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strang3lov3 · 10 days ago

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Throat Coat

Joel doesn’t make your sore throat feel better, but he does make it worse.

Tags - smut, one shot, dark daddy!joel, rough blow job, facefucking, deep throating, cum swallowing, kissing, hitting/swatting, abuse, dubcon, daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, thick n girthy (legal + unspecified) age gap, controlling!joel, Joel is all mean and grumpy and short with you, sexy comforting father figure!Joel, Joel feels guilty for hurting you and cries a little, so he babies you and you milk it just a little. you deserve it. hurt/comfort, dark fluff, non-graphic descriptions of illness (sore throat + strep), tommy makes an appearance...planting some seeds here... ;) 3.6k words A/N - heddo! if you're sick rn I’m hugging you. And if you’re not sick, you will be and I’ll hug you then too. Wash your fuckin' hands ya beautiful freaks

“Set the table f’me, pumpkin.”

Joel’s voice is low as he watches you slowly get up from where you sit on the couch, pausing in place to no-doubt roll your eyes before shuffling toward the kitchen. You don’t look right - you’re dragging your feet and your eyes are droopy, there’s a big pout on your lips. Shoulders are slouched forward like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world upon them. Brows knit in some kind of upset as you move lazily, and Joel’s jaw ticks as you let the cabinets slam shut instead of closing them gently, like he’s asked you to do.

After setting the plates and the forks down at yours and Joel’s respective seats at the dinner table, you fill two glasses with water, bumping into Joel and splashing him as you move through the kitchen. “Hey - watch where you’re goin’, kid,” he gruffs, shaking his head as he bites his inner cheek in frustration. He narrows his eyes at the way you don’t say anything. There’s no sorry, no excuse me. Joel makes a note of this. “Gonna be one of those nights, huh,” he grumbles.

You’re sulking in your chair now, making no effort to even glance at Joel as he brings the hot dishes to the table. Arms crossed, eyes fixed on the wood grain. Joel serves you first, a large helping of green beans and potatoes, an even larger helping of chicken. “I can already tell just by lookin’ at ya that you ain’t eaten enough protein today,” he grumbles, eyeing you. “Gonna be a peach for me, aren’t ya?”

“Mm,” you hum, the noncommittal noise dripping with defiance. You hate when he reads you like this. His unique ability to pinpoint your mood or your attitude, your state of being. Uncovering the things you seek to hide. Joel knows you better than you know yourself in some ways, and it’s as infuriating as it is validating at times. He understands you, all of you, and he’s always there, filling in the gaps of what you don’t tell him. You can’t get anything past Joel.

Joel serves himself next and begins eating, shoveling bite after bite into his mouth. He’d worked up quite a fierce appetite today, spending his time shoveling snow and doing other arduous housework while you sneakily evaded your own chores. You poke a little at your food with your fork, scraping the metal along the porcelain while ultimately deciding that you don’t want to eat. You push your plate away and lay your head down in your arms on the table.

Joel’s hand lands firmly on your bicep. “Nuh-uh. You sit up at the table. What’s the matter with you?”

You groan as you reluctantly pull your body up, head throbbing with the action like a heartbeat. You can feel blood pumping in your face, a pressure behind your eyes and nose and forehead so awful you feel like your face could melt right off. “M’not hungry,” you grumble, voice thick with discomfort.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second. Yes, you fuckin’ are,” Joel says, spearing a green bean with his fork. “I know you are, so don’t even try it. You’re gonna eat, ‘cause I already know what’s gonna happen: s’gonna be bedtime and you’re gonna be whinin’ ‘bout how your stomach hurts ‘cause you didn’t eat enough at dinner and who’s gonna have to fix you somethin’?”

“No one,” you mutter.

“Me,” Joel corrects, without missing a beat as he shoots you a warning glare. “Now you get to it. An’ I wantcha eatin’ everything that’s green on that plate, do you understand me?”

“Fine,” you sigh, dragging your plate back towards you. You pick up your fork but instead of actually eating, you just maneuver the food around on the plate a little. The green beans are cut into smaller bites, potatoes shoveled into a neat little pile. The occasional scraping sound your fork makes against the porcelain makes you wince, but you ignore it. Just killing time.

Joel serves himself a second plate of food, fork hovering over his plate when he pauses and notices that you’ve still not touched yours. “What’d I tell you? Or are ya waitin’ to eat it cold?”

You shrug, earning another cold look from Joel. He doesn’t like when you waste your food, and his patience is wearing thin. “I just don’t feel so good,” you tell him, sniffling softly. Your throat’s been scratchy all day, and you can’t breathe too well. You feel awful.

Joel drops his fork and leans forward, chair creaking with his shifting weight. He presses a calloused hand against your forehead, and the added pressure actually soothes your throbbing pain, just for a moment. His fingers travel down your face and with practiced ease, he presses two fingers just under your jaw, feeling your lymph nodes. “Feel fine t’me,” he says, pulling back.

Not the response you were looking for. “Daddy…” you whine, elongating the word in a bid for his sympathy.

“Mhm,” Joel hums, a knowing lilt to his tone. You claim to be sick a lot when you’re simply dehydrated or attempting to get out of something. “Heard this one before,” he says, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest. “You’re not pullin’ one over on me. I know you, pumpkin.”

“I’m serious,” you argue.

“So am I. Drink your water f’ya feel so bad. That’s your problem, sweetheart, you’re never drinkin’ enough water. I tell ya a hundred times a day to hydrate yourself.”

“B-”

“M’not havin’ this argument,” Joel cuts in, voice firm. He’s right, too. Nine times out of ten you’re poorly hydrated, which is usually the reason for when you feel like crap. Dehydration is certainly playing a role today, too, as much as you hate to admit it. “Drink.” He snaps and points to your glass, watching how you roll your eyes as you take it, just to needle him a little. “And adjust that fuckin’ attitude a’ yours, ‘fore I adjust it for you. S’that what you want?”

“No,” you mumble into your glass. You drink about half the water, then set the glass down and stare at Joel pointedly.

“Keep goin’. Drink it all, kiddo,” Joel urges gently, taking himself down a notch as his voice loses its edge. You obey him, finishing the glass. “Good girl.” You smile a little, just a momentary little curve of your lips. The praise feels good. For as stern as he can be, Joel is quick to let go of anger. Patient, to a point. But not always. “Bet you’re feelin better already, aren’t ya?”

“No,” you whine, though Joel is right that the water helped. Can’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing that, though. “I still feel like shit.”

“Watch the language,” Joel scolds, anger renewed. “Y’feel like shit ‘cause you’re tired. Spendin’ too much time watchin’ that goddamn TV. And I know you’ve been sneakin’ down here to watch it after bedtime. Did it last night too, didn’t ya?”

“N-”

“Don’t even try it,” Joel bites, his glare pinning you in place. A warning.

“Yeah…I did,” you admit. He’s right again. “But I’m serious, Joel, I really don’t feel good.”

“Tough,” he says, no sympathy in his tone. “Let it be a lesson to ya. Take care of yourself and you won’t feel so bad. Now you quit your cryin’, sit up straight, and eat your damn food, or so help me god I’ll shove somethin’ else down your throat of yours. S’your last warning,” he adds as he stares you down. Eyes still fixed on you, he raises his brow and points at you, “Don’t make this a bad night, now, pumpkin.”

“You’re not f- you’re not listening,” you seethe, frustration bubbling over. You plant your elbows on the table and bury your head in your hands to stand your ground, refusing to back down. It’s his short temperedness to your stubbornness, your oppositional defiance. Things work out better for you when you listen to him, and you know this. But you can’t help yourself but to buck him anyway. Joel always tells you that he gives you an inch and you take a mile.

“Oh, s’that’s how we’re doin’ this?” Joel snaps, and you’re in for it now. “Fine.” He grabs you by the forearm in a bruising grip and yanks you out of your chair, forcing you over the table. “Go ‘head, keep fuckin’ testing. Watch what happens.” He pulls down your pants and panties unceremoniously, giving you less than a moment’s notice before he smacks your ass, hard. His large hand on your head, pressing your face into the wood so hard that the pattern of the grain will be imprinted on your cheek. You cry out as he slaps your flesh, each hit worse than the last. He leaves you bruised and raw by the end of it, sniffling as the sting bites your skin. Usually he rubs you to soothe the ache...

…But not tonight. Tonight, Joel pushes you to the ground, knees scraping on the hardwood floor as he drags you where he wants you. Eyes wide, mouth open as your bottom lip wobbles. Joel palms his growing erection, momentarily massaging himself over his jeans before unbuckling his belt. He tosses it on the ground, that metallic clanging sound piercing your ears. He unzips his jeans next and pushes them just enough down his thighs to free his cock, fully hardened now. He holds it menacingly between his thumb and his first two fingers, heavy balls sitting above the waistband of his boxers.

Joel reaches forward and tangles a hand in your hair, looping his fingers around the strands to pull them tight. “Open,” he barks. You part your lips a little, and Joel fits the thick, blunt head of his cock between them. “That ain’t enough,” he says, slapping the tip against your bottom lip. “Wider. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

After you open your mouth wider for him, Joel begins sliding himself down your throat. He’s met with a little resistance as you pull back, wrapping your hand around the base of him in attempt to temper the force of which he fucks your mouth with. Joel slaps your cheek, “Don’t,” he warns, and pulls your hand away.

He forces himself down your throat entirely, the hand on the back of your head keeping you still even as you gag and choke on his cock. You’re panicked, pulling back but Joel holds you firmly, unwavering in his strength. “Stay,” he says. “You’re fine. Breathe through your nose.”

You open your jaw and your throat, surrendering to it as Joel begins fucking your mouth, drawing in and out of your mouth inch by inch. Tensing up makes it worse, makes it hit you harder. He tastes salty today, smells headier than usual. His graying patch of pubic hair scratches your nose, and if he fucks your face any harsher it’ll rub your skin raw.

Joel grunts loudly, growling your name and a series of words that he doesn’t let you say. None of it feels pleasant for you, not that you can vocalize that. His cock’s down your throat, further irritating what’s already scratchy and sore. You feel so…used.

You’ve told Joel that before, that you feel used when he does things like this to you. He says he understands, but it’s not supposed to feel good. It’s a punishment. It’s discipline, and he disciplines you out of love. He loves you, pumpkin.

Joel fucks your mouth with abandon, and you can’t control those choking, gurgling noises you make. Drooling all down his shaft, down his balls. Your eyes start to water before you cry freely, not that Joel cares. “Cry all ya want,” he grunts, and you whine in discomfort. Joel ignores that.

You have to hold his twitching, meaty thighs for stability as he moves your head back and forth on his cock repeatedly, clutching him tightly. Your jaw aches with the ferocity of how he moves, ferocity that borders on violence.

“Look at me,” Joel pants. “Look at Daddy.”

He strokes your cheek tenderly for a moment, a brief reminder that he loves you, even if it hurts sometimes. Still fucking your face, Joel reaches between his legs and cups his balls, squeezing them a little as your throat pulses around his length, tongue massaging that thick vein that climbs the underside of his cock. “Almost there, pumpkin. Be good for Daddy. Stay like that,” he groans, signaling release is near.

You whimper as his cock twitches in your mouth, and with a few more hard, deep thrusts, Joel feels that warm, sticky feeling. His balls tighten, his muscles tense and release as he lets out a deep, guttural groan, pulling out of your throat to paint your tongue in his come. “Swallow it,” he instructs softly, pulling back the rest of the way. A bit of come spills down your lips and onto your chin.

Joel’s chest heaves with heavy breaths, watching you swallow his load. Your cheeks are hot and sweaty, hairline damp with glittering sweat. Joel drops to his knees then, joints cracking while sinking to your level. He pushes his stray come past your swollen lips, “Lemme see,” he says. “Show me that tongue, pumpkin.”

It’s routine. You always take what Joel gives you, always. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and that’s when Joel sees it. The angry redness, the swollenn tissue, the white sores on the back of your throat. His breath catches, a quiet gasp escaping him as his face softens in an instant. He whispers, voice thick with guilt, “Oh shit, kid. Fuck. You weren’t lyin’.”

“Told you, Daddy,” you reply, feeling both hurt and validated.

Joel nods, clenching his jaw as regret floods his face. “Yeah, you did,” he murmurs, guilt filling every corner of his mind. You really did tell him, and you told him multiple times. “Did I make it worse?” he whispers, holding your face in both of his hands, rough thumbs caressing your skin as his eyes search yours. Hesitant to answer, you pull away from his gaze.

“You can tell the truth,” he urges, and his voice is both soft and insistent. “You won’t be in trouble. Cross my heart, baby girl.”

You pause. Finally, you admit it. “...Yes,” you whisper.

Joel’s face crumples. “Daddy’s so sorry, kiddo.” His voice cracks. “I really am. I shoulda listened to ya. C’mere, pumpkin.” His hands fall to your shoulders before he pulls you into a tight hug, and it takes you no time at all to hug him back just as tightly. This is all you wanted - his warmth, his comfort.

After holding you there on the kitchen floor for a while, Joel sniffles and presses kisses to the top of your head, one after another. “With me,” he says, and his voice sounds thick. He doesn’t let you see the tears he wipes away as he leads you to the upstairs bathroom.

Joel sits you down gently on the lidded toilet, opens the bathroom vanity and pulls out an old Walgreens thermometer, the once-bright red paint all but worn off. He washes it with soap and hot water, then brings it to your mouth. “Open up,” he says, cradling your jaw tenderly in his hand. “Goes under your tongue.”

You open your mouth and lift your tongue, wincing when Joel slides the thermometer into place. “Ow,” you whine. “You poked me.”

“I apologize. Was an accident, baby,” Joel murmurs, adjusting the thermometer. “Close your mouth and keep it there a minute.”

You wait in silence as the device takes your temperature, and it makes a quiet, rhythmic beep when it’s done. Joel pulls it from your mouth and squints, jaw dropping a little as he reads the tiny number on the tiny screen. “Shit,” he mumbles. “Lemme see your throat again.” You open your mouth wide for Joel, and he tilts your head back and faces you toward the light so he can better see, a worried furrow in his brow. “Mmm…m’wonderin’ f’ya don’t have strep throat,” he says with concern. “We’ll keep an eye on it, though. You tell me if you start to feel worse, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Joel eyes you, wondering how you could’ve caught something like this under his watch, especially when he’s not been sick lately. “How’d you get sick, huh? Been sneakin’ outta the house? Got yourself a boyfriend you ain’t tellin’ me about?”

“No,” you insist, and Joel doesn’t fight you hard on it. It was mostly a joke anyway.

“Maybe Uncle Tommy brought it in when he stopped over to check on ya the other night,” Joel says. And he might be right. You don’t have a secret boyfriend you’ve been kissing, but…

Uncle Tommy did visit not so long ago. Joel was on an overnight patrol shift and had felt nervous leaving you home alone, as he so often does. He’d asked Tommy to swing by to check up on you.

