolded himself and then moved on, once, twice, thrice, until he had to tell himself off for the fourth time and he was beginning to get seriously pissed with himself. What was it with you that he kept thinkin' about touchin' you?

You were oblivious to his ordeal, having your own problems to deal with. You'd found some cloth that looked (and smelled) clean enough to be used as makeshift pads. Your hands made quick work of the fabric as you tore the old shirt into strips, then braided them into wider pieces until they roughly matched the length of the strip of fabric that connected the front of your panties to the back. Once that was done, you wrapped the braided piece fully around the bottom of a fresh pair of underwear, tying off the excess fabric when you had done so. It wasn't pretty, it was knobby and bound to be uncomfortable, but it was better than just wrapping pieces around the middle and hoping for the best. This way, you had a couple of layers underneath you, and if you didn't shuffle too much, the makeshift pad would perhaps stay in place. You sighed, inspecting your finished work. Behind you, Joel whistled. He sauntered over to inspect your work.

"Don't look too bad. You think this'll do?"

You eyed your handful of makeshift pads, a sorrowful look on your face. "It'll have to. But knowing my flow, I'll go through these in just a day - two, if I'm lucky..." Another wave of cramps tightened in your lower belly. You winced and leaned forward, one arm across your abdomen. A warm hand appeared on your shoulder.

"Tell you what. This town don't seem too dangerous. How 'bout we try and find a place here for tonight? Hm? Sleep in a real bed for a change?"

Joel didn't need to ask twice. You seemed more than relieved that your journey today would go no further than a couple of houses down the street, which was where you found a suitable candidate to spend the night in.

It had probably been a beautiful townhouse once, back in the day, complete with a white picket fence and a front- and backyard to show for. Now, though, the garden was overgrown, the fence was hanging in pieces, paint littering off its remaining poles, and the house itself looked sad and empty, as if it was mourning the loss of its previous inhabitants.

Unlike the rest of the houses on the street though, this building seemed to have all its walls intact. That, and the fact that your steps were getting slower by the minute, was enough for Joel to declare this house as your designated sleeping spot for the night.

The two of you did a quick sweep of each room, making sure everything was safe and sound. It was strange how quickly a routine could settle between two people who'd been nothing but strangers just barely three weeks ago. It wasn't the first time this thought occurred to you either: yours and Joel's movements seemed to almost flow into one another as you cleared the house from bottom to top. It felt a little like you could anticipate his next move before he announced it, and vice versa. He'd even said as much to you after the first week of the two of you fighting for y'all's asses, talking about how maybe you weren't as much of a princess as he'd initially thought. You'd just rolled your eyes at the comment, but there had also been a feeling of pride settling in your chest that you'd been unable to ignore.

It came like you'd said it would. Not long after you had dropped yourself on one of the worn-out sofas in the living room, you felt a particularly harsh cramp cutting through your abdomen, before something warm trickled out of you. You groaned silently to yourself. So it had begun.

Joel watched you from the armchair next to the couch. He was using the last couple of hours of decent daylight to take stock of his backpack, checking it for tears and what not, taking inventory of his ammo and cleaning and sharpening his weapons. Besides the fact that it had to be done, it gave him something to do. Made him feel like he was doing something sensible, practical.

He didn't like to admit it to himself, but watching you writhe in pain on the couch beside him didn't sit right with him. Even though it had nothing to do with a lack of care on his side, he somehow, against all logic, felt responsible for how crappy you were feelin'. It didn't help either that kept tellin' himself off for it. Ain't none of yer business, he kept repeating in his head and re-focused on sharpening the blade in his hand, right before glancing back at you when you'd moan again in pain.

You were definitely going through it. Once the dam had broken, so to say, there was nothing you could do but lay on the couch and wallow in self-pity. By now, the cramps had settled into a steady churning pain that had settled in your abdomen like a straight line, going from one of your tubes to the other. Your lower back felt like something was trying to break through it from both sides, forming an immense pressure that spread up the rest of your back. As if that wasn't enough, your neck was tense, rock hard and unforgiving, uncomfortable in whatever position you brought yourself into. And then of course, there was the bleeding itself, and the occasional harsher cramp that pulled through your entire abdomen.

You were certainly going through it, and the last two weeks had been too demanding. When a cramp cursed through you, you didn't hold back your whimpers. You just didn't have it in you to care. Joel could think whatever he wanted - no uterus, no opinion, that was as far as your thinking went in regards to him as you laid on the couch and wallowed in pain.

You had to give it to him, though. He was being remarkably quiet about your whole ordeal. You'd expected some dry comments, something about pulling yourself together, woman, you're not dying, but so far, there had been none of that, not even a distasteful scoff at your moans. You did see him looking at you from time to time, and it must've been your hazy mind, but you could've sworn he looked almost sorry for you. Almost.

Hours passed, and your pain didn't let up, if anything, it only intensified. While darkness slowly settled over everything outside, you did anything but on the couch. You turned and tossed with every new wave of pain, trying with all your might to find at least one position that alleviated your pain, but nothing helped. You had just flipped yourself over on your stomach with a groan, burying your face in one of the cushions when Joel spoke up behind you.

"Alright, enough. C'mon."

There was a light tap on your leg, then a more determined nudge when you didn't move. "Hey, c'mon. Move."

You just groaned into your pillow. I ain't movin' nowhere, it meant, but then your legs were being picked up and slowly lowered, until your knees touched the ground. Begrudgingly, and with a very fed-up expression on your face, you lifted your head from the pillow to shoot icy daggers at Joel, who was now kneeling beside you.

"Don't gimme that look," he grumbled. "Just tryin' to help ya. C'mon." He motioned at the sofa cushion. "Put your head down, get comfortable. N' put your knees a bit more together, so I can fit behind you. There you go." He instructed you until you were kneeling in front of the couch how he wanted to, your head resting on your arms on the sofa cushion. Attagirl. He shimmied behind you with some difficulty, his old knees not cooperating with him as fast as they once did, but then he finally sat behind you in a position similar to yours.

"What'cha doin," he heard you murmur into the cushion and promptly shushed you. "Shh. You about to see. Now don't freak, but you about to feel my hands on you."

You had no idea what the hell he was getting up to, but you didn't have the strength to care. For all you cared, he could've taken you off the chessboard in this very moment, and you wouldn't have minded. Everything hurt too much. It was all you could focus on.

