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gracieheartspedro · 18 hours ago

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Me and The Devil

pairing: qz!joel miller x afab!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

description: joel seeks out revenge on the man who stole from him. he finds you in the process. 14k words

warnings: mdni!, dark content, DUBCON, joel is a bad man, no mention of age (but joel is older than reader), murder, weapon use (g*ns), mentions of drug and alcohol, excessive alcohol consumption from reader, nicknames for reader (sweetheart, little one, etc.), stockholm syndrome, forced withdrawals from alcohol, mentions of non-con, forced proximity, physical violence/assault, reader is freaky and insane, reader has a vagina and boobs, sub!reader, dom!joel, orgasm denial, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, cumplay/cum eating, dirty talk, name calling, spanking. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE WARNINGS.

author’s note: hi everyone! this fic came to me literally like... january of last year. it sat in the docs forever. and then my wonderful and beautiful friend @amanitacowboy told me to pick it back up and it spiraled from there. she also helped me edit, so i've forever indebted to you, lindsey!! it's probably the meanest joel you will get from me. some of the story has loose ends, but it's intentional *brow wiggle* (; also thank you @pedgito for listening to me blab about this shit forever. lindsey and ali have heard every detail and tidbit in this fic, I swear. thank you for putting up with me! anyway, hope you dirty lil whores enjoy this one!

You thought he was a myth.

The crime-riddled streets of the Boston QZ seemed to lace different stories about him together. You could not understand how a pill dealer could also kill countless guards and top honchos. People would conjure up the wildest lies about the man, so you were always morbidly curious.

You would sit in your apartment organizing the weapons you and your partner laundered through the streets of the QZ, pondering what it would be like to meet the man. You were never the one to deliver the weapons, only ensuring you were getting what you paid for. Your partner, Roger, would dispense the weapons to God knows who.

It was enough to get you by. You never ran out of rations and your alcohol dependency was never a problem.

You were too young to be this beat down. That’s what Roger would tell you, at least.

But the truth of the matter was that before the QZ, you were free-roaming the US with no purpose. You killed a lot of people. When you arrived at the QZ with an ounce of ‘normalcy’ within your reach, you promised yourself never again. The darkness you harnessed would have to be forced down, sitting in the very pits of your being.

When you met Roger, he just needed someone to live in his apartment and watch his stash when he was gone. You did just that and eventually, you formed an odd bond with the older man. He would let you count his rations and drink his liquor. Four years later, you depended on him to bring you back alcohol in return for your watchful eye. If a shipment came in late, you would panic, thinking your addiction would get cut off. You needed something to numb the scrambling thoughts, violent tendencies, and crippling anxiety.

After one tough deal, Roger stumbles back to your shared apartment, venting about the man.

“Fuckin’ Joel screwed me again. Gave him two .22’s and the motherfucker shorted me a bottle of Oxys.”

You were already too far gone to listen to the rest of the rant, finding yourself dozing off on the couch. The alcohol too often consumed you, sending you into dark nightmares that would have you waking up in the dead of night screaming.

By the time you woke up, though, Roger was no where to be found. Him being gone was not the worrisome part, though.

No, what worried you was all the drugs and guns he left out on display.

Springing up from your spot on the couch, you instantly get to work hiding the paraphernalia. When you grab a handgun from the table where you remember Roger sitting before you close your eyes, you feel eyes on you.

You are still drunk and now your stomach is churning. You feel like you may throw up.

There’s a figure standing by the window. Too tall to be Roger.

Your instant dazed reaction is to hold the gun up, and point at the large man who stands in your messy bedroom. You blink away the sleep that’s still in your eyes and stumble a bit as the intoxication still riddles your bones.

“You were sleepin’ when I came in,” His voice is slow and deep and it sends chills down your forearms.

“Who are you?”

You managed to sound pretty confident, even though you were scared shitless. You had not been so rattled since you almost got bit by some infected a year ago. You can make out his clothes, but that’s about it. Dirty jeans, an old green flannel with holes, and dark brown boots.

“‘M Joel. Roger ever told you about me?”

He finally turns to face you. You’re shocked to see a handsome dark-haired man and not some damaged old mug. His eyebrows are perpetually furrowed it seems, but you could also tell he was annoyed you were pointing a loaded gun at him.

You were so terrified, you could not even speak.

He puts a hand up, holding it over the barrel of the gun. “You shouldn’t be pointin’ that at me, sweetheart.”

You just nod, slowly putting down the weapon. You did not want problems with him. You knew what he was capable of.

You also knew your aim would be off if you did try to shoot, still feeling like you were rocking on a boat.

“Sorry,” You mutter, bringing the gun down and to your side. You swallow hard as his eyes rake your entire body, “Yes, he’s told me about you. Other people have, too.”

He looks pleased with that response. He steps away from the window and begins to saunter over to you. His footfalls are heavy. You assume it is because of his filthy brown boots. Or maybe it was the intimidation factor he was playing for you. He did not need to scare you, because you were fucked up and not on your game. He could kill you at any time. Why has he not killed you yet?

“What have people said about me?”

You gulp, sucking in a whiff of his musk. He somehow still smelled good, even though it looked like he had been rolling in the dirt. His hair was pretty greasy but the curls laid perfectly on both sides. He looks like a guy you would avoid in the street, especially in this QZ. The attractive ones were usually the ones who would take advantage of any woman who looked their way.

“They said you’re dangerous,” You manage, holding the grip of the gun a bit tighter, “That you have killed a-a lot of people.”

“Yeah,” Is all he says, before stepping an inch closer, “Yeah, I have.”

You can not look away from him. You are so rattled at the fact that he is good-looking. You vividly remember hearing a couple of dealers talk about how formidable he was and for some reason, you mocked up a man who looked like The Joker from Batman.

He inspects you and your gun and crosses his arms, almost like he is guarding himself. “Now tell me… What did Roger say when he came home last night? I need to know how to handle this situation without spillin’ any more blood.”

You start to panic a bit, but you know you can’t be rash with your emotions. You did not want to be more blood that Joel Miller spills. You did not need to be a notch in his belt.

But you also did not want to rat out Roger. He had done so much for you and you knew deep down, he cared for you in his own sick ways. If you told Joel everything, would that come at cost to him?

What were you thinking? He was a dead man.

He notices your demeanor change and his eyes soften. “Don’t worry, little one. I don’t kill just anyone. Unless they cross me. You haven’t crossed me, have you?”

You do not know why or how, but tears start to spill from your eyes. You know you are not guilty of doing him wrong, but you have heard before that it does not matter in his eyes. By proxy, you are associated with the man who fucked him over. You would be next.

“I have not crossed you, Mr. Miller,” You start to slur a bit, your face getting wet quickly with more tears, “Roger just said you fucked him over. I was too fucked up to hear the rest. Said you didn’t give him enough oxys.”

Joel raises one hand and grabs the bottom of your chin. His skin is rough and callous against your sheeny skin. His whole aura gives off danger. You are too afraid to look at him. You’re trembling, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That fucker stole them all, that’s why. When I tried to get him to confess his wrongdoings, fucker dipped out of there,” He explains, using his thumb to push one of your falling tears, “We followed him and luckily he swallowed too many pills even to realize we were breaking in. You were pretty out of it, too.”

“I w-was d-drinking last n-night,” You knew you had to get ahold of yourself. You were like sand in his hands, slipping right through his fingers. You were so easy to get information out of. “Where did you take him?”

Joel clicks his tongue, tilting your face so your eyes would look into his, “Don’t worry bout that, sweetheart.”

“Is he going to die?”

“Probably.” He states plainly, his eyes scanning your figure, “You’re going to show me where his stash is and ‘m gonna take back what’s mine.”

Your heart sinks to the floor. Roger was all you had. Without him running the guns and ammo, you had no way of income. You could not do these things yourself, especially now that Joel Miller knew who you were. No one would come near you when they heard he paid you and Roger a visit.

“I’ll show you,” You respond, trying to steady your voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

It was selfish. With him admitting to having to kill Roger, you knew you were fucked either way. Without a dealer or runner, you had no earnings. You were going to rot away in this apartment, dying from starvation. Joel killing you would be a mercy killing and from the sounds of it, he did not show much mercy.

“Just tell me where everything is.”

You shake your head as you step back away from him. Your instinct is to hand him the gun in your hands, proving to him that you are not a real threat. You grab the barrel and give him the grip, shaking it in his direction. “Here.”

He stares at you, the divots on his forehead still prominent. He slowly lifts his flannel. You first see his hairy tummy and then you see he has a 9mm strapped in his waistband. “Don’t need it, sweetheart.”

You keep the gun extended out to him, “You can have another.”

There’s a beat of silence, a bitterness in the air.

“Are you stalling?” Your blood runs cold. You were not, you were just afraid and unsure of yourself. You also assumed he would want your weapon so you would not use it against him. So many assumptions run through your head, that you are not even aware you are creating more uncertainty for him.

Your eyes drop, looking at the gun. “No, sir. Here… Follow me.”

You turn on your heels, walking back out to the dining room, right off the kitchen. You scoot the table away from the rug, the ammo and pills on the table vibrating as it moves. Joel watches your every move, the same unimpressed expression written on his face. You put the gun down on the table before you get on your knees at the corner of the rug. You pull it back, revealing a large trap door Roger installed before you moved in with him. It had a deadlock on it that was only able to be opened with a code.

You think for a moment, your muddled brain trying to remember the numbers.

8-3-6-7-1-9-6-9.

You say it out loud as you open it. When it clicks, you pull down and unhook it. As you toss it away from you, you hear Joel clear his throat. “Move.”

You instantly throw your hands up, crawling back onto your knees and sliding away from the trap door. You glance back at the tall man, seeing he has his gun trained on you. You did not even hear him pull it out. You sit back, pressing your shoulders into the wall opposite of the entrance of the storage cut-out. It’s lined with different drugs, handguns, some shotguns, and lots of pornography.

Joel chuckles darkly, looking into the unit. “Seems like you two are freaky, huh?”

You never assumed Joel thought Roger was your lover, but the inclination made you want to throw up. You shake your head, “He was. Not me.”

His addiction never really affected you in any way. He saved those vices for when he was alone. You do recall one night accidentally walking in on him doing something very disturbing that was forever etched inside your brain. Jerking off over a pillow with a magazine full of very young girls. You never looked at him the same way after that.

Roger was sick in the head, but he gave you drugs. He gave you alcohol. He gave you a place to stay.

Joel clicks his tongue, crouching down to loot through your stash. “You’re too young for’a man his age, anyway. Too pretty.”

The hairs on your arms and shoulders raise at such a comment. You cock your head to the side, watching the man curiously. He thought you were pretty.

He does not say anything else the rest of the time he is picking up bags of pills. He inspects each one, sniffing some of the bags as he does. The illumination from the window in the dining room lights up his face with golden stripes. It made you take note of his amber eyes. They were not dark brown in the sunlight. You can hear people on the street from the partially shattered panels, some dragged-out footsteps, and some hushed conversations. Screaming for help would be no use, people hear women screaming in the streets in broad daylight and do nothing. This QZ was not about justice. It was every man for himself.

Joel stands up, tucking his gun back into his waistband. His eyes laser toward you and you feel his gaze pierce you. “Stand up, you’re comin’ with me.”

You do not try to hide your fear. While you knew better, you silently hoped that he would just shoot you here, let you drown in your own blood in the comfort of your own home. But he was going to take you to a secondary location. You would be dying on his terms.

You push yourself up off the floor, your feet stuttering as you walk over to him. “Can I put on some shoes?”

He nods almost robotically. He watches you carefully as you drag yourself across the living room. You start to realize how torn up the place really is. Roger must have put up a fight because the side table is in pieces on the rug. You step around the splinters and grab your boots. After you tie up your laces, Joel is yanking you up by your bicep and dragging you into the dark alley your apartment opens up into. You were so fucked.

Joel is a harsh man, but he does not kill you.

You did not understand why he kept you around. You were eating his food, occupying a room in his apartment, and you were going through horrific withdrawals. He refused to give you an ounce of alcohol. The first couple nights at Joel’s, you were so sick that you violently shook for a whole day straight. You begged Joel through the door to shoot you and put you out of your misery. It was the worst feeling in the world. Your heart felt like it may beat out of your chest.

After the third day, your shakes had subsided and your mind was a bit more clear. You still felt like shit, but it was tolerable enough that you just laid in bed and stared at the floral wallpaper in your new bedroom.

You did not mind being spared, but being locked away was almost worse than death. You noted the mold smell the day you arrived in Joel’s apartment. You could not stop smelling it, no matter what you did. You kept telling yourself you would get used to it, but it always lingered. He restricted you to a bedroom where the window was completely caged. You had spotty natural light that only really peaked through in the evenings.

Joel would bring you a small meal every morning, usually stale bread and a mug of water. On rare occasions, his footsteps would stomp over to your rotting wooden door and he’d unlock the door to feed you for lunch. That only happened twice, though, and it was a bare-bones meal. But every night, right after sunset, he would barge in with a Spam sandwich and a cup of ice water. You would sit on the rusty framed-out bed as he sat in the armchair in the corner of the room by the window. Occasionally he would have a sandwich for himself, other times he would just sit there and watch you slowly eat the meal he provided.

And for some sick reason, you always thanked him.

He would never reply, his jaw slack and arms crossed. You only heard his voice a handful of times since he brought you here.

After two weeks of isolation and staring contests over dinner, Joel finally asked you a question after you finished your Spam sandwich. “Do you want to shower?”

You had not washed yourself in weeks and you could smell yourself. The idea of being able to shower was so appealing, that you actually smiled as he asked it.

Joel guided you across his expansive apartment into his bedroom. The entire place was falling apart, but Joel’s room seemed completely untouched by the times. It smelled like pine as soon as you bounded through the threshold. His bed was made up perfectly, with two pillows on each side. His side table only had one single lamp and a novel that’s title was in another language. Joel snatched you away from soaking up his oasis and forced you into the dated bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, clicking when he rattles the handle.

You swallow, “Are you joining me?”

He shakes his head, turning and grabbing the bar of soap on the edge of the vanity. “No, ‘m just making sure you don’t try anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him, not completely believing him. Joel had not made any moves towards you, so you are not sure why you are suddenly skeptical of his intentions. Even if he did try something, you knew you could not do anything about it.

You were at Joel’s mercy. You did not completely comprehend why he was locking you down in his home and you did not get why you were just going along with it. You used to be a ferocious fighter, but after everything with Roger, you did not know where else you would go if it was not with Joel.

You turn your back to him, hesitantly undressing. Your clothes were disgusting, stained with sweat marks that you left when you were going through withdrawals. As you drop them onto the cold tile, Joel clears his throat.

You cannot remember the last time you were nude in front of another man. Another person. It had to be over 10 years. “I got ya some new clothes. I’ll grab them when you get in the shower.”

You just nod. While you were grateful for new clothes, you were still confused as to why you were here. As you turn on the water, you peek back at Joel. He is not looking at you, he’s looking out the window. His hands are tucked in his pocket and you have truly never seen him look at peace. His face is relaxed and his shoulders are eased down.

You use your hand to gauge the water’s lukewarm temperature before you slip in behind the curtain. The bathtub is an off-white color. As soon as you get under the shower head, you note the dirt and grime combining with the water and spinning down the drain.

You use the bar of soap Joel gave you to clean off your frigid skin. The scent is just a hint of lavender. It must have been an old bar and with age, the smell has faded. As you massage it in, you hear the door creak open and click shut. You assume it’s Joel doing what he told you and then your mind circles back to your previous observation.

Why is Joel doing this?

You ponder the idea that maybe he is a sadist psychopath who just likes the idea of having someone held captive. But you had heard a lot about this man, and while he was a murderer, you never heard about him kidnapping or hurting women. If anything, he was easier on women who did him wrong.

But you were not a woman who did him wrong. You did nothing to him. You simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You did exactly what he asked and then you went along with his plans for you.

Maybe he was just lonely?

His deep voice slices through your thoughts, “You almost done in there?”

You nod even though he cannot see you. “Yeah, I’m almost done.”

You rinse the soap out of your hair and turn off the faucet. You peek your head out from the curtain and Joel stands there with a towel in his hands. He laid a pile of clothes on the sink and you noticed that your clothes were gone from off the floor. Joel extends the towel to you and you reach around and grab it.

It’s scratchy, but it absorbs all the beads of water off your body. You wrap it around your body, tucking the end under your right armpit. You pull back the curtain and Joel is still standing there.

You step over the edge of the tub, letting some of the droplets run onto the cold tiles. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, but as soon as you step towards the clothes on the counter, his eyes trickle down your body.

Your heart picks up when his hand comes up to your cheek. Your natural reaction is to flinch away from him, but his motion is quicker than you. He wipes away a water drip off your cheekbone, pulling it down to your jawline. “All better?” He asks, his voice low. You nod, sheepishly. “Yes, thank you.”

He smiles.

“So polite. So pretty.”

And then he leaves you alone, clicking the knob shut as he exits the bathroom.

You get dressed quickly. Joel somehow knows your exact sizes because the cargo pants, long sleeve, and undergarments are a perfect fit. You never even managed to find clothes to fit you this well when you were doing your own stealing and looting.

His words rattle around in your head and you start to panic a bit. You start to formulate a plan. You had to stop thanking him. You had to stick up for yourself a bit more. You had to see where your boundaries were with him. You had to figure out his motive.

It was scary. Daunting. But you knew you could not live like this much longer.

You reach out for the door, but the knob was already turned and being pulled forward. Joel stands by the entrance of the door and you stride out, your head held a bit higher than usual. His face shows confusion, but you do not falter.

“I’m still hungry.”

It is like all the air is sucked out of the room. Suddenly, Joel is nine feet tall and you are an inch short. Your voice was confident enough to pass, but it was like he saw right through you.

“I fed you.”

You swallow, your eyes averted from his face for a moment, “Can I have a snack?”

His frown is more memorable than his smile. It is a permanent fixture in his big scary man aesthetic.

“A snack?”

You almost want to laugh at his condescending tone. But you also realize how you are playing with fire and at any moment this man could snap and kill you. You had to know if you were able to test him, see if you could truly ask him for something and he would be willing to give it to you. This would be your lesson.

So you nod, very matter-of-factly.

He is looking at you like you have four heads, but he bites.

“Fine, I’ll getcha a snack. Why don’t you have a seat on my bed?”

His cadence is giving him away. You can already tell he is not good at hiding his annoyance. You hesitantly walk over to his bed, plopping down rather obnoxiously. Your feet swipe the rug like a child’s would as you wait for him to return to the room. When he comes back, he has a single piece of beef jerky between his fingers.

You narrow your eyes at the so-called snack. You hated cured meats and you were sure to let him know that. “Jerky?”

You are really testing him now. And you can tell by the way his chest rises and falls in one quick breath.

“You seem very ungrateful, little one.”

You reach out to grab the bark but he snatches it back in a quick motion. You crinkle your eyebrows at him, trying your best to feign innocence. With the way he is staring daggers at you, you should fear his next move.

“Beg.”

You feel like your chest cannot take any more air in. Your hand is still hanging in the air, trying to reach out to his offering, but his hand is holding it far from your grasp.

You do not want to beg, this standoff would be part of your resistance to his captivity. In your mind, something would have to give way eventually. You could not sit around and just take his crumbs and passive weird behavior. So, you shake your head no.

“Go to your room. You’ve pissed me off,” His tone is abrupt and rushed. You do not want to push this further, knowing that you have made it an inch with him and were not completely ready to run the mile. You needed to game plan your next move.

You stand up, walking painfully slow to the door and leaving his space. His steps trail behind you, ensuring you did what he asked you to do. You can smell his musk, which makes the hairs on your arms stand up. He smelled good for a man as rugged as him.

When you reach your bedroom door, you grab the handle and turn around to face him. He stares down at you, his pupils dilated.

You make one last plea. “So, no snack?”

You regret saying it immediately. He puts the jerky bit up to his lips, opens them deliberately, and takes a huge bite of the meat. It pulls apart with a crackle and watching it, you know it probably would hurt your teeth if you did something like that. His flexed jaw is a lot stronger than yours. His action is animalistic in a way, reminding you of a lion tearing into an antelope.

And for some reason, it brings a rise of heat from your shoulders to your cheeks. Watching his teeth gnaw on the jerky sends your mind traveling to la la land.

His voice forces you out of your thoughts. “Go to bed. Now.”

He stopped bringing you breakfast. Instead of your usual routine, Joel started giving you one small meal a day. You start to resent him and by the looks he is giving you, he is still bitter over your whole scheme with the snack.

You woke up hungry, which only started your day off wrong. You are regretting ever testing him in the first place. You were biting the same hand that literally fed you. The more you think about it, the more you realize that you should be grateful he is even keeping you alive. Why are you even trying to rock the boat with him? In some weird twisted way, he gave you a second chance. You were completely sober from alcohol going on a month now. And while most nights you grieved the burn of it going down your throat, your mind was more clear. You felt more grounded in reality. You did not want to go back to the way you were. Sure, you were hungry, but you were not plastered and sleeping 18 hours a day, and that seemed like a fair enough trade.

But the ache of your chest started to set in. You were feeling impulsive. You do not clearly remember how your body felt before you started drinking so much, but you do recall the aggression that would riddle your bones from time to time. The knee jerk reaction just to let loose. It had gotten you in some very sticky situations, but it was a sort of rush you craved.

After three days of the stalemate, he brought you the Spam sandwich and a short cup of water for dinner. You do not look at him when he walks into the room, and you do not thank him.

You had to get on his good side again. Somehow.

“Are you on a hunger strike or somethin’?” His deep Southern drawl always extending out the end of his sentences. You loved hearing it.

You shake your head no.

“You stopped giving me breakfast,” You grumble, reaching out to the plate he offers you. He shrugs, plopping down in his usual chair in the corner. He does not have his dinner in hand tonight. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You were bein’ an ungrateful little bitch. I am offerin’ you a second chance here and you are not appreciative,” He states, almost sighing. You grit your teeth at his name for you, but you decide it is not worth the argument.

You take a bite of the stale bread. The moan of your stomach subsides for a moment.

“I am appreciative…”

He sits back, his shoulders flexing under his jean button-up. You scan his body, noting his dirty clothes and muddy brown boots. He was always tracking things into your bedroom from the bottom of his shoes and it ate away at your need for wanting things more clean. Your sober mind needed tidiness.

He grunts, “Doesn’t seem that way, sweetheart. Didn’t thank me just now.”

You try to get your thoughts in order before you respond. You take one careful bite into the sandwich, trying to read the man sitting in front of you. He got you sober. He feeds you and houses you even though he could have shot you in the face for being involved with a man who screwed him over. And he is not a bad view to look at when you eat.

“Thank you, Joel.”

He stands up and saunters over to you. As you swallow your bite, your eyes trail up his large frame. You start to worry a bit. Maybe he did not see your answer as genuine.