It was late when he entered through the back door, walking in on you curled up on the couch, a romance novel in your hands. Joel says he knows what goes on in those books and doesn’t like you reading them. You gasped, “Fuck, Uncle Tommy!”

Tommy wore that disarming smile of his. “Language,” he chastised, with no real anger in his tone. You scrambled to get back upstairs, but Tommy waved his hand. “Ain’t gonna rat you out,” he said, taking a seat next to you. His eyes twinkled as they dropped to your book, “Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing.” You shrunk under his curious gaze.

“Mm-hmm,” he smirked, taking the book out of your hands to inspect the cover. “This certainly ain’t nothin’.”

“I know, but–”

“You’re not in trouble.”

Tommy smiled kindly at you, dark eyes sparkling and warm. You’ve always found him handsome, handsome like Joel. Pretty in the same ways, age softening his features. You like his freckles, his long, black hair.

“M’just checkin’ in. Don’t get to see enough of ya, you know that?”

“I guess,” you said quietly, looking down at the pages of your book. You always have a hard time looking at him. He’s so…something about him feels like trouble. He makes you breathe funny, but not in a bad way. Not always.

Tommy tilted your face up then, ran the back of his knuckle across your cheekbone. “Whatcha shy for?”

You didn’t know what to say. Tommy knew the truth and chuckled, kissed your cheek to make you even more bashful. “S’okay f’ya got a crush,” he whispered, tracing your lips. Tommy kissed you then, just a small one. Just to hear you gasp and feel you squirm, that little moan you let slip as he stole the breath right from your lungs.

“I’m not supposed to–”

“I know, I know. You ain’t supposed to do this, not supposed to do that. Your daddy’s got you on a tight fuckin’ leash, sweetheart,” Tommy said, caressing the side of your face. “But I ain’t gonna tell your old man nothin’. An’ you don’t need’a tell him nothin’ either, hm? Joel doesn’t need to know everything that goes on with you, honey. S’okay to keep things secret, sometimes.”

“I still want you eatin’ something tonight,” Joel tells you, tucking the thermometer away. “I’ll heat up some soup. Will you have a couple of bites?”

You shake your head, pouting. “But I already said I’m not hungry.”

“I know,” Joel replies softly. “But ya gotta eat. Please, kiddo? Bet it’ll make your throat feel better. Do it for me, pumpkin.” Joel pokes your face a little, flutters his fingers around your neck and chin, tickling you. Teasing. It makes you giggle.

“Stop!” you laugh, pushing his hand away. “Fine. I’ll eat.”

“Attagirl,” Joel says.

He tells you to get changed into pajamas and downstairs, to get comfortable on the couch. Put on whatever dumb, girly movie or show you want on the TV. You follow orders, and Joel meets you downstairs with extra pillows and blankets clutched under his armpits. He makes you nice and cozy, then heads for the kitchen to clean up and prepare you that soup, which’ll be lighter on your stomach and easier on your throat. It’s just a matter of heating it up, as it’s jarred and ready to eat. Simple veggies and broth.

Joel sits next to you on the couch and feeds you a spoonful, your favorite bowl in his hands. You love the little pattern on it, chili peppers dancing on the porcelain. You wince upon taking the first bite, “Too hot,” you complain.

“Then I’ll blow on it.”

Joel blows on each bite of soup as he feeds you, the warm broth soothing your burning throat and clearing up your sinuses. “Thank you.”

“One more bite,” he tells you. “Last one.”

“You said that last time.”

Joel smiles. “Think I’d remember sayin’ somethin’ like that, pumpkin. One more, now.” You finish the last bite of soup, then roll your eyes when Joel gives you a new glass of water to drink. “I know. Your old man’s the worst, ain’t he?”

“He is,” you mumble, but you take the drink anyway. Joel seems pleased, happy. He tells you that you can stay up late tonight so long as you rest tomorrow, but you don’t make it past 8:30, asleep in his lap as he strokes your hair and listens to your rhythmic breathing.

more of this joel here

i hope you liked! if you enjoyed, please leave me a comment or send an ask. your words keep me motivated to write. thank you <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #joel x you #dark daddy!joel #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fic #joel miller imagine

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gigabyte-flare · 6 months ago

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At Your Service

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy family in New Eridu. Lycaon has been your loyal butler since you first moved out from your childhood home. You're about to find out just how far Lycaon is going to go to prove his devotion to you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Mild Yandere, implied r@cisim (not by reader or Lycaon), domestic violence (not by Lycaon), attempted SA (not by Lycaon), graphic violence, dubcon, oral (f receiving), pet names, playful biting, unprotected p in v, knotting, breeding kink, creampie

A/N: Just when I thought Jiyan from Wuthering Waves had me in a chokehold (he still does), Hoyo literally said "hold my beer." Does being down bad for Von Lycaon make me a furry? Probably. Do I care? Nope. He's hot and I can't get enough of him.

"As you can see, we had record profits this month. The campaign with the promoters definitely made a huge difference in our profit margin--"

You can't help but let out a loud sigh, resting the side of your face in the palm of you hand as your elbow keeps your head up as you stare into the webcam at your office computer. This is your last meeting of the day, heck, of the week. Unfortunately with the finance department of your family's business: a publishing company for video games and video tapes. Given how popular consumable media is in New Eridu, the business had taken off, you and your family now set for life. This also meant that your parents expected you to take over once they retire; you were still struggling to come to terms with that fact.

"-- that concludes this week's financial overview, I hope everyone has a good weekend!"

You waste no time turning off your webcam and shutting down your work computer. You couldn't get out of the office building fast enough. Getting into your car, you make the drive home to just beyond Sixth Street.

You live in one of the larger homes on the outskirts of New Eridu thanks to the success of your family's company. You park your car, getting out and approaching your front door. Before you even have a chance to dig your keys out of your pocket to unlock the door, your front door opens and you are greeted by your tall, imposing wolf Thiren butler: Von Lycaon of Victoria Housekeeping.

"Welcome home, my lady. I already have dinner started. I trust your day went well?"

"Hey Lycaon… it was alright," you reply as you step through the doorway, Lycaon stepping aside to let you through, "what's for dinner?"

You feel his deft clawed fingers help you take off your jacket before walking it over to the entryway closet to hang it up, his steel mechanical legs echoing in the entryway as he walks.

He answers you while hanging up your jacket, "roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and broccoli, my liege."

You chuckle, "you've been here for years, yet I still cannot get used to you addressing me like someone who's important."

Lycaon turns slightly just as he was about to shut the closet door, his red eye scrutinizing you, "but you are important, my lady."

You feel your cheeks tingle at his response, but quickly shake your head to compose yourself, "Do you… need any help with dinner?"

"I do not require any help. Not that I would trouble you with such trivial matters," he replies, walking away from the closet to head back into the kitchen.

"If you insist…" you hesitate; even after all this time, you're not accustom to having someone else doing all the house work, "I'll be in the living room watching TV. Come get me when dinner is ready, alright?"

Turning to you once more, Lycaon gives you a nod and a subtle smirk before walking into the kitchen. You don't realize your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away; watching the intricate parts on his prosthetic legs move as he walks, the way his right arm his bent behind him, his fist clenched, the way his large bushy tail wags gently as he--

You blink a few times, once again shaking your head and bringing your hand to your forehead.

Fucking hell, girl, get a hold of yourself. He's your freaking butler.

You turn and walk into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. Leaning forward, you grab the remote off of the coffee table and turn the TV on, mindlessly scrolling through the channels before settling on some talk show. You don't focus on the show, instead, you pull out your phone and check your notifications. You notice you have a Knock Knock message from someone, so you open the notification bubble to check it.

"Hey! It's Steve, are we still on for dinner tomorrow?"

"Oh… that's right… I'm supposed to have dinner with that guy Mom hooked me up with…" you say to yourself, rolling your eyes before you type out your response.

"Yeah. Did you still want to pick me up from my house?"

You see the typing ellipses pop up a few times before his response comes through, "if you're comfortable with that, yeah!"

Normally, you would never let some strange man pick you up from your house to go on some blind date, but you know for a fact Lycaon wouldn't let anything happen to you; those mechanical prosthetic legs weren't just for show. You've witnessed first hand the damage they can do a handful of times in the years you've known him.

"My lady," you hear Lycaon call to you from the threshold of the living room, startling you from your thoughts, "my apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no… it's fine. I'm guessing dinner is ready?" you reply, turning around to face him while still seated on the couch.

"Indeed. Would you like to eat in the dining room or here, my lady?" he asks as he straightens his posture.

"We can eat in here. Come watch TV with me Lycaon, I insist." you reply, waving him into the living room.

"As you wish, my lady, I shall plate dinner and bring it in here, one moment."

You watch as he gracefully turns around, walking out, the metallic rattle of his legs echoing as he returns to the kitchen. He returns promptly with two plates of food and utensils. He hands you your plate first before taking his own and sitting in a nearby chair. He crosses his legs, his large tail then settling onto his lap as be began to eat his meal. You waste no time digging in; you absolutely loved Lycaon's cooking and tonight was no exception. You're so focused on your meal that you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing another Knock Knock notification.

"I take it you don't want me to pick you up at your house…?"

"Oh shit…" you curse to yourself, having forgotten to respond to Steve.

You quickly text him to that it's fine and send him your address before gently setting your phone onto the coffee table.

"What was that all about, my lady?" Lycaon asks, as perceptive as ever, even while eating dinner.

"Oh nothing," you say, tucking your legs up onto the couch as you continue to eat dinner, "I'm just making plans with someone to go to dinner tomorrow night. I forgot to text him back."

"I see, should I plan to make dinner just for myself then?"

"No, set aside a plate for me… just incase the plan falls through…"

"As you wish, my lady."

The two of you continue to eat dinner in silence, your gaze unconsciously wandering over to him, lingering on his mechanical prosthetics before moving to the mask he wears on his face, which covers one of his crimson eyes. You've always wondered what had happened to him, but Lycaon never talks about himself and you didn't want to pry into something that is probably really painful for him.

Sensing your gaze on him, he clears his throat before speaking, "Is everything alright, my lady?"

"Oh--! Sorry, I was just zoning out…" you quickly retort before returning your attention to your meal.

Once the two of you are finished with your meal, you switch channels and watch the latest episode of Starlight Knights while Lycaon gets absorbed in a book. Exhaustion sinks its teeth into you suddenly and you fall asleep on the couch. Noticing this, Lycaon sets his book aside, standing up and scooping you into his arms before carefully carrying you to bed upstairs, his tail wagging gently the whole way there.

The next morning, you are pulled from your sleep by the smell of bacon. Your eyes slowly open and you stretch your arms out over your head, letting out a loud yawn as you do so. You glance over at the clock; it's nearly 10:00 in the morning. You're shocked Lycaon had let you sleep in this long. Upon setting your arms down in front of you, you come into contact with a breakfast tray. The food on it is still hot, Lycaon must have just brought it in. He made your favorite: waffles with fresh berries, syrup and bacon. You can't help but smile as you grab the nearby fork and dig in.

As you're eating, you suddenly realize you don't recall getting into bed last night, you were still wearing the outfit you had on yesterday. Lycaon must have carried you to bed… again. That's been happening more and more frequently, you feel terrible that he felt obligated to carry you to bed. Still, you feel a warmth in your chest thinking about him taking care of you; you guess that's only natural given he's been your butler for so long.

Your parents had insisted on hiring someone from Victoria Housekeeping when you decided to move out after buying a house, mainly for protection. Being the daughter of a prominent publishing giant came with its risks as you soon learned. As unnecessary as you found it at first, you were very grateful for Lycaon's protection and companionship. Even so, you were hesitant to admit you've caught feelings for the enigmatic butler; could anyone blame you though? Von Lycaon was legendary in both his services and his physical prowess; hence why your family hired him specifically. Only the best for their daughter.

Despite your complicated feelings for Lycaon, your mother insisted on playing match maker. This latest man she picked out is the first one you've entertained going on a date with, mainly to shut your mother up. You honestly had no desire to date anyone; you have everything you could possibly need right now, even with how you feel about your butler.

The rest of the day is uneventful and before you know it, the sun is setting, casting orange rays into your windows. Lycaon is in the kitchen doing up dishes when he hears a loud knock on the door. He stops, his gaze shifting to the front door as whoever is out there continues to knock. Letting out a low growl, he takes his hands out of the dishwater, drying them off before putting his fingerless gloves back on. Tucking one of his arms behind him, he approaches the front door, opening it. He is greeted by short human male, his brown hair greasy and slicked back with a red goatee that is haphazardly trimmed and rectangle glasses. The man's eyes widen upon seeing Lycaon, who is glaring down at him with a furrowed brow. The man tries to speak, but finds himself at a loss for words.

"What business do you have with my Master?" Lycaon asks, his tone dark, his threatening gaze unwavering.

"I… uh… I'm here to pick up… uh…" the male stammers, checking something on his phone.

"It's fine, Lycaon! I'm expecting him, his name is Steve!" Lycaon hears you call from within the house.

Upon hearing you come down the stairs from your bedroom, Lycaon turns to look at you as you approach the front door. You suddenly stop in your tracks upon seeing the man at the front door, your eyes wide.

He looks nothing like the photos your mother sent of him.

Sensing your unease, Lycaon goes to you, giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder as he shifts to stand behind you, standing tall and puffing his pectoral muscles outward; almost as if he's asserting his dominance. You banish the thought; that'd be ridiculous, he's your butler for crying out loud!

"Is this the person you mentioned you were going to dinner with, my lady?" Lycaon asks, his crimson gaze still locked on Steve.

You nod, swallowing hard as you struggle to get your anxiety under control. Your mother probably sent an outdated picture. Everything will be fine.

It wasn't fine. Steve took you to some dimly lit dive in Lumina Square; you didn't even think a place this dingy could exist. You are not a vain person, but this place is absolutely abhorrent. Steve was rambling on and on about god knows what, you stopped listening awhile ago; wishing desperately to be home where a beautifully cooked meal would be waiting for you. You're glad that you had Lycaon make a plate for you.

"-- so, what's with the Thiren living with you?" Steve asks, ripping you from your thoughts.

Realizing he's asking about Lycaon, you sit up straight, setting your hands onto the table, "he's my butler, why?"

Steve scoffs, giving you a sly smirk, "he's awfully jacked to be just a butler. I've never seen a Thiren built like that."

"He is able to protect me if needed, if that's what you're getting at," you reply, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice.

"You won't need him anymore," Steve says, that stupid smirk still on his face as he leans forward, resting his chin on one of his hands as he rests his elbow on the table.

You lean back, crossing your arms, "and why is that?"

"Because you have me now."

The silence that follows after Steve's statement could have been cut with a knife. You discreetly pull out your phone, opening the Knock Knock app and send a single message to Lycaon.

"Lumina Square please come."

"I don't recall telling you that we're dating," you finally break the silence as you look up at Steve, your heart pounding in your chest as your anxiety heightens.

"You didn't have to, you let me take you to dinner. It's clear you're now my girlfriend," Steve says, gazing at you like you're a slab of meat, "and I want you to get rid of that butler. I don't need some disgusting Thiren third wheeling us."