You felt Joel's large hands on your waist, then your shirt being lightly pulled up. "Hey! What-"

You did turn around at that, furrowed brows and all, only to be met with Joel's fed-up stare. "You trust me or not?"

It took a moment, but eventually you put your head back down, not without your lips drawing into a pout. Course, you trusted him by now. Even if you didn't like it very much.

Joel waited until your head was settled on the cushion again, then he brought up your top a bit, folding it over once so it'd stay up over your tailbone. It had been a while, since he'd done this - hell, a long, long while - but he couldn't sit by no more and watch you toss and turn in pain. He'd had about enough of that.

He laid his palms flat on your waist, letting you get acclimated to his touch first so you wouldn't turn around and bite his head off once more in a second. Then, when he felt like a good enough time had passed, he lightly lifted his thumbs and pressed them down on your lower back, your tailbone right in the middle of them. Carefully, he brought his thumbs upwards, drawing two straight lines into your skin while keeping his pressure firm.

Your response was almost immediate. Joel could see your tense shoulders going down just a smidge, your back relaxing as you let out an elongated 'oh' sound, accompanied by a deep sigh. "Attagirl," he murmured, one corner of his lips slightly quirking up. "Just relax into it. I got you." He kept repeating the motion, digging his thumbs into your lower back to bring you some relief. A picture of how he'd once done the same for Sarah's mother flit across his brain. He quickly shook his head, dismissing the memory as quickly as it had appeared.

It felt like heaven, how Joel was working his thumbs over your aching back. It did nothing to alleviate your pain in the front, but it still felt a million times better than tossing and turning on the worn out cushions of this dusty couch. Just like you hadn't held back with your moans of pain, you were now not holding back your moans of enjoyment. You'd never felt anything quite like it before. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

You heard Joel chuckle quietly behind you. "I know a thing or two, kiddo. Been around the block once or twice."

You just hummed in agreement, then let out a load moan once more as his fingers dug into a specifically delicate spot. "Fuck, Joel. Yeah. Right there."

Joel was just glad you had your head buried in the cushions of the sofa. Otherwise you would've seen what your moans were doing to him, and boy, were they doing a number on him. He'd been able to ignore your first few moans of pleasure, biting down hard on his tongue and closing his eyes to focus, but then his mind started projecting pictures onto his closed lids of you, below instead in front of him, making those same sweet sounds of pleasure while he touched you elsewhere -

His eyes flew open and he grunted, willing the pictures away with all his might. He tried staring at his hands instead, but that was a dumb idea, seeing as how he could see your delicate skin being worked underneath his thumbs then, his fingers drawing out another moan from your lips -

Next was the wall. He could've drilled holes into the flaky wallpaper, with how hard he was staring at it. He could feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment and he could only hope, pray that you wouldn't turn around anytime soon to see how your moans were visibly affecting him, specifically in his crotch area.

"Fuck, oh my god, right there, Joel." Your voice was breathy and needy, and Joel's eye twitched. The hell had he gotten himself into with this?!

He prodded your back, trying to find the spot you'd just referred to. "Right here, sweetheart?"

He saw your head bob as you nodded, a satisfied hum vibrating through you. "Mhh, yeah. That's - oof - that's the spot."

He was digging himself his own grave, that much was for certain right now. He knew he should've stopped, should've went back to his armchair and returned to working on his gun, but he couldn't. It was like he was transfixed, glued in position like a fly to a trap. The whimpers falling from your mouth were too good to pass up, to sweet to resist. He hadn't had anything sweet in such a long time. And Joel was dying for a treat.

But he also knew it wasn't right. He knew it now and he knew it then, those few weeks ago when he'd grabbed you outside of your apartment and had kissed you out of the blue. You'd been shocked to say the least. The FEDRA guards had been on his heels and he'd needed to find a way to disperse of them quickly, and there you were, conveniently placed in his path like a lucky find, and his brain had snapped and he'd just gone for it. Pulled you into a kiss like you were his, hands flying up to your face to hold you in place. Your eyes had grown wide in shock and he'd briefly pulled his lips from yours to whisper to you. Work with me, please, I'll make it worth your while. His heart had drummed in his chest, a million silent prayers tumbling from his lips in the milli-second that it took you to subtly nod. A brief grin had flit over his lips before he'd crashed them back down on yours, kissing you like he'd been waiting to do so all day. And my god, had you worked with him. Your own hands had flown up to his head, one curling around the base of his neck and the other digging into his hair. He'd backed you up against the wall behind you, slowly walking you backwards until your back collided with the weathered bricks, and you had actually moaned into his mouth, much like you were doing now. It had sent his head reeling, and though Joel was not a man of faith, he'd briefly thanked whatever God he had seemingly pleased enough to allow him this sweet of a distraction.

The guards had trampled around the corner then, their heavy footsteps a stark contrast to the sweet moans falling from your lips. They'd cleared their throat - ahem - and Joel had unwillingly detangled himself from you enough to cast a look at them over his shoulder. What? A man can't make out with his girl in the street? Their eyes had wandered from you to him, and he saw then what they were seeing: a man in his mid-fifties pressing a what, late twenties? Early thirties? woman to the wall, her face all flustered, hair disheveled from where Joel's hands had dug into it. He'd seen the envy plastered on their faces, heard the murmurs. Lucky bastard. A triumphant grin had played around his lips, even though he knew he was treading on thin fucking ice. That he was indeed, a lucky bastard.

His luck had only lasted so long, though. When the guards had disappeared, he all but saw lucky stars in his eyes when you invited him up to your apartment. Was he really going to get that lucky?

Heavens, no. He'd been brought down back to earth swiftly when you had stood in front of him, crossed arms and expectant look on your face. So? What was that? He shrugged nonchalantly. What was what?

You, though, as he quickly came to learn, were not to be underestimated. You made him tell you in detail why the guards had been after him, then practically foamed at the mouth when he reluctantly explained what he'd been up to that afternoon.

It hadn't even been that big of a deal, just a casual, run-of-the-mill drug run, but you didn't seem to share his sentiment. Casual? Run-of-the-mill? He'd had to shush you from how loud you were screeching. Didn't you know the damn walls had ears?