His thumb begins to trace the outline of your jaw, before slowly making its way up to your cheekbone. You grasp onto the plate tighter, your eyes piercing his as he focuses in on your lips. When you think he’s about to pull away, his palm goes over your mouth and his hand squeezes your cheeks together. His grip on you is painful, his fingers sinking into the divots of your upper jaw.

“You are receptive to feedback. Which is a good thing…” He trails off. Your heart starts to pound against your rib cage as you wait for the other shoe to drop. His hand jerks your head to the right, inspecting your side profile. “You will be good for me.”

You do not know what he is insinuating and are too afraid to speak up. You dip your head down, trying to promise him silently. Yes, I will be good. Please don’t kill me.

He slowly lets go of your face. He brings his thumb up to his lips and licks the very tip of the finger. You watch him bring it back down to your level. You flinch when he brings it up to the very corner of your lip. He wipes away at something like a father would to his young child who had food left on their face.

Joel was violent. But he was quiet about it and that scared you. He moved with such intention and you found yourself occasionally hypnotized by his aura. He was unlike any man you ever met. It could be the fact that others around you made him out to be some enigma, but maybe he was one.

You finally manage to speak up, the sudden tender touch starkly different from the aggression just minutes before.

“What do you want with me?”

It comes out as a whisper, but with Joel being so close, his ears perk up.

His face does not change from the steeled expression. “Time.”

He gives you breakfast one morning. You have been sleeping in, trying to use slumber as a substitute for food and it seemed to work for a couple of days. Joel brings in a plate with eggs and some stale bread. You had not seen him bring in eggs before and it shocked you. Your eyes almost well up in tears when he hands it to you in bed.

“Thank you, Joel.”

He sits in his usual spot and watches you scarf down the meal. “I am going to be gone for a couple of days.”

Your eyes shoot back at him, confusion laced in your countenance. “What about me?”

“I’m letting you have access to the kitchen and living room. You’re not allowed to leave. The door will be locked from the outside.”

The thought of being alone for that long scares you. Your thoughts start spinning. Why is he leaving you? Why would he let you be alone? Would you be able to eat?

Joel can see the cogs turning in your brain.

“You are leaving me alone?”

He claps his hands on his thighs as he stands, “I have a run to make. I usually have other guys do it for me but I gotta do this one myself. You will be okay.”

For some reason, your instinct is to worry about him. Going out of the QZ walls is always a very dangerous feat and you knew he would be unprotected from the elements and infected. Joel seems more than capable, but anything can happen. What would happen if he died out there?

“How long will you be gone?”

The question comes out desperate and you do not mean it to. You crawl out from under your covers, planting your feet on the ground. You suddenly felt hot. When the cold air hits your bare legs, you realize that you forgot you discarded your pants in the middle of the night. You were just in your underwear in front of him.

Joel’s eyes flicker down your unclad legs. You had a good radar when it came to men checking you out and as much as you did not want to admit it, you knew Joel was doing just that.

His lips twitch, “Not long. Two days, max.”

You cross your legs, holding your hands in front of your crotch in an attempt to try to shield yourself a bit. You watch him meander over to you, his steps purposeful. Once he reaches about a foot away, your breathing slows as his hand trails up your arm.

You felt this tension rise within the room and for a second you think he may act on his reaction to your legs. But instead, he just clears his throat. You are a bit disappointed and you do not know why.

“I’ll be good, Joel.”

You survive the first night. You busy yourself with stuff around his apartment. You decide that you would not snoop through his belongings, only organizing the kitchen cabinets and alphabetizing his record collection. You had found a sense of purpose, filling your day with pointless tasks.

When the second night comes, you decide that you finally need a shower. Joel did not tell you that you could use the bathroom in his room, but you became aware that the other tub did not work and was covered in mold. The smell in the bathroom was enough to make you gag.

You were starting to reek of body odor and you did not want to sleep another night smelling the way you did. Plus, you knew the soap you used when Joel called you pretty was in that shower. He could not be that mad.

So, you tiptoe into his room and wander into his bathroom. When you flick on the light, you notice some of his beard shavings in the sink bowl. To the left of the shower curtain, you spot a jumbled pair of boxer shorts. You feel a pang in your stomach. His face appears in your mind. You cannot stop yourself from imagining him in the room with you, just like he was when you stripped for your shower before.

You step into the cool water, letting it soak you as your hands traveled around your body. Your nerve endings were buzzing as your thoughts pondered the idea of Joel being there with you.

The glimmer of his eyes when you were pantsless days before still rattled around in your head. You had not been desired in so long and with that action alone, Joel made you feel wanted. The tension was so palpable. His close proximity to you, the occasional gentle touches, it was enough to fill your mind with all the dirty possibilities.

Your hand travels down to between your legs. At first it’s only to clean, but as you explore, you cannot help but slip your fingers between your folds. The titillating motion is enough to have you throwing your head back in pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut, thoughts drifting to how you need an explosive release and you sickeningly want Joel Miller to give it to you.

Your pointer finger and middle spread your folds, rubbing carelessly and eagerly. You have not felt this driven to orgasm in years. You recall the sight of Joel’s stomach the first day you met him. Then you think about the boxers right outside of the shower next to you. Your thoughts spin and suddenly he’s naked in your mind.

Your hand only moves quicker with the thoughts. Your clit is aching with such intensity, you are shuttering and using your free hand to balance yourself on the tub’s wall. The water is pounding down your chest, dripping through the valley of your breasts.

Your eyes open a bit as you try to find your footing and you notice a bar of soap that’s covered in his short hairs. You snatch it up, bringing it up to your nose as your lips quirk up into a smile.

Of course, it smells like him.

You finger yourself faster, his name spilling from his lips as you press the bar into your face. It is almost like you are imagining it is his face stuck to your face.

“Joel… Oh my god, Joel-”

The sound of the curtain being ripped away from its spot makes you completely jump out of your skin. His fierce brown eyes raking down your completely nude frame, hunched over and in a compromising position. He slams his fist against the faucet, shutting the water off in one swoop. You drop his soap to the floor, scrambling backward trying to dodge his rage.

He is pissed.

His hand wraps around your bicep, ripping you out of the tub and onto the tile. Your hip hits the ground first and it sends a shooting pain up your back. He is panting like he just ran a mile, standing over your sopping naked frame.

“What are ya’? A bitch in heat?” He spits. You are so dazed and a bit afraid, you start to shake and raise your hands in defense.

He squats down to you, his eyes scanning your dripping body. His hands work so quick to reach out and grab your face. With clenched teeth, he brings your face close. “Answer me.”

His grip is tight on your face and you do not know if you can even respond effectively. You feel your core pulsate with the way he has a hold of you.

“I-I wanted to s-shower.”

He mocks you, “I-I… You are fuckin’ yourself in my shower like a dirty whore.”

He turns back to check to see if he actually saw you holding his bar of soap. It’s in pieces at the bottom of the tub surround. He pulls his hand away but the sting still remains.

“I-I’m sorry, Joel.”

His gaze falls upon you again, a little less aggravated. “Dry off and get dressed. Sit on my bed when you’re done.”

Your mind is all over the place when you sit down on Joel’s bed. He is not in the room but you hear him in the kitchen moving around. You hear the clatter of some plates and then him grunting.

When he barges in,you can tell he is annoyed still.

“You reorganized?”

Your heart pounds with uncertainty. You did not believe that would ever set him off, but you are starting to realize you have gauged Joel incorrectly. “Yes.”

He stops his pacing, his hands still propped up on his hips. “Why?”

“Because I needed to keep busy while you were gone. I also went through and-”

“Alphabetized the records. I saw.”

Nothing was getting past him. Your breathing is labored, the idea of him killing you for helping him be more orderly is so pathetic. You had to go out in a better way.

You clench your hands in your lap, “I did not mean to make you angry.”

He does not say anything, staring at you with an askane expression. He pivots to the dresser beside the bed, opening up the top drawer. He pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a beat up white t-shirt. He folds them meticulously, stacking them and then handing them to you.

You reach out for them, putting them in your empty lap.

“Put them on and get under the covers.”

Of all the things he could have said, this surprises you the most. “In my own bed?”

“No, this one.”

You look back at his perfectly made bed. He wanted you to sleep with him?

“Joel-”

“We are tryin’ somethin’ new tonight. Change your clothes while I take a shower with my soap, and be under those covers when I get out,” His outline of directions is seriously rattling you to your core. You felt nervous but almost excited?

You watch him turn on his heels and amble over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Your stomach sinks when you hear the lock click. You look down at the clothes he gave you, raising them up to check the tags.

Just your size.

His bed is way more comfortable than the mattress you were cursed with. The blue quilt feels soft and worn under your fingertips. You lay on your back, feeling out of your own body. You hear the water shut off in the bathroom and your heart starts racing. You hear the rip up the curtain and some small stomps as Joel must be exiting the shower.

When the door creaks open and you see him standing in only some boxer shorts, your breathing hitches. His hair is brushed backward and his hairy upper body is a sight to behold. You silently wished you had this image earlier when you were rubbing your clit.

He walks over to his dresser, the same dresser he pulled clothes for you out of, and grabs a plain white t-shirt. He tosses it over his head, pushing his arms out of the holes on the side. It was slightly stained at the collar and it was see-through enough that you saw his dark chest hair still.

“You are sleeping with me tonight,” He announces, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. Your stomach flips when you watch him pull the blanket back and crawl under the blanket. You observe how drastic his mood shifted from ripping you out of the shower. Why did he want you in his bed? What was his end goal? Your core is still sticky with your desire. You secretly wish he would just take advantage of you already.

But he does not even turn your direction. You watch him face his back to you, tuck one arm under his pillow and shut the lamp off.

Your mind starts to race. The bedroom door is unlocked, you can see it in the moonlight. You could easily slip out of the bed in the middle of the night and head for the front door and run.

But it’s the same thought that slipped your mind when Joel left you a couple days ago. You could have jumped out a window, rigged the doorknob to the apartment to get out, but you just never did. Instead, you sat idle inside Joel’s apartment and waited for him to return.

And now you have access to him when he’s at his most vulnerable. What was preventing you from sneaking a pointy object into the bedroom and stabbing him directly in the throat?

Because you needed him. And while your demented and violent thoughts of all the ways you could kill him rattled around in your mind, you knew deep down you would never do it. You craved the need to impress him. To be good for him.

He’s silent next to you, not a sound leaving his body. You are not even sure if he is asleep when you slowly turn on your side, facing away from him as well.

Somehow, you sleep better in his bed than your own.

The routine changes after that night.

Joel wakes up as soon as the sun breaks the sky and he leaves you in his bed as he prepares you breakfast. When you hear the door reopen, you always wake up to his frame standing over you with a plate. You rub your eyes as you grab the handoff, propping yourself up on his headboard. He would sit on the end of the bed, nibbling on his own meal.

And then he starts asking you questions.

It starts off with him asking you where you were from originally. You explain how you traveled with a group of people that were essentially raiding other established communities. You had escaped the Baltimore QZ when a bunch of people got infected practically overnight and there was no oversight. When you got out, the people who survived with you became vicious and desperate.

Then he asks you about your relationship with Roger.

You give him the overview. You tell him you relied on him to fund your mind-numbing habits and he left you to look over his stash. When you press him about what he did to him, Joel gives you those eyes. Almost to say “you don’t get to ask the questions here.”

Most days you sat on the couch and read his collection of books. You were not the fastest reader so it took days to get through some of the stories. He had a lot of books about space and a variety of science fiction. He would leave every day, running his usual business. When he got back home, you would still be planted on the sofa, reading. He would slam his keys down and get to work on your Spam sandwich.

Every other night you would shower. After the soap incident, he kept his soap on the very top corner of the shower. When you first noticed it, you smiled sickly.

The sleeping situation is the same every night. You lay on your back, Joel lays on his side, completely facing away from you. Sometimes in the middle of the night, your arms would brush his back and he would stir. You tried your very best not to test his limits even though you had no real clue what they were.

One particular night, the window he kept cracked was letting in the most frigid air. You always ran cold while Joel was like a furnace when he slept. He radiated enough heat to keep a whole house warm. But this night you were shaking under the quilt, your toes feeling like they may fall off.

You turn on your side, facing his expansive back. You are so deliberate with your movement that when your arm falls over his waist, his body jolts. Instead of slapping you away or turning to face you, his body just stills completely, not even a rise and fall of breath.

“What are you doing?” He asks through the darkness, his sleepy voice. Almost wholesome.

You stifle a response, trying your best to sound confident. “I’m cold.”

He finally breathes out, his arm moving down over yours and holding it against his waist. Your heart races so hard you can hardly fathom falling asleep, but at least you were warm.

You start to do it every night, even when the air is balmy outside. You settle on your side, your arm swinging over his waist and pulling your lower half taut with his butt. You never expected you would ever be spooning Joel Miller every night, but here you were, wearing his clothes with your pelvis flush to him.

Your hand finds his hips one night while you adjusted your position. Your hand graces right below his waist and you feel his member half-hard in his boxer shorts. It makes your eyes snap open, the shock of your body waking him up. Your hand does not move, though. You hover it over that spot, curiously wanting to touch him through his shorts.

“Do you feel me?”

His voice makes your throat tighten, unsure of how to respond to such a question. So you just hum and shake your head.

He takes your reluctant hand and pushes it down to his clothed cock, his body pushing back into a bit. Your mind is still a bit fuzzy from your slumber, but when you feel him harden under your touch, you do not want to stop until you finish him.

He is deliberately moving your hand around, pulling it over and under his boxers until you are touching his bare cock. You shutter at how large it feels in your hand and you cannot even see it from how you are laying. Your hand cannot completely wrap around it due to its girth.

“Joel…” You practically whimper, clawing his back to get him to lay back so you can see him. He does not budge, still laying on his side.

Your hand massages the very base of his dick, his curly hair poking your fingertips as you do. You are so eager that as you jerk him off, he grabs your hand to start guiding you slower. When your hand graces his tip, he hisses.

“Gotta take me slow, girl,” He groans, holding your wrist so tight you know it will be bruised in the morning. You do as he says, slowly and methodically following how he likes to be jerked off. After a minute, you can hear his shallow breaths increasing as you bring your speed up just a bit.

“Are you gonna cum?”

You try to say it in a sultry voice, but it comes out rushed and desperate. You just want to see him seize by your own hand. Joel grunts, his grip on your arm practically stilling your movements before he can even finish. You resist his persistent handle on you. You craved to make him orgasm. Eventually, he pushes his hips forward into your hand, sighing as he releases.

You feel the ropes of cum spill all over the back of your hand. As soon as the warm seed empties onto you and his tummy, he rips back the covers and stumbles into the bathroom. He shuts the door so fast, you hardly see him through the dark.

You look at his clear-white fluid on your knuckles and smile in satisfaction.You want him to see your next actions.

The bathroom light spills into the room as he holds out a wash rag to you. It’s obvious it’s the one he just used on himself. You shake your head, bringing your hand up to your lips, extending your tongue, and licking the spend off your knuckles. You swallow, willingly.

He gawks at you, his eyebrows still knitted together, watching you clean off your hand entirely. “Didn’t even need my help. What a good girl.”

You wake up with Joel standing over you. It rattles you a bit, his stare zeroed in on your face.

“Mornin’,” He uttered, holding out a small pile of clothes for you. “We are goin’ on a field trip.”

The last thing you expected after jerking the man off last night was an outing. You sit straight up, holding out your hands for him to shove the clothes in your palms.

“Where are we going,” You stammer, pushing the covers down your legs.

His eyes rake down your body as you stand up, almost standing at attention in front of him.

“You’re comin’ to work with me.”

You look down at the clothes he has given you. Some cargo pants, a short sleeve gray top, and even a new pair of underwear.

This is the first outing you have had since being with Joel, so you are a bit nervous thinking about how the outside world may be. It cannot be any worse than it already was, but you worried about how you would be perceived walking down the street with Joel Miller.

The more you ponder the idea, you start to feel more reassured than anything. If you were placed beside anyone, you would want it to be with the guy everyone feared. No one would ever think to give you a hard time.

Joel’s line of work was dangerous but it was also a powerful role to have in this fucked up world in the QZ. You were on the right side of the insanity, in your opinion. Joel was your protection in some demented fucked-up way.

You get dressed as he makes breakfast. This morning, he decides to make you two some eggs that he said were getting old so he had to make them. He likes his eggs runny, so you had to like yours runny, too.

You two sat at the dining table as you ate. He scarfs his down in a minute, while you take your time to savor the different flavor. You missed eating food that was not Spam or plain bread. Joel notes your painstakingly slow chews.

“Hurry up, we got places to be.”

The people on the streets pay mind to you now. Before, when you did leave your former place with Roger, everyone kept their heads down. Occasionally people would slam into you with their shoulders, acting like they could phase right through you.

When you walk with Joel, people move out of the way.

The alleyway is not too far from Joel’s apartment. He forces you to walk in front of him, copying every step you make with his loud footfalls. He grabs your shoulders to direct you down a concrete staircase that seems to lead to nowhere. At the bottom, a brute man stands with his arms crossed. You hesitantly stop right in front of him, your eyes taking in all the scars littering his face.

Joel grunts. “She’s with me, Pete. Thomas and Garrett in there with him?”

The man, who’s now known as Pete, just nods minutely. Joel pushes the door beside him open and grabs your forearm to drag you through the threshold. It’s a dimly lit hallway that smelled like dampness and gunpowder. There’s two light bulbs dangling from the paint chipped ceiling that guide you to the end of the hallway. Joel pushes open the door, and you smell that familiar metallic smell.

It was a smell that leaked into your dreams occasionally. It’s so overpowering you can almost taste it.

When you walk in, the room is occupied by three men. Two are standing over the other, their bodies blocking the entirety of the scene. You do note the huge puddle of blood on the floor near a knocked over wooden chair. Joel clears his throat and the two men step away looking at Joel, then you. They have to be around your age, maybe a bit older. The blond man speaks up first as he scans your body.

“Bringing your kid along for the show?”

You glance over at Joel who’s jaw tightens. You watch his whole demeanor shift, his body becoming rigid.

“Get out of here, Garrett.”

The blond man furrows his brows, not understanding why he was really being directed to leave. You can sense a bit of hesitance. “Joel, I’m just kidd-”

“Get the fuck out, now. We don’t need you.”

The man scrambles past you and Joel, shutting the door behind him. The dynamic Joel and his men have is very easy to figure out. Whatever he says, goes. The look the other man is giving him is that of unease.

“He confessed that he stole from our stash. More than once.” Joel walks forward, drawing his gun out. Finally, the man on the floor comes into full view.

And you recognize him.

He was a pill smuggler that had come over to Roger’s a couple times before. He always gave off the vibe that he would take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. He would whisper things about you to Roger and you remember a couple times when he had inappropriately touched you. You believe his name to be Don. Maybe Ron.

His eyes are swollen and bruised. His lip is completely split open and he has a gnarly gash on his left cheekbone. He is tied up, his arms and legs bound by ropes and zip ties.

You are not at all phased by blood, but his beaten body is a bit hard to look at. He was not a nice looking man already, and surely the swelling was not helping him.

His lips part almost like he is about to speak up, but Joel swipes the butt of his gun across his face with insane accuracy.

One thing about you was you did not turn away from violence. Now that you are sober, it's easier to recognize that something was off for you to be so unfazed by the savagery. You sickeningly enjoyed watching people get their karma.

You had no context as to why this man was bound and brutalized in this random basement, but you knew Joel had good reason to set him straight.

“Donny boy, I thought we were friends,” Joel’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. He seems in his element as he squats in front of the man, “And you fucked me over good. Sold out people only to get yourself in this position. Pretty fuckin’ dumb.”

Don can hardly sit up, his body completely tilted with his elbow propping up his entire body weight. You can tell he is struggling to respond, but you hear the faintest voice quip up.

“I told the truth, please,” He begs as he attempts to sit up more. Joel grabs his shoulder roughly, balancing his back on his butt. “I won’t do it again.”

You cannot see Joel’s face, but you know he does not believe that. His shoulders slot back a bit as he stands up and turns to face you. His face is straight, not showing any emotion at all. You notice the gun still in his hand, his finger completely off the trigger.

“You know him?”

You just nod, your eyes peering down at the gun he has directed at you. His eyes flicker back and forth, seemingly contemplating what to say next. He pushes the weapon into your hand, his fingers curling around the grip so that your hand would follow suit. You watch every meticulous move, pulling the safety clip, slipping his hand away and gesturing towards the man.

“You’re gonna kill him.”

Your eyes fly open, unsure if this problem should be dealt with by you. The promise you made to yourself when you stepped foot in this QZ rattled around in your brain as you tried not to show Joel your irresolution. Your mouth is dry when you gulp, “Why?”

His hand presses on your back as he pushes you towards the guy. You are about 2 feet from him and Joel’s face is so close to your ear. It’s the closest he has ever been to you. You can feel his breath on your lobe and neck and it makes bumps scatter across your body.

He raises your arms, pointing the barrel towards Don. As soon as he does that, Don starts begging. His voice shaking, sweat pooling on his forehead, tears pricking at the corners of his swollen eyes.

Joel’s voice is so hushed over Don’s pleas. “He is the one who told me about Roger stealing from me. Little did I know, he was stealing from me, too.”

It is like a switch goes off in your brain. Your eyes are trained forward on the trembling man but it is as if the whole world went quiet when Joel stopped speaking. You hear white noise in your ears and your mind shuts off for a nanosecond. Your pointer finger slots between trigger guard and trigger and you squeeze, your aim right at his head.

You feel the spray explode across your face and suddenly you snap back to your reality.

Your body was overtaken by the need to please. The need to impress Joel. It was also like your own sick revenge. This man is the reason Roger was dead. The reason you got ripped from your normalcy. Your brain had no time to catch up to your body’s actions. Instead of flinching or falling backward away from the body of the traitor, you stand over him like he’s some commodity in a circus. With wonder and curiosity, you lower the gun and smile.

Joel steps beside you, his face expressing fervor.

Finally facing him and forgetting the other man in the room who was just a witness to the scene, you speak up.

“Did I do good?”

A small semblance of a grin spreads across his lips. “Very good, sweetheart.”

You and Joel do not stay in the room long after. Very quickly, he ushers you into another room where he checks a cabinet full of guns, looking over each other and counting in a hushed tone. You hear bounding footsteps in the hallway and men talking amongst each other.

The voices are rushed and surprised. One states, “She didn’t even flinch. Joel’s lucky to have her.”

You feel a tickle on your brow and itch it absentmindedly. As you pull your finger back and look at it, it is stained red.

You find a shiny surface in the room of arms and paraphernalia, glancing at your own reflection. The smear of blood goes across your forehead, while the splatter itself is speckled across your cheeks like freckles. Joel stops what he is doing to check you out, his steps trailing up to your back. His breathing is quite labored and as you stare at your own mirror image, you note the look he’s giving you.

His hand goes across your chest, his finger tips starting to dance across your décolletage.

“We gotta clean you up. Can’t have you walkin’ the streets lookin’ like you killed someone.”

He says it while he rubs the blood across your chest, smearing it and massaging it into your skin.

You loved it when he touched you. Even if it was roughly, you counted yourself lucky that Joel felt the need to do so.