He's one of those people. Fucking great.

"Lycaon isn't going anywhere, thank you very much," you reply as you suddenly stand up from the table, making your way to the entrance of the restaurant, "this date is over."

Steve stands up, rushing over to you and grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you to him, "you're not going anywhere, sweetheart!"

The small handful of people in the restaurant just stare at the two of you as you struggle against Steve's grasp; no one makes a move to help you.

"Let go of me you greasy asshole!" you yell, spitting in his face.

Steve scowls, wiping your spit from his face before slapping you across the face. You cry out when his hand makes contact, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. One of Steve's hands grasps your back side, squeezing so hard that you know for certain it's going to bruise later. The other hand grabs your chin, forcing your head so it's facing his and he tries to kiss you.

The front door of the restaurant suddenly gets kicked in and you feel a familiar chill in the air. You don't need to look to know that your loyal butler has arrived.

"Get your filthy hands off my Master," Lycaon growls, his heavy steps quickly advancing.

Steve sucks in a breath, his eyes widening as he lets go of you, shoving you away. You can see that he's trembling, frozen in place. You notice a wet spot on his pants, right between his legs.

Oh my god… he's pissed himself.

You stifle a laugh at this realization as you watch Lycaon approach him. The individual parts on his mechanical legs popping out and coating in ice, cooling the air around him. You pick up the chatter around you.

"Isn't that the owner of Victoria Housekeeping?!"

"Yeah, that's Von Lycaon!"

"I wouldn't want to be that guy right now…"

Steve stumbles backwards as Lycaon stalks towards him, his posture confident and his right arm tucked behind him.

"Dude I'm sorry! I was desperate ok?! It won't happen again!"

"You're right," Lycaon growls, his eye shifting up at Steve, his gaze like a crimson dagger, "it won't."

Within a blink of an eye, Lycaon rushes forward, punching him in the gut. Steve hunches over, a splatter of blood coming out of his mouth. Lycaon brings up one of his legs, kneeing Steve in the face before bringing his other leg around to give him a roundhouse kick. You cry out along with the other patrons as Steve is hurled into the back of the restaurant, crashing against the wall so hard, it leaves a large indent in the wall where Steve's body made contact before crashing to the floor. For a moment, Steve doesn't move and you start to fear that Lycaon might have killed him; that is until Steve starts groaning, staggering while standing up.

"You… You hit like a bitch…" Steve groans, wiping the blood coming from his mouth.

You spot a subtle smirk form on Lycaon's lips as he walks towards Steve, ice once again gathering on his mechanical legs, several different parts starting to glow. He stands in front of Steve once more, who is now laughing nervously.

"Say that again, cretin. To my face."

Not so tough now that Lycaon is inches in front of him, Steve remains silent, his legs wobbling as he fights to keep himself standing up. You watch Steve swallow hard, seemingly building up his courage.

"You hit like a bi--"

If you had blinked, you would have missed Lycaon kicking straight upwards, causing Steve's head to violently snap backwards, an audible crack reverberating in the restaurant. Steve drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Lycaon takes a moment to brush himself off before turning around and walking up to you.

"Don't worry, my lady, he's not dead," he says, as if reading your mind as he gently takes your arm to lead you outside, "let's get you home."

The first thing Lycaon had done once the two of you had gotten home was start the shower for you. You have no idea how much time has passed since you stepped inside, letting the hot water fall on you as you silently cry. You should have listened to your gut when you realized Steve looked nothing like the photo your mother had sent you. That is the last time you let your mother play match maker. You felt awful that Lycaon had to basically come rescue you. There's no doubt your father is going to catch wind about what happened, especially considering the amount of damage Lycaon had caused in the restaurant.

You'll worry about that later. Right now, all you wanted to do was get cleaned up and go to sleep. You turn the shower off, pushing the shower curtain aside to step out, but you stop yourself. You find one of your bathrobes folded neatly on the counter next to the sink, but that's not all. A single red rose is placed on top of the folded robe. You carefully step out of the shower, approach the bathroom counter, gingerly pick up the rose and twirl it in your fingers slowly; the rose having been meticulously de-thorned.

Lycaon…?

Another spot of red in the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to look, you see that there is a trail of red rose petals on the floor that leads out of the bathroom. You take the robe and put it on, wrapping it around your nude body and tying it before you follow the trail of rose petals. Upon opening the bathroom door, you are once again stunned, too frozen in shock to move. The rose petals lead straight to your bed, the plush white comforter not only covered in petals, but with whole roses like the one you found in the bathroom; there's at least twenty of them, if not more.

You hesitantly walk towards your bed, your heart pounding in your chest. Did Lycaon do this? He must have, who else would have, you're the only two people in the house. But why? What does this mean? Your breaths are heavy, causing your chest to heave as you look down at your bed. You place your hand over your heart in an attempt to calm yourself. Surely, he's just trying to cheer you up after your horrific date. That must be it.

"My lady."

You suck in a breath at the sound of Lycaon's voice, slowly turning around to face him. Standing in the doorway, you immediately notice he's not wearing his signature vest, but just the white button up shirt he typically wears beneath the vest, the sleeves still rolled up to his elbows along with his black pants. The shirt is unbuttoned halfway, a tuft of fur spilling from his shirt. You feel your mouth hang slightly agape as your eyes run up and down Lycaon's form.

"If I had known you were going on a date with that… filth, I wouldn't have let you go."

He slowly approaches you, the sultry look in his eye erasing any doubts of his intentions; the sound of his mechanical legs walking across the floor echoing in your head as he approaches. You unconsciously take a step back away from him, the back of your legs hitting the foot of the bed.

"My liege," he whispers, the backs of his fingers gently caressing the side of your face, "there is no need to be alarmed. Unlike that disgusting drivel, I would never hurt you."

His fingers gently dance across your jaw line, moving downwards until he reaches your throat. You swallow hard as his fingers gingerly wrap around your neck, "that is unless… you want me to hurt you."

You watch his eye darken, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as his fingers delicately squeeze the pulse points on your neck.

"Lycaon we… we shouldn't do this. If my father finds out--"

"To hell with your father," he growls, stepping closer to you, "I've seen how you look at me, my lady; the way your eyes linger on me when you think I'm not looking."

His hand moves from your throat, sliding down to rest onto your chest, right over your racing heart, "I know you want this as much as I do."

Your head is spinning, being pushed and pulled between all your complicated feelings. You do want this. As much as you want this, he's your butler under your family's employ, you know it's wrong. You hesitantly shake your head.

Lycaon lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I can smell your arousal, my lady. You should know more than anyone that you can't fool me."

Wrapping one of his arms around your waist, he tenderly coaxes you to lay back onto the bed, his muzzle buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he cages you with his body. His hands grasp onto your thighs, gingerly spreading your legs apart so he can settle himself between them. You can feel him grazing his teeth along the side of your neck, to your jawline until his lips linger just in front of yours.

With a deep breath, you finally give in to your desires, kissing him deeply as your hands run up his chest. Your fingers find the buttons on his shirt and begin to unbutton them, his shirt falling open once you undo the last button. As your hands massage his chest, you can feel the toned muscle under his soft fur. Letting out a groan, Lycaon deepens your kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours.

You feel like the kiss lasts an eternity and let out a soft whimper when he breaks the kiss. He lets out a low chuckle as he leans down, kissing your collar bone as he unties your robe, pushing off you. Once your body is exposed, he trails kisses between your breasts, over your stomach until you can feel his warm breath over your folds.

"From this moment on, I will be the only man touching you," he states, his gaze locked on yours has he runs his tongue through your folds before continuing, "if a man so much as breathes on you, I will snap him in half like a twig."

Between his ministrations on your cunt and his words, you're completely overwhelmed by pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you lay your head against the mattress; your pussy walls fluttering around nothing. You hear another low chuckle from Lycaon.

"Oh? Do you like that, my liege? Do you like it when I protect you?" he asks with a playful tone.

He doesn't allow you to answer, however, because he immediately seals his lips around your throbbing clit, gingerly taking it between his teeth and caressing it with his tongue, reveling in the sound of the loud moans coming from you as he does so. You dig your heels into the bed as your hands grip the sheets. Your legs trembling, a strained cry comes out of you as you finally come undone on his tongue. Lycaon eagerly laps up your release.

"My lady, you're as succulent as the sweetest fruit," he says softly, licking your release from his lips as he begins to climb back on top of you.

He hooks both of his arms under your thighs, draping your legs onto his shoulders as he looms above you. Staring down at you longingly, he begins undoing the belt on his pants with one hand. Your eyes widen when he pulls out his member. It's massive, easily the biggest you've ever laid eyes on. You can't help but also notice the large knot at the base, causing your heart to flutter.

Is he going to fit?!

Leaning back on his haunches, he spits on your pussy, using his fingers to massage his saliva into your folds before leaning back on top of you. You can feel his cock prod at your entrance, causing your heart to race in anxiety and anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much, ok?" he whispers as he moves his hips forward.

You nod, sucking in a breath as you feel him penetrate you, his girth filling you up perfectly. As he begins to thrust, you watch his tail begin to wag back and forth, teasing a smile from you. His lips once again lock with yours, kissing you deeply as he fucks you with steady and even thrusts. Moaning softly into his kiss, you run your hands up his chest, then up the sides of his neck before settling on each side of his face, your hips moving in time with his.

He feels absolutely heavenly inside you, your walls squeezing his cock as it bullies its way deeper and deeper. He abruptly stops and pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach before lining his member back up with your throbbing cunt.

"I'm going to breed this beautiful pussy." he says, sheathing himself back inside you up to his knot, "fill you up with all my pups. Would you like that, my liege?"

He begins to thrust again, more aggressively this time. Each thrust forcing his knot into you, stretching you. You nod weakly as more moans spill out of you and before long, his knot is finally fully inside, creating a seal. It's a little painful at first, but that is quickly replaced by the intense pleasure coursing through your body as he pounds into you. Letting out a growl, he bites into your shoulder as his thrusts become sporadic.

You cry out is name, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you claw the sheets with your fingers, your second orgasm barreling towards you. With one final thrust, he pushes himself as deep inside you as he can possibly go without hurting you, shooting his load straight into your womb, painting your insides white with his seed. Your whole body is trembling from your release, your walls squeezing him as his cock continues to throb inside you.

You feel Lycaon's tongue lap where he had bit into your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek with his, his powerful arms wrapping around you, "are you alight, my lady?"

You turn to him, kissing him on the cheek unable to get the huge smile off your face, "more than alight, Lycaon."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

#von lycaon #lycaon #von lycaon x reader #lycaon x reader #von lycaon smut #lycaon smut #zzzero #zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero smut #gigabyte writes

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icyhotheartwritings · 2 years ago

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By the time I get the Sims up and running proper XIV will be back up.

#icy rambles #tries setting everything to potato graphics so my laptop doesn’t blow itself to pieces

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joelmillerisapunk · 7 months ago

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Watermelon Sugar

Dbf/neighbor/daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,522

Summary: At the annual neighborhood barbecue, you can't ignore the sparks flying between you and Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. What starts as playful flirting leads to a secret, steamy encounter that leaves you both wanting more.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, unprotected p in v, m! oral recieving, soft but dom daddy!Joel, Joel calls reader baby and sunflower, use of daddy, light choking, hair pulling, and spanking. And a lil aftercare. Reader has hair and wears a bikini.

Notes: I've been slow over here and a little inactive due to adulting ughhh, but thank you all for your love and support 🥰 I truly appreciate all of you! tysm @joelslegalwhre & @evolnoomym beta reading for me. Smooching you both forever. Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The annual neighborhood barbecue is a tradition you've always looked forward to, but this year, it feels different. Ever since you can remember, Joel Miller has been a fixture in your life—a man who could make you laugh with a single look and who always seemed to know when you needed a friend. But lately, the glances you exchange feel charged with something new, something you're not quite ready to name.

As you dab on a bit of perfume, you catch your dad's voice in the hallway, calling out that he's heading over to Joel's early to help set up.

“Be there soon!” You yell back.

—

As you step out of your front door, the warm summer breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat and freshly cooked burgers from the neighborhood barbecue, hosted by none other than Joel Miller - your dad's best friend and neighbor, the one youve had a crush on forever. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you walk towards his house, knowing that he will be there waiting for you.

Your heart races as you approach the familiar scene; tables filled with food and drinks, kids running around playing games, and adults chatting animatedly under the shade of trees. You spot Joel standing near the grill, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he expertly flips burgers on the sizzling hot coals. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from all his hard work preparing for today's event.

"Hey there!" Your dad calls out when he sees you approaching. "Just in time! We were just about to start eating."

You take a moment to admire Joel's form; how strong yet gentle he looks handling those flaming hot coals like they were nothing more than pebbles in a stream; how those little black shorts sit on his body just right, how that white baggy shirt hangs over his big broad shoulders hugging his thick neck just right. Damn it. Why does he have to look so good?

As you draw closer, the heat from the grill is almost as intense as the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of Joel. His head looks up for a moment as he sees you approach, a wide grin spreading across his face.

You take a plate from the stack and start to serve yourself, trying to keep your hands from shaking. The array of food is impressive: potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh fruit, and an assortment of desserts that would make any food lover weak in the knees. But your focus is on the grill, where Joel is now plating a burger that looks like a work of art.

"Here ya go, sunflower," he says. The nickname, worn in like a favorite pair of jeans from years of use, still makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. "I added a secret sauce.” He whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Tell me if it's as good as I think it is.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

As you take the burger from Joel, your fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You try to brush it off as static, but deep down, you know it's more than that. You take a bite of the burger, and the flavors explode on your tongue. The sauce is tangy and sweet, perfectly complementing the grilled meat's smoky flavor.

"Mmm," you moan, closing your eyes in appreciation. "This is incredible."

Joel's eyes light up with pride. "M’glad you like it." His eyes follow every movement of your lips, every chew, every swallow. It's as if he's savoring every moment of this interaction.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, telling yourself it's just appreciation for a good meal. But deep down, you know it's more than that. Joel has always been kind to you, always looked out for you, but now, as your eyes lock in a silent understanding, you sense something different. Something forbidden.

"So, you really like the sauce?" he inquires, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You nod eagerly, your taste buds still dancing from the burst of flavors. "Mhmmm! What’s in it?”

Joel chuckles. "That's top-secret information, darlin', Ain't gettin’ it outta me that easy."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you walk behind the grill and up to Joel. “How about we make a deal? You give me the secret sauce recipe, and I'll show you something I know you wanna see.”

"Alright, you've got my attention."

Slowly, with deliberate grace, you begin to lift your shirt just enough for him to catch sight of the vibrant pattern of your bikini top beneath—your fingers deftly move towards one side strap of this bikini top; teasingly pulling at it as if contemplating revealing even more than intended

"Fuck - " he breathes out, quickly shaking his head to compose himself before grabbing your arm to stop you. "Your dad's right there, the hell you doin'?”