My god, you could talk. Bicker, was the more fitting term. Or nag, really. You went on and on about how he'd went and done it now, how he'd fucked up your life, all because he had to go and get you involved in something that you had absolutely no interest in -

That was the first time your finger had flown into his face, all accusing and threatening, like you could do him any harm with just the tip of your index finger. Boy, had he been tempted to smack it out of his face. But he didn't. As much as he hated to admit it - you had a point. By putting you on the map as his lover, he had likely put you in a lot more danger than you were even realizing at the moment.

He'd tried to put you out of his mind. Even after you had made him promise to get you out of the QZ as a 'reward' - You owe me, Joel Miller - he'd tried not to think about you, not until his next run out of the city at least, which is when he planned to make good on his promise. Until then, he wouldn't think about you. You'd just turn into another headache, another problem he'd have to deal with, and he had enough of those as it was. Not to mention that he was almost twice your senior. He didn't have many principles anymore, but he still had some. And hell if he didn't at least stick to those anymore.

He kept his resolve up for all but two hours, when he was back in his apartment, laying in his bed and unable to sleep. You kept drifting through his mind, bickering and foaming at the mouth and red in the face, telling him how he'd went and fucked up your life, but more than that how your lips had felt on his, how sweet your mouth had tasted, how delicious your moans had sounded in his ear -

Fuck it. Joel growled and shoved his hand into his boxers. He'd rub one out to you, just once. Surely that would get you off his mind.

Well, it did, sort of. Until he was in bed again the next night, and he found himself with his cock in his hand once more, thinking about your lips and how they'd felt on him, and how they'd feel wrapped around his cock instead of his own hand -

He groaned as his release painted over his stomach, white silken strands mixing with the soft curls on his belly as he silently cursed you, then himself. The hell had he gotten himself into?

So of course he'd had no choice but to come and get you when he got intel that he was the subject of the upcoming raid, that very night. He barely had time to prepare two backpacks with the bare necessities before he went out to find you.

How all of that had brought him here, kneeling behind you as the sweetest moans fell from your mouth once more - he didn't know. Joel couldn't tell whether you were a blessing or a curse, if you were the price he had to pay or the price he received. Seeing as how his life had gone though, it was unlikely that you were the latter.

And yet he couldn't help but feel like he'd won when he brought his thumbs down on on the sides of your lower spine and earned a low moan in return, long and elongated and putting all kinds of pictures into his mind that his head momentarily fell to his chest, a pained expression painted across it.

No, no. You were both. A blessing and a curse.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Credits: plant divider by @strangergraphics

Read part 2 here!

A/N: Well, here we are. Like I said, the idea for this was born while needing comfort on my own period, and then this monstrosity flowed from my fingertips and eventually I realized that perhaps, 9.3k words were perhaps a bit too much for a oneshot, especially when said oneshot wasn't complete yet. Ahem. So! Here you have the first half of what is undoubtedly going to turn into a filthy, filthy second part. 🙃 I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, I was kicking my feet giggling while writing this, lol.

No pressure taglist:

@peekyourinterest @vickie5446 @noisynightmarepoetry @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @picketniffler

@frogsdeservelovetoo @orcasoul @ashleyfilm @elli3williams @missladym1981

@spotty-boo90 @iamsherlocked-1998 @axshadows @justajoelsreader @oldmenenthusiast

[irndad]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

[hoshifighting]

tutor!woozi (part 2)

check the part 1 (kinktober bonus)

WARNINGS: +18, smut, (oral f. & m.), throat fucking, penetrative sex, mentions of body fluids (cum, spit)

after that night, for all the times you’d wanted to text him, your ego kept its foot firmly on the brake. if jihoon thought you’d just come crawling back after his little remark, he was dead wrong. it didn’t matter how much your body craved another taste of him; no way were you about to give him that satisfaction. besides, it wasn’t like you were the only one who enjoyed that night, despite his attitude. if he wanted it again, HE’d have to come to you.

over the next week, every hallway encounter was a battle of wills. you’d pass by him with your friends, glancing away just slightly so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. and while your friends couldn’t help but notice the way jihoon’s friends looked at you as you walked by—waiting for the smirk you always used to throw his way—you’d hold your chin up and act like he didn’t even exist.

the whispers had started up again, too. after all, you and jihoon had been seen together plenty at the start of the semester, supposedly “studying” for a class you knew you didn’t even share. his friends had even toasted him over some rumor that tutoring wasn’t the only “learning” happening during those sessions. and now? they watched you like they were trying to figure out if you’d switched interests, especially when they saw you walking through campus with someone else’s arm casually slung over your shoulder. jihoon’s friends wore confused expressions, and if jihoon himself noticed…well, he didn’t give a single clue.

but it was getting harder to ignore it. especially tonight.

it was 9 pm, and you were dressed and ready for a night at the local bar, hoping a little drink and dance would be enough to take your mind off him completely. heading out, you made the mistake of cutting through his dorm hall, almost jogging to keep the tension from catching up with you. maybe he’d be out. or maybe he was too busy doing something else. you didn’t care. but as you neared the end of the hallway, a hand caught your arm, yanking you backward so quickly that you stumbled.

before you could react, you found yourself inside a dorm room, the familiar smell already cluing you in to where you were before you could fully process it. jihoon’s hand was still around your arm, the dorm was silent, the noise of the hall muffled as the door clicked shut behind you.

“where are you running off to, dressed like that?”

your pulse was racing, but you gave him a steady look, shrugging your arm free of his grip. “does it matter?” you smirked, turning as if to open the door, only to feel him step even closer behind you, blocking the way.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, crossing your arms.

you knew you had his attention, and now, for whatever reason, it looked like he couldn’t hold back anymore. jihoon opens his mouth like he’s about to answer, but he bites his tongue, his gaze dropping to the side as if the walls would have a solution for him.

“what’s wrong with me?” he finally retorts, jaw tense. “you had to ignore me that hard in front of my friends? couldn’t even throw a glance my way?”

you let out a genuine laugh. “weren’t you the one who told me not to reach out to you unless i wanted a ‘good fuck’? well, sorry, but didn’t seem worth it.”

his eyes flash. “really? ‘cause you seemed pretty into it at the time,” he counters, almost daring you to deny it.

“maybe i was.” you shrug. “but maybe i got over it.”

jihoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a half step forward, closing the space separating you. “over it? you think you can just get over it that easy?”