“But I did kill someone.”

Your voice does not have any hesitance, you are simply stating facts. Joel’s chin tilts upward, his hand grabbing your shoulder and jerking you around to face him. His face is practically millimeters from the tip of your nose.

He grunts, almost like he’s clearing his throat. “And you didn’t even second guess me. I didn’t even need to push you, you just did it.”

You smirk to yourself, enjoying the slight praise he is giving you.

“And here I thought I was testin’ ya.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, trying to see right into his soul. Testing you?

“Did you not expect me to do it?” You bite.

“I had an inklin’ you’d be loyal. Consistent. Even a bit violent. But I didn’t expect a killer.”

Your chest rises at his statement. You are trying to manage your breathing as his words have a visceral effect on you. It was like he was talking dirty to you. Why did his impression of you mean so much? Ever since you met the man, you were at his mercy and you got off at his reassurance. It was like he was your new vice.

His right hand traces down your bare arm, while his left grabs your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up and home, how ‘bout it?”

You agree with a jerk of your head.

Once you walk into the apartment again, you are reminded of the smell of mold again. When the scent hits your nostrils, you scrunch your face. Joel is quick to notice the expression because his eyes and hands have not left your body since you shot that guy. He has been watching your every move.

You toe off your shoes by the front door as Joel tosses down the keys. He takes the handgun out of his waistband and places it carelessly next to them.

When he turns to look at you, he crosses his arms. He is studying you as you unzip the jacket he offered you. It was only to cover the blood that stained your new outfit.

“Take it off slow.”

You shoot him a confused look, still trying your best to follow his instructions. You shrug the jacket off your shoulders, letting it purposefully fall down your arms. The blood on your clothes has left semi-permanent spots on your skin. Once the clothing pools to the floor, you stand there at Joel’s mercy.

He clenches his jaw, nodding slowly as he inspects you. “Now the shirt.”

You do not second guess his next directions. You grab the hem of your shirt and draw it upward over your head. The fabric goes across your lips and nose lifting them up awkwardly. You smile when you drop the next article next to the jacket.

The anticipation makes your pussy pulsate. You have thought about this moment for longer than you care to admit.

“Pants.”

The pants are buttoned so you fumble with getting it undone before you are shoving them down your goosebump-ridden legs. When they get to your ankles, you use the opposite feet to step on the fabric and pull them off your feet. You kick them further away than the shirt and jacket.

You are only in your underwear in Joel’s living room. He is looking at you with such confliction. You have never felt very self conscious until this very moment.

“Should I keep going?”

It is an innocent question, but there is lustful intention behind it. There would be a point of no return if he did answer it.

“I was gettin’ there,” He steps towards you, his guise not giving away any of his next movements. His face was still unyielding. “Panties first.”

Your breathing hitches when his fingers wrap around the elasticity of the waistband.

“I’m still c-covered in blood-” “Shut up.”

You nod, sliding the underwear down and revealing your already dripping core. He sucks in a big breath of air as his hand reaches between your legs and swipes at your wetness with the pads of his fingers. Your entire body tenses, the feeling so foreign and exciting that you cannot contain your gasp for air.

Finally his expressionless face changes to a small twinge of a smile, “Dirty fuckin’ girl. Have been wantin’ this for a long time, eh?”

You are afraid to admit it out loud so you just nod. His fingers still make work through your folds and your knees feel like they may buckle with every swipe. Joel notes your position and grabs your face with his left hand, squeezing your cheeks so hard it forces you to look at him and stand up straighter.

His fingers dip into you briefly, making squelching noise so loud that you both groan.

“Joel,” you whimper, sounding desperate and hasty.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. It is a passionate act you did not expect. You did not know that sex would Joel would mean open mouth kisses, but you are thankful for it. His hand releases its grip on your cheeks and wraps itself around the base of your throat. Your lips slip open for his tongue, letting it explore every inch of your mouth. His fingers are making their slow methodical movements around your clit, driving you absolutely insane with desire.

Your body seems so in tune with every movement he makes, but as you makeout with him, you realize it is because he has molded you this way. To curve and bend to his every will and way.

And you loved every moment of it. You thirsted for this type of control. You knew you would not have to worry or have a second thought, ever. Joel was already ten steps ahead and thinking out everything for you.

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. You note the red tinge of blood on his lips from kissing yours.

“Get on your knees.”

You obey, whining when you realize that means he would no longer be keeping your pussy warm with his hand. Once your knees hit the hardwood, his hands are making work at his belt and jean buttons.

“You know how to suck dick? Or do I gotta do all the work for ya?”

Your eyes fly open at the vulgarity. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, “Yes, Joel. I’ve done it before.”

Having his dick in your hand last night was one thing, but seeing it for the first time is jarring. He is definitely the biggest you have ever had the pleasure of being in front of. He can tell by the look on your face that you are a bit stunned.

“Let’s see how you do,” He inches his waist closer to your face and slightly ajar lips, “Open.”

Complying is what you do for Joel.

You open your mouth nice and wide as he inches his cock into your warm mouth. You close your eyes, trying to focus on not disappointing him with your gag reflex. You try your best to relax, but his watchful eye is making you feel disoriented.

He pulls out, letting you take a breath, only to push back in more forcefully. You try to stop his intrusion by putting your hand up on his hairy bare thigh, but it is no use. Your closed eyes prick with tears as Joel pulls out again, this time he is slapping his dick across your mouth.

“Keep those fuckin’ eyes open and on me. Open nice n’ wide and relax that fuckin’ throat.”

His demands needed to be met, so you nod and adjust your position, laying your tongue out. He inches in again and instead of resisting, you relax and watch him through your eyelashes. His face twists as he draws back, his cock getting so impossibly close to the back of your throat. When he hits your gag reflex, you grip onto your own thighs tightly to contain the urge to empty your stomach. He smiles sickly at your reaction. “Poor girl,” He teases, snapping his hips forward again. Another gag. “Can’t fuckin’ take me? Guess we will have to train that mouth and throat, huh?”

He keeps fucking your mouth as your eyebrows draw together in concentration. Joel’s loving every moment, watching you writhe under him. Your wetness is pooling on the hardwood and you can already hint the embarrassment you will feel if Joel notices.

You hollow out your cheeks, attempting to assert yourself in the situation. When you do that, Joel pulls out completely. He leans down to grab your arms and lifts you off the floor, dragging your shins against the uneven wood planks. And to your horror, he notices the wetness on the floor. “Drippin’ on the floor like a wet mop, ain’t ya?”

Joel’s eyes were always dark brown, but they look black with his eyes as dilated as they are. His grip on your arms is very assertive and when he pushes you back over the arm of the couch, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

“Please, Joel.”

He grabs you up by your armpits, dragging your body across the couch. When you're lying flat, he settles himself between your legs, holding your right leg taut with his hipbone.

“Keep begging,” He demands, a smug expression taking over his face. His eyes scour your entire body, “My little killer.”

The word sends your body into overdrive and you start grabbing at his body, trying to take what you want. He fights your hands, grabbing both of them and pinning them against the throw pillow right above your head.

You want to confess everything to him in that moment. The very moment you laid eyes on him, you wanted to give yourself to him. In every single way possible.

“I want you.”

“I know you do,” He grabs the shaft of his cock and begins his torture. Sliding it through your soaked folds and humming in satisfaction. You lift your hips, trying to get him to slip it in, but he is always quicker than you. “Desperate, ain’t ya?”

Before your face can react to his mocking, his hips snap forward, fully sheathing himself inside you. The meat of your thigh presses against his waist, trying to hold him in that spot, but he does not let up. The pressure is almost too much but the pain is appallingly satisfying.

You cannot even remember the last time you felt this. Your previous sexual encounters were usually hasty and boring. Most were not consensual and left you feeling gross and deprived of release.

The build up between you and Joel was a months long endeavor that left you feeling borderline insane. You could not help but let your desire for him fester.

His pace is not slow in the slightest, but it is calculated. You manage to widen your legs a bit allowing more space for his thighs to take up. As he kneels between you, you get a great view of his muscular flexed thighs.

Joel was a specimen. You could not stop yourself from admiring such a sight, especially when his hands are all over you and his dick is driving into you over and over. You had never been in love, never seen it first hand even, but you knew you love this moment. You love Joel for making you feel so good. That’s not a feeling you have ever had for anyone, let alone a man in this sick world.

“Oh my god, yes,” You clamor, your hands still locked over your head. The tension you feel in the pit of your stomach feels like it may explode, “Please, please.”

He repositions himself, releasing your wrists and pushing your legs up. You are folded in half while his upper body falls over you. You can already see the glistening of sweat across his neck and shoulders. His body locks you on the couch as he continues rocking into you.

“You don’t cum til I say, got me?”

He fucks into you harder now, and from this angle, you do not know how that will be possible. A couple more thrusts and you know you are a goner.

“I feel it,” You choke, trying to clench to prevent yourself from letting go before Joel’s instruction. “Joel.”

“I said hold that shit back,” His pace only speeds up, like he is chasing his own high, “Not ‘til I say.”

The friction is too much. You tug your lip between your teeth and you bite so hard that you start to taste blood. He is not letting up and you know the rope is about to snap. No matter how hard you try, when your eyes roll back and your body goes rigid, you let the release take over everything.

You are screaming, your voice cracking as you do. Joel’s hip stutter when your pussy tightens up around him, but you know he’s only slowing down because you did not listen.

Your limbs feel like jello and being that you are unable to really shift or move below Joel anyway, you just lay there limp. Joel flexes his arms and you can tell as he pulls away from your body that he is pissed.

“Roll over.”

You knit your brows together, still trying to manage your breathing. “I’m sorry-”

He slaps your thigh, the sting prickling down your entire leg. “Roll the fuck over.”

The motion takes almost all of your energy. When you are on your stomach, Joel hauls your ass towards his pelvis. With your ass up in the air, you can feel the cold air hit your spent cunt. Your head is tilted, only able to see Joel in your peripheral vision. He looks down at your pussy, dragging his cock head through your seams. You note how he smiles coyly.

When his lips purse and spit starts to dribble out, you start babbling all sorts of nonsense. The spit lands perfectly between your pussy lips and the top of his red tip.

“You know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”

You keen as he pushes his cockhead into your cunt, “What?”

“Punishment.”

The thrust is so powerful it has your body almost slamming back onto the sofa. As he ruts into you, the moans that come out of you do not sound human. You are already so sensitive from your orgasm, you know that it takes practically no touch at all to set off the chain reaction again.

His grip on your ass will leave bruises, just like all the other bruises he has given you in the last couple months. You count all of them like trophies. All the time Joel has touched you.

When the grip turns into open hand spanking, you know your ‘punishments’ would be something you would enjoy tempting time to time.

They are brutal. With each thrust, his palm comes down on your left ass cheek. All the while, his right fingers are digging scratches all along your ass and thigh. Between the sounds of the smacks and his balls slapping against your skin, you are being sent back into an ever-growing burn in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuckin’ pussy is squeezin’ my cock,” He mewls, his voice gravelly, “You like gettin’ spanked? Hm?”

You restrain yourself from screaming out that you love it. You settle for just, “Please don’t stop.”

You can hear him chuckle behind you, his actions continuing as he bucks into you.

“You’re lucky ‘m feelin’ nice.”

His hips start to stutter as you continue your mewling over his cock. He reaches out to your shoulders, pulling you upward and locking his arm around your neck. He has you in a loose headlock as he fucks you. Your hands rest on your forearm, your nails digging so hard that you leave small half moons on his freckled skin.

His other arm finds its way between your legs, swiping your clit as his thrusts become more labored. Even with the pace slowed down, the small titillating circles he pushes into your sensitive bud sends you over the edge again. As you fall apart in his arms, he spirals into his own climax, fucking his seed so deep into you that you will probably have it dripping out of you for days.

The husky moans he lets out as he empties himself inside you rattles in your eardrum. It was like music to your ears. You finally got what you want.

“You came again without permission.”

You do not respond, just grunt and fall onto the couch.

Your body is humming still. Joel’s half-hard cock is still standing at attention as he stands up and walks over to the kitchen. You grab the back couch cushion and push yourself up to watch him wander over the sink. His hand reaches for a kitchen towel and he wets it under the sink faucet.

His ass is so perfect and you silently curse yourself for not grabbing it when he was balls deep in you.

“Come ‘ere.”

You scramble up, your legs wobbling with each step. Joel’s eyes scan your entire body again, enjoying the sight of you so bare in front of him. “Didn’t think you were the one for aftercare.”

He furrows his eyebrows, as he extends the towel to you. “I ain’t. Wipe yourself up.”

Your heart pangs against your ribcage. For some reason you thought being so intimate with him would bring something different out. You are sorely mistaken.

The anger you felt earlier, the blind rage, takes over all your nerve endings again. You cannot stop yourself from lashing out after such a high. A high he gave you.

You slap the towel away, tilting your chin up at him. He has never seen you defiant. His face twists in confusion.

“You made me kill for you. Then you fuck me. And you can’t even give me any decency by wiping your fucking cum off of me?”

The words are like vomit coming out of your mouth. You ever thought you would talk back to him like this. It is the kind of thing you could have been killed for months ago. But now, you both are in vulnerable positions. You want to prove a point. Look at me, appreciate me, love me.

“Excuse me?”

His tone is threatening. But so is yours.

“You heard me.”

As silence cuts through the air, you notice the gun Joel put on the kitchen counter next to a broken coffee pot. He sees you eyeing it and goes to reach for it, but you are closer and a bit faster than him. When your hand wraps around the metal, you point it directly at his hairy chest.

Proving a point with violence was always your specialty. Before the alcohol, and now, after the alcohol.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” He bites, his lips tightening inward, “You put that shit down now.”

You are steady with it, your finger not on the trigger, but only millimeters from gracing it. “No.”

“You’re not gonna kill me. Not after all you just did for me,” His voice is more clipped, his words staggered. His hands raise in the air, almost in surrender. “Put it down.”

You are not sure what your next move should be. The rage now turns into confliction.

You have screwed yourself for snapping so quickly at him and now he was never going to trust you. Threatening him with words would be one thing, but pointing a gun at center mass was absurd. While you wanted to get your point across to him, you knew this was overkill. Your fuse was so short and your urges were unkempt. Acting on impulse was going to get you in major trouble.

In the time you are second guessing your actions, Joel’s already springing forward and snatching the gun from you. You are easy to disarm when you are not prepared for a naked man springing at you in your time of contemplation. Joel grabs the gun, pushing you backward into the kitchen counter and points it at you.

“Now…” His southern drawl carries out the word. Your heart is pounding, the same way it was racing last time Joel trained a gun on you. This time was different. Instead of a look of contempt and uncertainty, he appears to be offended by your actions. “You know damn well that shit ain’t gonna fly with me.”

“Joel-” “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” He steps closer, the gun still trained on you, “You know better, don’t ya?”

The coldness of the barrel on your right collarbone is enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, to his eyes, “I do. I don’t know what came over me.”

His eyes reflect a silent consideration. He is trying to figure out if he believes you or not. You silently pray he does even if you do not fully believe yourself.

“You are too quick to react to someone tellin’ you know. Knock that shit off now or else we will have bigger issues.”

You knew those bigger issues would lead to Joel putting you out of your misery. You would have to work on impulse control. “It won’t happen again. I will work on it.”

“You’re lucky I love that pussy of yours or else you would have a hole in your fuckin’ head.”

Love.

“You love it?”

He smirks at your candor. He did not even realize he said that. “Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness. You don’t have time to get a big head.”

“On my knees?”

He clenches his jaw, withdrawing the end of the gun from your skin. It leaves a small circle indentation, solidifying that next time, there may be a much bigger one there. “On your knees, little one.”

divider from @/saradika-graphics

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yaniluvs · 2 days ago

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and i'll still be right next to you, my dear 日 ── your boyfriend comes to your rescue, after uni, when your pms turns you into a gremlin..?

𓍯 bf!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 1.6k ── ༯ DRABBLE, domestic fluff, humour, flirting, comfort, mentioned pms, kisses, uni au, pure love, dying jokes. req. by ml ! ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. 𖦹ࡇ𖦹

yani's note ˖ ˙ ᰋ this was an absolute TREAT to write omg. i love love love love seungmin sm i'll explode >< thank you mama @cosmicalily for the request, i really hope it comforts you, at least in the slightest !! please take care of yourself and continue get pampered by your people ;) ! comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! oh god that was a lot of exclamation marks happy reading <3

it starts with a dull ache in your lower abdomen, the kind that makes sitting through lectures feel like an olympic sport. your mood swings follow shortly after, along with an unshakable craving for chocolate. by the time you make it back to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, you're ready to flop onto the couch and disappear into a blanket cocoon.

your boyfriend in question, raises an eyebrow when he sees you shuffle through the door like a defeated sims character. "rough day?" he deadpans, his voice laced with sarcasm.

you groan in response, dropping your miffy tote that he had gotten for you merely two weeks earlier; kicking off your shoes with a dramatic flair. "i'm dying," you announce, flopping onto the couch face-first. "just let me perish here in peace."

he snorts, closing his laptop and setting it aside. "what's the cause of death this time? bad grade? forgot to take your charger? or is it the apocalypse of your own making?"

you flip over and glare at him, your energy too drained for a proper retort. "you’re walking a very thin line, kim seungmin. keyword, very."

that gets his attention. his teasing expression softens, and he stands up, walking over to you. "ah," he says simply, sitting down on the edge of the couch. "that explains why you’ve been texting me in all caps about chocolate and why you cursed out a squirrel this morning."

"i still stand by that," you reply, crossing your arms. "that squirrel was judging me."

seungmin rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. he nudges you gently. "move over."

you grumble but comply, scooting over so he can sit beside you. he throws a knitted blanket that was earlier draped on the side of the couch, over both of you and settles in, his arm casually slung over the back of the couch.

"what do you need? heating pad? snacks? my undivided attention to watch you be dramatic?"

"another retort and you're gonna be-"

"begging for mercy? your highness, i am so deeply sorry to have offended you in this state of-"

"you're insufferable."

"and yet, here i am, ready to be your personal butler," he smirks, leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world. "...your highness." he adds.

"tell me what you want, and i'll think about it."

"actually, on second thought, don't. stay here, i'll be back in the speed of sound."

"it's said as the speed of light."

"too bad i'm not a science major. now you," he leaned in to press a soft kiss on the temple of your head, before patting the top and standing up, draping the blanket over you once more. "..stay here, with all your miffy plushies, and watch some tv. i'll be quick, okay?"

ten minutes.

it had been only ten minutes since he had gone, and then that was when you heard the familiar rattling of keys from the doorstep.

he stepped inside, balancing two loaded grocery bags of goodies and what not. his eyes flicked over you with a keen, knowing look. your cheeks were puffed, a tell-tale sign of bloating, and the slightly pinched expression on your face made his heart tug.

"i told you to stay seated."

"i had to change, mister." you shrugged.

"so that's the excuse for wearing my hoodie? again?" he remarked, raising an eyebrow as he placed the bags on the table. "did i leave anything behind that you haven't stolen?"

you got up from the couch with a dramatic groan. "i don’t steal, i borrow."

"you mean like how pirates 'borrow' treasure?" he said, shrugging off his jacket. “how’s your mood? should i brace for impact or am i safe for now?"

you shot him a glare, but it lacked heat. "hey!"

"sorry, sorry," his lips twitched, but instead of firing back, he reached for your waist, his cold fingers brushing against your arms. his touch was both gentle and grounding. "is it getting worse?"

the softness in his voice melted your defenses immediately. you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder as he held you tightly in his arms. "i hate this. i feel gross and tired and…" you trailed off with a wave of your free hand.

he squeezed your hand. "and?"

"hungry," you whispered.

he smirked, his teasing demeanor slipping back into place. "lucky for you, i come bearing gifts." he reached into the bag, pulling out your favorites—chocolate, a lot of chips, and the sacred comfort food: ramen.

he waved them in front of your face. "all for the lady, thanks to her knight in shining armor."

you made grabby hands immediately, eyes lightening up. "gimme."

"what do we say?"

"seungmin, i will literally punch you and have zero remorse, right now."

"eh.. i doubt that. but i'd love to see you try, darling."

. . .

just as you were about to go for his hair, he laughed, surrendering the snacks. "alright, alright. eat your feelings, grumpy little gremlin."

"what did you just call me?" you cringed.

"a gremlin?"

"you've been spending way too much time with felix."

"what's with the face?" he asks, sitting back down. "i’m not a monster, you know. i have my moments."

"rare moments," you quip, taking a bite of the chocolate.

he rolls his eyes again but doesn't argue. instead, he adjusts the heating pad and plugs it in, gently placing it against your lower abdomen. the warmth is instant, and you let out a content sigh.

"better?" he asks, his tone softer now.

"better," you admit, giving him a small smile.

the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes with years of friendship and understanding. seungmin picks up the tv remote, scrolling through options before landing on a rom-com you secretly adore but would never admit to liking.

"really?" you tease. "i didn’t peg you for a rom-com guy."

he shrugs, his expression carefully neutral. "i’m not. but you are. and you’re unbearable when you’re bored, so consider this a self-preservation tactic."

your heart does a little flip at his words, even if he disguises them in sarcasm. you lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder. he stiffens for a second but quickly relaxes, letting you get comfortable.

"you’re not so bad," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the movie’s opening scene.

he glances at you, his features softening in the dim light of the screen. "don’t get used to it," he says, though there’s no real bite in his words.

the rest of the evening passes in a haze of warmth and quiet companionship. at some point, seungmin shifts, pulling you closer so you’re practically curled up against him. his arm drapes around your shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your abdomen, slightly massaging.

you sat in comfortable silence, with the distant hum of the tv, for a few moments as you tore into a bag of tortilla chips, the faint outline of the heatpad that he had prepared resting on your abdomen, visible. seungmin watched you with a fondness he rarely let anyone else see.

he wasn’t one to be overly affectionate in public, always opting for sarcasm and well-placed retorts instead of grand gestures. but here, with you curled up against him, he let his softer side surface.

"do you need some tea or water?" he asked after a while, brushing a few stray strands of your hair away from your face.

you nodded, too busy munching to reply.

he stood with a sigh, muttering under his breath. "you’re such a queen, making me do all the work."

"you fucker- you literally just admitted to being a 'knight in shining armor' and 'butler' like less than half an hour ago!" you called after him.

"okay, easy with the language, sailor," he raised his hands in defence, 'i take it, it's still terrible?" he frowned, looking into your eyes.

"not as bad as earlier though, thanks to you." you grin.

"...and the mood switches.. you're scary."

. . .

by the time he returned with two cups of freshly brewed chamomile tea, you had sunk deeper into the beige couch, looking more like a cozy lump than a person. he handed it to you and sat back down, pulling your feet into his lap.

"thank you," you murmured, being handed the floral teacup in your hand.

he nodded, rubbing small circles, giving slight pressure at certain points into your calves, trying to ease your pain. "don’t mention it."

a comfortable lull settled over you two again. you closed your eyes, letting the pain and discomfort ebb away under his gentle touch.