With a mischievous wink, you let the strap snap back into place, leaving just enough to his imagination. "Maybe later then," you tease “If you wanna see the rest come find me Mr. Miller.”

Joel watches you step back and saunter away towards the pool, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. The playful sway of your hips is hypnotic, and he can't help but stare as you make your way over to the pool. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of desire that's clouding his judgment. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning his attention back to the grill, but the sizzle of the meat does little to drown out the sound of your laughter carried in the breeze.

He glances over at you, watching as you settle by the pool, your legs dangling in the water. You're a vision, your hair catching the sunlight, your smile bright and inviting. He tries to focus on the task at hand, serving people, and making small talk, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He can't help it; you're like a magnet, drawing him in against his better judgment.

He watches as you reach for a slice of watermelon on your plate, its vibrant red color promising a burst of sweetness. The juicy fruit is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. As you take a bite, the watermelon's juice is so abundant that it escapes your lips, trickling down your chin.

In an attempt to catch the runaway droplets, you quickly bring your hand up to your face. But in your haste, another stream of juice breaks free, trailing a path down your neck and disappearing into the valley between your breasts. The sensation of the cool liquid against your heated skin makes you gasp softly, making Joel groan under his breath. He watches you with an intensity that borders on feral. His grip tightens around the spatula he's holding as he takes in the sight of you, flustered and trying to contain the watermelon's sweet rebellion. His mind races with images he knows he shouldn't entertain—images of him licking away those sticky trails left by nature's candy on your skin; his hands following suit to ensure not a single drop is wasted; his lips tasting every inch they cover until there's no trace of watermelon left.

His body reacts before he can stop it—a sudden twitch in his pants that thankfully goes unnoticed by everyone else due to his strategically placed apron tied securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath to regain control over his runaway thoughts while simultaneously adjusting himself discreetly under the cover of fabric.

Taking the opportunity to step away from the grill, Joel grabs a cold Corona from the cooler, the bottle sweating as much as he is. He approaches you but stops for a split second to watch you. The sight of you lying there, your body still glistening with juices, makes his heart race.

"Thought ya might be thirsty," he says, handing you the beer, his voice deeper than usual.

You look up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Took you long enough," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you take the beer and sip it.

He sits down beside you, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're playin’ with fire, y��know that sweetheart?" he warns.

You just smirk, leaning back in your chair, your gaze locked onto his like a little puppy.

"You keep lookin' at me like that, and we're gonna have a problem," Joel says, his voice a low rumble.

"What if I want a problem?"

His intake of breath is sharp, and you can see the effect your words have on him. His jaw clenches, and there's a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that tells you he's teetering on the edge of control. You watch as Joel quickly gets up from his chair and walks away. He rounds the corner of the house before disappearing.

You wait for a moment before you put your beer down beside the one he left and casually stand up to follow him.

Around the side of the house, away from prying eyes, Joel is leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The moment he sees you, his eyes darken.

"What are we doin' here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close the distance between you, your body brushing against his. "Something we both want," you reply confidently, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

He captures your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "This is wrong," he murmurs, though the conviction in his voice is wavering.

"Does it feel wrong?" You challenge, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, his gaze dropping to your lips. Then, with a groan of surrender, he closes the gap between you, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve as if he's memorizing you by touch. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him, a mix of beer and the sweet tang of barbeque sauce, drives you wild.

Suddenly, Joel breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "We can't do this here," he says, glancing around to make sure no one has followed you.

You nod, your breath hitching as you realize the gravity of what you're about to do. "Then take me somewhere we can," you whisper back, your hand slipping into his.

With a groan that sounds almost pained, Joel takes a step back, pulling you with him as he leads you away from the party and towards the detached garage at the end of the driveway. His grip on your hand is firm, almost possessive, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The inside of the garage is cool and dimly lit compared to the bright sunlight outside. It's filled with tools and gardening equipment—a testimony to Joel's many hobbies. The door lightly closes shut behind you, sealing out the world and the sounds of the party. The air is thick with the scent of oil and wood, a heady mixture that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Joel wastes no time, pressing you against the cool metal of a parked truck, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

"You've been drivin’ me crazy all day," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Teasin’ me like that in front of everyone."

You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

His lips crash onto yours once again, demanding and dominant. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You can feel his stubble rough against your skin.

"You're playin’ a dangerous game, baby," he murmurs against your mouth.

He spins you around roughly, pressing your chest against the truck's hood. You can feel the cool metal against your overheated skin. His hands tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

"Tell me whatcha want," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"You," you gasp, arching your back to press closer to him. "I want you, Joel."

He rewards you with a slow grind of his hips against yours, the friction making you moan. "You want me to fuck ya, sunflower?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you whimper, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for support. "Please, Joel."

He chuckles darkly, his lips tracing a path down the side of your neck. "Beggin’ already? I thought you liked playin’ hard to get." You feel his teeth nip at your skin as he speaks. Your body trembles with need, your breathing coming out in short bursts. You don't understand why this feels so right, but you don't question it anymore. "Stay still," he orders, his voice firm.

You force yourself to comply, your body trembling with anticipation. He takes his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. When he finally reaches beneath the fabric of your bikini top to palm your breast, you can't help but let out a moan of relief.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb circling your nipple. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His other hand slides down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You're already so wet for him, and when his fingers brush against your clit, you can't help but buck your hips.

"Fuck, you're so responsive," he groans, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You're panting now, desperate for release. But he denies you, pulling his hand away just as you're about to tip over the edge. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "You don't come till I tell ya to."

He spins you around once again, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "I wanna see you baby," he says, his hands tugging at your shorts. "All of you."

You help him undress you, your hands shaking with need. Once you're standing before him in nothing but your bikini, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says, the concrete floor cool against your skin. You hear the zip of his pants and then them falling to the ground along with his boxers as he steps forward, his hands fisting in your hair guiding you to his cock. "Open up," he commands, his voice gruff. "Show me how much you want this."

You part your lips obediently, taking him into your mouth. He's big and hard, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eliciting a groan from above and then take him entirely until he's hitting the back of your throat.

"That's it, sunflower," he praises, his hips thrusting gently. "Just like that."

You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you take him deeper. His grip on your hair tightens, and you can tell he's struggling to last. "Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says, his voice strained.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The salty taste of his arousal mixes with the lingering sweetness of the watermelon, creating a heady combination that has you moaning around his length.

"Feels so damn good baby," Joel groans, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. His eyes are locked on yours, filled with a raw, unfiltered desire that sends a thrill through you. You feel his thighs quiver under your hands, and you know he's close. But before he can reach his peak, he gently pulls you away, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop.

"Up," he commands as he pulls you to your feet, his hands roaming your body once again. He unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground, and then he's cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. "Tell me you want this," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you baby."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

With a growl, he lifts you onto the hood of the truck and with a hunger in his eyes that matches your own, Joel hooks his fingers into the sides of your bikini bottoms, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly begins to peel them away. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. He tosses the bikini bottoms aside, his hands returning to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he steps closer.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs approvingly, his fingers tracing the seam of your cunt. You can feel yourself growing warm at his words, but you don't have time to feel self-conscious because he's leaning in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers continue their exploration.

One finger circles your entrance before pushing inside, making you gasp into the kiss. He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously as he establishes a rhythm that has you writhing on the hood of the truck. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusting fingers.

"Joel," you moan, your hands fisting in his shirt as pleasure builds within you. "Please..."

He chuckles against your mouth, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. "Please, what?" he teases, even as he adds another finger, filling you even more. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you inside me," you pant out, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he's playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Joel's eyes darken at your words, and he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

You ready for me, sunflower?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance.

You nod eagerly, your body aching for him. "Yes, please."

With a groan, he pushes forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out at the intensity of it. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel even better than I imagined."

As the initial shock of your union subsides, Joel begins to move, his hips setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is a sweet invasion, a claim that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

"Look at me," Joel commands, his voice gruff with need. You lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze searing into your soul. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his pace increasing with each word.

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You know the answer he wants, the answer that feels right in this moment. "You," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you, Daddy."

A shudder runs through Joel at the sound of the word Daddy falling from your lips. "That's right," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed vigor. "You're mine, sunflower. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy," you moan louder this time, surrendering yourself to him completely.

The words, once taboo, now feel like a secret language between the two of you. With each thrust, Joel reaffirms his claim on you, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his release.

"Harder," you beg, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. "I need more."

He responds with a growl, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the garage, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. "Is this what ya need?" he pants, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Yes," you cry out, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. "More... I need all of you."

In response to your plea, Joel reaches up and wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race and your head spin. The sensation of being restrained by him sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's a thrilling mix of fear and excitement that heightens the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that baby?" he rasps out, his eyes searching yours for confirmation even as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You like it when Daddy chokes you while he fucks your pretty little cunt?"

You nod as much as his grip will allow, your breath coming in short gasps as stars dance behind your closed eyelids. "Yes," you manage to choke out.

The world around you seems to blur into a haze of pleasure and desire as Joel continues to claim your body with an almost feral intensity. His grip on your throat remains firm, yet gentle enough not to cause harm, serving as a potent reminder of his control over you. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your neck only adds to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy that's building within you.

"Come on, sunflower, come for me." Joel grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeezin’ Daddy's cock.”

His words are the final push you need. With a cry that echoes off the walls of the garage, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, causing your entire body to convulse with the force of it. Your inner muscles clamp down around Joel's shaft, milking him as he continues to drive into you with powerful thrusts.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Joel isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax as he roughly pulls you up, positioning himself behind you.

"You think we're done?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I ain't even close to being finished with this sexy body of yours."

His hands grip your hips tightly as he lines himself up with your entrance once again. With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely and causing you to cry out in a mix of pleasure and surprise. The new angle allows him to go even deeper than before, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he sets a brutal pace that has the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the garage. "You feel so fuckin' good like this."

One hand releases its grip on your hip and tangles in your hair instead, pulling it just hard enough to tilt your head back and expose the long line of your neck. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he continues to pound into you from behind.

"Such a good girl," he praises between thrusts, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Takin’ Daddy's cock so well.”

His other hand comes down on the curve of your ass with a sharp smack that makes you gasp and push back against him for more. The sting of the slap only adds to the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he drives into you again and again. Each smack is followed by a soothing caress that sends shivers down your spine and makes a heat pool low in your belly once more.

"You like it when I spank this naughty little ass?" Joel asks wickedly as his hand comes down on the other cheek, this time eliciting another moan from deep within you. "Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes," you manage to gasp out between thrusts, your body shaking under his relentless assault . "I love it when you spank me, Daddy.”

The sound of your admission seems to spur Joel on even more. His thrusts become wilder, more uncontrolled, as he chases his own release. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back further, forcing you to arch your back and take him even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

"That's it, baby girl," Joel growls, his voice ragged with desire. "Come for me one more time."

His words are all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge once more. Your body convulses beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around his shaft as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Joel lets out a guttural groan as he feels your orgasm milk his own from him. His hips stutter against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, marking you his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the only sounds in the garage are the ragged gasps of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Slowly, Joel releases his grip on your hair and hip, his hands gently caressing the skin he'd so roughly manhandled just moments before.

"You okay, sunflower?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern as he carefully withdraws from your body.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you manage to say, your voice shaky but filled with a satisfaction that you've never felt before. "I'm good. More than good."

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck. "You're more than good, baby girl. You're incredible."

He helps you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you to steady you when your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His eyes scan your body, taking in the marks he's left on your skin—the redness where his fingers had gripped you, the faint handprint on your ass, the love bites that dot your neck and shoulders.

"Let's get ya cleaned up," he says, his tone gentle as he leads you over to an old sink in the corner of the garage. He turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before wetting a clean rag and using it to gently wipe away the evidence of what just happend.

You watch him, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the tenderness of his actions. This is a side of Joel you've never seen before—a side that's caring and attentive, a side that makes you feel cherished and loved.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean, he helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin with each article of clothing he helps you into. When you're fully clothed again, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're so beautiful, sunflower," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Inside and out."

The warmth of Joel's embrace and the tenderness in his voice make your heart flutter with a mixture of joy and trepidation. You're standing in a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've ever experienced.

"Joel," you say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter, "what does this mean for us now?"

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that takes your breath away. "It means," he begins, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently, "that I can't ignore these feelings any longer. It means that I want to be with you, truly be with you, in every sense of the word."

Your heart leaps at his words, but reality quickly sets in. "But what about my dad? What about everything else?"

Joel nods, understanding the weight of your concerns. "I know it's complicated," he admits. "And I don't have all the answers right now. But I do know that I can't go back to pretending there's nothing between us, that you're just my best friend's daughter.”

You smile at that, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "So... where do we go from here?"

"First," he says with a grin, "we get back to that barbecue before your dad sends out a search party." He gives you one last lingering kiss before stepping back to survey the scene. "Then we figure this out together—away from pryin’ eyes and family gatherings."

With a nod of agreement, you follow Joel out of the garage, your hand securely tucked in his. The world outside seems different now—brighter, more vibrant, as if your encounter has somehow altered your perception of reality. The sounds of laughter and music from the barbecue drift towards you, a stark contrast to the intimate silence you've just left behind.

As you approach the party, Joel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take this one step at a time," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the gathering. "Okay?"

You nod, grateful for his presence and his promise. Together, you reenter the party, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the secret you now share with Joel.

Throughout the afternoon, you catch each other's eyes from across the yard, exchanging knowing smiles, and subtle touches whenever possible. Your dad, none the wiser, chats happily with neighbors and friends, his laughter mingling with the sounds of summer.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood, you find yourself standing next to Joel by the grill once more. He hands you another beer, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent gesture of affection.

"So," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow, "how's that secret sauce treatin ya?"

You can't help but chuckle, the memory of your earlier exchange bringing a flush to your cheeks. "I think it's safe to say it's the best sauce I've ever had," you reply with a wink, taking a sip of your beer to hide your smile.

Joel laughs, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I don't know about that," he teases. "I might have to give you a few more samples before you can make such a bold claim.”

But before you can retort, your dad saunters over to join you by the grill. He claps Joel on the back affectionately and turns to address both of you.

"You two look like you're up to no good," he says with a smile. "What are you plotting over here?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words—does he suspect something?—but Joel seems unfazed as he throws an arm around your dad's shoulders with brotherly affection.

"Just discussing some top-secret barbecue business," Joel replies smoothly, giving your dad a reassuring squeeze before releasing him and turning back to tend to the grill once more.

—

Eventually, as the crowd begins to thin and the night grows deeper, your dad announces that it's time to start cleaning up. You join in, helping to gather plates and cups and fold tables, all the while feeling Joel's gaze on you.

Once the last of the guests have said their goodbyes and the yard is returned to its peaceful state, your dad claps Joel on the back, thanking him for another successful barbecue. "You outdid yourself this year, Joel," he says with a smile.

Joel returns the smile, though his eyes flicker to you for a brief moment. "Always happy to host," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of emotion that passes between you two.