“why not?”

he lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “you’re full of it. bet you thought about that night as much as i did. don’t. lie.”

your heart races, but you lift your chin defiantly. “if i’m full of it, then so are you, mr. i-don’t-need-anyone-reachin’-out-to-me. didn’t think you’d care if i ignored you. you’re all talk jihoon.” you tease, looking up at him, daring him to prove you wrong.

“all talk?” he scoffs, his mouth inches from yours, but he doesn’t close the gap. “maybe you need a reminder of how ‘not worth it’ i was.”

before you can reply, his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, pulling you close as his other hand tilts your chin up. his lips brush against yours in the faintest tease of a kiss before he pulls back, just enough to keep you wanting.

you let out a frustrated huff, trying to close the distance, but he holds you in place, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face. “not so fast... you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“you know i did.”

“so admit it... admit you wanted me to come after you.”

your pride fights to hold out, but the way his fingers dig into your ass meat, the way his voice drops just for you, it’s impossible to resist. “fine,” you whisper back. “i wanted you to come after me.”

he’s leaning in, lips parted, ready to crash into yours finally when your hand presses against his chest. he freezes, eyes flicking up to yours, searching. “bad boys don't get kissed.” you mock, savoring the way his expression falters.

he recognizes that phrase. he opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but he just closes his eyes, breathing out a low exhale through his nose, clearly biting back his response.

but the fury in his eyes returns, darker, and without a word, his hand slides up to the back of your neck, pulling you down with a grip that tells you exactly where this is going.

you let him guide you onto your knees.

“fine,” he mutters, voices gravelly, fingers grazing your jaw. “don’t need your kiss, anyway. got a better idea.”

his thumb drags along your lower lip, pressing until you open your mouth for him, and he can’t hide the hungry look that flashes across his face.

“this mouth of yours,” he mutters, thumb slipping between your lips. “always running it, always pushing me.” he watches intently as you take him in, tongue curling around his thumb, obedient despite the defiance in your eyes. “bet you’ll think twice about mouthing off when you’re choking on my cock.”

he undoes his shorts string, sliding it off, and before you know it, he’s pushing the fabric down just enough to free himself, his cock standing hard, thick and flushed in front of you.

he strokes himself slowly, dragging his length along your lips, smearing precum over them like lipgloss as he says, “you tap my thigh if you need a breath, got it?”

you nod, mouth already watering as you part your lips wider, letting him guide himself between them. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the sharp tug, and then he starts pushing forward, filling your mouth inch by inch until he’s pressing against the back of your throat.

he doesn’t ease up. he moves faster, driving deeper until he’s hitting that spot that makes your throat clench around him, your eyes watering instantly. spit starts to collect at the corners of your mouth, sliding down your chin as he pulls back only to push in again, even deeper this time, his cock stretching your throat wide, demanding every inch of space.

“all that attitude… gone.” his hand tightens in your hair, holding you still as he starts thrusting with a rough rhythm, hips snapping forward. “bet you’d do anything to prove me wrong now, wouldn’t you?”

he’s relentless, each thrust pressing your mouth and throat to their limits, your gag reflex triggered with every push. you feel spit pooling, slipping past your lips as you struggle to keep up with him, swallowing around his length even as he reaches deeper, his cock twitching at the tight, involuntary clenches of your throat.

you’re practically dripping, reduced to whimpers and gasps as he fucks your mouth, his hips rolling forward again and again, no space left for anything but him. when he pulls back for a second, a trail of spit stretches between your lips and the head of his cock, and he groans, wiping the mess over your cheek before plunging in again, going even harder.

“so pretty like this,” he mutters, watching as your eyes grow wetter, each thrust forcing a new wave of spit down your chin and neck, over his thighs. your fingers gripping his thighs for balance, and he smirks, giving a particularly sharp thrust that has you choking, throat convulsing as a line of spit drips down your chin. “that’s right. take it all.”

he starts slowing, grinding his hips forward, keeping himself pressed deep as he lets out a low groan, feeling the way you tremble. and then he thrusts one last time, deeper than before, pushing himself right to the base. he lets out a ragged breath as he stills, his cock twitching as you feel him tense, holding himself there, filling your throat as he spills into you, viscous and hot.

you swallow as best as you can, the bitter taste coating your tongue, but he doesn’t let you pull back right away.

you let the fullness press down on your throat until the edges of your vision begin to blur, the air thinning, everything swimming. you tap his thigh rapidly, a faint, desperate plea, and just as your lungs burn hottest, he releases, pulling you back with a hand steadying your shoulder. you slump onto your heels, shoulders sagging as you gulp down air, your head swimming with the remnants of his hold on you.

his hands stay firm on your shoulders, keeping you steady as you breathe, your throat aches, stretched and raw, the sting of his rough pace lingering with every shallow gulp.

as he maneuvers you onto the bed, his hands slide down impatiently and your dress and panties are gone all in once. he pauses for a moment, taking you in, his gaze raking over the sight of your swollen lips and sultry eyes, glazed with that barely-there smirk. 

he cant do this right now.

he grips your arm, twisting you to fall chest-first onto the mattress, hips lifted up as his arm curls around you.

“you—” you scoff, voice raspy, “can’t you fuck me while looking at my face?”

he lets out a low laugh, leaning close to your ear as his hand slides down your back. “oh, i think you’ve had enough of my face for tonight… plus, i think you look even better like this—bent over and whining.”

you couldnt even have a second to roll your eyes, a comeback on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already there, pressing into you suddenly, stretching your pussy in one hard, unrelenting thrust that punches the breath right out of your lungs. a cry rips from you, loud and hoarse, and you brace yourself against the mattress, fingers twisting into the sheets as your whole body shakes.

"that shut you up?” he breathes, hands digging into your hips as he sets a bruising pace. you can’t even catch your breath, every thrust leaving you reeling, gasping for air. tears prick at your eyes, spilling over as he hits that spot, so precise it’s maddening.

“fuck—s-so deep—” you choke out, incoherent as you press your cheek to the sheets, gripping the fabric so hard your knuckles ache. his fingers dig into the meat of your hips, pulling you back to meet every thrust, his balls slapping your clit making you convulse with everythrust. 

“thought you wanted this, yeah?” he taunts, leaning down. “thought you liked it rough. what, too much for you now?”

“n-no—” you manage, though the word comes out in a broken sob, your voice betraying you. he’s unrelenting, snapping his hips forward with every word, and you can feel yourself falling apart, the way he’s not holding anything back. it’s dizzying and yet you can’t help but crave it, want more, need more.