"you know," he said suddenly, "if you just stopped having a uterus, this wouldn’t be a problem."

"oh, brilliant. now why didn’t i think of that?" you rolled your eyes. "but now that i think of it, it might give rise to someone else's problems, not affecting me though." you spoke with an innocent grin on your face.

he stared at you, unable to understand for a hot second. until it came to him- and you could swear you saw his ears shading crimson.

"wow, you're so thoughtful." he murmurs, catching your hand before you could hit him again and holding it tight. "you’re so violent."

"you’re so annoying."

"and yet, here we are," he quipped, threading his fingers through yours.

you squeezed his hand. "here we are."

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the late afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over your intertwined hands.

seungmin looked down at you, the usual sarcastic smirk replaced with something softer, quieter. "i know it sucks," he murmured. "but you’re doing great. you’re strong. and i’ll be here… even if you eat all my hoodies and make me buy half the store every month."

your lips quirked. "you’re the best, you know that?"

"as if it wasn't obvious," he deadpanned. "but it’s nice to hear it."

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

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thef1diary · 18 hours ago

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team principal!carlos treating the team to a little vacation before the new season starts for uh.. team building reasons.. obviously.. 👀 think paradise but sharing meals with everyone and having a few fun activities together. and you are sharing a room with carlos, the suite was the only one available with two rooms 🤓

i'm thinking waking up to carlos eating you out to start the day off well with more to follow😵‍💫

🩵

— hmm why make it two rooms if it could be one? With one bed ofc 🤭 the team would be suspect anything, it was just a booking issue on the hotel’s end…right? 18+ content below

The tropical retreat had been Carlos’s idea, pitched to the team as a well-earned vacation to recharge and build camaraderie before the new season. What no one knew—what no one could know—was that his real agenda had little to do with team bonding. He had planned every detail, down to the “accidental” mix-up that left the two of you sharing a single room with one bed. The team didn’t suspect a thing. To them, you were the star driver, and he was the ever-professional team principal. Behind closed doors, however, things were much different.

The bed was large enough to keep up appearances, but neither of you had any intention of using all that space. You fell asleep curled against him, your limbs tangled under the soft sheets, his hand possessively resting on your bare hip. The sound of the ocean outside lulled you into a deep sleep, and you didn’t stir until the morning—when you woke to something far more intoxicating.

A low, needy moan escaped your lips before you even opened your eyes. Warmth spread from your core, the unmistakable sensation of Carlos’s mouth between your thighs pulling you from sleep. His broad shoulders pinned you down, his strong hands gripping your hips to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Carlos…” you gasped, your voice still rough from sleep. Your legs trembled, instinctively trying to close around his head, but he groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“None of that, hermosa,” he murmured, his voice husky as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. His lips glistened, his dark eyes smoldering. “Let me take care of you. You’ve earned it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before diving back in, his tongue dragging slow, deliberate circles over your clit. His movements were precise, calculated, like he had mapped every inch of you and knew exactly what would unravel you.

“You were incredible last season,” he said between licks, his voice low and reverent. “Every win, every podium—you make me so proud.” He punctuated his words with a firm suck on your clit, making your back arch and a cry fall from your lips. “I want to reward you. Motivate you to keep being my best driver.”

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as your hips bucked against his mouth. He let you grind against his face as he worked you closer to the edge.

“Carlos—sir—fuck—”

“That’s it, princesa,” he groaned, his voice muffled as he pressed his tongue deeper into you. “Let go. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a wave, your body tensing before shattering beneath him. He held you steady, his tongue working you through the high, his grip firm but tender as he murmured praises against your skin.

You were still catching your breath when he crawled up your body, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was equal parts sweet and filthy. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want more.

“Think you got one more in you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in your ear. You could feel him, hard and insistent against your thigh, and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip.

You briefly glanced at the clock on the nightstand, barely registering the numbers before giving him an answer. “We’ve got time, please sir.”

A smirk graced his lips, and he placed a light kiss on your lips. “Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

He flipped you onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself behind you. He slid his cock into you in one slow, deliberate thrust, the stretch making you gasp. He didn’t wait, setting a rough pace that had you clawing at the sheets, your moans muffled by the pillow.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he drove into you. “So perfect for me.”

His hand slipped around to your front, finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The overstimulation was almost too much, but the way he moaned your name, the way he filled you completely, had you hurtling toward another orgasm.

“Come for me again, mi princesa,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained. “Show me why you’re the best.”

It didn’t take you long to shatter around him, your body shaking as he followed you over the edge, his cum spilling into you with a guttural moan. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin.

“Good morning,” he murmured against your temple, his voice warm and teasing.

You laughed breathlessly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. “If this is how you want to start the day, I can’t wait to see what the rest of the week holds.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “Just wait, hermosa. I’ve got a lot planned for us.”

want more team principal!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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echo-riot · 2 days ago

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Dating sevika headcanons pt 2 (sfw and some not)

————————————————————————

Sevika’s idea of a “romantic date” is… sitting in a dark alleyway, smoking cigars, and gambling while you perch on her lap, straddling her thick thighs. She’ll never admit it, but she likes how possessive people get when they see you two together. Her way of saying “I love you” is to make the whole room uncomfortable by casually wrapping her arm around your waist and glaring at anyone who dares to look too long.

When you’re mad at her, Sevika doesn’t apologize. Instead, she’ll sulk for a few hours, refusing to speak to you, until she storms back into your shared space, throws you onto the bed, and proceeds to make the entire night about you. “That’s her apology” she’ll grunt, while making sure you’re well taken care of.

Sevika is not a morning person—but if you curl up next to her, she won’t push you away. In fact, she’s more likely to pull you even closer, whispering unintelligible words into your hair as she lazily strokes your back with her human hand, all the while pretending like she’s not the softest thing when it comes to you.

If you ever get jealous, Sevika will smirk and stir the pot even more. Someone flirts with you at a bar? She’ll let it happen, waiting to see if you snap. When you do, she’ll walk up, wrap an arm around your shoulders, and pull you into her side, making it very clear to the other person that you belong to her. She thrives on watching men squirm when they realize she’s not someone you want to mess with.

When she’s really into you, she can’t keep her hands off you. You’ll be sitting across from her at the table, and next thing you know, she’s pulling you onto her lap like it’s nothing, leaning in to kiss you while making sure everyone around knows she’s already claimed you. Not that you’re complaining.

Sevika will NEVER let you get anywhere near Shimmer. Don’t even try to argue about it—if you bring it up, she’ll turn into a brick wall. But she will quietly sigh in relief when you’ve safely fallen asleep after a long day, knowing that you’re not as reckless as she was.

When she’s drunk, Sevika gets unexpectedly affectionate. She’ll still be tough as nails, but if you catch her after a night of drinking, you’ll find her whispering sweetly in your ear about how much she appreciates you, and how she’s glad you don’t make her feel like a monster. It’s rare, but those little moments hit hard. Don’t mention it the next morning though, or you’ll get a sarcastic “Shut up.”

You don’t need to worry about her “losing her edge.” Sevika loves you, but you’ll never see her weak. She’ll take care of everything—running the show, leading the crew, and doing it all while still making sure you’re fed, rested, and properly spoiled (even if she pretends she’s too busy for it). Her love language is protectiveness, and you’ll never have to ask for it—she’ll just give it, in her own way.

Sevika has a low tolerance for bullshit. You want to fight with her? She’ll shut you down quickly. But don’t think you can walk away from her without a solution. You might be forced to sit down and listen to her explain how everything can be fixed, while she subtly leans in to kiss you as if to remind you that, despite all the chaos, she’s always got your back.

Sevika loves when you tease her about her arm. She’ll act like it bothers her, giving you a gruff response, but deep down, she’s secretly pleased you noticed the little details about her. So you might catch her in the middle of a conversation trying to subtly flex her arm to see if you’re watching.

You ever tell Sevika you love her? Expect the longest silence. But if you’re close enough, you’ll hear her mumble “Yeah, me too,” under her breath, her hand gripping you just a little bit tighter than usual. Don’t expect a full confession anytime soon, but her actions speak louder than any words she’d say.

Sevika isn’t the best at “gentle” love-making, but she knows exactly what you need. She’ll have you begging for her touch, your back arched and your breath ragged, and when she’s done with you, she’ll act like it was just another night—but you know she won’t let you go easily after that.

Don’t let her drink too much, or you’ll find yourself with a Sevika that becomes surprisingly clingy, needing your constant attention. She’ll never admit it, but when she’s tipsy, she’s vulnerable, and the cold, hard exterior starts to melt just a little bit. Enjoy it while it lasts, because she’ll be back to her usual intimidating self by morning.

When she’s worried about you, Sevika might try to hide it by acting gruff and dismissive, but the tension in her shoulders says it all. She’ll never say it aloud, but if anyone even thinks of threatening you, they’re as good as dead.

Sevika may be the toughest person in the room, but when you’re the one she’s holding close, she’ll make you feel like the only person that matters. Don’t think she’ll say it outright, but you’ll feel it in the way her hand wraps around your waist, keeping you anchored to her in a world that’s constantly moving.

Sevika’s definition of “cuddling”: It’s not the soft, romantic kind. You’re in her lap, head resting on her chest, and she’s just grumbling about something—probably work—but she lets you stay there because she secretly loves the closeness. And even if she acts like she doesn’t, her fingers will trace circles on your back, and you can feel her warmth seeping into your skin.

In the dead of night, when she’s holding you close and you’re almost asleep, you’ll feel her hand tighten around you ever so slightly. She’ll breathe in, and though the words don’t come, the feeling is all there—she’d die for you, and she will die for you.

Sevika’s smiles aren’t easy to come by, but when you pull off something unexpected, like making her laugh at a sarcastic quip or doing something that touches her heart, she’ll crack the tiniest of smiles. And she’ll try to hide it, but you’ll catch it. When she smiles, it’s all you need to know you’re doing something right

You’re tough in your own way, and that drives Sevika wild. Whether it’s your physical strength or the way you handle things emotionally, she admires you deeply for not breaking under pressure. She’ll never admit it outright, but seeing you take charge in tough situations makes her think you’re even hotter than she already does.

If you’re ever in trouble, don’t expect her to be the type to coddle you. She’ll patch you up, maybe scold you a little for getting hurt, and then tell you to “get back out there” and finish the job. But if you really need comfort, she’ll stand guard over you like a wall and make sure no one gets close.

Good luck. Sevika doesn’t stop moving. Whether it’s upgrading her arm or keeping things under control in Zaun, there’s always something for her to do. But if you manage to corner her and drag her into a quiet space, she’ll let herself relax just enough to let you pamper her. (But only for a while—she’ll grumble the entire time.)

if she messes up, she’ll apologies in the best way she knows how. That usually means hours of intense physical affection, pushing you to the edge of your patience as she tries to make it up to you. In her mind, actions speak louder than words. (And she does know how to use that damn arm of hers to make things extra interesting.)

Don’t try to kiss Sevika when she’s angry—she’ll push you away. But the second she cools off, she’ll drag you close by your collar and kiss you like she hasn’t seen you in years, all pent-up frustration and heat. And you will need a minute to catch your breath when she’s done.

Sevika isn’t a patient woman in general, but she has an unexpected amount of patience when it comes to you. Whether it’s waiting for you to finish a project, allowing you to take your time with things, or handling your quirks, she’ll do it without complaint.

Sevika might not be the type to say it out loud, but she’s incredibly proud of you. Whether you accomplish something big or even just make it through a tough day, she’ll make sure to let you know you’ve done well. It’s usually in a low, gruff voice, but you’ll feel her pride all the same.

Although she hides it well, the thought of losing you terrifies Sevika. She’s seen a lot of loss in her life, and even though she tries to act tough, she’s scared of not being able to protect you. So, she keeps you close, watches over you, and does everything in her power to make sure you’re safe, even if she doesn’t always know how to express her fear.

NSFW part:

When Sevika wants you, she’ll take what she wants without hesitation. Her kisses are forceful, hungry, and demanding. She’ll shove you against a wall, press her body against yours, and kiss you until you can’t breathe. The kiss might be rough, but she loves the control it gives her and the way you melt into her touch, surrendering to the moment.

Sevika loves being on top, where she can control the pace, angle, and intensity. She’ll pin you down beneath her, leaning over you, taking you hard and fast, while her grip on your body tightens. She’s not afraid to get rough—she’ll hold your wrists down or press your body into the mattress.

She’ll whisper dark, degrading things in your ear, telling you how well you’re taking her, how much she owns you, or how good you are for her. She loves hearing you moan at her words, and she’ll push you even further, knowing exactly what turns you on. When she talks dirty, she’s not shy about it, She’ll talk down to you, telling you exactly how pathetic you are for her, but there’s always a hint of praise, too. When you do something she enjoys, she’ll whisper just how well you’re doing—whether it’s taking her or satisfying her desires—her praise is rough but addictive, making you crave more.

She’ll take you from behind, holding you in place while she takes what she wants. She’s not shy about her dominance and enjoys how submissive you become under her touch. She’ll pull your hair or grip your throat, enjoying how you yield to her every command.

She’s more than just dominating; she’s passionate and raw, needing to feel you as much as you need to feel her. There are moments when she’ll hold you close, burying her face in your neck as she comes down from her high, whispering apologies in her raspy voice for being too rough, even though she knows she could never be “too much” for you.

Sevika loves getting you both messy. She’ll have you both drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around you, her fingers digging into your skin. The way she leaves you breathless and spent is exactly how she likes it—no rules, no holding back.

Sometimes, Sevika won’t care about your pleasure at all. It’s all about her satisfaction, and she expects you to follow her lead, giving her what she needs. It’s not that she doesn’t care about you, but when it comes to those selfish moments, she’s focused on how good it feels to take control of you—body and mind. Once she’s had her fill, she’ll relax a bit and turn her attention back to you, ready to reciprocate.

Sevika’s thrusts are slow and deliberate, each one timed to perfection. She’ll pull back just enough to make you ache before driving it back in, letting you feel every inch of it. She’s in no rush to finish—her focus is on making you feel every moment, stretching you out and pushing you to your limits. You’ll be begging her to go faster, but she loves making you work for it.

Sometimes, she’ll get you right about to cum, and just when you’re about to break, she’ll slow down, making you beg for release. Other times, she’ll thrust harder and faster, making sure you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of it all.

Sevika’s strap-on is more than just a tool; it’s a way for her to make you feel completely filled, both physically and mentally. She’ll make sure you feel every inch, every thrust, making sure you know exactly how deep she can go. She’s not shy about letting you know that she owns you in these moments, her every action pushing you closer to the edge of your pleasure and submission.

For Sevika, the line between pain and pleasure is incredibly thin. She’ll mix in a little bit of light pain while using the strap-on, whether it’s slapping your ass or pinching your nipples, to make the pleasure even more intense. Every time she thrusts, you’ll feel a mix of sweet pleasure and sharp sting, and she’ll make sure you feel every bit of it. But don’t worry—when you need a break, she’ll ease off for just long enough to let you catch your breath before starting again.

Sevika isn’t just about the hard, fast fuck; she enjoys experimenting with sensation play. She’ll run her fingers over your body as she uses the strap-on, teasing you with light touches, soft brushes, or even ice cubes, to build the tension. The strap-on will feel even more intense when your body is sensitized to every touch, and she’ll revel in how your body reacts to her every movement.

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika headcanon #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #sevika story #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x reader

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moonlit-stay · 2 days ago

Text

· . * · ° ☆ Soft As Silk

☆ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

☆ Genre: Fluff and Smut

☆ Word Count: 3.4k

☆ Warnings: Soft!Dom Hyunjin, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, reader (me) is very needy for her hot and sexy boyfriend (Hyunjin), tongue sucking, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft love making for a bit, multiple orgasms, marking, little bit of praise, creampie

☆ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Gold, Cream, and White <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything written in all of my work is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

"You love me, right?"

The question, as simple as it is, is asked with urgency; each word laced with subtle worry and something you immediately identify as excitement. It startles you slightly, but you answer the question honestly, nonetheless.

"More than anything." Your voice seeps through Hyunjin's speaker like a warm blanket, immediately easing his worries while simultaneously enhancing his excitement. "Why? Is everything okay?"

Your question is soft, gentle, but laced with arguably more worry than Hyunjin's question was. You barely had time to pull your phone to your ear before he blurted out said question, giving you no time to even greet him before your mind started racing with assumptions.

"Yea," he breathes out in a laugh, one that tells you he means it. "I did something." He simply explains, knowing the brief explanation will only spark your curiosity further.

"What do you mean?" A reasonable question, one he was expecting, and one he only answers with a breathy chuckle. "Jinnie?"

"You'll see, just be ready for me, angel."

Before you can question him further, he ends the call, leaving you to soak in your own confusion and nerves as you impatiently wait for him to get home. You manage to come up with a list of things this something could be, but knowing Hyunjin, this list grows long rather quickly, and at the end of the day, it still doesn't actually answer your question.

You're lost in thought, an equal number of assumptions and ideas circling endlessly through the paths of your mind until they inevitably circle back to the starting point. If leaving you curious and eager was Hyunjin's goal, he had succeeded without much effort.

You miss the quiet sound of your front door opening in the distance, Hyunjin quickly slipping into the warm embrace of your shared home as the bitter cold desperately chases after him. He closes the door just as quietly, taking a cautious step forward as he leaves his shoes by the door.

"Baby?" Hyunjin calls out, peering around the space he can see from where he's standing.

No longer than a second later, he hears your hurried footsteps approach him from somewhere deeper in your home. You race towards your entryway, excitement bubbling in your chest as you finally turn the corner.

Your eyes briefly meet Hyunjin's as you stop dead in your tracks, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the unexpected sight of your boyfriend's short, blonde hair. It's a stark contrast to the long, dark brown wolf cut he's had for the past few months, and it effectively catches you off guard enough for all thoughts to leave your brain.

You take slow steps forward, almost cautiously, your mouth agape as you soak in Hyunjin's appearance. Hyunjin's hands find your waist the second you get within arms reach of him, pulling you close until your chest is flush against his. You can feel the warmth radiating off his broad form, the comforting feeling engulfing you as his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your shirt to feel your skin beneath his fingertips. He draws shapes against your soft skin as he patiently waits for your initial shock to die down.

"What do you think?" He softly asks you, his voice barely above a whisper as he smiles down at you. "Still love me?"

Aside from the initial shock, one thing you can confidently read and place amongst your jumbled thoughts is that he looks good.

"Still love you. So much," you reassure once more, your voice quiet as it dances along the border that separates a whisper from a mumble. You let your hands rest on his shoulders as your eyes rake over his features, your palms gently caressing the smooth curves of his muscles. "You look so, so good."

His features have always been perfect, but there's something about his buzzcut that deliciously highlights each of his features almost beyond recognition; putting each of them on display in a way that makes your eyes hungrily drink in every detail of his appearance. This, as well as this particular shade of blonde. It perfectly compliments his gorgeous skin tone in ways that make your head spin, his soft skin glistening in the dim lighting of your home.

There are many things about this look that draws you in like a siren at sea, drowning you in the overwhelming urge to touch and feel him everywhere at once. You simply can't take your eyes off your boyfriend. Hyunjin notices the look in your eyes, being all too familiar with the hidden meaning deep within your gaze, and he smirks down at you as his hands glide down your hips until they land on your ass. He pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours as your hands move to glide over the silky expanse of his freshly shaved head.

"Yea?" He asks with a grin, his voice low and teasing as he palms your ass, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer.

"Yea." You sigh out in response, your tone breathy and laced with need as your hands rest against the back of his neck.

Hyunjin leans down to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss, giving you exactly what he knows you want without wasting any time. A soft moan slips past your lips just from feeling him like this, close and intimate, and all for you.

"Need you," you breathe out against his jaw, pressing kisses along the defined bone as he leans his head back, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against his heated skin.

"You have me, angel, always." His breathing is shaky when he answers you, moving to press kisses along your neck as you cling to him, desperate to hear more of your pretty noises as he mouths at your delicate flesh.

He nips at your skin in a messy trail from just below your ear to the base of your neck, letting his tongue glide over each pinpointed spot until you're whimpering helplessly against him.

"Please," you start, your voice quiet and weak as you paw at his shirt, "do something, Jinnie."

You feel Hyunjin smirk against you before his lips are on yours again, walking you backwards towards your shared room as you blindly follow his lead. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head, quickly tossing it to the side before he gently grips both your wrists in his hands, guiding them to press flat against his abdomen. You run your hands over as much of him as you can reach from the close proximity, and the shaky breath you let out against Hyunjin's lips has him throbbing in his black sweatpants, his mind spinning at how needy and worked up you are for him.

Hyunjin pulls your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor as he presses you against the wall of your shared room. A gasp leaves your lips at the feeling of the cold surface against your warm skin, and Hyunjin takes this opportunity to lick into your mouth as he palms your tits. He groans at the taste of you on his tongue, your lips closing around the wet muscle as you lightly suck on it with a moan. Hyunjin's eyes roll back at the feeling of your lips eagerly sucking his tongue into your mouth the same way you do with his cock, his hands roughly gripping at your hips in a weak attempt to keep himself sane.

Hyunjin looks surreal in this state, and you can't help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, trying desperately to ease the growing ache between them as moans leave his swollen, parted lips every time you suck his tongue further into your mouth.

The simple action doesn't go unnoticed by Hyunjin, and his right hand is quick to slip past the waistband of your leggings. He cups your clothed mound, feeling your thighs immediately close around his large hand. He groans at how warm and wet you are against his palm as he presses the pad of his middle finger against your entrance. He can feel the tight hole flutter with need against his fingertip, your body eagerly reacting to his every touch.

You release his tongue with a wet pop, your head falling back against the wall with a shaky breath as Hyunjin slips his hand into your panties to make direct contact with your core.

"Look at me, baby." Hyunjin softly demands, watching your eyes immediately snap to his.

He sinks his middle finger into your heat, watching your eyes flutter shut as he presses up against your walls. Your arousal coats his finger, dripping down to his palm as he quickly adds his ring finger, slowly pumping the digits into you as your mouth falls agape.

"You're so wet for me, baby." He breathes out, picking up the pace of his digits so you can hear how wet you are. "All this because of my haircut, angel?" He asks, curling his fingers inside you to watch your eyes roll back.

"Y-Yes, fuck-" you moan out, feeling your legs shake as your high grows closer with every thrust of Hyunjin's long, slender fingers.

Hyunjin watches in amusement as you struggle to keep your eyes on him; hooded eyes, heavy with lust, drinking in his appearance as you let out breathless pants. A smirk pulls at his lips every time your eyes roll back or screw shut at the spine-tingling pleasure that courses through you all because of him.

He always takes this time to commit each of your facial expressions to memory, drawing every crease, line, and curve deep within his mind to keep in his own mental treasury.

"Jinnie," you breathe out urgently, your voice quiet and broken as you grow dangerously close to your high.