Your dad turns to you, his eyes tired but content. "I'm gonna head home, kiddo. You coming, or are you gonna help Joel clean up?"

You glance at Joel, who gives you a small nod, understanding the silent question in your eyes. "I'll stay and help out, Dad," you say, your voice calm and composed. "You go get some rest."

Your dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Always the responsible one, just like your mother. Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

With a final wave, your dad heads off down the street, leaving you and Joel alone under the starlit sky. The moment his figure disappears into the distance, the air between you seems to crackle with anticipation.

Joel steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and intimate.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing everything, I guess."

He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight," he says softly. "But I want you to know what happened between us... it wasn't a one-time thing for me."

Your heart swells at his words, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "It wasn't for me, either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. Then, with a shared look of understanding, you both begin to tidy up the remaining mess, working side by side in comfortable silence.

When the last dish is washed and put away, and the yard is once again pristine, Joel takes your hand, leading you to the porch swing. The night is quiet now, save for the distant sound of a dog barking and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

You sit down next to him, the swing creaking slightly under your combined weight. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both look up at the stars.

As you sit there, nestled under Joel's arm, the stars twinkle above, casting a serene glow over the quiet neighborhood. You feel a sense of peace and contentment that you've never experienced before, a feeling of being exactly where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful tonight," you murmur, your head resting against Joel's shoulder.

“It sure is," he agrees, his voice a soft rumble. But when you tilt your head back to look at him, you realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at you. His eyes trace the contours of your face, drinking in every detail as if to memorize you, to etch this moment into his memory forever. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, a silent indication of the smile he wears in his heart, a smile that reaches out to you, enveloping you in its embrace.

"Joel..." you begin, unsure of what to say next. There are a million thoughts swirling in your head, a million questions about what the future holds for the two of you.

He seems to sense your unease and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out, sunflower," he assures you again.

You take a deep breath, letting the comforting weight of Joel's arm around you anchor you to the present moment. The uncertainty of the future looms ahead, but for now, you choose to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"I know we will," you reply.

Joel's smile is soft. "That's my girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Brave and beautiful.”

The gentle sway of the porch swing and the rhythmic chorus of crickets lull you into a state of peaceful tranquility. Your eyelids grow heavy, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Joel notices your drowsy state and smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Come on, sunflower," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your weary senses. "Let's get you inside." With surprising gentleness, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stands from the swing. You let out a sleepy protest but quickly settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he carries you into the house.

He navigates through the darkened rooms with ease, making his way to his bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, pulling back the covers so he can tuck you in.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around the room, turning off lights and setting an alarm for the morning. When he's satisfied that everything is in order, he begins to undress, shedding his clothes until he's standing in nothing but his boxers. The sight of him—all hard planes and toned muscles—makes your breath hitch in your throat despite your sleepy state.

Joel catches your gaze and chuckles softly. "Like what ya see?" he teases gently as he slips into bed beside you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Always," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes darken at your confession, but he makes no move to act on the attraction that still crackles between you. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Get some sleep, sunflower," he says softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of your face.

You nod again, snuggling deeper into the covers as Joel turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The bed shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, the heat of his body a comforting presence in the cool room.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Joel's arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, and he lulls you into a deep, peaceful slumber. In the quiet darkness of the night, with Joel's protective embrace surrounding you, you feel safe and cherished. The worries and uncertainties of the future fade into the background, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging and you know this is exactly where you were meant to be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader

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kumkaniudaku · 5 days ago

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Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

Noise complaints ran $25 a pop in Asia's building. Twenty-five dollars from her bank account and an awkward conversation with Alister when they crossed paths on Asia's way to the parking garage early the following Thursday morning.

"Please, don't take this wrong, but you and your friend are…loud. You gave our book club quite the show last weekend."

Asia could still feel the rise of bile in her throat while she listened to her usually quiet next-door neighbor explain every single sound and shout from her and Kelvin's escapades in extremely graphic detail. The taste seared into her tastebuds, following Asia into the afternoon's internal review. At the same time, Savannah, the brand lead, ran through slides outlining the wonderful world of influencer marketing to sell mid-tier poison their client called alcohol.

Desperate for a break from endless droning and word soup, Asia carefully took a screenshot of her noise complaint charge and copied it into a message for Kelvin to reawaken a thread that regularly kept them up into the wee hours of the morning.

Her mental vacation ended before it could start, forcing her back into the action. She placed her phone face down on the large conference table and tried to refocus while waiting for any sign that he'd received her attachment. She didn't have to wait for long. Asia's lips curled into a goofy grin when Kelvin broke eye contact from the presentation to glance at the message notification on his laptop screen. He maintained an impenetrable poker face to take pretended notes, exaggerating every deliberate tap against backlit black keys.

Kel You lowkey were kinda loud when we got back. It was cute. I'll pay. Zelle or ApplePay?

Asia bit back a smile at blurred flashbacks of the wall clock above her television ticking down the seconds til midnight with Kelvin's face back between her legs, pushing her past her limits for his pleasure and hers. Her fingers danced across the phone's digital keyboard.

Pretty Girl 💖💚 Don't worry about it. I had to be loud to cover for you.

Kelvin's grey bubble appeared and disappeared twice before vanishing altogether. Asia tried not to stare at the side of his head, hoping the telepathy she swore existed as a child still worked. She looked at Savannah and noted the color on her perfectly shaped nails. Then, she counted the grey hairs in the strategy director's beard, stopping at 35 before growing tired of the neverending task. Her attention shifted to the typo on the recap slide as she made a mental note to flag it in her post-meeting notes. A cough in the room made her ears perk for a second to determine if the offender was sick or dealing with a dry throat. Definitely sick. What she could make for dinner floated around with other fragmented thoughts. Potatoes, maybe? Pasta?

Unfortunately for her, nothing could hold her attention quite like the man coolly clicking-clacking on his sticker-covered laptop, seemingly unconcerned with her last text.

Kel I like the way you taste. Sue me. ApplePay: $28 Extra for the transfer

Static enveloped Asia's entire body, sending shock waves straight to the apex of her thighs until she was forced to cross her legs to stifle what she was sure would sound like a kitten's purr if she didn't put a muzzle on it quickly.

A smug smile graced Kelvin's otherwise expressionless face to add further insult to injury. In his periphery, Asia sat perfectly flustered with no outlet for all the squirming she tried to hide. Squirming that instantly reminded him of how he couldn't let her leave him on Saturday night without kissing both sets of lips one more time.

"Asia, can you update us on the timeline?"

Time lost to reliving every atom-splitting, toe-curling moment from the weekend left Asia scrambling to rearrange windows on her laptop to fulfill Savannah's perfectly reasonable yet ill-timed request. "Uh, yeah! One…one second."

She silently thanked the creator for protecting her screen from prying eyes while she tried to cosplay as a serious businesswoman. Sweat beading at her temples attempted to crack Asia's facade. Still, she recovered with a dancer's grace with nanoseconds to spare before a quick pause turned into awkward silence.

"Alright, cool. Sorry about that. Thursday is basically Friday for my brain," she apologized, earning mumbling agreement from her peers. "So, yeah, we're tracking toward Friday's round one client review. Andy, you'll take over copy duties for Kelvin since he's moving on to greener pastures at the end of the week."

Varying degrees of disappointment bubbled from the small group, forcing Kelvin to clarify Asia's intentionally vague announcement. "Greener pastures as in new business, y'all." Kelvin used a charming smile to douse burgeoning speculation sure to follow news of his departure. He shot Asia a warning look meant for her understanding alone. She shrugged to play innocent, and he chuckled at her act. "But, I'll take one of those goin' away happy hours like Ty's if y'all wanna give me one."

"Speaking of Ty's thing, are we cool with La Chila down the block? My wife says I gotta get more steps in for our family weight loss challenge. A walk to an early dinner counts, right?"

"Walking off ten calories to eat 700 in one sitting is insane, Chris."

Savannah's patented matter-of-fact quip generated enough uncontrollable laughter to distract the team from Asia's half-baked project timeline and Kelvin's air kiss in response to her middle finger emoji sent via Teams.

For all the time spent discussing boundaries and ways of working through their unconventional arrangement, remaining purely professional during their three days in the office was by far the easiest line in the sand to stay behind. They kept a careful distance, never spent time without another party present, kept electronic chats on work devices to a minimum, and never ever discussed their weekends as two parts of a whole when the topic inevitably reared its head during group lunches.

But, try as they might, rumors swirled in private pockets of office gossip until all interested parties were gathered over creamy, spicy queso and post-work margaritas.

Kelvin sat next to Asia as innocently as he knew how, ignoring the urge to rest his hand on her thigh while they whispered over which entrees they'd choose for the evening. Asia leaned into his body to share one menu despite having her own inches from her fingertips. She listened to Kelvin's recommendations with a soft smile and starry eyes, making sour cream and pinto beans seem like the most interesting inventions since the portable CD player. They were like magnets pulled together by an unseen force, unable to resist the other.

Already two shots and a celebratory sombrero dance number in, Ty used his privilege as the guest of honor to point in the duo's direction. "You two are super cute together. Aren't they super cute together, Sav?"

Always his partner in crime and cocktails, Savannah excitedly agreed as she waived an uneaten tortilla chip around in the air. "Oh my God, yes! I always thought that but, like, didn't want to be the blonde white girl shipping the two black people on the team."

"Well, I am black, and I think so too." Asia and Kelvin shot individual glares in Sidney's direction. She shrugged and smirked. "What! I can spot two hot people who need to be hot together from a mile away. I'm the one who hooked Ty up with Eric in analytics."

"And, while we despise each other now for reasons I won't share, it was fun while it lasted!"

Kelvin played it cool for both of them, calmly shifting his torso away from Asia to pluck a chip from the communal basket. "I hate to break up the love fest, but nothing is going on between us. We're work friends."

"At best," Asia added.

Ouch. Kelvin internally bristled at her unprompted callout with his cold beer bottle's amber tip pressed against his bottom lip. "At best."

If they'd tried harder, maybe they could've convinced Chris, Savannah, Sidney, Maddie, or a very tipsy Ty that what they had was a surface-level, totally uninvolved friendship. And, though they had no proof outside of speculation in a side chat, they all vowed to keep an eye on Thing 1 and Thing 2.

"Yeah. Alright," Sidney scoffed. "Friends at best. That's what we'll go with today. Everybody starts off as friends until that regular hug turns into a mouth hug. Ask my fiancé."

Chris groaned and ran both palms down his beet-red face. "Ya know, every time we have one of these, I leave knowing way too much about you, Sid. Fuckin' gross!"

_______________

Though margaritas had long been finished and Ty's desk was now just an empty surface waiting for a new tenant by Friday morning, Asia couldn't roll into her girl's night at Sabrina's without Sidney's accusation searing a hole into her memory.

Were they just friends? She'd long reckoned with the reality that physical intimacy wasn't enough to swing the pendulum in the dating direction. This was an arrangement for experience's sake, not one designed to turn weekend touching into date nights and meeting the parents.

But, she couldn't shake how Kelvin tensed at the mention of their working relationship or how acknowledging there was no room for more wilted the sprout of hope she'd been watering since the art show. He didn't correct her, and she couldn't bring it up because, well, they were playing by her rules. And you can't switch the rules in the middle of the game. That's cheating.

"Wings or pizza? Or and? Wings and pizza?"

Sabrina contemplating their options for "cheat day" yanked Asia back from a rapidly progressing mental spiral. She sipped from her glass of white wine before responding. "Depends. You getting it from the spot around the corner?"

"Duh," Sabrina scoffed while scrolling through the restaurant's online menu. "If I'm gonna cheat, I wanna enjoy it! Give me something to look forward to for next time."

"Um, are we still talking about food?"

The pair eyed each other from opposite ends of the couch, sporting grins threatening to explode into a fit of giggles. "I am if you are," Sabrina answered before slurping from her glass. Her eyes shifted to the ceiling to avoid facing Asia's judgment. "But, I'm not if you're not."

"Let's not even go there! You turned over a new leaf this week." Asia was more than privy to her friend's past transgressions. Old Sabrina was ruthless in her pursuit of happiness. New and Improved Sabrina was more settled in her relationship. Or, if nothing else, a better liar.

Before Asia could remind her host about the edibles she promised to furnish for their all-night Living Single binge, her phone buzzed beneath her thigh to steal a second of her attention.

Kel ??? My place this weekend? Pls Wanna make you a better steak than the one at the restaurant

Each short buzz in her palms made Asia giddy as she suppressed a squeal and mulled over how to reply. Her thumbs typed, deleted, typed, deleted, hovered, then typed again to craft a worthwhile response.

To: Kel Might need to actually hear you say pls. idk. sounds fake.

Sabrina watched her friend's grin outshine the LED lights bathing her in a faint blue glow from her crossed-leg position on the floor. She tried not to snoop but felt left out. She used a drawn-out sigh to pry Asia's attention away from her phone screen.

"Is that the boy? Art Hoe?"

Asia kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. "I said that as a joke! His name is Kelvin, and yes, that was him. Just confirming some plans for tomorrow."

"So, is he like…your boyfriend? Y'all dating? Catch me up!" In their decade as sorority sisters and close friends, Sabrina knew of only one romantic interest in Asia's life: Joshua. Tall, dark, and effortlessly flirtatious, what started as innocent flirting while completing their work-study program crashed and burned into weeks of snotty crying. Mary J. Blige cranked to ungodly volumes inside their shared off-campus apartment. Six weeks of heavy-petting caused a lifetime of hurt Sabrina was sure ruined Asia for good.

Until three weeks ago, when text messages began interrupting their evenings of alone time. Sabrina would consider all the pesky interruptions water under the bridge if Asia was willing to come off of her secret lover and fill out the details of their peculiar relationship.

Asia wrestled with sharing until the buzz of Sauvignon Blanc convinced her that someone should know about the man keeping her holed up inside her place once a week—for safety purposes, of course.

Sabrina scooted closer to the edge of her floor pillow once Asia opened her mouth to speak but eeked out a girlish squeak instead. Asia calmed herself with a deep breath and then dished in one breath. "I don't know what the fuck we're doing, but damn it's good."

"Oooooh, Asia's got a boyfrieeeeend!" Sabrina teased.

"Not a boyfriend! We're just hanging out. He's…helping me with something?"

The murkiness in Asia's 'something' made Sabrina press for more. "Something like what? He hanging TVs or laying pipe?" The end of her question awakened a twinkle in Asia's eye like a code word, effectively dropping Sabrina's jaw to the floor. "Oh my God! Are you…are you having sex?"

Asia shrank back, finding herself no match for the immediate shyness sending heat to her face. "Kinda? He offered to help when we were out one night, and I said yes. We have a lesson every weekend, and he –"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Sabrina interjected as she waved her hands in front of her face. "Hold up. That man is teaching you how to fuck every weekend? That's where you been for damn near a month?" When Asia sheepishly nodded in the affirmative, Sabrina stood to dramatically throw her body on the couch. "Bitch. Spill right now, or I will kick you out of my house!"