“thought you could handle it, acting all cocky,” he sneers, giving your ass a hard smack that makes you jolt, a fresh tide of tears spilling down your cheeks.“crying for it. pathetic.”

you let out a choked, breathless sob, the humiliation only heightening the need simmering inside you. “p-please…” you whimper, unable to do anything but plead as he keeps driving into you.

“oh, now you’re begging?” he laughs. “all that attitude, all that talk, and now you’re nothing but a crying mess on my bed.”

another broken cry slips out of you, and he chuckles. his hands trail down your spine, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding you, steadying you in the haze.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he coos. “all desperate… should’ve known you’d like it this way.”

you can’t respond, can’t do anything but let out a helpless, broken cry, body arching, straining against him as you feel your orgasm approaching. and even then, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, keeping you there.

“you thought you could come in here all high and mighty that night.. now look where that got you.”

“shut up,” you manage to gasp as he snaps his hips harder, the sound echoing in the small space. “you’re—” another thrust cuts you off, drawing another whimper from your throat.

“i’m what? too rough for you? too much for that little mouth of yours? you’ve got no problem talking back when you’re not getting fucked, huh?”

“i said shut up!” you cry out, though your voice is shaky, betraying you. “you’re just—oh my god—”

“just what?” 

“i hate you,” you whimper, even as your body betrays you, arching into him, chasing that sweet friction.

he can hear the contradiction.

“sure you do,” he laughs softly, his breath warm against your skin.

the moment you squeeze him harder, makes him wince, his cock feels so sensitive, after that last mind-blowing orgasm, and he can’t help but throw his head back, his breath hitching in his throat as he fights to control himself.

you’re lost in your own world, eyes shut tight as you cling to him, and he uses that to his advantage. with a smirk curling on his lips, he pulls out slowly, relishing the way your body protests against the emptiness.

“n-no, jihoon!” you whine, instinctively reaching for him. you grab his hand from behind your back, intertwining your fingers with his, a silent plea not to tease you anymore. 

“c’mon, jihoon, just stop teasing me already.” you push your ass against his hips, a cheeky slap echoing in the room. 

he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on, when your existence is enough to make his blood run hot. as he lowers himself behind you, he can’t help but watch the way your pussy clenchesaround nothing, how your curves seem to invite him in. 

he leans in, letting his breath ghost over your skin before he dives in, his tongue swirling around your dripping pussy. you cry all cute on his sheets, like his tongue was a sweet and massaging reward after he destroyed your cunt with his thick lenght.

he lets your clit rest under his tongue as he dives the tip of the wet, pinky muscle, between your folds. just to flick the tongue down again and take the throbbing nerve inside his mouth, making you sob.

his tongue dances across your folds, the slickness of your cum coating him. his mouth is warm and inviting, eager haven as he drinks you in. he alternates between languid licks that tease your puffy lips and insistent flicks that make you roll your eyes. 

your hands tangle in his hair from behind, pulling him closer as you urge him on, the silky strands slipping through your fingers. his fingers tighten around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he plunges his tongue deeper, swirling it around inside you.

your body is a symphony of slickness, the remnants of your cum coating his chin and the skin around his mouth. he dives back in, tongue swirling around your entrance, licking up every drop of your honey before turning his attention back to your clit.

“i’m so close, jihoon,” you whimper. “that's it!”

he responds by sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers push into you, the pressure of them stretching you just right. 

as if on cue, you feel that big hot bubble in your lower belly snap, you cry out, each pulse of the orgasm making you tighter around his fingers. 

jihoon couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he watched you get up from his bed, your movements quiet and subdued after your intense orgasm. the post-orgasm glow faded too quickly.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled you back down onto the bed. you landed softly, your eyes wide and innocent as you frowned at him.

“i’m… leaving?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

he exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he fought against the frustration. “you’re only saying that because of how i made you leave the last time, aren’t you?”

you shifted slightly, looking away as if the truth was too difficult to face. “maybe..” you admitted softly, and that single word made his heart sink.

“i’m sorry about that,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “i miss those tutoring classes, you know? i didn't mean to push you away like that. it’s just… i think—”

“you think?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “you told me not to come after you unless i wanted a good fuck. not very delicate.”

“that was a mistake,” he insisted, as he searched your eyes. “i didn’t think it would end up like this. i thought we were just messing around.” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “but i want more than that. i like having you around.”

you looked at him, your expression softening just a little. “so, what? you want to tutor me again? pretend like we didn’t just…” you trailed off.

“no,” he replied firmly. “i want to be honest with you. i want you to want me, not just as a way to fill some need… just like i want you.” he paused, gathering his thoughts.

“so you’re just going to keep me here, like this?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“if you’ll let me,” he replied. “just stay.”

“you really think it’s that easy? just because we had one good round?”

“it’s not just about the sex,” he said, getting nearer. “i want to explore more than that, but only if you’re willing.”

“and if i’m not?” you asked.

“then i guess i’ll have to work a little harder to change your mind,” he teased lightly.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your lips. “good luck with that, jihoon. i’m not that easy.”

“i never thought you were,” he smirked, leaning closer. “but i’m willing to put in the effort. so, what’s it gonna be?”

you bit your lip, “maybe i’ll stick around for a little while longer,” you replied, leaning back into the bed with a teasing smile.

“good choice.”

[submattsmxmmy]

Dead dove: do not eat 💖 Hiii, it's @ariestrxsh and this is my secondary account. Here is my contribution to kinktober. I know the Ghostface trope has been done so many times, but I figured it would still be a fun little smut to write in honor of Halloween.

👻🎀 content warning: smut, degradation, predator/prey dynamic, restraints, knife play, blood play, ghostface!matt, ghostface!chris, slutty!reader

👻🎀 author's note: idk if this would be considered a dead dove: do not eat fic, but it certainly contains some rather dark material, so i'd rather label it that way to be safe. also, my reader's slutty nun outfit may offend you if you're religious, so please scroll and don't read if it's going to upset you.

👻🎀 summary: you're throwing a halloween party at your house in a remote area. the night becomes like a thrilling, real-life horror movie after your friends, matt and chris both show up dressed as the infamous ghostface.

masquerade

"What are you guys going as tonight?" You asked Nick, Matt, and Chris as the four of you aimlessly wandered around the Halloween store that was littered with all the decor you could dream of for the party you were throwing later. You'd done most of your holiday shopping a few weeks prior, but you just needed a few final touches to complete the vibe you were going for.