Your eyes dart back and forth between his own, watching as his smirk fades into a soft smile that beams with fondness and admiration as he nods at you. "S'okay, angel," his voice is soft and soothing as he watches your eyes shake before they inevitably close in ecstasy, your first high of the night washing over you in waves.

You cling to whatever part of him your hands can grip first, your body feeling weak as you cum around Hyunjin's fingers. He holds you securely in place, keeping you close and safe until you come down from your high.

"You okay, baby?" He asks you once your eyes refocus and immediately fall back on him.

"Need more, please," you whine out, pulling Hyunjin into a desperate kiss as you paw at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Hyunjin smiles into the kiss, basking in each of your noises, words, and actions that all circle back to something as simple as a haircut. He feels his chest swell with love and pride, knowing that you'll always love him regardless of how he chooses to alter his appearance, while also losing his mind at how easy it is for him to reduce you to a needy mess that is more than willing to take everything he gives you.

"I got you, angel, it's okay." He pants against your lips between messy kisses, pulling your bare chest flush against his own.

You can't help the soft moan that slips past your lips at the bare contact, your arms circling around his muscular back to hold him against you as your nails lightly press into his skin.

Hyunjin is quick to lay you on your shared bed, hovering over you as he moves to kiss down your neck once more. When he feels your legs press tightly against his hips in a weak attempt to ease the pulsing between your thighs, he pulls away from you completely. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and panties, pulling them off of you in one swift motion. He's quick to do the same with his sweatpants, leaving you both bare for the other's hungry eyes.

He slowly slides his hands along your inner thighs, pulling them apart until he can see your glistening core. His cock twitches at the sight as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, letting his head loll backwards as he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

"How do you want me, baby?" He asks through clenched teeth, his tip an angry shade of red as precum beads at the slit.

"Don't care, as long as I can see you." You whine, watching him slowly lose his mind above you as he fights the urge to stuff every inch of his length deep inside your cunt.

He wastes no time in pulling you closer to him by the bend of your knees, pumping his length a few times before he hurriedly runs his tip through your sticky folds. You both let out whines at the contact, desperate and sensitive as you shift your hips upwards in an attempt to get him inside you. He takes the hint, impatience getting the best of him as he slides his tip down to your entrance. He can feel you pulsing against him, and without any more thought, he slowly starts pushing into you.

The stretch every time Hyunjin presses into you is never anything short of mind-numbing. All thoughts leave your brain, and your mouth hangs open as you take him inch by inch, feeling your walls part in invitation for his thick cock. He lets out choked moans above you as your eyes roll back, your walls squeezing every inch of him until he finally bottoms out. He holds as still as he can, waiting for your tight cunt to release its vice grip around him enough for him to move. Short, labored breaths slip past both your lips, you lock eyes with Hyunjin, pulling him closer until his forehead rests against yours.

"I love you, and I love the way you love me." Hyunjin whispers out to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips to punctuate his confession.

"I love you, too," you whisper back, "I always will."

Hyunjin's lips move slow against yours, in perfect sync with his hips as he pulls out of you until just his tip is nestled between your slick walls. He slowly thrusts back into you, letting you feel all of him as you moan into his mouth. He keeps this pace, slowly thrusting into you as your tongues collide in messy, love-filled kisses.

He grips at one of your thighs, guiding it to wrap around his waist as you follow suit with the other, wrapping both your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Even with every part of Hyunjin pressed against you or inside you, you still feel like you need more of him, like no amount of physical contact is enough to satiate the deep-rooted need you have for him.

You don't know what makes this look so wildly different from the rest, other than the obvious length, but it's making your brain turn to mush. You want all of him at once, in a way that can only be described as carnal. You feel your brain grow increasingly fuzzy with every deep thrust and needy kiss, coherent thoughts fading into distant babbles as Hyunjin increases his pace only slightly. Your body rocks with every thrust, your legs around Hyunjin keeping you in place as Hyunjin palms at your soft tits.

You whine into his mouth, the pleasure overwhelming your ability to think as his bare cock drags deliciously against your velvety walls. You feel Hyunjin's thumb rest firmly against your clit, rubbing fast, calculated circles against the bud as you struggle to kiss him back. Hyunjin takes this opportunity to nip at your collarbones, letting red marks bloom across your skin to serve as a reminder of this moment later.

You feel the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening rapidly, your moans becoming more frequent and higher in pitch as you grow closer to your high. When Hyunjin angles his hips to hit that little gummy spot deep within your walls, the knot unravels. Your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing further into Hyunjin's as your breath gets caught in your throat. You're completely silent as you shake against Hyunjin, every noise and potential breath captured in a pleasure prison as your hands flail around desperately before you choke out a scream. Hyunjin rides you through your high, his thumb still firm on your clit as his thrusts slow to shallow pumps.

"I've got you, baby, there you go." Hyunjin softly coos, watching you blink up at him before he slowly starts picking up his pace again.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around his back. Each of his thrusts still presses right against that sensitive spot, and you gasp as your body jolts in his hold.

"I know, angel, I'm sorry." He breathes out, his voice shaking with need as he thrusts into you with more force. "Just a little more for me."

You desperately cling to Hyunjin as need sets into his movements, his pace increasing and his thrusts forceful as he chases his high. The sound of his hips connecting with yours echoes in your ears, making your head spin as you moan out his name in breathy pleas.

"So good for me, baby," he groans out, feeling your walls tightly clench around him. "Taking all of me so well."

Hyunjin's thrusts grow erratic, his pace unrelenting as he drills into you so hard it almost hurts. His high quickly approaches as he listens to your incoherent babbles, your voice high-pitched and breathy, each word coming out in broken syllables as you thrash against him. He knows you're close again, he can feel it in the way your walls pulse around him, eagerly trying to milk him dry. He pushes his hips flush against yours, pressing his cock as deep as it'll go as he finally cums inside you.

The moans that he lets out against your heated skin as he stuffs you full of every drop of his cum has your third orgasm of the night hitting you like a ton of bricks. High-pitched screams, a messy string of swears, and Hyunjin's name spill endlessly past your lips as you shake against the broad expanse of his form, clawing at his back as choked moans leave his pillowy lips. Each of his sounds only adds to the cloudiness in your mind as your vision blurs, white hot pleasure setting a fire within each of your nerves as you cream around Hyunjin's cock.

You can feel Hyunjin's thighs shaking against the back of your own, and you mindlessly pull him to lay on top of you. Even in his dazed state, Hyunjin is quick to roll onto his side, taking you with him as your shared heavy pants fill the silence of the room. Neither of you say anything or dare to move for a while, choosing to bask in the afterglow of your orgasms until your heartbeats and breathing steady.

Hyunjin sits up just enough to lean over you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss before he pulls away from you with a smile.

"You really like my hair, huh, angel?" He asks you with a knowing smirk, watching as your eyes glaze over with need as you stare at his beautiful bare face.

"Mhmm," you nod up at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you pull him down to you with your gentle grip on the back of his neck. "I can't get enough of you, Jinnie."

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, much to your dissatisfaction, before he pulls away to take in your features. He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, his breath getting caught in his throat when he feels you clench around him. Through mutual sensitivity, his hips move on their own accord, shallowly thrusting his previous release deeper inside you as you nuzzle further into his chest; soaking up his warmth as he holds you close.

Nothing could've prepared you for Hyunjin's buzzcut, or the never-ending insatiable need for the gorgeous man that came with it, but when you reassure your love for him in ways like this, he can never find it in him to complain.

☆ Main Masterlist

☆ Hwang Hyunjin Masterlist

☆ Author's Note

Hwang Hyunjin, the man you are😣

This took me five entire days to write because he jumbled my thoughts so bad with this look (😩😫), I couldn't articulate my thoughts, feelings, and emotions into a work, but I finally managed and now here it is.

Also, little note about the title of this work: if you've ever felt a buzzcut (of that length in particular), you know that shit is soft as silk, and if you haven't, now you know🫶🏻

I still obsessively think about him and how goddamn fine he is with this buzzcut for many hours every single day. What has he DONE to me😣😵‍💫

☆ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila @hanji-coffee @pixie-felix

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist !

☆ Extras

Released: January 8th, 2025

#stray kids smut #stray kids smut imagines #stray kids hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut

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zombieewrites · 3 days ago

Text

smoking w logan...

logan howlett x reader, friends to lovers

summary: the stress of being a new professor at this school is catching up to you. luckily, you have a good friend to help you take that stress away, in more ways than one.

warnings: weed usage, fem compliments, illusions to sex

word count: 2, 574

I’m fairly new to this school. About 4 months had passed since I had first gotten my invitation from Charles. Which, of course, I happily accepted, excited at the thought of teaching my favorite subjects to people like me. I get the opportunity to share my love of literature through my teachings. The class seems to like me so far, and there’s always a few students straggling behind after class to share a laugh. Being able to connect to my students like this is a treat, and working at this school is just the cherry on top.

The classroom I teach in just so happens to be right across from Professor Howlett's room. His creaky wooden door opens and closes in between classes every period. Being right across from each other means that he and I frequently see each other. Logan often takes advantage of this opportunity to visit the classroom. He’ll do things like bring me coffee, give me papers that I copied off the printer, or just have a little chat. Sometimes, when he's on missions, I'll often sub for his class. It fills me with content to know that Logan trusts me with the care of his class. Being new to the school, I’m highly afraid of what the other professors think of me, but these small interactions with Logan take all of my insecurities away.

“There’s my favorite literature teacher right there!” Logan says with a smile, interrupting my lesson. Interactions like this were common between Logan and I, but every time they happened, the classroom went ballistic. The nosy students love to engage in Logan’s and I's friendship.

“I’m the only literature teacher here, Logan.” I respond with a blank stare, trying to hide my laugh.

“You’ll always be my favorite, though!” The man tells me with a wink before entering his own classroom to return to his teachings. I try to hide my smile and attempt to quickly pull the attention back to my lesson. This interaction made my whole class gasp and snicker.

“Ooo your boyfriend says that you're his favorite!” A student yells, resulting in the whole class to chuckle.

I giggle at their immaturity. “Alright, alright, there's no need for that. Let's get back to Pride and Prejudice now, please?”

Before I know it, the day is done. I stayed behind grading like usual. Lately, I've been so behind in my classwork that I haven't had any time to myself. As a new teacher, I feel as though I have so much to prove, and I have a strong fear of letting everyone down.

A red pen marks a check across my paper as I continue to grade another assignment. My ears are met with the sound of a knock on my door.

“What are you up to here, pretty? It's 7:45 and the sun set hours ago. All the kids are probably just about finished with dinner. You need to get your ass outta here.” Logan tells me as he leans against the doorframe.

I take a quick break from grading to look at the clock on the wall of my class. “Its 7 already? Shit I didn't even notice. I'm just grading some things right now, like always. Seems like that's all I ever do.” I respond with a chuckle, not even lifting my head up to look at him.

Logan comes behind me and begins to rub small circles on my shoulders, massaging out any tension in my body. His presence alone fills me with comfort. The knots in my back loosen with every soft touch.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” Logan says as he notices the papers on my desk.

“Yeah I bet your old ass was there when it was written.”

“Haha. You're very funny.” He replies in a sarcastic tone. “Damn with all these knots in your back, I gotta ask if you've been sleeping on a pile of rocks? Who's stressing you out like this?”

A sigh escapes my lips, “I don't wanna sound like I'm complaining or anything because I'm more than happy that I get to work here…it's just…all these papers are really stacking up on me…”

He continues to break up the knots in my back. Another red X on my paper. Then I feel Logan leaning down to whisper something into my ear. “Y'know with all this stress… I think you deserve a little somethin’. Lucky for you, I just went to town and restocked for us.”

I finally take a break from hunching over my papers and turn to him with a smile, already knowing what he had planned. “You don't say, Professor Howlett?”

“Yes ma’am. Got it right in my room. How bout we roll up and then after I'll help you with your papers? We can get 'em all done, even if it takes all night I'll stay here and finish for you. Promise.”

The gesture warms my heart. “That sounds perfect,” a groan leaves my lips, the stress escaping with it, “I appreciate that so much you don't even understand.”

“Yeah yeah, now c'mon and go roll cause you know I'm shit.”

We make our way down the long dimly lit halls to his room and quickly close the door behind us. Logan and I have been smoking together ever since he found me alone with a joint late at night, during one of the first weeks I was here. I'm surprised he even found me because I was hiding out on the roof of the school. Knowing him, he must've sniffed me out, hoping to get some. He told me he wouldn't snitch to Charles if he could smoke with me. I know that he wouldn't have told me either way, but I happily invited his company, especially since I wasn't familiar with anyone here yet.

These late night smoke sessions made our relationship grow stronger. We would hop from topic to topic as the smoke left our lips. Sometimes, covering our childhood, our favorite shows, war stories, gossip, and then laughing to the point of tears the next moment. He found out where I buy from, and ever since that day, he has refused to let me buy my own weed. I tried to tell him that he didn't have to do that, and he said that as long as I rolled for him, then he didn't mind.

He told me that the singular time he attempted to roll it was to impress this girl. He ended up unsuccessful, to say the least. The joint ended up covered in spit with half of the weed on the floor. By the time he told me the end of that story, my face was covered in tears of laughter. This is when I knew that this would be the beginning of a genuine friendship.

The joint is finally finished as I seal it with my tongue. Logan and I only smoke together when it's late at night and everyone is in their own respective spaces. Sneaking around like I'm a kid hiding the fact that they smoke from their parents is honestly kind of fun. It fills me up with just the right amount of adrenaline, and I'm happy that Logan is the one beside me.

We make our way to the roof, and the bright moon greets us. The night sky is clear and filled with gorgeous constellations. The chilling breeze of the night tickles my skin as I take a seat. Of course I forgot to bring a jacket. I try to hide my shiver and lessen the sound of my chattering teeth, but Logan quickly notices. He shifts to take off his brown leather jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The warmth of his body heat was still trapped in the jacket, and it quickly comforted my senses.

“Logan, you're gonna be cold.” I pleaded.

“ I'll be just fine. Can't have you freezing to death now. Then I won't have anyone to roll for me.” He jokes.

I let out a chuckle as I took the joint out of his coat. Logan holds the lighter to the joint and cups his hands in order to hide the wind from the fire. The lighter makes a clink sound and sparks. The comforting scent fills up my nose as I take a huff. I release the smoke with a happy sigh.

“God, I needed this so much you wouldn't even understand.” I responded. My attention rests on the beautiful night stars.

I passed it to him after a few more hits. Our fingers touch, the feeling heats me up. No matter how cold it is, Logan always manages to stay hot. The joint gives me the courage to rest my head on Logan’s shoulder. The joint lets out a small sizzle as he takes a big inhale.

“Trust me, I know, sweetheart. You've been frantic all week, and I notice it even though you're damn good at hiding it.” He takes another hit in between sentences. “Plus,” Logan then suddenly takes my cold hands and intertwines my fingers with his own, “you bite your nails like crazy when you get stressed.” I look down at our joined hands in shock, trying to contain how much this is affecting me. I quickly bring my attention back to the stars in an attempt to hide my emotions. Logan and I have always shared these small touches but nothing as romantic or intimate as this before, and definitely not for this long. The tension between us has always been there, but it's easier to ignore it than shed a light on it.

The smoke leaves his lips before he passes it to me again. “Yeah I know. It's always been a bad habit of mine when I get a little anxious.” I take the j up to my lips with a long drag. With each hit, I hope that it will make my nerves melt away.

Suddenly, a soft peck is laid on my hand. This action draws my attention away from the shimmering constellations. I'm greeted with kind hazel eyes staring back at me. Logan's gaze is intense as he pays attention to my reaction. “You can't keep doing that. You know it's bad for you.” He gently tells me. Logan’s lips attach to my hand as he lays another peck. He does this as if he could take my stress away with a single kiss.

My attention is drawn to his lips as I watch him slowly drop our hands. His red glassy eyes never left my own, which were magnetized to his lips like magnets. He has me right where he wants me, and I'm more than happy to be here. I have him right where I need him. Logan’s passionate gaze leaves my breath shaky and my body fuzzy. The air is thick, and the nerves aren't going away.

“You're babysitting the joint. Are you gonna hit it or just keep holding it, darling?” He asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts. Logan always looks good, but he especially looks good when he stares at me with those low hanging glossy eyes.

“What? Oh yeah! Sorry about that, here.” I let out a breathy giggle as I passed him the joint.

He simply responds with a laugh before inhaling the smoke. Logan knows what he's doing to me. He's pulling my strings like a puppet, and I'm loving every minute of it.

In an attempt to break up the tension, I turn to Logan. “Enough about me. How are your classes going? It must get tough balancing missions and classes sometimes. I don't know how you do it, to be honest.”

“Yeah it can get you worked up a little. I've been doing it for a while now, though, so it's definitely less of a hassle than it used to be. Some missions still knock you out, though.”

“Yeah I can only imagine how that must be. Some of the missions you've told me about are absolutely insane. Can't believe you come back from all that and still teach, too."

“Well it helps when you have a pretty literature teacher holding it down while you're gone.”

I smile up at him as a laugh escapes my lips. “My God, Logan, what is up with you tonight! You got a little crush on me or something?”

“Pshhh. Don't get a big head now. You're a cocky little thing, aren't you?”

“I might be cocky but you're the one adding fuel to the fire.” I responded. The effects of the weed are hitting me strongly. My relaxation brings me the confidence to take his hand and hold the joint up to my lips. I keep eye contact with him as I draw in the smoke. He smirks down at me as a result of the action.

“Y'know I've been thinking…”

I cut him off, “Oh no, that's never good”

He looks at me with a face of fake annoyance. “With all of this stress you've got going on, it would be nice to escape for a bit. Get away from these kids for a day and hit the town on the weekend. Maybe even get some dinner.”

“Wait a minute…are you asking me out, Professor?’ I ask him with a smile on my face.

“That depends on your answer, Professor.”

“I think I can fit some time in my very busy calendar for little ‘ol Logan.”

“Aww how sweet of you.” He jokes back.

He holds the joint up to my lips and watches as I breathe in the smoke. Any kind of anxiety I had before is gone now. The air shifts and is now filled with a different kind of tension. Stars reflect in Logan’s red eyes. I stare back at him as his eyes follow my lips. I'm filled with happiness to know that he wants this just as much as me. A soft hand cups my jaw as he brings his head closer to mine. My nose is filled with the scent of Logan and weed. Our warm breaths entangle each other in the cold night.

“Gimme some.” He tells me.

I release the smoke from my lips, and he quickly attaches his lips to mine. He inhales my smoke and quickly unlocks his lips from mine, exhaling the smoke.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” I whisper back. My heart is beating out of my chest. Everything he does to me heats up my soul. That familiar fuzzy feeling greets me in between my thighs. Logan is getting tired of restraining himself, and it's easy to tell. I'm sure he can hear the way my heart erupts for him. I love this game he's playing.

Just then, he takes his hand and guides it to the back of my neck. Looking into my eyes for reassurance, I respond with a nod. Just like that, he kisses me. The kiss is strong and concentrated. Everything about the way he moves tells me that he's been wanting this for a while. His kisses are sloppy in all the right ways. Logan flicks the joint off the roof without a second thought, knowing that he has something much more valuable in his hands. He gladly explores my body and groans into my mouth with pleasure.

Logan and I most definitely didn't get around to grading those papers that night.

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airybcby · 23 hours ago

Text

જ⁀♡⊹｡° always picking a fight

( alexis ness x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i love ness so here's ts i wrote at 1:30 AM ( MANGA SPOILERS FOR MOST RECENT CHAPTER )

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — alexis ness x fem! reader, fem! reader, established relationship, hinted that ness and reader have known each other for a while, kaiser's an ass, kaiser and reader fighting, violence ( reader slaps kaiser )

♡ synopsis — There was only two ways to describe Alexis Ness—loyal to a fault, and yours completely.

Alexis Ness thinks you’re insane.

Because who in their right mind would walk up to the star of Bastard München, Michael Kaiser, and slap him? Who would storm past the press, security, and their own boyfriend to get in the face of The Emperor himself?

But here you are—eyes blazing, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your chest—standing toe-to-toe with Michael Kaiser like you’ve got nothing to lose.

And then your hand strikes his face, sharp enough to leave a faint red mark blooming across his cheek.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you spit, words laced with venom. “How dare you talk to him like that?”

Kaiser barely flinches, though the press of his tongue to his cheek betrays his surprise. “Excuse me?” he says, voice dripping with condescension, his gaze flicking past you to where Ness is awkwardly hovering. “Ness, is this your girlfriend? You should teach her some manners.”

Your glare sharpens, and Ness stiffens behind you, already moving to intervene. “Kaiser, let’s not—”

“No, Alexis,” you cut him off, your voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not pretend this is okay.” You take a step closer to Kaiser, finger pointed at his chest. “Do you think you’re untouchable? That you can just say whatever you want and everyone’s supposed to bow down and take it? You told him to quit soccer. Do you know how hard he’s worked for this? How much he’s given up just to stand on the same damn field as you?”

Kaiser smirks, the kind of infuriating grin that makes your blood boil. “Oh, please. If he’s so delicate that one comment from me shakes him, maybe he should quit. I don’t have time to babysit dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” you echo, incredulous. “You’re one to talk. You’d be nothing without someone to pass you the ball. Or did you forget that soccer is a team sport, Your Highness?” The tone you spoke the nickname full of nothing but sarcasm and distain.

Ness steps forward, his voice soft and pleading. “(Y/N), please, it’s fine. I—”

“It’s not fine!” you snap, turning briefly to look at him, your expression softening for a fraction of a second before you whip back around to face Kaiser.

“You’re not fine. You’re allowed to make mistakes, Alexis. You’re human, no matter how much this prick thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wow, Ness, you’ve got yourself a firecracker. Tell me, do you keep her on a leash, or does she just run wild?”

' Oh. ' Ness thinks.

" Oh ?" You say, your eyes narrowing and before you can think twice, your hand raises again, but Ness catches your wrist just in time. “(Y/N), stop,” he murmurs, his voice strained but gentle. “It’s over. Let’s go.”

For a moment, you’re frozen, chest heaving with anger, your glare still locked on Kaiser. But then you see the way Ness’s shoulders are hunched, how his eyes are darting to the ground as if he’s trying to make himself smaller.

And just like that, the fight drains out of you.

You let Ness guide you away, your hand still trembling in his. You can feel Kaiser’s smug gaze burning into your back, but you don’t look back.

The walk back to your shared apartment is silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Ness doesn’t say a word, and neither do you. You’re still fuming, but the anger isn’t directed at him.

When you finally step inside, the silence feels suffocating. Ness closes the door softly, setting his bag down by the wall, and you shrug off your coat with more force than necessary.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ness asks quietly, his voice cautious, like he’s testing the waters.

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “No.” Your voice is thick with emotion, the one syllable wavering as you hid your face from him.

But he knows you better than that. He always has.

He’s seen this pattern too many times—how your fiery outbursts always burn brightest when you’re protecting someone you love, and how the aftermath leaves you raw and vulnerable. He knows you’re trying to hold it together, but the cracks are already showing.