There was no sense in hiding the truth. Sabrina would press until she was satisfied with Asia's answer, completely unraveling any suspected lie thrown her way. Asia needed to be thorough. No stone left unturned. No racey detail left untold. No story too insignificant to go unshared.

In the middle of Asia, recollecting how Kelvin had her gasping for air the previous weekend, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. 'Kel' lit up the screen. 1 Audio Message sat underneath his contact name like gold at the end of an unexpected rainbow.

Asia chewed her lip, tossing the idea of opening his gift with an additional set of ears in the immediate vicinity. "He just sent a voice note."

"You gon' play it?" Enthusiasm sent Sabrina inching closer for a better view of Asia's phone screen. "Play it!"

If not for curiosity gnawing at her mind and her friend's insistence, Asia would've left the message unplayed until she returned to the privacy of her own home. She had to know why a one-word request took three minutes and a few extra seconds. What was so important that he needed an entire song's length to get it all out?

Her finger quickly tapped the play button to pop the cork on Kelvin's response.

Rustling greeted Asia and Sabrina first. Then, a steady, deep breath filled an otherwise silent recording.

"Fuck." The audible squelch of skin on lubricated skin mingled with strangled moaning until he could speak again. "You just want me to beg? That's okay. I'll beg for you."

Sabrina's hand floated up to cover her open mouth. "Girl, is he…?"

"Shh!"

Asia couldn't pry herself away from the primal nature of each grunt and groan, no matter how much she attempted to will her body into action. Long, drawn-out moans quickly grew into choppy gasps. Curses devolved into fragmented pleas. Her name became a breathy chant until he'd worked himself into a tizzy. "Please, Asia?"

Registering coherent thoughts turned into a chore, leaving Sabrina to undertake stopping the recording before she knew more about Kelvin than she planned for one sitting.

They sat in stunned silence together, waiting for the other to break the ice. Asia slowly turned toward Sabrina to do the honors. "I need you to teach me how to suck dick. I'm talking 2014 Sabrina levels."

"Okay, first of all, that was a special time that can't be recreated," Sabrina answered before taking a long sip of wine. She'd long retired from legendary status on their college campus. Her jersey was in the proverbial rafters, making her a first-ballot Hall of Famer, able to bask in her long list of accomplishments and leave the game behind. But duty called. Asia watched her friend's lips slide into a smile before Sabrina sat back against the couch. "Second of all, Asia," she cooed as she lunged forward to wrap her friend in a hug. "You like him! Oh my goodness, this is so cute!"

Asia released a pitiful sound into her hands that eclipsed Sabrina's excited squeals. "I do. Fuuuuuck, I do!"

Realization felt like a prime Muhammad Ali punch to the face. She did like Kelvin. Try as she might, through all the so-called boundaries and walls she'd built for protection, the growing vines of feelings continued to grip her into its warm embrace. She liked him.

"Let's go. I got you!"

The couch shifting and lightening under Sabrina's retreating weight made Asia's eyes open in surprise. "That's it?" Confusion knitted her brown as she sat up straight to catch Sabrina sliding a light jacket over her arms and sliding her phone into her pocket. "Wait, where are you going?"

"We are going to the sex store. You gotta drive, though. Eric has my car." She answered while sliding her feet into slippers. When Asia didn't immediately make moves to venture into the chilly night air, Sabrina looked her up and down. "Or you could practice on the dick I got back there, but I have to boil it first. Me and Denzel had a time last night!"

Asia didn't mean to gag at the thought of putting her friend's used dildo in her mouth as she gathered her keys and phone from the coffee table, but she couldn't control the reflex. "You're nasty," she mumbled en route to the front door.

"Oh, baby, you haven't seen nasty yet. Just wait." Asia passing in front of Sabrina to exit provided the perfect opportunity for the taller woman to land a hard smack on her friend's ass and laugh, earning a sharp gasp in reaction as the sound reverberated against the hallway walls.

"Ugh, I'm about to make a mini-me! I'm so excited!"

_______________

All three minutes and a few seconds of Kelvin's begging weren't in vain.

With the sun setting beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking bustling downtown streets, Asia couldn't help but pat herself on the back. If she was going to choose any acquaintance to casually fuck and try not to fall for on her way to self-discovery, she was glad it was one with impeccable design taste and a view.

Canvas art and eccentric sculptures in every corner turned an ordinary space into something of an art gallery. Incense burning near the souped-up entertainment stand filled the room with something rugged and masculine Asia couldn't place but loved all the same. Family photos hung in the entryway gave her a glimpse of his life outside of the buddle they'd created. They looked like a jolly bunch, each with identically toothy grins and peanut butter skin tones. A look at his waffle boucle couch had her wondering what it'd be like to spend a rainy Sunday morning cuddled up with Kelvin's chest pressed to her back and his lips leaving soft kisses on her neck.

She hadn't seen much beyond his open-concept floorplan and the large kitchen with enough appliances to make Martha Stewart light up with joy. Before she arrived with dessert, she doubted Kelvin's ability to whip up anything outside of boy dinner or the occasional pancake. Never did she imagine the fragrant aroma of handcrafted cowboy butter spread across expensive cuts of steak. Creamy mashed potatoes sat steaming beside perfectly cooked broccolini, waiting for the entree to finish and for Kelvin to remove his hand from Asia's bra.

He kept her pressed against his island, one hand holding him steady against cold quartz and the other palming one breast while their tongues and lips danced a coordinated waltz to share the citrusy bite of orange-flavored sparkling water.

Asia broke their kiss first for a deep breath to treat her weak knees. "You're gonna burn the food," she warned as Kelvin drug his lips down the side of her neck.

"I'm paying attention. Got about a minute. Come here."

Their plans for a "more intense" session were doomed by Aunt Flo and her scheduled appearance. Asia insisted on calling the evening a wash and rescheduling for a better time, but Kelvin refused. More than anything, he liked spending time wrapped in her presence. Her prancing around his apartment in her helper's apron and a matching lounge set felt just domestic enough to imbue his mind with thoughts of her being around more permanently. Maybe a few more visits. Perhaps a spare key and a drawer or two for her things.

Asia returned to Kelvin's lips eagerly to sigh and keen for more against him until time slipped into an abstract concept for two minutes that felt like twenty. Rapid beeping from his microwave timer shocked them into pulling away, eliciting silly smiles and embarrassed chuckles.

Kelvin left Asia with one more peck before taking quick steps toward the stove to lower the blue flame. Asia watched his back tense and ripple beneath a crisp white T-shirt while he transferred a piping hot steak to a cutting board to rest.

"Babe, come over here and taste test for me?"

The word had already tumbled from his private thoughts into the open air too quickly for Kelvin to take back. He clamped his eyes shut to briefly pray God spared him from explaining his slip to the woman he wasn't supposed to fall for.

Asia calmly closed the distance between them, an easygoing smile showing no indication that she'd heard Kelvin's blunder. He let the moment pass without drawing attention to himself to carefully feed his dinner guest a juicy piece of medium-cooked steak.

He held a hand under Asia's chin to catch any spillage, and his eyes sparkled with intrigue as she took a small chunk into her mouth to judge his skills.

She dramatically hummed in approval and nodded. "Mmm. Okay, you were right," Asia complimented after slow chews to savor the taste. "That is the best steak I've ever had. I underestimated you. Forgive me."

"I'll forgive you after you rate the potatoes. Lowkey, I put my foot in those. Ankle deep."

"Gross, Kel."

Asia's rating for the potatoes? 10/10. For the chef? There wasn't a scale to convey how far he'd shot off the charts.

Easy conversation, full of budding inside jokes and the right amount of flirting, kept their time together lively. Quiet intimacy worked well for them. When chatter dwindled and cleaning took center stage, they fell into a wordless routine of washing and drying dishes side by side until the job was done and tired legs intertwined to rest from a long week.

Shadows dancing across Kelvin's face as he focused on some documentary he'd begged Asia to watch stole all her attention each time she looked at the other end of the couch. She tried to subdue Sabrina's voice in the back of her mind, trying to convince her to break the seal on all the knowledge she'd crammed in one night. Rushing into a skill she hadn't quite mastered sounded like a great idea when she had a front-row seat to his goosebump-inducing self-pleasure session. Seeing him innocently learn about the feeding patterns of nocturnal jungle ecosystems and considering a plan to renege on their decision to exist in non-sexual harmony felt wrong.

"But he started it." Asia thought to herself. The fondling. The kissing. The innuendos during dinner. The voice note is an invitation. He wasn't looking for sex, but he wouldn't mind it…right?

She had to make her move while she still felt confident. Otherwise, she'd allow Samira Wiley's voice to lull her to an embarrassingly deep sleep.

"Hey," she whispered to get Kelvin's attention. He didn't budge, finding too much interest in the luminescent carnivorous plant luring insects into its trap. Asia called to him again using a different method. "The potatoes weren't that good. I lied."

Kelvin scoffed. "Yeah, right. You cleaned your plate. Twice."

"My mama taught me manners, babe." She sassed, accentuating the pet name on purpose.

Kelvin kept calm with his signature charming smile while his pulse spiked internally. So she did hear me. He wasn't sure how to respond. Stopping to have a pow-wow about what exactly they were doing now that the rules of engagement felt wildly different would needlessly slow a good thing to a screeching halt.

So, he swallowed every question to redirect his nervous energy into gently tugging Asia's ankle to bring her a centimeter closer. "You should come down here with me."

Jackpot.

Asia didn't expect her plan to unfold so quickly. Swapping sides to lie face to face opened the door to more touching, kissing, shared breaths, and head highs under the twinkle of skyscraper lights.

Tensions rising brought flashes of Sabrina and her boot camp back for Asia with renewed ferocity. Now or never. Grab that dick by the horns or something along those lines.

"Can…can we try something tonight?"

Kelvin tightened his grip on her ass cheek and pulled away from her neck. "Try what?"

"I wanted to try, um, you know…fellating…you?" Asia mentally scolded herself for sounding timid as Kelvin snickered against her collarbone.

"Fellating? What is this, sex ed?" He chuckled, earning an agitated smack from Asia to the back of his head. He nuzzled closer to kiss a spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Seriously, you don't have to do that. I'm okay with what we're doing. No pressure."

He was right. No pressure. She knew that already. But pressure wasn't guiding her off the couch and onto her knees between his thighs. That was curiosity. And the pressure wasn't what drove Kelvin crazy as she helped him out of his sweats and briefs to carelessly toss them to the side. That? That was untamed desire flooding every bone in his body. Pressure had no dominion in his living room. Only the spirit of exploration and freedom.

And nervousness. Definitely nervousness.

Give him eye contact. Cover your teeth. Use your tongue. Relax your jaw. Suck, don't just glide. All of the sage advice from the previous night blurred into one incomprehensible ball of incessant chatter across the grooves of Asia's brain.

She chose to kiss her way into confidence, dropping slow pecks across Kelvin's thighs like he'd done to her in their last session. Delicate touches and soft lips made his muscles tense while he watched her watch him.

He draped one arm across the back of his couch and rested a hand on her cheeks to run his thumb along the spot. "That's perfect. Go as slow as you want. Stop when you want. It's your choice."

Reassurance and an encouraging smile convinced Asia to test her high school-level knowledge of anatomy. No amount of videos linked in her Girl's Talk Reddit thread or hands-on, dildo-led speed runs with Sabrina could prepare her for an up close and personal view. At least they both seemed happy to see her.

His dick stood at half-mast, waiting for Asia to make a move. More kisses took her from muscular inner thighs up the length of his shaft and to a tip already glistening as if to welcome her into an event where the host was awaiting her arrival. A spark of wonder made her swipe her tongue over the spot to taste, but the quiet curse from Kelvin kept her there for more.

Spit on it. Sabrina's voice reminded Asia as she debated what to do next. Not a gross factory worker chewing tobacco spit. Slow. Make him watch. Asia used the saliva coating her mouth in a Pavlovian response to connect with Kelvin once she pulled away to get a better look at her subject.

A slightly above-average size. It wasn't close to her practice dummy, but 11 inches was ridiculous, even by Sabrina's standards. Well-groomed. Prettier than any she'd ever seen on the other side of a screen. Heavy in her hands, but not enough to make her think twice about eventually working it down her throat. A work of art waiting for her oral appraisal.

Kelvin's head lulled back against the wall as his jaw dropped to make space for a shuttering breath. "Fuck, that's sexy." He used all the strength in his neck to look back down at Asia. "Where'd that come from?"

"I wanted to surprise you," she answered, round-doe eyes peering back at him. "So, I took a little lesson." She leaned forward to wrap her lips around his tip and suckle for a few seconds to see if Sabrina was right about the expected reaction. Kelvin's hand sliding from her jaw to her chin to hold her steady was all the confirmation she needed.

At some point, Kelvin would come off Cloud 9 to inquire about Asia's mystery teacher. Not out of jealousy or to accuse, but to find out who should receive the flowers and card he'd already mentally purchased for their service.

He'd be lying if he said Asia had reached pro status. Every tentative lick and split second of disjointed rhythm reminded him that she was a novice in the game. It didn't stop him from singing her praises while she worked double-time to get the hang of things.

She listened to instructions and turned them into action, taking every "Just like that" and "Slow up" in stride as she learned the ropes. Asia allowed Kelvin to guide her head up and down until she no longer needed his help to maintain a toe-curling one-woman show.

He swallowed the lump in his throat to provide positive reinforcement. "There you go. Wow, you look so pretty right now."

Asia felt like she had the entire world in her hands. What power. She could command his every movement with her mouth and illicit unfathomable sounds with a flick of her tongue. Older women made the act sound so degrading as if engaging with a man in this way made her more property than a fully realized woman. And maybe the men they dealt with hadn't been partners willing to treat them like equals. But Kelvin showered her with so much affection and care that it made her want to go the extra mile.

The twisting motion of her palms against slick skin made Kelvin curse to the ceiling, undoubtedly disturbing the unfortunate soul above him. The sight of him beginning to unravel sparked an idea. "Is this what you like?"

He blinked his eyes back into focus and nodded. "Hell yeah. You think you can try both?"

She'd give it a valiant attempt.

For a moment, Asia mulled over how to maintain harmony between parallel work streams. She observed her hands for the right moment to bring her mouth into action as if waiting for her cue to jump into the center of double dutch ropes.

Up and down. Twist. Suck. Go now! Shit. Kelvin observed while the wheels turned in her head, trying to split his attention between how cute she looked with her brow furrowed in thought and how that tell-tale pit in his stomach was starting to tense his abdomen.

Her leap of faith caught him by surprise, dragging out a long, throaty moan as she quickly settled into what looked like an effortless working relationship between body parts.

Arousal awakened goosebumps across his skin. His nipples ached for touch, and he satisfied them by slipping a hand under his shirt. His brain began to cloud, robbing him of words he knew he should've offered as encouragement. His head felt like a boulder on his neck as he rested against the back of his couch.