"I'm going as Stu Macher," Nick responded, fiddling with some tacky Halloween decoration. "I'm going as Ghostface," Chris confidently replied, and your gaze softened as you pictured him in one of those sexy masks.

"Hey, what the fuck, Chris? I'm going as Ghostface," Matt slugged Chris in the arm. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips fell open as you pictured them both in the Ghostface costume. "Relax. That'll make it more fun. Then no one will know who's who," Chris smirked. "People already have a hard time telling us apart," Matt rolled his eyes.

"What are you going as?" Nick asked you, ignoring his brothers. "Well, I'm going to be the only one out of the four of us who isn't going as a Scream character. But it's going to be a surprise," you told them, wandering over towards a giant cauldron that caught your eye.

"What are you going to use that for?" Matt asked. "Punch bowl! Isn't it perfect?" You asked, picking it up and cradling it in your arms as the four of you continued through the store. "Can you at least give us a hint about what you're going to dress up as?" Chris playfully poked you in the side.

"All I can tell you is, it's gonna be sexy, and you're gonna thank God when you see me in it. I'm trying to get laid tonight," you proudly stated as the four of you headed over to the checkout counter to pay.

Nick, Matt, and Chris dropped you back off at your place, which was out in the middle of nowhere, so you could finish setting up, and so they could change into their costumes. You thought it was fitting you lived in a secluded part of your town's national forest and didn't have any neighbors for miles.

You'd just finished putting out the last of the decorum when people started trickling in. You had fake spiderwebs strewn in every corner, a smoke machine, and a black light.

You were just thinking about how excited you were for the boys to see you in your glowing slutty nun outfit when the doorbell rang, and as you pulled open your creaky front door, you saw Nick covered in fake blood accompanied by a pair of Ghostfaces, the whites of their masks lit up by the black light. "Look at you!" Nick gasped as you gave them a twirl. Chris and Matt's eyes were immediately drawn to your exposed chest and your bare thighs.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me!" You jokingly shrieked, placing your hands on your cheeks and making a fake surprised face. "You look really good," one of them said to you. "So do you guys," you seductively replied, nibbling on your lower lip and looking at the three of them, but especially Matt and Chris. You had a bit of a thing for masked men.

They shuffled into your house, admiring the way you had decorated. More guests started arriving, and the party started to really take off. Nick started hitting it off with a guy you worked with who was dressed as a skeleton, which left you, Matt, and Chris alone.

"You guys wanna scare Nick tonight?" Matt asked menacingly, tilting his head in his ghostface mask, which had no business being as hot as it was. You bit your lip at him.

Chris could tell you were entranced by the costume. "Like the mask, sweetheart?" Chris asked in a deep, menacingly voice that was strikingly familiar to that of the original Ghostface, taking his 'prop' weapon and running the edge along your cheek, but the metal was sharp and cold. "Shut the fuck up. Oh my god, is that a real knife?" You asked him, staring wide-eyed at it.

"Yeah, why does that scare you? Or do you like it?" Chris said in a spooky voice. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Neither. You guys are so immature. Have fun scaring Nick. I'm gonna go enjoy my party and try to find someone to hook up with. Try not to cut anyone with that thing."

You rolled your eyes at them and pushed past them, trying to hide the effect they were having on you. Both sets of eyes traveled to your ass as you walked away. "Why don't we play a prank on her instead?" Matt inquired. "Yeah, she could use a little loosening up," Chris responded.

You couldn't deny that the way Chris had put that blade up to your cheek while he was dressed like that was having a rather strong effect on you, an effect so strong that you desperately wanted to turn back around, grab them by their solid black robes, and beg them both to rail you while they wore their Ghostface attire.

You'd always found them both attractive, but they were your good friends, and most nights that the sexual thoughts about them creeped into your psyche, you were able to will it away, or something you'd never admit out loud to - sometimes you'd just take care of the aching between your legs really quickly, and the thoughts would usually dissipate on their own, but tonight was different.

You could feel a damp warmth between your thighs as you sauntered off in another direction to greet some of your other friends, but even as you asked them how the party was and tried to get your mind off of the Sturniolo boys, you found yourself peeking over your shoulder, stealing glances at them, and losing your inner battle with yourself to fight off your urges.

It had been so long, and you were so horny.

"I think that guy over there is checking you out," your friend who had animals ears on nudged you and glanced off in the direction of the punch bowl you'd bought earlier. Your eye caught a tall man with zombie makeup on that you didn't recognize grabbing himself a cup of spiked punch, his gaze flicking up at you every few seconds. You thought he was kind of cute.

"Go talk to him," your friend urged you, lovingly squeezing your arm. You took one more glance in the direction of where Matt and Chris had been standing just moments ago, seriously considering trying to pursue one of them instead, but when your eyes scanned over the crowd, you didn't see either one of them. You'd missed your chance.

"Okay, fine," you whispered to your friend, rolling your eyes and working up the courage to approach him. You took a deep breath and headed in his direction.

"Hey, do I know you?" You asked, grabbing yourself a red solo cup and serving yourself some alcoholic punch. "You know, some would say your costume is offensive," he said, ignoring your question and motioning towards your exposed breasts in your very ungodly outfit.

"Then why don't you rip it off of me?" You flirtatiously shot back. He looked unamused with you.

"Hey, so, what's the deal with your friend?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink and his gaze looking past you to where you were previously standing. "Oh, my friend," you said in a slightly disappointed tone, realizing you'd just approached and been very forward with a man who had been interested in the girl standing next to you the whole time.

You started back off in the direction you came from, and your friend glanced over at the embarrassment in your expression. "What happened? Was he a dick to you?" She asked, concern in her eyes while she cradled your face. You could understand why he was looking at her instead of you.

"No, nothing like that. If you think he's cute, you should go talk to him. I'll be right back," you responded, feeling your face get hot. You pushed past a crowd of people to get to the bottom of your staircase, and you hurried up the steps before your tears could fall.

It wasn't so much that you were upset about not getting the guy. You weren't even that interested in him. It was a combination of a few things, really.

It was the humiliation of misreading the situation, the insecurity you felt about not being as pretty as your friends, and the constant self-doubt you had about whether you really were a slut like everyone called you and if any guy would ever want you again because of it.