“(Y/N)...” Ness starts, his voice hesitant. He takes a tentative step closer, watching you carefully, like you might break if he moves too fast.

“I’m not crying,” you blurt out, your voice shaky.

His lips press into a thin line. “I didn’t say you were.”

You let out a bitter laugh, and that’s when the tears start to spill, hot and unrelenting. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that,” you choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of it.”

Ness is by your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle but firm embrace. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest. “You just don’t want to say it. You’ve always been too nice, too... loyal. Even when people don’t deserve it.”

He sighs softly, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache. “I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him through tear-filled eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do. That’s the problem, Alexis. You let people like that shaggy haired fuck walk all over you, and it’s not fair.”

He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t care what Kaiser thinks of me,” he says softly. A lie, and you both know it.

“I care about you. And seeing you like this... it hurts more than anything he could ever say to me.” Alexis Ness had taken many verbal lashings from Kaiser, but nothing would hurt him more than seeing you hurt because of him.

You sniffle, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “I just... I hate seeing people treat you like you’re nothing. Because you’re everything to me, Alexis. You always have been.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his eyes searching yours. Then he pulls you close again, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” you reply fiercely, your words muffled against his chest. “You deserve everything, Alexis.”

The two of you stand there in the quiet of your apartment, holding each other as the weight of the day slowly starts to fade. You know the fight isn’t over—not with Kaiser, not with the world—but in this moment, it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the way Alexis holds you, steady and unwavering, as if he’s trying to absorb all your pain and make it his own.

And maybe he is. Because that’s just who Alexis Ness is—loyal to a fault, and yours completely.

is ness also batshit crazy? sometimes, but i think he'd be more vulnerable with a gf

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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artificialbreezy · 3 days ago

Note

Hi!!!

I’m here with another thought but it’s Jacky boy this time 😌😌

Best friend! Jack who is extremely possessive and doesn’t like you hanging out with other guys cause he’s actually in love with you and thinks you don’t haha the same feelings for him.

(P.S I’m gonna give myself a lil emoji so that you know it’s me 😂😂)

😈

oh my god, let’s FUCKING GO

CW: friends to lovers, Jacks pov! this is fully unedited.

it was never a thought that crossed your mind that your bestest friend in the whole world would ever look at you the way you look at him.

so you did what any person would, you push the heart eyes as far down as possible and try to move on.

one thing that Jack was big on was location sharing. the world is scary and he wants you safe, and the same peace of mind for you. especially with how often he isn’t home.

so when he’s in Toronto, he checks your location and sees you at a bar? you don’t go to bars, especially alone. it’s like pulling teeth to get you out.

“hey Flower! facetime in 15?” the text read.

when 30 minutes past and he saw no text back, he sent another.

“you okay? you’re at the bar. are you by yourself?”

“no Jack. why would i be by myself at a dive bar?”

he felt himself getting irritated. where did this attitude come from? you’re never snippy with him.

he sighs as he presses the little button, listening to the line ring.

“yes Jack?”

“go home. i’m calling you an uber. whoever you’re with will be fine. you’re going home.” he spoke, stern. leaving no room for arguing. immediately hanging up.

the only communication from him until he got home was the text your uber arrived and a “glad you’re home safe.”

the pounding on his front door pulled him away from his call with Quinn. listening to his brother ramble on his ear how he should just tell you how he feels instead of being a fucking weirdo.

“Quinn, gotta go. she’s here and she looks mad.” he spoke as he’s hanging up.

your hand was flat against his chest, pushing him into his apartment. you may be mad, but you’re not causing a scene in the hall. “you have some fucking nerves Hughes. you not only crash my date but then you full fucking ghost me? the fuck is your problem? game go sour so you take it out on me?”

he smiled at her, the red of her cheeks spreading up her neck a little. she’s hot when she’s mad.

“oh! okay! you stay silent then! i’m leaving. fuck this and fuck you.” she’s turning around, all but stomping back to my door.

“sit the fuck down, Flower. you’re not going to come into my home with all this attitude and not give me a god damn second to tell you why. so sit down, and shut up. 5 minutes is all i need.”

there she goes, huffing and puffing. at least she’s sitting down.

“i texted you. i asked to call. you never ignore me, you never say no to a facetime. i checked your location and asked if you were okay. you took a second so i texted your friend and she said you were on a date with her coworker. it was late, i know you hate bars and i wanted you home and safe. i’m sorry i went ghost. i was stuck in my head. i didn’t know how to tell you. Quinn said i was stupid. he’s right. i am. you’re my best friend and i shouldn’t feel bad about this. i just, i don’t wanna be your friend anymore.” he took a breath, seeing tears swell up in your eyes. “i want to be more.”

it felt like his world stopped. there was a silence he didn’t like. he didn’t know what you were gonna do or even say. you felt unreadable for the first time in 13 years.

“Jack,” she whispered. “what do you mean by more?”

“ideally i’m your husband but ill settle for boyfriend for a while.” he found himself playing with the back of his hair, that nervous movement he’s done forever.

“you’re not just saying this? please tell me you’re not joking.” her tears kept falling and his heart ached. why would he joke about this? why would she think he was fucking with her?

he didn’t trust his voice, knowing he’d just cry with her. he knelt down in front of her, his hands resting comfortably on her cheeks. leaning forward just enough that his lips were hovering hers. “i’m so serious, flower.”

“kiss me then.”

didn’t need to tell Jack twice.

#ask breezy #😈 anon #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes headcanon #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes headcannon

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musings-of-a-rose · 2 days ago

Note

Could I request Benny x female reader where they engage in mutual masturbation and they make out throughout?

Touch

Pairing: Benny Miller x best friend f!reader

Word Count: 1900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Listen. This was a hot ask. I'll admit, I had to think on this one a bit (and that was mostly staring at the wall). A huge thanks to @mermaidxatxheart as usual for listening to my Ted Talks and insecurities.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“The date went bad I take it?” Benny’s eyebrows are raised as he motions for me to come inside his apartment. He closes the door behind me as I huff.

“He kept taking out his phone and texting. His mom. He was giving her a play by play of our date.”

Benny chuckled. “What? During your date?”

I kick off my heels and set them on his shoe mat. “I’m all for strong family bonds, but maybe wait until after the date? I could barely talk to him. It was literally every 2 minutes.”

Benny chuckled again. “Well I’m sorry it sucked. You’re welcome to come finish this terrible movie I’m watching.”

I follow Benny to his couch, plopping down next to him. We’d been best friends for years. He was always someone I could count on to be there for me, good or bad. He never judged or questioned me, but somehow always seemed to have an answer to my problems. He hands me a drink and offers me some popcorn from the giant bowl in his lap. I grab a handful and watch whatever b horror movie is on the tv.

“Ugh even the ugly ass monster in this bad movie is getting laid why can’t I?”

Benny coughs, choking a little on his popcorn. “What?”

Fuck, I said that out loud.

“I uh…nothing.”

He takes a swig from his drink, clearing the last of the popcorn. “Afraid no one will touch you again?”

I groan, but I’m also desperate for advice. “No. Well…maybe. It’s not even sex. I just want someone to touch me again. Someone that’s not me or Henry Cavill.”

Benny laughs, his head flying back. “You know Henry Cavill?”

I can feel the heat on my cheeks, but I’ve already said it. “That’s…that’s the name of my vibrator.” His laughter is contagious and I can’t stop myself from smiling. He makes some quips about it and then something happens in the movie that captures our attention.

“I can help you with that if you’d like.”

My head snaps in his direction. “What?” Did he just offer to…surely not.

He turns his head, his bright blue eyes boring into mine, a sparkle in them. “I can help you with your problem.”

Heat burns my cheeks and I’m grasping at words. Surely he doesn’t mean…he can’t…without thinking, I glance down at his hands, the grip on his bottle, and how small it looks in them. I swallow hard.

“Ben, be serious.”

He leans forward, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he places his bottle on the coffee table before sitting back, casually laying an arm across the back of the couch as if he didn’t just suggest shoving his hand down my pants.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. Look, you’ve had a really rough go of it. And I would make sure you were taken care of. You’re too pent up. Let some steam out.”

I shift slightly in my seat, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. It’s not that I’ve never thought about it. Benny is extremely attractive. I just never would ever think he’d be ok with that with me. For me? I can’t even think.

“Ben…I can’t lose your friendship. That would break me.”

He extends a long finger from the hand that’s across the back of the couch and pokes my head. “Do you think I’d ever let that happen?”

I swat at his hand out of reflex. “Is that something we could control though?”

He thinks for a moment. “It’s us. We’re best friends. We take care of each other. I think we’d be fine.”

“But what if it changes everything?”

He takes my hand in his large one, completely engulfing me. He looks into my eyes and does that thing where his eyebrows pull together and makes me melt. “I promise to not let it change the way I feel about you. Do you promise?”

Could I make that promise? The not-so-minor crush I’ve harbored for him for years is begging. Your feelings won’t change because you already like him.

“How would…I mean, what would you…”

Benny shifts to face me better. “I’d touch you however you need me to. Maybe make out a little bit if you need to be distracted.”

I press my thighs together, hoping that he didn’t notice. But judging by the way he shifts and his eyes darken slightly, I think he very much noticed. Pressing my thighs together did nothing to quell the heat, my body begging me to just let me be touched. I feel safe with Benny and I know he’d never cross a line. My skin is hot thinking about it and I finally cave, promising myself that we’d still be friends. Just friends that gave each other a hand sometimes.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I nod, moving to undo the button on my pants. Benny reaches out and stills my hand with his own and I look up at him.

“I need you to say it out loud, sweetheart.”

I swallow hard, trying my best to give him eye contact. Were his eyes always so blue?

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what? I need specifics.”

I let out a huff and this fucker chuckles. “Touch me, Benny. I..want you to touch me.”

Benny scoots closer to me on the couch, his leg pressed against mine. His large hand cups my cheek as he dips his head close to mine, his breath puffing out over my face, fanning the anticipatory fire between my thighs. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

I barely get it out before his lips are on mine, soft but guiding, his tongue gently probing at my lips. I open them and his tongue slides inside my mouth, gracefully dancing with my own as he moans slightly into me. Both of his hands are on my face now, cupping my cheeks as he continues to kiss me. Then one moves to the back of my head, slightly gripping my hair as he tips my head back, exposing my neck to him. I gasp as his teeth skirt along my skin, gently nipping and kissing along my pulse point. The hand that isn’t entangled in my hair starts to glide down my body, barely even fumbling as he unbuttons my pants. But he doesn’t touch me. Not yet. Over my jeans, he caresses my inner thighs as I spread my legs, tracing the line where my underwear sits, up and down, up and down, driving me mad. My heart is racing, pounding against my ears. I feel him pause just above my mound and I want to cry.

“Can you slide your pants off for me?” He breathes into my ear. My hands fumble as I try to shove and kick my pants off, ignoring the smirk on Benny’s face as the pants land somewhere across the room.

“Panties too. Promise I won’t look.” He covers his face, a large gap between his fingers where his eye is obviously looking out.

“Don’t you need to see?”

He closes the gap in his fingers but keeps his eyes covered. “Nope. Your sounds will guide me to where I need to be.”

Fuck. Me.

I toss my underwear somewhere by my pants. “Ok I’m-”

I have no time to think because he’s back on me, kissing me hard, like he’s never needed anything so bad. My fingers tangle in his hair, the cool air from his apartment hitting my bare skin, but I don’t care. Benny’s large hand is on my inner thighs again, tracing circles, but also pushing them open. I keep them where he leaves them, my body practically shaking with anticipation.

One long finger slides down me and I jolt, my thighs trying to close, but he pushes them back open before resuming his touch. He slides all the way down to my entrance, gently tracing circles there and I gasp, my eyes still closed as I let myself get lost in his touch. Our foreheads are pressed together, his own breaths coming out a little more ragged as he drags his dampened finger back up me, pausing when my legs jump. He takes his time at this spot, small circles across my clit, fast and slow, fast and slow, my breaths coming out in small, fast pants.

He slows his movements, gently pushing a finger inside me. I moan, louder as he pulls out and adds a second finger, curling them inside of me as he moves them in and out. One spot has me gasping his name and that’s where he stays, curling and rubbing inside of me as his thumb resumes circling my clit, slow and fast, gentle and harder, the pressure building quick and fast. I grip his wrist and he stills.

“Can I touch you? I want you to come with me.”

He nods and I move my hand over and undo his button, sliding his zipper down gently. He’s already hard, straining against his boxers. I lower them enough for him to spring free and he grunts. I grip his wrist again and pull his hand out of me with a whimper, but then slide him back in and out, fucking myself with his hand a few times as he moans in my ear. Then I take his wet hand and rub it against my palm, dropping his hand back on me before gripping him with my slicked hand. He whimpers, swearing under his breath before he pushes his fingers inside me again, immediately resuming the slow curling and rubbing, his thumb pressing gently on my clit. I slowly work him up and down, squeezing harder and softer, matching my pace to his. He kisses me hard but then breaks it, our foreheads pressed together as we pant and moan.

In some super move, he pushes me onto my back, his hand still firmly working me over, my legs spread wide as he settles between them, fucking his hips into my hand. His arm strains next to me as he holds himself up, curling his fingers a little deeper, swirling a little more and I can’t hold back anymore. I cum, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, my legs twitching as I pulse around his fingers. Another few presses of his hips and Benny grunts, small pants coming from him as he spills himself over my stomach, my shirt hiked up to my chest. We stay like that for several long moments, both of us trying to catch our breaths. His eyes open and meet mine, holding my gaze for a moment before he blinks, pulling his hand from me as he sits up. He tucks himself back in as he looks around, shrugs, then reaches behind him and pulls his shirt up and over his head. He drops his shirt on my cunt, using the sleeve to clean off my stomach, to hold up his promise of not looking. He glances down and picks up my underwear and pants, handing them to me as he turns his head away. I make sure I’m cleaned off before getting dressed, sitting back down on the couch, the movie still playing on in the background. Minutes pass in silence between us, my stomach twisting in knots with every passing second.

Benny clears his throat. “So…are we never talking about this again or can I finally take you on a date?”

My eyes snap up to him, his already on me. There’s no pressure here, he’d be ok if I said we’re never talking about it again. But that’s not what I want.

“Just so long as we can have dessert at home.”

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mattsobvimyfav · 1 day ago

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neighbors (matthew sturniolo)

pt 10

A couple of days had passed and Nick just posted the vlog from our drive around LA. Charlie and I were lounging on the couch, scrolling through our phones. My notifications had been blowing up all day. Every few seconds, a new comment popped up, most of them about the kiss Matt and I had shared in the vlog. The hate comments didn’t faze me—they were ridiculous and honestly kind of entertaining. People had too much time on their hands.

“Oh my God,” Charlie said, leaning over to peek at my phone. “They’re actually mad about a kiss? Like, of all things to care about.”

I shrugged, smirking. “Apparently, I’m public enemy number one. Should I frame this?”

She laughed, but before either of us could say more, my phone started buzzing. Matt’s name flashed on the screen. I answered quickly, putting the call on speaker.

“Hey,” I greeted casually, expecting him to laugh about the comments with me.

“Have you seen my comment section?” His voice was tense, his tone clipped.

I sat up straighter. “Uh, yeah. People are being dumb. Who cares?”

“I care,” he snapped. “It’s not just about you, Y/N. They’re not even saying awful things about me. Its just about how I ‘picked the wrong girl’ or whatever. It’s everywhere.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at me, mouthing, ‘Seriously?’

“Matt, they’re just bitching,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You know none of that matters.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” he shot back. “Your TikTok isn’t flooded with comments about how I ‘deserve better’ or how you’re ‘using me for clout.’ It's pissing me off.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, so what do you want to do? We can’t control what people say.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he spoke again, his tone softer but still firm. “Troll back. Lets just start making whatever we are way more public give them a real reason to be mad.”

I hesitated, glancing at Charlie, who was already nodding eagerly as if to say, ‘Just do it.’

“Fine,” I said finally. “Let’s do it, I love being a dick online.”

Matt let out a breath, some of the tension easing from his voice. “Deal. I’ll come over later.”

As I hung up, Charlie smirked at me. “Hes gonna make you do porn on tiktok.”

“We havent even fucked,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“WHAT?” She yelled jumping up sitting straight up “What the fuck was going on the other night than?”

“He just ate me out and oh my god the hottest thing ever, he was so turned on that started jerking off. Just to eating me out” I said feeling a warmth between my legs rethinking about the night me and Matt shared.

“Wow. Thats really fucking hot, hes inlove with you” Charlie said looking away from me “Im picturing it in my head. I'm jealous” I laughed at her response as we laid back down going back to our phones.

Later that night, Matt came over, his irritation over the comments still lingering but hidden under his usual calm demeanor. I greeted him at the door, grinning as I waved him inside. "Ready to show the internet who's boss?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "You mean, ready to show the internet that I don’t care, but also kind of care? Yeah, let’s do this."

Charlie, lounging on the couch with her popcorn, chimed in. “Make it iconic, okay? Something that makes the haters cry.”

Scrolling through TikTok, I landed on the “A boy who’s jacked and kind” trend. I turned the screen to Matt. “How about this one? It’s simple, it’s bold, and it’ll get them talking.”

Matt glanced at the screen, then at me, his lips quivering into a smirk. “You really think you can handle me lifting you like that?”

“Please,” I scoffed. “The question is whether you can handle me.”

Charlie snorted from the couch. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

We set up the phone, positioning it on the kitchen counter for the perfect angle. Charlie jumping around on the couch in the back, I stood in front of Matt as the trend’s audio began playing. The line “A boy who’s jacked” came up, and right on cue, Matt’s hands slid to my hips. With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted me effortlessly, placing me on his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me as I balanced on his shoulder, gripping onto him for support. The audio continued, transitioning to “and kind,” and Matt gave the camera with a playful grin, tapping my leg lightly.

Matt walked over grabbing his phone while I was still on his shoulders, added the caption: “my lady” and hit post.

Charlie shrugged, looking over Matt’s shoulder. “I like my cameo.”

Matt gently lowered me back to the ground, his hands lingering on my waist. “Think that’ll do the trick?”

I leaned into him slightly, grinning. “Oh, it’ll definitely stir the pot. But at least this time, it’s on our terms.”

We flopped onto the couch next to Charlie, refreshing the post to watch the views climb almost instantly. Matt wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer as the first wave of comments rolled in.

As we sat on the couch, watching the likes and comments roll in from Matt’s TikTok, I turned to him with a mischievous grin. “Okay, now it’s my turn. We’re making one for my account.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What’s the plan?”

“You’ll see,” I teased, grabbing his hand to pull him up. “We need a parking lot for this one.”

Without hesitation, he stood, grabbed his keys, and intertwined his fingers with mine. I laughed as he practically dragged me to the door, his excitement contagious.

“BYE LOVERS! Chris and Nick will be here when you get back!” Charlie yelled from the couch.

“Bye baby!” I yelled back to her

By the time we reached the car, I was giggling uncontrollably. “You don’t even know what we’re doing yet.”

“Don’t care,” he said opening the passenger door for me. “You said parking lot, so we’re going to a parking lot.”

The drive was filled with us singing to old songs wed listen to in college. His curiosity clearly bubbling under the surface. “So,” he finally asked, “are you going to clue me in, or do I just wing it when we get there?”

I smirked, looking out the window. “You’ll know when the time comes.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he turned into a small, dimly lit parking lot. “This good enough for your tiktok?”

“Perfect,” I said, hopping out of the car. I grabbed my phone and propped it up against the tire, adjusting the angle until it captured the open space behind us.

Matt leaned against the car, watching me with amused curiosity. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s the move?”

I pulled up the audio and played it for him, explaining as it went. “Okay, so, I start spinning in the frame when the music begins, and then you run in, pick me up, and keep running off-screen.”

He nodded, walking away.

I laughed, hitting record and jogging into position. The audio started, and I spun slowly, my arms outstretched as the music swelled. ‘You better lock your phone-’ Right on cue, Matt dashed into the frame, scooping me up effortlessly. I squealed in surprise as he kept running, the camera capturing the two of us disappearing into the shadows.

When he finally stopped, both of us were laughing uncontrollably. “That was perfect,” I said, catching my breath as he set me down.

“Obviously,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Now, let’s see it.”

We walked back to the car, reviewing the footage together under the soft glow of the streetlights. The video was exactly what I had imagined.

“You’re posting that, right?” Matt asked, his arm draped casually over my shoulder.

“Absolutely,” I said, uploading the video with the caption: “my future baby daddy.”

As we got back into the car, I glanced over at him, grinning. “You really don’t question anything, do you?”

He shrugged, kissing my forehead. “Not when it comes to you.”

When we got back to the house, the sound of voices and laughter greeted us as we stepped inside. Chris and Nick were now sprawled out on the couch with Charlie, the TV playing in the background.

As soon as I walked in, a wave of excitement hit me. Everything had been going so well lately, and I couldn’t help but feel like life was finally falling into place. “Guys!” I yelled, throwing my arms up in the air. “We should celebrate tonight!”

Nick perked up, looking intrigued. “What are we celebrating exactly?”

“Everything!” I exclaimed. “Life!”

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Yes Y/N! I LOVE CELEBRATING LIFE!” Chris jumped up wrapping his arms around my shoulders behind me as we jumped like school girls.

Nick’s face lit up. “Well, if we’re talking about celebrating, I know Tara Yummy is throwing a party tonight. Should we go?”

Charlie’s eyes widened with excitement. “I’m in! We haven’t been to one of her parties. We've only ever dmed her a few times about a collab”

Matt looked over at me, smirking. “You good with that?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation, “Let’s go, I can tell Chris is gonna match my freak tonight” I said while patting his arm that was hanging on me.

Charlie laughed at me and Chris jumping around, we exchanged a quick glance before I turned, pointing toward the door. “Alright, you three. Go home and get ready.”

Nick groaned but stood up, dragging Matt with him. “Fine, but you better not take forever.”

“No promises!” Charlie called out as the boys headed out, leaving us to start planning our outfits for the night.

The moment the boys left, Charlie and I raced upstairs to start getting ready. The excitement of the night buzzed between us, making us laugh and talk over each other as we dug through our closets for the perfect outfits.

“I’m thinking something bold,” I said, pulling out a burgundy strapless corset top that hugged my figure and showed off just the right amount of cleavage. I paired it with a tight black cloth skirt that barely covered my ass and my black heeled boots. “What do you think?”

Charlie whistled, grinning. “Matt’s going to fuck you infront of everyone.”

I laughed, tossing a pillow at her. “We’re celebrating life, remember? What about you?”

She held up a black crop top with thin straps that fit her perfectly and paired it with a jean mini skirt that showed off her long legs. She added a pair of cute ankle boots. “How’s this?”

“Absolutely stunning,” I said with a grin.

We got to work on our makeup and hair, After straightening my hair and leaving it sleek and shiny, I turned to Charlie, who was curling her hair into loose waves.

“You’re going to have every guy at that party eating out of your hand,” I teased, spraying her hair with setting spray.