Bursts of light played behind his eyes as the inevitable greeted him with open arms. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, desperate to get Asia's attention. He couldn't surprise her with the release approaching hard and fast. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum. I don't wanna –"

Asia didn't need the explanation. Thankfully, Sabrina had already prepared her for the endless possibilities once an eruption seemed imminent. She slowly removed her mouth and added a second hand to twist in the opposite direction. The grand finale. The moment they'd both been waiting for.

Kelvin thrust into her palms to coax out warm spurts of semen over Asia's fingers and down her knuckles. She caught herself moaning with him, unable to contain the sound as she watched the reward of her work slide between each digit until her lover was spent and heaving for more oxygen to soothe his burning lungs.

"Stop, stop." His pleading reminded Asia that she was still pumping, still milking him for all he had left. Her inner voice told her to prolong the moment and see how far she could push him until he was a babbling mess that only she could control. Kelvin saw the monster in her grin and rushed to kiss her, hoping she'd consider a different option.

Their tongues and lips returned to each other in a panting, sloppy kiss while Kelvin used the distraction to push Asia's hands away before she started something they both knew she wasn't ready to finish. He had plenty of towels and wasn't opposed to breaking a rule or two.

Sticky fingers growing increasingly uncomfortable made Asia pull away. "This is starting to feel weird in my hands," she laughed.

"Oh shit, my bad." Kelvin forced himself to forgo one more kiss as he rested his forehead against hers. "Washcloths are in the bathroom closet. Bring one for me?"

"Of course."

Asia sported a goofy, proud smile while staring into his bathroom mirror, warming a bathing towel to take back to Kelvin. She wondered if texting Sabrina immediately would be in poor taste. Should she drop an emoji in the broader group chat full of their line sisters and go ghost waiting for them to decipher her cryptic message? Or would it make more sense to try and gather as many of the images flashing through her mind as possible, like reels passing through a view master, and store them for her alone time?

She pushed all the options elsewhere in favor of returning to Kelvin with a wet rag to gingerly clean all traces of their unplanned romp from his still blazing-hot skin.

He watched her with infatuation, coloring his gaze and a grin on his lips. His girl. At least for the few hours they got to spend willinging sharing their bodies with one another each weekend. He could pretend they were two people dating in pursuit of the elusive love he'd seen up close once before but couldn't hold on to. She'd be so beautiful sitting across from him on a night out, her fingers interlaced with his while they traded sweet everything over candlelight. He'd learn her favorite colors and her deepest fears. She'd listen to him go on and on about nature docs and make him go to bed when the wee hours of the morning crept up on him and his latest project.

Asia's gaze flashed up to catch him transfixed in a daydream she needed to know about. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Wanting to tell her the truth and wanting to maintain their mutually beneficial relationship pulled him in opposite directions. He took a deep breath to roll the dice, hoping that once he uncorked the words, they wouldn't create a stain big and messy enough to make what they'd created unsalvagable.

"If you're up for it," he started, cautiously choosing as he spoke. "I think we should try the real thing next time."

--------

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#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #kelvin harrison jr. smut

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bitchesuntitled · 4 months ago

Text

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.”

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #Joel miller sat on me 2024

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beomcoups · 7 months ago

Text

Food Wars pt. 1

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chef!Mingyu x chef!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, suggestive (next part will be spicier, I promise), coworkers to lovers au, 18+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, kissing, mention of death (nothing graphic), suggestive grabs of the hips and ass 💀

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.2k

𝐀𝐍: Part 1 is heeeeeeere! This is apart of the world tour collab hosted by @svthub. Part 2 will be posted soon. There are alot of people here who helped me cultivate this fic and assure me that what I wrote didn't suck lol. Thank you @wooahaeproductions, @seokgyuu, @hobeemin and @hannieween for looking at bits of this for me. Also thank you to @highvern , @cheolism , @okiedokrie @bitchlessdino @gyupremacy for shooting ideas with me (ahem, cologne!) and finally @milfgyuu , I know you want to be tagged in anything related to your man :)

You knew it would come to this, and as good as you are at hiding your poker face, you are annoyed. A food competition, really? You almost burst out with laughter when Rich, the restaurant's owner of The Palm Cuisine, told you. The Palm Cuisine is one of the most popular restaurants in the U.S., with three locations in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. He is opening a new restaurant in Madrid, Spain, and wants to take one of the sous chefs to make them the executive chef. You are the better chef, and everyone knows it, but in the spirit of “fairness,” you have to go against another person for the owner to make their decision. That other person is no other than Kim Mingyu, the golden boy of the restaurant who is almost as good as you in the kitchen. Almost.

It’s not like the position was directly promised to you, but deep down, you always assumed it would be yours. You have been there the longest, know the menu from top to bottom, and have even stayed extra nights you didn’t have to for the benefit of the restaurant and the team. You eat, breathe and shit this place. It feels like a slap to the face. “Put the knives down, girlie,” your coworker and good friend Shena nudges you.

You sigh, gently setting down the knives you used to cut your potatoes. “I’m fine,” you whisper, turning around and rolling your eyes. “I am totally fucking fine.” You close your eyes and take a small, deep breath, centering yourself before returning to reality. Disappointment would be an understatement if you had to describe how you feel. The Palm Cuisine is the first and only restaurant you have worked at as a chef, starting as a prep cook and working your way up to sous. You always imagined yourself making it to executive chef—overseeing the restaurant's menu, preparation, cooking, ordering, and operations. The place specializes in Spanish food, and you can confidently say you could plan a Spanish menu with your eyes closed. Tapas, gazpacho, paellas, you name it, you’ve done it. And yet, you must constantly prove to everyone (mainly the men) that you deserve to be here. It’s exhausting. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, wondering if you will snap and break a rolling pin or cry in the bathroom. Instead of giving them the satisfaction, you turn around with a beaming smile. “Well,” you quirk an eyebrow. “Let the food war begin!” “Oh, splendid!” Rich squeals. “I was worried you would be upset.” “Why would I be upset?” You cock your head. “I mean, it’s only fair, right?” He chuckles nervously, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Why don’t you and Mingyu come into my office, and we can discuss it further?” You nod as he beckons Mingyu over and follows him into his mid-size office. It smells of fresh linen, courtesy of a scented oil on his bookshelf. It looks like a typical place of work, complete with a desk, laptop, and hundreds of documents related to the restaurant. It’s cold in contrast to the warmth of the fires in the kitchen, and you long to be back in front of the heat, cooking from your heart.

You’ve been cooking since you were ten, watching your grandmother in the kitchen slave away for all the major holidays. You remember how it felt when you made your first apple pie - how you went to the local market and bought the freshest green apples you could find and cut them up like she did, adding the right amounts of nutmeg, brown sugar, and other needed ingredients. You made your own crust and watched everyone marvel at your dessert. You guess you could say that your grandmother stirred your love for cooking. God, you miss her.

You hear Mingyu shuffle behind you, the scent of chocolate and cream greeting you before he does. You nod, moving to the seat furthest away from the door to give yourself space. You don’t hate Mingyu; you two are friendly with each other and help each other out when needed. He’s always treated you with respect and never condescended you when you made a suggestion. Your eyes undoubtedly work, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit he is handsome. His model-like looks, toned body, great hair, and he just happens to be a good cook? It’s almost not fair. But fortunately for you, you haven’t fallen for his charms. He’s the golden retriever that everyone wants to be around. Well, except for you.

“So,” Rich starts as he shuts the door. I want you to know that I respect both of you, and it was tough to make this decision; hence, we are doing this. Plus, it’ll be fun, bring up the morale of the restaurant while we’re in Madrid—” “Wait,” you hold your hand up. “Are we going to do this in Madrid?” “Well, yes,” he says casually. “It’s only fitting we do it there. It’ll give you a chance to feel the vibe of the area and get some fresh ingredients. Lord knows you can’t get it here in the city.”

Mingyu chuckles, and you instinctively dig your thumb into your palm, your mind already thinking of the cost of a ticket, hotel space, etc. Rich can be a dramatic pain in the ass sometimes.

“We will cover everything, of course; all you need to do is be ready for international travel. You can bring one person from the restaurant as your assistant. Oh, and here is some paperwork you will need to fill out.” Several minutes later, with all the paperwork signed and details worked out, you shuffle out of the office one by one. Rich leaves first, rushing out like a bat out of hell, his wooden smell following him and the tension in your chest. You’re plagued with thoughts about coming up with a menu, packing to leave, and who’s going to watch your cat Grey while you’re gone. You feel undervalued, still bothered that you even have to do this. Does your many years of being here not mean anything to Rich? Is your cooking not good enough? Why keep hinting that you could have something bigger here just to string you along? All of this frustrates you with a passion.

You need a fucking drink.

Your nose wiggles at the smell of rich chocolate, your mouth salivates, and your stomach rumbles shortly after. You have a terrible habit of not eating when hungry as you focus on making food and serving others. While your mind is on food, you aren’t paying attention to Mingyu in front of you, bumping into his back. Your face grows hot with embarrassment, refusing to meet the gaze of your competitor for your dream job. “Hey.” His deep voice knocks you out of your mental fog.

“W-what’s up?” You stumble through your words. “I just want to say it’s an honor going toe-to-toe with you for this spot. There wouldn’t be any other person I would want to go against. You’re a great chef.”

For that tiny moment, you felt seen and appreciated. Aside from Shena, no one seemed to care about the hard work you put into The Palm Cuisine, and you thought about quitting so many times. But despite being unappreciated, you love the food, the culture, and the customers that come in. You can’t imagine yourself anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat. “You’re good too.” Mingyu nods, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. Seeing him up close, you have to admit, he’s attractive. You get why everyone trips over their feet when he’s around. You have much more discipline than that despite the vibrations through your body. “Also, you need to eat,” he says matter-of-factly. “I heard your stomach before you bumped into me.”

Whatever spell you were temporarily under ceased immediately, knocking you back into reality.

“Ladies first,” he says, moving out of the way to let you through. His hand lightly touches your back as you walk by, making that part of you hot as if it were touched by something warm. You return to your stations, cleaning them off to be ready for the customers who are set to come in later. “What was that about?” Shena pops up beside you, eyeing you suspiciously. “Just some stuff about this unnecessary competition and getting an assistant to help me and whatnot,” you shrug.

“Wow, that’s kind of grand,” she looks perplexed as if you are telling a joke.

You nod, grab a granola nearby, and take a bite, curbing your hunger a bit.

“So…” you let your voice trail off in suspense. “How about you come with me to Spain?”

Your morning sucked. You barely slept, and when you finally did, you woke up to three missed alarms and was running an hour late. You had less than a week to plan to leave the country and spent most of your night packing for ten days and making sure your cat, Grey, would be comfortable while you were gone. He is a rescue; you adopted him from the animal shelter when you volunteered with Shena a year ago. He was your cuddle buddy; you haven’t been without him for more than a day. “I’m going to miss you, buddy,” you give him a good scratch. He purrs lazily, curling himself into a ball and going back to sleep. You are grateful that Shena’s girlfriend, Lumina, offered to come over and feed him while you were gone. You were considering dropping him off at one of those pet daycares for the week or hiring a cat sitter, but she came through in the nick of time. She works at the animal shelter you adopted her, and coincidentally, that’s where she and Shena met and fell in love.

It was nice seeing them fall for each other. It was like watching a silly, quirky rom-com play out in front of you. You see the magic in Shena’s eyes when she looks at Lumina, the warmth in her voice when she talks about her. Shena described Lumina as a warm hug on a rainy day, and you could believe that. They are made for each other.

You hear a notification on your phone telling you your Uber is outside. You send a quick text to Lumina, giving her the code to your door, and give one last look around before you go across the ocean. “Bye, Grey,” you whisper, ensuring the door is locked before leaving.

Silvery-white clouds rolled into the early morning sky as you walked to your Uber, the ground wet from the fresh rain a few hours before. The smell of rain has always soothed you; the clean, earthy petrichor wakes you up a bit more. You quickly greet the driver, putting on your AirPods and playing a playlist you made. You watch the remaining droplets of rain left on the window roll away as your driver cruises down the highway. Where you come from, it hardly rains as it's primarily hot year round. On the rare occasions when it did, you would open your bedroom window, sit in your bed, and watch the water hit the Oleander flowers in your backyard. It was one of your two favorite smells in the world, the other being apple pie.

Mixed in with your annoyance about having to have a competition to prove yourself as a chef, you are looking forward to leaving the country. You have never been to Spain before, let alone Europe. You have traveled and seen a few things, but Mexico is the farthest you have gone. You spent much time last night looking up main attractions, museums, and local areas to see if you have the time. You want to visit the local markets and taste the local food. Rich set up all of your travel and living arrangements, and all you have to do is show up and cook. You are going to make the most of your time there. Who knows when you will be able to travel again? At the very least, you plan on coming out of this thing, winning it all.

“We’re here.”

When you look up, the airport entrance pulls up to your right. The ride feels shorter than it is, but you are lost in thought about many things. You thank your driver, grab your suitcases, and walk to the airline’s front desk to turn your bags in. You arrived with thirty minutes left to spare, and there was a long line already; it wasn’t even 8 am. You can’t help but yawn as you hand over your bags to the agents, fatigue and the lack of sleep kicking your ass.

“You’re all set,” the agent hands over your printed ticket. “Have a safe trip.” You nod, heading towards security and breezing through the checkpoints before arriving in front of the underground train. Your purse feels heavy on your shoulder, and your eyelids threaten to close as you stand. You usually have good sleep management, but you stressed over this trip all night. What if you come all the way out to Spain for nothing? You don’t think you could continue to work for Rich anymore. It would hurt too much.

The train comes shortly after, and you shuffle inside, trying to find a seat in the back before it is taken. You see one and settle down, your shoulders dropping as you finally sit down. You lean your head on the cold pole, hopeful that closing your eyes for a minute will give you some of your energy back.

“Are you as tired as I am?” You recognize that voice, annoyance slowly creeping in as your longing for a bit of solitude is interrupted.

“Mingyu, what a surprise,” you mutter without cracking an eye open.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your voice. It’s one of a kind,” you deadpan.

He chuckles as the train flicks forward, sitting next to you. You begrudgingly pull out your ticket, realizing you will not get to relax until you’re sitting on that plane. Noting the concourse you need to get off on, you look ahead, counting the stops you have until you have to get off. Mingyu hums softly, adjusting his backpack and pulling out his headphones.

“Have you ever flown first class before?”

Your head snaps his way, not registering what he’s saying. “What?” “First class? Have you ever been?” “I-uh, no,” you stumble through your words. “Why does it matter?”

“Uh, did you even look at where you’re sitting?”

“Well, yes?” you say incredulously, looking at your ticket again. “Of course, I know where I’m sitting—”

You don’t finish that sentence; instead, your mouth forms a small “o,” unaware that you would be sitting in first class. You have never flown in those seats before, the closest being business class a couple of rows behind the curtain. Those tickets were not cheap, and you only purchased them because you wanted to treat yourself to graduating culinary school, which you were able to do by saving all of your tips from your waitressing job.