Through your teary vision, your bedroom door caught your eye. You stopped dead in your tracks, sniffling and wiping away your tears as alarm bells went off in your nervous system.

Your bedroom door was wide open, and you swore you'd shut it before the first few guests had arrived. You walked through the door frame cautiously, overwhelmed by a sensation of having eyes on you, studying your surroundings to see if anything else was out of place.

You shrugged off the feeling of being watched, chalking it up to the fact that it was Halloween, and you had been watching a lot of thriller and horror movies in the couple weeks leading up to your party.

You made your way over to the bathroom sink, setting down your red solo cup on the cold countertop and peering at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't want to spend Halloween night sulking in your bathroom while your two hot best friends were downstairs, strutting around in their sexy Ghostface attire and probably finding other girls to sleep with.

You cleaned off the eyeliner that was smudging on your bottom eyelid, glued the corner of your eyelash back down, and readjusted your breasts in your costume.

After fixing the imperfections with your wardrobe, you decided you weren't going to let the night end without taking a stab at trying to have sex with whichever one of the Sturniolo brothers you saw first, excluding Nick of course. You were done pretending like you weren't completely taken with them.

Your gaze flickered over to the reflection of your partially open closet door in the mirror. Again, you could have sworn you'd left it closed. Filled with dread, you slowly tiptoed out of the bathroom, past your bed, and over to your closet. You rested your hand on the round, metal door knob and slowly pushed it shut.

You realized how ridiculous you were being, rolling your eyes at yourself and letting out a sigh at how jumpy you'd been lately. You turned back around and started to head out of your bedroom when all of a sudden, you heard the sound of the closet door creaking open again.

Before you could spin yourself around and identify the threat, you felt a gloved hand cover your mouth and a cold, sharp blade resting against your neck. "What's your favorite scary movie?" The way his voice came through sounding just like Ghostface had you both scared and turned on.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out an audible moan against his palm, causing him to pull his hand back. "What was that?" Chris accusingly asked, speaking like himself again. "What the fuck? How do you make your voice sound like that?" You asked in a shaky voice.

He chuckled in your ear, avoiding your inquiry. "Answer me first. What was that sound you just made?" Chris posed the question again. "Nothing. Real funny, Chris. Let me go," you responded.

Another figure appeared in the corner of your eye as Matt walked around in his Ghostface costume, shutting your bedroom door closed. Your heart dropped as you watched him lock it and make his way back over to you. "Let you go? Are you sure you want that?" Matt cooed, running the back of his gloved hand along your cheek and tilting his head down at you. You gulped.

"Is this turning you on?" Chris whispered into your ear. "Gross," you rolled your eyes. "Only one way to find out," Matt menacingly replied. "Why don't you check her, Matt?" Chris smirked under his mask.

Your mouth fell open, and a strangled whimper came through as Matt reached between your legs, lifting up your skirt and slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Immediately, he felt the wetness leak through his glove.

"Oh, she's soaked. Her clit practically has its own heartbeat," Matt relayed to his brother, drawing circles on it with his fingers and talking about you as if you weren't in the room with them. "I bet she'd like it if we took care of that. Don't you think?" Chris wondered, dragging the blade across your collar bone and between your partially exposed breasts.

You couldn't hold back your delighted sounds as they both put their hands on you. It was like a dream come true. Your prayers had been answered. You'd fantasized about them each separately, but the idea of having them both take you on at the same time didn't even seem like an option until now.

"What's turning you on so much? The mask? The knife? The fact that it's me and Matt?" Chris cooed at you, pulling your top down to reveal your tits. He took the knife and started running the sharp edge against your nipples that stiffened at the touch. You immediately shuddered and let out a whimper.

"All of it?" Matt wondered, continuing to play with your pussy that was becoming wetter by the second. "Answer him, slut. What's got you all wet, hmm?" Chris growled into your ear. Of course, it hurt your feelings to be called that, but there was something about the way Chris said it so endearingly that it didn't seem like he was trying to do anything other than turn you on, and it was working.

"Nothing, it's completely unrelated," you lied, biting your lip to hold back another moan, but your attempts failed, and your head fell back against Chris' chest. You felt his hard cock against your backside, and it twitched at the way you struggled to keep yourself composed. "Yeah, mine's unrelated, too," Chris replied sarcastically, staring down at your tits as he continued to tease them with his knife.

You felt Matt's fingers slip into your hole as he started to fuck you with them. "You want us to stop?" Matt asked. You nibbled on your lip and softly shook your head no. "That's what I thought. She's such a little slut," Chris said to his brother. "Don't you know it's always the slut who dies first?" Chris rasped into your ear.

"Oh, she likes that," Matt cooed, feeling your pussy start to throb around his fingers. You tried to hide your reactions, but your body language couldn't keep your secret from the two pairs of Ghostfaces who manhandled you.

"You still never told us your favorite scary movie," Chris pointed out. "Blair Witch Project," you hesitantly answered. "Mmm. That's a scary one. Especially when you live out here," Matt replied. Chris leaned over to Matt and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't quite make out.

"Lay on the fucking bed, slut," Chris responded as they both let you go. "We're gonna go have a little chat in the other room, and you're gonna lay right here and behave," Matt ordered you. "And if you try to run, you're gonna be really sorry," Chris said, waving the knife in your direction.

They both disappeared behind your bathroom door. You heard the sound of Chris and Matt arguing behind the wooden barrier about who was going to have their way with you first, but you had another idea.

When they both emerged from the bathroom, you were gone, and on your nightstand was a note that read: "come find me in the woods, mr. ghostface. xoxo, your prey" with a heart drawn below the lettering.

"Oh, that sneaky bitch thinks she can be in charge of her own fate. We're gonna have fun with her tonight," Chris told Matt as he picked up the note.

They both disappeared out of the room, down the stairs, and out the backdoor towards the dense treeline behind your house with a flashlight Matt had snagged off your kitchen counter.

All they had to do was listen quietly for a few minutes beneath the blanket of stars and clouds, and then they heard you, crushing twigs and leaves under your weight as you tried to stealthily make your way through the forest.

All of a sudden, you were lit up by the flashlight Matt held in hands. "Gotcha," he said in a menacing voice. You froze and stared at them both, unable to move a muscle. "Think you're so slick, huh?" Chris asked in a low, sexy rasp.