“Please, as long as Chris is that's all I care ‘bout,” she shot back, but her smile was wide.

By the time we finished, we took a couple pictures in the mirror, grinning like excited to finally meet Tara, and get drunk.

“Let’s do this,” I said, grabbing my phone to text the boys to let them know we were almost ready.

“They better not keep us waiting,” Charlie added with a laugh as we headed downstairs, our heels clicking against the floor, excitement building for the night ahead.

Charlie and I were halfway through our second nip of vodka, as we danced around the kitchen. The boys walked in just as I tipped the tiny bottle back, the liquid burning slightly as it slid down my throat.

“Starting without us?” Nick teased. Chris followed close behind, already laughing at the scene.

Matt came in last, his eyes locking on me immediately. I caught the smirk tugging at his lips as he walked over. Just as I was placing the empty nip on the counter, his hands slid around my waist, and one moved down to grab my butt firmly.

I shrieked, startled, and spun my head around to glare at him, but he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s go.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I turned back around, trying to hide my flushed face as I reached for my bag. Charlie wiggled her eyebrows at me but said nothing as she grabbed her purse and slid her phone into it.

“All set?” Chris asked.

“Matt’s driving,” Nick said with a grin.

“Lucky me,” I said, giving Matt a playful smirk. “That means you can take care of me when I'm hammered.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, gesturing toward the door. “Per usual.”

Charlie and I followed the boys outside, the cool night air hitting our skin as we clicked down the driveway in our heels. Matt opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in, adjusting my skirt as he walked around to the driver’s side. Charlie climbed into the back with Chris and Nick, and we were off, heading for Tara’s party.

The car was filled with excitement and music as we drove, everyone hyped for the night ahead. I leaned back in my seat, sneaking a glance at Matt as he drove, his hand gripping the wheel tightly, the other holding my thigh.

The house was packed with music blasting through the speakers and groups of people talking and laughing in every corner. As we walked in, the energy was electric.

“Y/N! Charlie!” A high-pitched squeal came from across the room, and Tara was practically sprinting toward us. She threw her arms around me first, then Charlie, her excitement contagious. “I was so excited when Nick told me you guys were coming! Finally, I get to meet the infamous Y/N and Charlie. You’re even prettier in person!”

Charlie and I exchanged amused smiles. “You’re so sweet, Tara,” I said, hugging her back.

“Come on,” Tara said, linking her arms with ours. “Let me show you where the drinks are. We’re getting started right now.”

She led us through the crowd, leaving Matt, Nick and Chris to socialize with other people, to a makeshift bar setup on the kitchen counter, complete with every type of alcohol imaginable. Tara wasted no time, grabbing shot glasses and pouring tequila like a pro.

“Let’s go, ladies,” she said, holding up her shot glass.

“Cheers!” we all yelled, clinking glasses before throwing back the first shot.

And then the second.

And then the third.

Before long, Charlie and I were fully committed to a shot-for-shot competition with Tara, each round getting harder to keep up with her.

“Come on, lightweight!” Tara teased as Charlie hesitated before the seventh shot, but I wasn’t about to back down. I threw our shot back, wincing as the burn hit my throat.

By the time an hour had passed, the three of us were absolutely obliterated. Tara was laughing so hard she was leaning on the counter for support, and Charlie and I were clinging to each other to stay upright.

“I love you guys,” Tara slurred, throwing her arms around us. “You’re my favorite people in the world now.”

“You’re my favorite!” Charlie yelled back, equally as drunk, before dissolving into giggles.

I nodded enthusiastically, my head spinning but too far gone to care. “Best friends forever,” I declared, raising my empty shot glass in the air like it was some kind of victory trophy.

The party was in full swing, the music pounding in my chest as I stumbled my way through the crowd, drink still clutched in my hand. My vision blurred slightly, but I was riding a wave of tipsy confidence—until I spotted him.

Matt.

He was leaning casually against the wall, talking to some girl. She was laughing at something he said, leaning in just a little too close. A flash of annoyance surged through me, cutting through the haze of alcohol. My mind betrayed me, flashing back to our college days—Matt fucking girl after girl.

Fueled by jealousy and bad judgment, I stormed across the room, stumbling slightly but determined. “What the hell is this?” I blurted, my voice louder than I intended.

Matt straightened up, his brows furrowing as he looked at me. “Y/N—”

“No, seriously,” I slurred, gesturing wildly at the girl. “What’s happening here?”

The girl blinked in confusion, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, I’m gonna go...” she muttered, excusing herself quickly as the tension between Matt and me became palpable.

Matt’s jaw tightened, and before I could say another word, he grabbed my wrist. “We’re not doing this here,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding. He pulled me through the crowd, ignoring my protests, until we were in a quiet, empty room.

He let go of my wrist, closing the door behind us. Turning to face me, his eyes were sharp, his tone clearly pissed. “What the fuck was that, Y/N?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” I shot back, swaying slightly on my feet. “Talking to some random girl like I don’t even exist? What’s the deal, Matt? Back to your old habits?”

His hands went to his temples, rubbing them in frustration. “Are you serious right now? She’s just a friend! And even if she wasn’t, that’s not what this is. You’re drunk and making something out of nothing.”

“I saw the way she was looking at you,” I accused, my voice trembling. “And you weren’t exactly pushing her away.”

He took a step closer, his voice lowering as he leaned in. “Y/N, you’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight. Chill the fuck out.”

As Matt’s words echoed in the small, dimly lit room, I could feel the tension building, the weight of everything from the party to my frustrations pressing down on me. But then, unexpectedly, the alcohol made everything feel lighter.

I giggled, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably from my chest. "I love you," I blurted out, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Matt looked at me, eyebrows raised, clearly taken aback by my sudden shift in mood. "What?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.

I shrugged, the smile on my face turning mischievous despite the still-present anger in my head. "I mean, I do," I said, a silly grin stretching across my face.

He stood there, speechless for a moment, his eyes searching mine. His lips quirked upward into a small, amused smile as he let out a deep breath. "You’re drunk, Y/N."

"Yeah, I know," I said, still grinning, "but I still love you."

He shook his head, chuckling lightly, before stepping closer. "You're lucky you're cute when you're drunk."

"You still love me, though," I teased,

"Yeah, I do," he admitted, his expression softening. "But let's get you back to the party before you start loving everyone."

I laughed again, “How about you just let me love you..” I pushed Matt back as he stumbled onto the bed.

“y/n don't… you're drunk.” Matt said as I walked towards him, placing myself on his lap.

“Just shut the fuck up Matt and kiss me”

And when he finally gave me what I wanted, his lips crashing against mine as he moved against me, the world disappeared. There was only Matt—his touch, his voice, his everything.

Matt’s hands gripped my hips, his hold firm but controlled, as if he was grounding himself as much as he was grounding me.

His body was flush against mine, every inch of him radiating heat. “Wait till tomorrow,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine, teasing but not giving me the kiss I desperately wanted. “I refuse to fuck you this drunk, y/n. And you are making it oh so hard”

“Shut up,” I whispered, tugging at his hair to start kissing his neck as I grinded my hips into his.

His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His touch was both gentle and possessive, a reminder that in this moment, I was his and his alone.

“Get off me before I go against all my morals,” he said, his voice rough and full of promise. “I say full of love and respect.” he moaned out as I perfected my last hickey on him.

“There, I just needed you to shut up so I could show people. You belong to someone” I said as I leaned back looking at my work.

“Good to know.” Matt said as he leaned down, starting his own art peace on my chest.

Once he was finished he grabbed my hips standing me up. “Lets go baby” He grabbed my hand pulling me towards the door. I stopped in the mirror fixing my hair and seeing Matt's two hickeys, one on each breast. Matt walked over to the mirror inspecting the couple I left trailing down his neck. “God you are so sexy” He said, kissing my cheek as he guided me out to the party.

As Matt and I stepped back into the party, the loud music and chatter hit me like a wave. The room felt like it was spinning a little, but I held onto Matt's arm for balance. We were just about to make our way back to the group when Chris spotted us from across the room.

He ran over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There you are," he said, stopping in front of us. His eyes flicked between Matt and me before landing on me. "Y/N, I need you bad."

My eyebrows shot up, and Matt's posture immediately tensed beside me, sensing something was off. Chris, however, seemed entirely unfazed by the undercurrent of tension.

"I'm sorry," Chris said with a playful shrug, glancing over at Matt, "No, not like that anymore. I need you as my beer pong partner." He laughed realizing how bad his first sentence sounded.

Matt's grip on my arm tightened, but before I could even ask what he meant, Chris waved a hand dismissively and added with a wink, I couldn't help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a bit. "You scared me for a second there," I joked, shaking my head at Chris.

Matt let out a small laugh too, his shoulders loosening as he realized it was just Chris being his usual, over-the-top self. "Yeah, she’s off-limits for now," Matt said, his tone affectionate but teasing. "But you can have her for beer pong."

Chris grinned and pulled me toward the game, but not before giving Matt a quick look. "Don't worry, I only need her to win this game. And you," he added, glancing at me, "are the best person for the job."

"Let’s do it then," I said, grinning and ready to dive into the chaos of the game, trying to push any lingering doubts aside.

Chris, despite being a bit too drunk to focus, had an energy that was hard to ignore. He bounced on his feet, grinning like a madman as he lined up to take his first shot. “Alright, we got this, Y/N,” he said with way too much confidence, raising his beer.

Across from us, Jake and Tara stood ready, both giving us playful smirks. Tara was already holding her own drink, clearly just as drunk as me, while Jake had a look of determination on his face, obviously eager to win. “You’re going down,” Jake said with a laugh, tossing the ping pong ball up and readying himself to launch it across the table.

Nick and Matt stood off to the side, cheering us on. Nick was practically jumping up and down in excitement, while Matt pushed himself off the wall, going behind me whispering in my ear. "Come on, Baby"

The game started off slower than I expected, with Chris getting distracted by anything and everything—whether it was a drink on the table or someone else at the party walking by. But even in his drunken state, he was surprisingly good. Tara missed her first few shots, but Jake was still hitting his, making me sweat a little. I had to focus, but thankfully, Chris and I managed to keep our heads in the game.

We took turns, and each time, I felt the tension rise. Tara and Jake had their competitive energy going, but it was clear Chris and I had the upper hand—probably because Tara and Jake were having more fun than they were serious about winning. Chris finally got it together after a few more missed throws, throwing his ball with incredible force and sinking it into one of the last cups.

“Fuck yeah!” Chris shouted, stumbling and almost tipping over. I had to grab him to stop him from falling off balance.

In the final round, it came down to one last shot. Jake was up, and I knew he was going to give it everything he had. He took a deep breath, lined up his shot, and threw the ping pong ball—only for it to bounce off the rim and miss entirely. The room fell silent for a second before Chris and I erupted into cheers.

“We did it!” I yelled, laughing as Chris grabbed me in a half-hug and spun me around. “I can’t believe we won!”

Nick and Matt, who had been watching from the sidelines, immediately started clapping and cheering. “FINALLY!” Nick shouted, high-fiving Chris.

Tara and Jake laughed good-naturedly, though I could tell they were a little disappointed. “Alright, alright, you guys earned it,” Jake said, tossing a playful glare in our direction.

An hour had passed, and the energy of the party was starting to get to me. I could feel the buzz starting to wear off, and I was ready to head home. I looked over at Matt, who was leaning against the wall, talking to Nick. He caught my eye, and I gave him a small nod, silently telling him I was ready to go.

I walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Matt, I think it's time to head home," I said, trying to keep the smile on my face, but feeling the exhaustion from the party creeping in. The lights were too bright, the music a little too loud, and I just wanted to go back to the comfort of my place.

Matt nodded, his hand immediately finding mine. "Alright, let's get out of here," he said, pulling me toward the door. We waved to Tara and a few others as we made our way out of the party and into the cool night air.

Nick, who went to get Chris and Charlie, was already making his way to the car, pulling Chris and Charlie along with him. We all piled into the car, with Matt driving, me in the passenger seat, and the rest of the crew in the back. The ride was mostly quiet, everyone content in their own thoughts after a long night.

As we drove through the city streets, I could feel the tension finally easing. The party was fun, but there was something about heading home with Matt, knowing the night was winding down. I leaned my head against the window, watching the streetlights blur past as we made our way home.

Matt glanced over at me, a small smile on his face. "You good?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling back at him. "Just ready to be alone with you."

We drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the sounds of the car and the occasional laugh from the backseat filling the air. The night had been eventful, but now all I wanted was the peace of being home with Matt.

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#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #neighbor #roommates

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my-starlights · 5 hours ago

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ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ…

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which you stumble into your ex, Nanami Kento.

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. Angst :: hurt/comfort :: fluff at the end :: sfw

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Nanami Kento :: Gojo Satoru

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. It’s been a while since I wrote something haha… I said I’d do geto but Nanami has my heart so here we are 😭

ᴡᴄ. 1.1k

“Listen, let’s be mature about this, please.”

The light on your phone glares into your glassy eyes.

“I don’t want this either, but you’re not a child anymore.”

Even though you’re looking at couplecore posts on social media, Kento’s voice keeps breaking through.

Stupid lovey-dovey couples on Tik Tok. You angrily swipe at your eyes and press ‘not interested’ at the video.

“If you can’t handle this argument like an adult, perhaps you should take a step back from this relationship.”

Your phone suddenly turns dark - agh, it died - and with a huff you set it down to charge, looking at the ceiling. It’s been three weeks since your messy breakup with Nanami Kento, and social media isn’t helping you forget about you and your boyfriend’s - ex-boyfriend’s - argument; it started as a small confrontation about him overworking and ended with… with this.

You, leaving your shared home and going to your old Jujutsu Tech dorm.

Kento, still at his office, head in hands and unable to focus.

You know he’d never cheat; but it seemed like he was working to the bone. No more weekend dates or him coming home to you cooking dinner; he was at the office more than he’d see you, and for weeks on end. You’d been crying, begging him for a break from work, and him stoically telling you in an impatient voice that this was just what being an adult was.

The two of you never fought like this before. Ever since the argument, you feel as if a chunk of your being was forced away from you, leaving you empty. Alone. You feel a lump in your throat and swallow, blinking back more tears.

It’s time to move on, you reason with yourself. It was nearing midnight.

You sigh and close your eyes.

—

The next day, you wake up with the same sense of dread you’ve had in the past couple weeks, and just as you exit the old dorms… you see Gojo Satoru. Of course. You hadn’t seen him alone in a while, only with his girlfriend.

He spots you and strolls towards you, running hand through his hair. Was he… relieved?

Something’s awry.

“Ah! I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sighing as he takes in your somber appearance. “Everywhere. You have no idea.”

“Well here I am,” you say tiredly. “Why… why were you looking for me?”

“Nanami has been quite worried about you, you know. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that. He’s asked me to look for you and taken time off from work, and everything.”

What? Kento off of work? This only happened on birthdays or holidays. And Gojo actually listening to Kento for once too? This has never happened.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, I don’t know why anyone’s looking for me. I’ve been here. Besides, Kento and I, we’ve broken up, so—“

“WHAT??” Gojo screeches, and you jump back, surprised by the noise. “YOU’RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE?”

You rub your temples. “Not anymore, I think? He said I should take a step back from our relationship, and—“

Gojo is about to screech again when Kento walks up, hair ruffled and tie loosened, looking ready to murder Gojo. “Leave,” he barks at Gojo. “You found her, now go bother someone else.”

You jerk away from the two men. What the hell is happening?

Kento moves up to Gojo mutters something into his ear; the latter turns pink and begins walking away, looking at you apologetically. Kento rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to you.

“Oh, love,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry about the past couple weeks. It wasn’t you who was immature, it was me.”

You look at him, defensive, eyes already slightly glassy. “You broke up with me. And now you want me back? That’s not how break ups work.” You pivot on your heel, heart breaking at his surprised face, and start walking briskly away, him quickly catching up.

“Love, I didn’t mean to… we’re not seriously broken up, are we? I never meant to… I was speaking without thinking, please don’t tell me you thought we’re broken up…”

You turn to Kento abruptly, still walking. “What was I supposed to think?” You say, incredulous.

“No, no, no, love, I’m so sorry, please just stop walking—”

“—Kento, I’m not mature enough for you. I don’t take what you take seriously, I’m childish near you, and you made that clear. I understand now—“

You’re interrupted by Kento falling to his knees in front of you. “Love,” he says, collecting your palms in his hands. “Please forgive me. I was the immature one, you’re too good to me, you were looking out for me—“

“Kento please get up—“

“—You need to understand this. You’re the love of my life, how could I ask that you step back? I’m ruined without you—“

“—Kento, please just—“

“—you’re the love of my life, I’m so sorry, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I’ve started going only part-time at my job. I’m ready to do the best I can for you. You were worried about my well being and I punished you for it. Please just forgive me…”

Tears finally start rushing down your face, but Kento doesn’t let go of your hands. “Oh, Ken…” you sniffle. “You started part-time? For me? Please get up, I…. Let me hug you….”

He rushes up, feeling the blood run to his head, but he doesn’t care; you hug him hard, still crying. He feels a stab in his chest every time he feels a tear sink into his shirt.

You mumble against his broad chest. “I forgive you,” you mumble. “I missed you, Ken. I love you.”

He wraps you in a hug, looking down and cupping your face. His usually steady voice tremors slightly. “Am I still your… are we still together?”

You smile up, eyes watery, at him. “If you’ll have me.”

He hugs you hard. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you. I… let’s not do this here, love. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Your eyebrows crinkle in a way Kento didn’t realize he missed. You look up at him. “Home?”

“You think I just meant to apologize and move on? No, love, I have gifts for you. And a dinner planned. I don’t want to spend any more time at work that I could spend instead with you.”

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, then lean upwards to peck his cheek. “I love you, Ken,” you say, stepping back.

The somberness, the loneliness you felt just this morning, fade away. The part of you that broke after your fight seems to mend itself back into you. Finally, you’re….

Complete again.

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 day ago

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EDDIE MUNSON HCs Part 2 - nsfw

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18+

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you are not safe to bend over in front of this man, he'd grab your hips and hump you until you push him away

will not let you leave his trailer without at least 1 (10) hickey

he's the king of teasing

this man is into medieval roleplay, he likes being a knight saving a damsel in distress or brings dnd into it.

he loves being tied up/ tying you up. it just gives him such pleasure, escpeciialy if there is blindfolding, he loves the idea of you getting to touch him and not knowing what you'll do next, it also makes his other senses highten so he feels everything 100% better

edging, thats all i need to say.

he is big on praise

"that's it baby" "you're doing so well f'me" "take me so well" "atta girl"

he's very vocal, and LOUD. that man will be moaning and panting in your ear, stuffing his face in your neck just sloppily thrusting into you.

he will take so many polaroids, in every position, we're taking his fingers in your mouth, tasting yourself on him/ your tits coverd in his juices, your ass in the air, with bright red handprints decorating your skin.

^later on he'd ask if he can make one of them an album cover but you said no.

he's into worshipping. he'll treat you like the godess you are and make sure to give every bit of you attention

i said he was into praise, but he's also degradation, saying things like

"such a slut, aren't you?" "look at you, you're so pathetic" "get on your knees, whore, show me how much you want to taste my cock"

this mans dirty talk is elite, although he has his moments when he gets totally awkward and stammers, (in the beginning f your relationship) that would made you scrunch your nose and shake your head with a litte giggle,

^when this would happen he'd get really flustered and let you take over

hair pulling.

loves when he's told what to do

he'll deny you of orgasms so much until when he finally lets youvyou're just too weak to even scream, you'll just whimper, and he'll pout like a sadistic bitch.

"is that all you got f'me?"

he can go forever, until you're a crying mess begging to stop, and, the gentleman he is, immediatley stops until you pull him back on top of you

to say he loves watching you squirm and writhe underneath him is an understantement, he LIVES for it

his favourite position is reverse cowgirl with him sitting upright behind you, hearing your ass slap against his lap as his hands find their way to your breasts. he likes this position because he can have easy access to your neck and have you leaning against his chest. all while whispering in the shell of your ear.

mate's good with his tongue

rings stay on when he's fingering you

not a big fan of toys. he thinks he's enough to please you

he'd 100% pull out a joint as you ride his dick. and depending on the situation, you'd either share it with him or get really annoyed because that cocky smirk wants you to be irritated

"what are you doing?" you'd stutter as you pant "keeping myself occupied" he'd answer

after that, you'd ride him even harder, trying to get his attention- that's the only reason he does it. to watch you bounce on his cock so hard just for him

his aftercare is most of the time him just lying beside you lazily, yawning because he'd tired himself out, mumbling that you do a good job and just holding you close to him

but when he's not used his full potential on giving you at least 5 rounds (because you must have been tired) he'd take the best care of you

--------------------------------------------

#x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #headcannons #joseph quinn #smut #not safe for minors #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader

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neovillains · 3 days ago

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GOLDEN CHRYSANTHEMUMS ⋆ NANAMI KENTO

syn. the golden chrysanthemum, a cozy bed and breakfast with raving views ── according to yelp. just the place you need after your car breaks down near a small town | 5.6k words ( minors, ageless, & blank blogs: do not interact )

── vampire!kento nanami/influencer!reader, nanami runs a bed & breakfast, violence, blood, major character death.

note. i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope you all do, too. please comment down below or let me know in the tags of your reblogs what you think! mwah!

1800S TO 1900S — nanami’s point of view

Nanami always says he can’t remember his childhood— for Heaven’s sake, it was a long long time ago. Whenever he told guests this, they’d chuckle because he couldn’t be no older than thirty, right? And for the most part, he’s not lying. He can’t remember vivid details of his past like he was once able to. However, there’s a certain time period that could never escape him. Something that always stays relevant in his mind— his first time he stepped foot inside of the Golden Chrysanthemum. A two-story pink Victorian home that was nowhere close to what he was imagining. Clinging to his mother, his stubby fingernails dug into the fine fabric of her dull mustard yellow gown and forced the woman to take very staggered steps. Nanami wasn’t typically a stubborn child, but he remembered his mother telling him to stop, and that, “you’re acting like an ass.”

But still, the boy clung onto his mother like his life depended on it. He had known nothing about his father’s side of the family, but ever since his passing, his mother wanted to change that. Getting in contact through a letter, Nanami’s paternal grandmother thought it was about time that her daughter-in-law forgot about all these petty squabbles the two of them shared, and gave her her right to know her grandson. Trudging up the cobblestone pathway in broad daylight, three hefty knocks sounded through the door before a waft of silence passed.

The Golden Chrysanthemum wasn’t always a bed and breakfast. No, when Nanami first arrived, it was just Nana’s house. Nana’s house was pink with golden chrysanthemums that caged in the beauty. A well manicured garden and lawn that the woman had tended to for years on end even at her age. She would push a gigantic lawn mower with shears that Nanami was always afraid of getting too close to and each blade of grass was shredded to their desired height.

That beginning week, Nanami didn’t know much about his grandmother except for the fact that she was his father’s mother and mama didn’t seem to like her very much. However, as days came to pass and she had miraculously learned that Nanami enjoyed pancakes very much, he’d stop hiding behind the frills of his mother’s dress and started trekking behind the older lady.