"You know what would make this so much more fun? If she had to guess who's who while we take turns fucking her," Matt suggested, taking a few steps towards you. "And if she guesses wrong, we'll make her bleed," Chris laughed, closing in on you as well.

You'd never seen this side of the two brothers, but it excited you more than you were willing to admit.

You started slowly walking backward until you backed into a tree, and you swallowed hard as you felt its rough trunk under your palms, realizing you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Spare me!" You whined, but you couldn't hold back your smirk as Matt pulled the knife out of his robe and cut your costume from your body. You gasped as the fabric fell the floor in front of your feet. You'd never imagined your night would go like this. In fact, this was hotter than anything you could have ever dreamt up.

"We told you that you'd regret running." It was that same ominous, threatening, and sexy voice that Chris had used earlier in the night, so that must have been him. "I thought we told you to behave," said the other, sounding just like the first one. Fuck, you thought.

You watched as the boy with the knife started to cut a hole in his robe, and your eyes widened, and your jaw fell open as you realized what he was doing. You watched as his dick poked through the black fabric, staring you down. He handed off the knife to his brother.

"Since you like to run, one of us is going to have to hold you still," the second one said pinning your wrists above your head with one hand with the other, he held the blade up in front of your face. You saw yourself in the reflection of the sharp metal accompanied by the man in the Ghostface mask beside you, and it sent goosebumps across your flesh.

He closed the distance between the weapon and your breasts, and he started tracing your nipples again with the knife's edge. Your chest rose and fell as your breath quickened. You peered at the boy who was settling between your legs, grabbing ahold of his big, veiny cock with his gloved hand as he started pumping it back and forth a few times, making sure it had reached its full potential.

He hiked up your leg, wrapped your thigh around his waist, and pulled your panties to the side before sinking it into your heat and stretching you out. "So tight," he groaned deeply, feeling the way you gripped his dick. You let out a few loud moans as you adjusted to his size, taking every inch of him.

"That's it. Take it like the slut you are," he gruffed, picking up the pace and wrapping his gloved fingers around your neck. "Like that?" The boy who was holding your wrists cooed as he dragged the sharp object across to your other peak.

You loved the way both Ghostface masks reflected your fear back at you as well as your pleasure, their empty eyes, and their contorted mouths, taunting you. You glanced back at the brother who was between your legs, focusing on his thrusts. His fast and powerful thrusts.

Every time he bottomed out in you, a desperate mewl escaped your lips, filling the atmosphere. The masked man started to mimick the sounds that poured from your mouth while his brother fucked you, and you adored every second of it.

You loved the way they were feeding your sick fantasies, holding you at knife point, wearing their sexy costumes, and fucking you dumb while they degraded you. Your sounds became louder, more urgent, and less inhibited. You could feel the intensity building.

"Scream for me, bitch," the man between your legs chuckled. His mean words, his hand around your throat, the movement of his hips, and the cold, sharp metal dancing across your skin were enough to cause you to snap.

You hit the point of no return, clenching around the mystery man's rod, sending him to the same fate shortly after. You could feel his twitching cock filling you up as your orgasm took its course, the two of you moaning in unison while you finished together. Your legs grew weak as you came.

"Oh my god, Chris. Matt. Whoever you are," you breathlessly panted. You thought for sure you'd be able to tell them apart by now, but you had no idea, and you found it all the more enticing.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, slowing down his thrusts, pulling out, and watching his seed flow out of you. He stared down in awe at the mess he made, taking in the sight and savoring it while his breathing pattern returned to normal.

"I've been waiting for this," the boy to your left said as he switched places with his brother. He took the knife, hooking it into your panties and slicing the delicate material, watching the fabric fall to the ground and revealing your pretty pussy to him.

Then he cut a hole in his robe like his brother had done, and you peered down at his gorgeous cock poking through the tear in the material.

He roughly pried open your legs, guiding them open with the blade. He dug into the inside of your right thigh with his gloved hand and rested the knife on your lower stomach. You couldn't keep yourself from admiring his big, throbbing dick, and you sharply inhaled as you felt him slip his tip into your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as he bucked his hips forward, his entire length vanisihing into your tight hole. Your eyes flicked back up to his Ghostface attire, taking in the incredible view of being fucked by a man in such a sexy mask.

The man beside you restrained your wrists, pinning them above your head again. "Alright. Time to guess. Who am I?" The boy beside you asked in his creepy Ghostface voice, tilting his head at you as he tightened his grip. You innocently peered up at his mask, searching for some kind of hint in his demeanor.

"Chris, is that you?" You asked uncertaintly. "Wrong. Remember what happens when you guess wrong?" Matt cooed, running his gloved finger along the underside of your chin. Your eyes were glazing over, your lips fell open, and your cheeks were flushed.

Chris applied more pressure to the knife, running the blade along your lower stomach and drawing blood. You let out a satisfied whine as you felt the release of the knife cutting you. The warm, sticky red fluid glistened in the moonlight as it slowly dripped down your abdomen.

"So pretty," Matt whispered, brushing your messy hair out of your face and his eyes dancing between your desperate expression and the way the blood looked so beautiful on your skin. Moans began pouring from you again as Chris fucked you senseless up against the tree.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Harder," you begged, your eyes lazily rolling back into your head as your breasts bounced to the cadence of his thrusts. "Cock dumb little slut," Chris menacingly chuckled at your pathetic pleading, but he still gave you what you so enthusiastically craved, relishing in your desperation for him.

You loved feeling helpless and giving yourself over so willingly to both brothers as they used you for their own pleasure. Your whimpers became louder and fuller as you neared your tipping point again.

"Harder," you cried out again before your orgasm took over. Your gaze danced between both of their masks, and your pussy started rhythmically throbbing around Chris' cock as he delivered a few more monumental strokes. You felt a wonderful, relieved feeling in the pit of your stomach as you came unraveled under the control of both boys.

Your brows pinched together, your knees weakened, and your stare began to lose its focus until you couldn't concentrate on anything except for the pure pleasure and ecstasy coursing through you. You were pumped full of Chris' cum as his cock twitched inside of you, and as you came down from your intense adrenaline rush, you felt all your muscles relax.

Both men chuckled, removing their masks and revealing their identities to you. Sure enough, you had guessed wrong. Chris leaned in and chuckled into your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You may have guessed wrong, but we're going to spare you. You're worth way more to us alive than dead."