He thought he was sly with the way he always kept his distance, sitting on the bench while the mower would loudly rev to life. He thought she didn’t see him when he would sit at the highest steps possible to keep away from view, peeking his head out to watch her cook in the wee hours of the morning. Oh, how she wanted to tell that boy to go back to bed, but those brown eyes. . . (He certainly didn’t get them from her side of the family). They were just so cute and innocent that one day she just had to call out his name. Or, something close to it.

“Boy,” she called out. “Would you just stop all that hiding and come here?”

She figured that she should’ve been kinder, seeing how the boy started to shudder in fright, already on his feet and running back up the stairs to crawl under the blankets beside his mother. She sighed, but like always, found his skittish tendencies to be quite amusing. She only hoped that this wouldn’t be the end of his morning visits.

And for a week, she had thought they were. The boy hadn’t come out not once in the past seven days, leaving her alone in the heat as she poured the batter onto the blackening pan over the fire. The sizzle of oil filling in the silence and her growing loneliness. Fortunately, that solitude didn’t last too long. On the tenth day, Nanami finally showed face, his footsteps creaking on the wooden staircase as he took gentle steps down. This time, he trudged closer in her vicinity and waited until she took notice. When she turned her head, she beckoned him over with her head and still addressed him as “boy.”

“Come here and learn how to make pancakes with your grandma, okay?” She said something about not having anyone useless in her house, but Nanami didn’t really care for her ramblings.

It wasn’t until a month after her death that his mother got the idea of turning the house into a bed and breakfast. Nanami didn’t know what that was, but thought it was a terrible idea. He had brought it up a couple of times, always voicing that he didn’t think that’s what Nana would have wanted. However, time and time again, his mother would remind him to stay in a child’s place and dismiss all of his concerns. However, Nanami was growing into a man. Thirteen years of age and having grown a love for the pink home, he didn’t want to see other people— strangers— lurking inside of the place, his home. He tried staying respectful, but his words always fell upon deaf ears with his mom.

“Have you no concern for our safety?” He knew the abruptness of the conversation would have his mother taken aback. “Strangers coming in and out of the place for a night— who knows what they could do in those couple of hours!”

Nanami couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten slapped. Before this, he remembered being seven when he felt the heavy impact of his mother’s hand. He always remembers the shock of it, and never the physical pain of it. The way his heart beat would quicken and how he gasps. He remembers being hurt, yes, but it was always something emotional for him. His mother always had a tendency to slap him when he spoke too much and had said something she wasn’t fond of. He thought he learned to keep his mouth shut a couple of years ago, but here he finds himself in the same predicament, feeling that same emotional pain all over again. However, the only solution he had come up with at the time was compliance.

Fortunately for his mother (and unfortunately for him), he had come to enjoy the idea of a bed and breakfast. However, that wouldn’t happen until many years to come. Though, he can imagine how much his mother is smiling in her grave at the fact that he still carries on the Golden Chrysanthemum in her absence. Always keeping it up to pristine conditions— the home still upkeep that same shade of pink that his grandmother had it and the garden of golden chrysanthemums still in its tip-top shape as he tended to them— he no longer does it begrudgingly. Now, he does everything in the memory of his grandmother. However, sometimes he questions if he’s disappointed her with the amount of red that’s seeped into the ground and the haunting stench of death and decay that lies within his wake.

The dimming sky as the sun continues to set. The twinkling stars that are coming out of their hiding spots, announcing themselves the winner as yet again, the sun hides away in shame. Nanami has matured some more, standing taller than his mother past six feet at twenty-seven years old. His blond hair no longer covering his face and all the hard work outside is paying off as his muscles are well-defined and he has to go to the tailor’s whenever a button’s getting loose. He slouches in his seat to his mother’s dismay, no longer looking him in the eyes with a sense of joy or happiness. She has come to the term that that’s just what happens in adulthood.

During dinner, his mother had told him to water the flowers, saying that she had forgotten this time around. It was the only thing she said through its entirety and Nanami simply mumbled in acknowledgment before finishing the rest of his plate. He scraped whatever he could for compost while sinking the porcelain plate into the dirty dish water, letting it soak and submerge in the wet mess.

In that short time, the sky had completely blackened and the man on the moon was his current guardian. Nana had told Nanami just how to tend to the dear flowers, pointing towards the shed as it had everything he needed. His eyes were falling heavy and his vision getting blurry, trudging his way towards it and swinging the door open. With the force, the door quickly shuts as it opens, leaving him in absolute darkness as he maneuvers himself swiftly through it. Reaching for the water pale and the cloth bag full of plant food as he continues on blind to the red-eyed demon that lurks in the corner.

Nanami remembers the excruciating pain that he felt as he tried to fight the large and bulky body that pressed against him. The crushing grip that was wrapped around his abdomen, squeezing breath from his as two sharp fangs pierced into his skin; the jaw that sunk into his flesh as Nanami screamed out in the distance. How had his mother not here him?

Slowly on the brink of death, when the monster was finished, it flung Nanami’s weaker body to the ground. He heard things tumble and fall as well as the creak of the shed’s door before it was slammed shut. Laying flat on the ground, he felt like he could barely move. However, with the consciousness that he had left, his fingers twitched as he mustered up whatever strength he could to crawl his way through the door.

Everything in his path started to lose its life, the sharp blades of grass dwindling and turning yellow, the cobblestone pavement smeared in blood and the petals of the golden chrysanthemums quivering to brown as Nanami forced himself to stand. When he touched the door knob, it left a mark and with his heavy footsteps, he wouldn’t know what to explain to his mother. Though, there was nothing much left of her when he woke up the next day, no longer coated in just his own blood.

YEAR 2024, 10:08 PM — nanami’s point of view

Nanami has come to terms with his life decisions. Finding solace in his mother’s death, he began to take pride in the upkeep of the Golden Chrysanthemum. Spending his days with the curtains shut and tending to any necessary repairs, he made sure that all guests were out by twelve p.m. Despite the daylight ring that was wrapped around his left middle finger, he spent his days cooped up inside the outdated Victorian home finding things to keep him busy and his mind occupied. Circular reading glasses that stuck to the bridge of his nose, his eyes stared at the words on the laptop, going through any bookings and making sure all his books were up to time. He held onto a red-ink pen, jotting down in the notebook alongside him and crossing out the tasks he completed.

He missed the trivial little human things he used to whine about,especially a headache— a telltale sign from his body silently telling him that he needed a break. Now, he could stand at this desk until the sun goes down, completely unaware of the world around him. Time only seems to be going faster in his presence, nightfall creeping up on his back as a shiver runs down his spine when he no longer feels the ache of the sun through the window. His fingers don’t ache, but when he bends them, he can hear the cracks from each muscle as he shuts down the screen and hops off the round stool.

Now, he starts to feel it, that hunger deep inside. That hunger eats him up in a way that’s more animalistic than any other ravenous and furry beast to exist. It beckons him to saunter down the wooden floor as his brown leather shoes clunk against the ground and reach for the door knob. Checking the time— ten-o-eight p.m.— he keeps the sign hanging on the door as it says ‘Open.’ He shouldn’t be gone for that long.

YEAR 2024, 10:15 PM — your point of view ! [ currently filming ]

You remember when you started vehemently watching youtube. You watched videos that primarily focused on lifestyle and vlogs about strangers that you had come to admire. They’d record themselves under certain predicaments that always seemed too private to be shared on the internet and show themselves in low moments. Then, you always told yourself that if you became an influencer of any sort, you’d never do that.

Now look at you.

You fix your tripod, making sure that the camera is focused and that the red light is on as it captures the entirety of your vehicle on camera. Internally, you were asking yourself what you were doing. It was ten-fifteen at night and the sky was dark. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere anyone could come out at any moment and murder you. However, that’s why you also convinced yourself that this was a great idea. If you were to die, your evidence will be recorded for the authorities to find.

You also needed to talk about your current predicament, even if it was ultimately to yourself in this very moment in time. What was so wrong with that?

“Guys,” speaking to the camera, you sighed. “My car broke down.”

You had made the plans to travel from your hometown all the way to California in a lonesome roadtrip to celebrate graduating from school with your master’s in Occupational Therapy. It was a huge accomplishment and in the time that it took from undergrad to here, you never really took some time to really do something you wanted. You were also considering the possibility of moving out-of-state with California as the place to be, making sure to kill two birds with one stone as you wanted to experience the different climate as a tourist first before becoming a resident.

You were expected to arrive at your hotel by tomorrow evening, but you fear that this delay with offset your entire plans. Now, you’re in the middle of bumfuck nowhere in Nebraska, stranded. “I don’t even understand how. I made sure that everything was in good standing before I left. Maybe I was overworking it, but I don’t know… Ugh, I’m just gonna google and see if there are any places open at this time at night to see if they’d help a damsel in distress.”

Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, when you press the power button, the brightness blinds you. You turn it down as your attention quickly becomes glued to the device, praying that the few signal bars that you have won’t result in a time-consuming wait. You perch yourself on the hood of the car as your camera silently watches, recording everything. With one hand scrolling through your phone, you start to gnaw on one of your hang-nails.

You gnaw and gnaw absentmindedly until a harsh pinch makes you hiss. From the light of your phone, you can see the small red dot that slowly starts to expand. Grimacing, you sweep it under the bridge, licking off the light wound.

The camera catches it, the dark figure that appears from nowhere, looming silently before it comes closer. Their figure becomes more clear in their hauntingly silent steps, standing behind your car before your front door. A teal blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up just below his elbows and an animal-print tie that matches with khakis slacks held up by a deep brown belt, he stands half an inch over six feet.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice that immediately sends you jumping off your car. You immediately catch yourself, using the vehicle to stop your fall. Your phone falls from your grasp, hitting the ground as a squeak leaves your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” the man comes to apologize. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. It just seems like you needed some help, that’s all. Did your car break down?”

Your body tenses up, taking in the man from head-to-toe as you stoop down to grab your phone, which now has a cracked screen. You test out the power button, grateful that it still lights up, at least. You nod your head, though still averting your eyes away from him. “Yeah, it did.”

“Could I possibly take a look at it to see the problem?” he offers you assistance. “I won’t be able to do much, but I own a bed n’ breakfast just two miles back. You can spend the night and if it’s something simple I can help get your car back on the road, or I can help you find the closest mechanic right in the morning.”

The prospect of his plan was enticing, but something still made your skin crawl about him. A shiver ran down your spine, the cold breeze starting to run through you as you tried debating this in your mind. It was late at night and truthfully, you should've found yourself somewhere to rest your head at. However, you planned to find somewhere by midnight before sluggishly bringing yourself to whatever place to rest your head for the night. Nevertheless, what was a man like this doing at this time of night?

You give him another once-over. He seems like he just came off of work, you noted to yourself. Did he say he owned a bed n’ breakfast?

“You own a bed n’ breakfast?” You ask, to which, he nods. “What’s it called?”

“The Golden Chrysanthemum.”

“Do you have a business card for it?” Immediately, he reaches in his back pocket, pulling one out and handing it to you. You dust off your phone, trying to rid yourself of any fine pieces of glass shards onto your loose-fitted pants before typing in the business name for further verification. You scroll through whatever reviews you can find, all of them seemingly rating the place four to five stars and having all nice things to say.

Your shoulders fall and your body relaxes a bit as you finally give him the okay to check on your car. He sends you to the front seat, popping the lid and starting the car. He’s able to find the issue in a short manner of time and tells you that it’s an easy fix. “You just need a jump start. You have a jump starter, right?”

You feel ashamed to admit that you don’t. You were living a very frugal lifestyle in grad school, knowing that you needed things but couldn’t afford it at the time. When creating this road trip checklist, you had forgotten to put it on your list entirely. Shaking your head no, the man— or Nanami Kento, according to his business card— shuts the lid. “You should invest in one.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, sheepishly. “I know.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll call for a tow truck.”

After grabbing some of your necessities from your car— your suitcase and a backpack— Nanami does, most, all of the heavy lifting as he drags your suitcase and backpack. The two of you walk in a silence that you feel is uncomfortable as you constantly glance back at him in a wariness. “Why are you out so late?”

“Couldn’t really sleep,” he answers, nonchalantly. He doesn’t give further elaboration, making more questions swirl in your mind as you remember him saying that the Golden Chrysanthemum was two miles back. Usually, when you had a heavy mind and couldn’t fall asleep, you’d walk half-a-mile— a mile at most. However, his tone was laced with such certainty that it was believable. He seemed so rigid that if you dared to question him any further, you probably wouldn’t get anywhere.

“Wow,” you gawk instead. “You walked for two miles and still aren’t tired?”

“Yeah,” Nanami answers. He’s learned to not overcompensate. Too long of an explanation would leave people suspicious and suspicious people are why the cat gets killed. He never expected to be helping someone stranded on the side of the road tonight, but the deep neck of the woods were bare of any hikers. He always considered himself a dignified person, having a code that aligned with his morals— no women or children. He’d never break that code with himself.

You frown at the dry response, a fog forming when you sigh as you decide to play along into the silent game. The only thing to be heard is the shuffling of your feet against the ground and the wheels of your suitcase spinning smoothly before you’re finding yourself stepping onto a cobblestone path. Nanami starts leading the way as you take a step behind to marvel over the tall beauty as the moon sparkles against it.

Two-story pink beauty with white accents, wooden panels that seem so brand new and glass that sparkles even in the dark. The sign next to you seems to have been handpainted, the dark letters that were written in such perfect calligraphy that reads of the name. Nanami doesn’t wait for you, hauling your stuff up as you start getting closer to the front steps. It’s then that you come to notice the well-kept lawn and the garden that aligns the building, the flowers that have given the place its name— The Golden Chrysanthemum.

YEAR 2024, 12:03 AM — your point of view [ filming ! ]

You jump up in bed with a jolt, your heart thumping against your chest in an attempt to escape your body. You heave, trying to catch your breath as you don’t have the liberty of gradually coming to your senses. In the darkness, you can’t see anything as you kick off the cotton covers and your bare feet land on the cold, wooden ground.

The moment that Nanami had set up a room for you, you realized how exhausted you are. The mattress of the bed was so comfortable and the pillows so soft, the minute your head hit the pillow, you were fast asleep. But you had barely been sleeping for half an hour when you heard these creaking sounds and the occasional thud, the very thing being the reason why you’re up right now.

With your heart more steady and coming to your senses, you glance at the clock and exhale. Still obnoxiously exhausted, you reach for your camera as you remember its existence and turn it on. The lens on your face and the red light right on you, you forget about the fact that you’re in the dark. As if on queue, you drag out a huge yawn. “Well… I managed to find a place to stay for the night.

“This guy… I don’t know where he came from, but…” You’re dozing in and out, trying to get your thoughts straight. “But, he offered to help me out with my car and he owns a bed n’ breakfast. That’s—” you yawn once more “—where I’m at right now.

“The bed—” you pat the bed, droning on and on as you recommend the place. Your eyes would lull shut, dozing off occasionally before your body reminded you of the camera in your hand. Unsteadily, the lens was no longer on your face and pointed towards the window. The moon was shining, but very dimly as you were gifted the view of beautiful greenery. In a bedroom that faced the back of the house, the bushes were whistling in the wind along with the cicadas and crickets that sang at night. It was a singular moment, happening within a split second that the camera captured vividly, a figure that resembled a human but moved at the speed of light. Heading towards the shed as the door quickly opens and shuts.

Focusing and unfocusing before focusing once more, the camera was hoping to capture more until you had finally come to your senses. Fixing your hand, the camera was back on you. “You know what, I’m gonna head back to sleep. I should’ve just… waited for the morning before updating you guys. Um… Good night.”

YEAR 2024, 2:24 AM — your point of view [ filming! ]

You had a dreamless sleep, but at some point in between, you felt a sense of unease. When you wake up again, it’s nearly half-past-two in the morning. You’re kicking your legs off the bed once more, bare feet planted against the cold wooden ground as you roll your shoulders. You don’t have to come to your senses, your anxiety does all of that for you. Heart pressing against your chest and your breathing harsh and uneven. Your eyes are closed as you try to steady yourself before standing up.

You roll your shoulders back one more time before rubbing your eyes and wiping away the crust that had begun to form. Exhaling, you think the best thing to do is to go out for a walk. Peeking out of the window, the sky still dark and the moon seeming brighter. You slip back on the shoes you were wearing, still in the same clothes that you had driven in for how many hours. Hand twisting the door knob, the hall is dark with an overhead lamp that’s on a dim setting. You hadn’t forgotten your camera, still at a decent charge as the red light shines dimly. You don’t feel like saying a word.

It’s silent, deafeningly so that it feels eerie. Though, that only seems natural at a time like this. Everyone else must be fast asleep, you easily presume in order to calm yourself down. Including the owner himself as you walk towards the lobby, where a counter sits to your left and the living area to your right. Cream-colored walls and white furniture that helps brighten up the place. The mounted television is off and everything is still. Every trinket and every object seemingly staring you down in an effort to scrutinize and only increasing your panic as you hug yourself, arms wrapped around you as you move forward to the door.

The night is chillier, the thin veil of your top doing nothing to keep you warm as your feet shuffle down the sidewalk. Your legs move involuntarily, starting you on an unknown path as your phone sits in your back pocket. If push comes to shove, you have that to rely on. It’s now two-thirty-five in the morning as you trek down the cobblestone path and head down the sturdy sidewalk. Even with the insects harmonizing and the gust of wind whirling by, it’s eerily stagnant outside. You try to keep your breathing steady as you hold yourself tighter, walking past an abundance of greenery. The moon peeking through the trees, playing hide and seek with you as it provides you company. Finally, do you speak into the camera, keeping it facing forward instead of on you in order to capture the beauty of the night.

“I woke up yet again,” you sigh. “Honestly, a lot of this footage, I might be cutting out, but you guys will provide me more comfort while I’m taking a walk… in the middle of the night.”

The next time you check your phone, it’s seven minutes until three in the morning. Gradually do you feel more at peace as you come to accept that your mind and worries are only playing a game on you, finding your demise to be comical. However, it’s three-eleven when you finally decide to turn back around.

Your camera catches him first. More silent than a pin dropping, his stance is stiff and threatening as his eyes are darker than the coffee-colored hues they were before. Again, your heart pounds against your chest as he approaches you without a word. You clutch your chest, camera staggering as your nails dig into your shirt. “God, you just keep on scaring me tonight.”

He ignores your fright, head tilting to the right as he clutches his fists, veins protruding from his hands to his forearms. “What’re you doing out so late? It’s not safe at this time of night.”

“I’m just taking a little walk,” you explain. “I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.”

“I think it’s best that you head back inside, ma’am.” You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs, seemingly trying to keep himself together. “Like I said, these times at night aren’t very… safe.”

Against your better judgment, you shake your head. “I’ll head back in soon. I just need a few more minutes to myself before turning back.”

“It would be better if you’d head back now, actually.”

Eyes squinting as you keep the camera pointed to him, you take a step back. “I think I’m fine, actually.”

“You’re in a place you’re unfamiliar with,” Nanami goes on to argue, challenging you as he inhales deeply. “Don’t you think the smart choice would be to turn back?”

“Why do you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off. “I’m trying to seek out your best interests. I don’t think it will be particularly smart for you to keep arguing with me—” His eyes soften, silently pleading with you. “—Please, head back.”

Your shoulders drop in defeat as you go to turn off your camera. Underneath your breath, you say, “Fine.”

However, at three-twelve in the morning, your camera lens is shattered as it lies on the ground and the red light is still shining. In the blink of an eye, you’re gone and the device abandoned.

YEAR 2024, 4:59 AM — omnipresent point of view [ not recording ]

You don’t know what time it is when you finally return back to consciousness. Hands bound behind your back as thick ropes keep them still. Your eyes flutter open as your chest rises and falls, trying to get a bearing of your surroundings as Nanami is kneeling in front of you. Eyes that still hold that same darkness as he watches you return back to reality. Oh, how hard he tried to keep himself grounded, trying to restrain the hunger within himself. Even now, he tries to keep himself under control.

However, is there any way to keep you alive after this point? He’s no magician. He can’t take away your memories and make you forget. To have you walking around, knowing of his existence, it wouldn’t be safe for him.

I could paint her as a mad woman, he contemplates. Who’d believe a girl claiming that vampires are real? However, he knocks that question out with, She could, however, paint me a criminal. Nonetheless, in this battle for rationality and morals, time continues to go and his hunger grows stronger. Nails digging into the palm of his hand, threatening to prick into his skin, he stands when a faint gasp leaves your lips. “Wh–Where am I?”

In the basement, he’s got you tied down to a pole. You try to pull at the binding, your wrists already bruised from how tight he’s got the ropes. “Why am I tied up? Who are you— Let me go!”

Your mind whirls as you come to your senses, eyes widening as you try to free yourself. He should’ve thought this through. He should’ve killed you the moment he knocked you out. You’d have a painless death. Now, he’s given you the curse of one that’ll be excruciating.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I tried warning you when I had a bit more self-control.”

When he inches toward you, you try to back away from him. However, that only results in your head hitting the pole as your breathing becomes erratic. He ignores your fright, trying to ignore the guilt that courses through him as he stands behind you, reaching for the man-made manacles— if you can even call them man-made anymore. “You’ve worn me out, however.”

“What do you mean?” you try looking back, feeling the restraints being lifted and only to be replaced with his tight hold. “Please—” You try your luck here, attempting to pull away from his grasp, but he doesn’t budge one bit. “Please, let me go.”

Your chest heaves, panting heavily as tears prick down your face. One hand holding down your wrists, Nanami reaches to swipe away at the dried blood. He had created a nasty gash in your head, blood still pooling from it as crimson paints his thumb. “I don’t usually prey on women. It goes against my own code, but…”

With a lick from his tongue, the dark veins underneath his eyes reveal his true form. “You’ve left me no choice. I just couldn’t… I just can’t hold back anymore.”

Eyes widening as you know your impending death is near, your mind does the best thing it could conjure. Letting out signals as your body comes to a cold sweat, you let out a blood-curdling scream in hopes to be heard. However, inhumanely faster than you, sharp canines reveal themselves and prick into the nape of your neck. Your cry for help becomes choked, stuttering on the high-pitched wail as you mewl out in pain.

“Please,” you beg, your body feeling heavier by the second. “I–I don’t… I don’t want to die.”

When he drops your lifeless body, your eyes are still wide open. Nanami gives you the grace of closing them.

YEAR 2024, 5:43 AM — nanami’s point of view [ destroyed footage ]

Nanami considers himself lucky when he’s the first to find your camera. Picking it up, he’s surprised that the damn thing is still on and flashing red. Mouth smeared in a browning rouge, he looks into the camera lens with a dead stare. Then forcing it to the ground, the glass shatters as two heavy stomps crush the device, the sims card still intact.

THE END.

film credits — thank you to @mitsuwu for basically giving me the idea to make reader an influencer.

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#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami #jjk #tw: dark content #ᯓ★ standalone.

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