You don’t like admitting that you were wrong, and you aren’t going to admit it now. Instead, you rake your fingers in your hair, nodding and shoving your ticket in your back pocket.

“You’re welcome,” Mingyu taunts you, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head.

You can barely suppress your smile, saved by the announcement that your concourse is approaching. You both rise out of your seats, moving towards the doors before the train jerks suddenly, making you fall forward into Mingyu. He grabs your hips, holding you steady until you’ve caught your balance. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, and your body is hypersensitive to his inadvertent touch. His grip is firm and protective, bringing an unexpected tingle to your core. You couldn’t feel more thankful that you were looking down; you couldn’t look him in the eye out of embarrassment. You don’t even have a crush on this guy, yet you feel hot and bothered.

“Be careful, princess,” he crouches low enough for your ears only. “We don’t need you flailing around this train.”

“Don’t do that,” you scoff. “Don’t call me princess.”

“Why?”

The train doors open, and you calmly remove his hands from you, gazing deep into his eyes.

“Because I’m far from that.”

You walk away before he has a chance to respond, looking for the gate you need to be at. Bitchiness aside, you stand on what you said. You aren’t some helpless person waiting in a tower for someone to come save you or give you a handout. You’ve worked hard for everyone to see you more than a woman, as it already has a stigma. The constant belittling of your intelligence, being told to “wait your turn,” you are done with it. You’ve taken control of your destiny your life, and you will not be treated like some delicate little girl waiting to be saved from a castle… no matter how hot the knight is.

You feel relieved when you find your gate and a familiar face sitting with her iPad in her hand. As if she felt you coming, Shena looks up and waves you over to where she is sitting. Dressed in mint green sweats and matching crocs, she stands out in front of the dull black seats.

“There you are,” she greets you with a hug. “It’s not like you to be late. I sent you a text wondering where you were.”

“You did?”

You pull out your phone, and sure enough, you have received one unread message from her. She must have sent it when you were on the train, distracted by Mingyu and his hands on your body. It’s not like you to get riled up, and it ticks you off that it happened with him, of all people. Your life is a joke.

You plop down next to her, cocking your head back in exhaustion. Before fully relaxing, you feel the seat beside you shift, followed by the smell of light cologne and chocolate. Looking over, you see Mingyu adjusting his bag before setting it on the ground. He is holding a small chocolate bar and taking a small bite, savoring the decadent treat as he licks his lips. You look away before being caught, chagrined that you were staring at him for that long. What is with you?

“Oh hey there, Gyu,” Shena waves at him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, I just got here,” he smiles. “I had to find my way to the gate since this one here is a speed walker.”

“Oh? You guys arrived together?”

“Not together, together,” you emphasize. “We just happened to be on the same train, that’s all.”

You purposely avoid Shena’s eye contact, clearing your throat and changing the subject.

“Did you notice we are flying first class?”

“Yeah!” Shena beams, pulling out her ticket. “I’ve never been out of the country, let alone first class. Lumina was bummed she couldn’t tag along. The shelter has her tied up, and it is kinda last minute.”

“Aww,” you rub her knee. “There will always be a next time, right?”

Shena nods, and the flight attendants announce they are about to start boarding, starting with first class. You pop out of your seat first, grab your things, and stand in line. Anticipation drills in your heart, wanting nothing more than to sit in some very comfortable seats and sleep throughout this 8-plus hour flight. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mingyu behind you, his eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. He leans in closer, the hairs standing on the back of your neck as his lips barely touch your ear.

“I know you’re not a princess,” he whispers. “You’ve proven to be more than that. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to care for you sometimes.”

You were next in line and couldn’t respond without the flight attendants giving you weird looks. Instead, as they check your ticket, you do what you know best: bite your tongue, smile, and push it aside.

Madrid is exquisite; it is everything you saw on your Pinterest board and more. You’ve been here a few days and are in love. You are surrounded by gorgeous cerulean waters, good weather, and historic sites you always wanted to see as a child. The Almudena Cathedral, one of the most prominent catholic churches in the world, took your breath away when you went to visit. The Francisco de Cubas architecture throughout made you appreciate art more, one of the most beauteous works you have ever seen in person.

You also took time to visit the local market, talking with the locals about their lives and picking up fresh food to try out different dishes for the competition. Shena was a big help, taking over in Spanish if you needed help and also giving fresh ideas on what to cook. You knew a bit of Spanish to get around the city and ask questions, but coming from a Spanish-speaking household, Shena could convey your ideas in ways you couldn’t understand. You will be forever grateful for that.

“It looks like we’re here.” Rich called you both to the restaurant this evening to show you around and tell you where your cooking stations would be. The restaurant stood atop a hill, with small walk-up steps made of stone mosaics. Surrounded by boutique shops and a couple of markets, this was the only restaurant on the block; you couldn’t miss it. You understood quickly why Rich took this location. He meets you at the entrance, greeting each other in dos besos.

“Welcome, let me show you around. Mingyu is already here.” You walk into the small waiting area before entering a gorgeous main dining area with walls made of Spanish moss brick. The bar is neatly placed in the middle, already loaded with the finest wines and other liquors. The dining tables and chairs are made of mahogany, giving you a vibe that you are back home in the country.

“Ah, there he is,” Rich looks to your right.

Mingyu walks up, wearing a white beater accentuating his well-toned arms and acid-blue jeans that hit him perfectly. You couldn’t stop ogling him if you wanted to; you would’ve thought he was a model off the street if you didn't know him. His eyes scan Rich and Shena before landing on you, a slight smirk on his lips that only you seem to notice. Ever since your encounter at the airport, he’s been on your mind, and you hate it. You still feel his hands on your hips on the train, as if he imprinted on you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had to find the bathroom.” “No worries,” Rich waves him off. “Let me show you around.”

He takes you to where your cooking stations would be, explaining how everything was set up and where to find your ingredients so you could prepare them. The competition is in three days, giving you enough time to finish your menu and prep before the big day. The kitchen is magnificent, a sight straight out of your daydreams: stainless steel appliances, expensive cast irons, and utensils you’ve always wanted that were way out of your budget. You may hate the idea of this competition, but working at this location would be a dream come true.

“Imagine if we got to work here,” Shena whispers. “I’ve only seen kitchens like these on Master Chef.” You nod in agreement, your fingers barely grasping the counter's surface. Rich finishes showing you around and asks everyone what their plans are leading up to the big day. “Nothing, just prepping and looking around the city a bit more,” you shrug. “Well, that sounds boring! ” He exclaims. “Madrid has such a fun nightlife. It would be a shame for you to miss out. As a matter of fact, why don’t you kids go to Kapital tomorrow? I can get you a table, and you can let loose.”

“Well, shit, okay!” Shena pipes up before you can respond.

You groan internally, not in the mood to be body-to-body against strangers, sweating your hair out during loud music. You don’t see yourself having fun until this whole thing is over. How does this guy expect you to relax? It’s not like his dreams are on the line. You look over at Mingyu, who matches your gaze, leaning against one of the refrigerators.

“Yeah,” his eyes finally tear away from you. “I’m down.”

You’re the only one left who hasn’t given an answer, and everyone is looking at you expecting one.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you mask your disdain with a smile.

“Great!” He claps his hands in excitement. “I will send you the details later and get you set up. Have fun.”

Rich walks you out, and you ask for the bathroom. You need a moment to pee and think in peace. He points you toward one, and you walk into the grand bathroom decorated with an old European interior that was undoubtedly above your salary. You walk to the furthest stall away from the door, rubbing your temples as you do what you need to do. For the most part, you handle stress well. You compartmentalize your feelings about what needs to be done, and you’ve been fine. Even now, with this competition vastly approaching and Mingyu somehow encompassing your thoughts when you’re around him, you’re fine. You haven’t cracked.

You aren’t sure why this is affecting you so much. You still think about when he touched you on the train and how your body felt alive. You haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Is your body so desperate for intimacy that you melt at the first person who gives you attention? No, that can’t be it. You’ve been fine all this time. Why is Mingyu getting under your skin? Shaking those thoughts away, you wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. Swinging the door wide open, you are met by the man who has been plaguing your thoughts since you’ve been here. He was waiting for you, his back leaned against the wall, fiddling with a toothpick in his mouth.

“Rich and Shena are waiting for you… you can get kind of lost here,” Mingyu says.

“Mmhmm,” you nod slowly. “Well, let’s go.” The walk back to the front feels longer than it is. He hums a soft tune as he strides beside you, like he’s your equal, your partner. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but you feel comfortable.

“So, what have you been doing since you’ve landed?” Mingyu asks.

“I did some sightseeing,” you respond. “I visited the Almudena Cathedral and the local markets with Shena and got some ingredients for the competition. Oh, and worked on the menu.” “That’s it?” Mingyu looks surprised. “There is so much more of Madrid you have to see.” “Well, it’s not like I have a lot of time to go out there and explore,” you defend yourself. “Plus, I can’t really relax with this thing coming up.” You point at the kitchen. “How do you do it?” “How about I show you?”

You stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from the door.

“What do you mean show me?” You eye him suspiciously. “I’m going to pick you and Shena up tomorrow, and we will explore together. There’s so much the world has to offer besides cooking and work.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“You’ll see.”

You both walk outside, and Shena sits at one of the tables, talking candidly on the phone. Rich is nowhere to be found. The moon peeks over the horizon, the white orb’s light shining over the waters. Normally, you wouldn't agree to such a thing, but he has a point. Maybe you should live a little. “You are something. You know that?

Mingyu shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just believe in living life to the fullest. We don’t know how long we may have.”

You eye him more, studying his face in hopes that you can find a false truth and be more at ease. When you don’t, it does the opposite of relaxing you; it makes you nervous. You might be starting to like this guy.

Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll send you the address.”

“He’s here!” You check yourself out in the mirror, smoothing the middle of your blue floral white dress. You opted to wear your hair in a low bun, matching earrings, and a necklace you’ve had for years. Sliding on your white sandals, you grab your purse and leave your room. “Phew!” Shena whistles at you. “Qué guapa estás!”

You roll your eyes playfully as she pops out of her seat, sporting a white top and blue jeans, accessorized with a light cardigan and a simple gold necklace. You usually wouldn’t dress up this nice for an outing with friends (and Mingyu), but you wanted to be prepared for anything, and it would kill you if you were underdressed. Plus, you were going to be in Europe! Why wouldn’t you want to be prepared?

You walk out of your Airbnb and meet Mingyu as he comes in. He is dressed casually in a white collared shirt and black shorts, the slight breeze lifting his shirt and exposing his abs. It took a lot of brainpower to look away, instead diverting your attention to the inside of your purse. He looks tanned and relaxed, as if he is one with Madrid. If only you could relax like that.

“Hey, Gyu,” Shena waves. “Thank you for leading the way on this grand adventure.”

“No problem,” Mingyu smiled. “I want this to be a fun day, and I figured we have a driver, so why not?”

He looks at you, and your heart patters. The sun and slight breeze do not help your plight as you fight internally against acknowledging how sexy he looks. You hate your body for the way it’s betraying you right now, feeling inadvertently turned on.

“You look pretty,” he marveled at you.

“Thanks,” you nod sheepishly, walking to the black car behind him. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

There is a tiny bit of you that wants you to look good for him, to be seen that you put in the effort. When you get in the car, you greet the driver, sitting in the back row, hoping he will get the hint that you want to be left to yourself and your thoughts. But that didn’t work that way, as he climbs in and sits right next to you, with Shena seated in the row in front. His cologne is light, different from the usual sweet, chocolatey smell you’re accustomed to when he’s around. It’s enchanting, exciting, and further puts you in a mood. “So where are we going?” Shena probed, snapping on her seatbelt. “The Royal Palace,” Mingyu announced. “They have a tour, and I figured we could get lunch afterward.”

The driver pulls off, and you gaze outside the window, admiring the beautiful architecture of Madrid. Visiting the Royal Palace was on your bucket list, but you didn’t think you would have time. You’ve seen the pictures on Pinterest and talked to some locals at the restaurant who have been, but you’ve always been told that tickets are hard to get. You never thought it would be attainable for you.

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu’s deep voice infiltrates your thoughts.

“Nothing, really,” you say, smoothing out your dress. “I am just enjoying the foreign atmosphere.”

“Foreign atmosphere?” Mingyu chuckles. “That’s an interesting way of saying you enjoy the view.”

“Well, are we not in a foreign place?” You retort.

“Well, yes.”

“Alright then.” You look back out the window, biting your lip to hold back a grin. You are thankful for the soft tunes from the car radio, letting the reggaeton beats drown out your very loud thoughts. Mingyu gets you riled up in a way that no one can. He doesn’t frustrate you in ways like the other men do at the restaurant. Deep down, it’s not in an ill manner; he is just like the golden retriever: nudging your leg with a bone in his mouth, begging you to play with him.

“I brought you something,” he nudges your shoulder. “I know you didn’t eat.” You look down and see that he is holding a granola bar coated with vanilla and almonds, poking out of a sandwich bag. The sweet smell is heaven to your nose, and your mouth slightly salivates. He tapes Shena on the shoulder, handing her one of her own.

“You made this?” Shena probes, carefully taking it from him. “This is really sweet.”

You take a small bite of it, and your taste buds do a happy dance. The vanilla was freshly made, and you taste the granola, almond, and sweet spices used to make this perfect bar. You aren’t big on breakfast, as you’re used to getting up and moving on the go, but occasionally, you will grab a granola bar and eat it on your breaks at work, this one explicitly being your favorite. Maybe Mingyu knows you better than you thought.

“You’re right,” you confessed. “I hadn’t eaten anything. Thank you.” The car pulls to a stop, arriving at the grandiose building known as The Royal Palace. You wait until everyone leaves the vehicle, barely climbing out without tripping over your feet. Standing outside of the gates, you are in awe. You aren’t sure if it’s dopamine, but the air suddenly feels different and almost cleaner. You scrambled into your purse, pulling out your portable camera to photograph the palace. This place may not be one of the world's seven wonders, but in your heart, it is. “Oooo, let’s take pictures while we are here,” Shena squeals.

She pulls you and Mingyu close to her, takes over the camera, and snaps a few photos together and separately. Usually, you would be annoyed if it was someone else, but she is your best friend. You can let her get away with a few things. Mingyu goes to the booth to confirm they have arrived, returning with three tickets to take inside. “We can go in through a separate entrance since I got the tickets ahead of time,” he announces. You flip through the pictures through the camera, excited to take more. You feel his eyes bore into you, and you suddenly feel hot.

“What are you looking at?” You say, putting your camera away.

“Your smile,” he confesses with a cheeky grin. “I want to see it more often.”

You gaze at each other for a moment, your mouth parted with much to say and nothing at the same time. Mingyu keeps leaving you speechless, and you aren’t mad about it anymore.

“Are you two gonna keep staring at each other lovingly, or are we gonna do this thing?” Shena’s words snap you out of your reverie, and Mingyu chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. You walk over to her, linking your arm with yours.

“There is nothing loving going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “Let’s go look at some royalty.”

When you planned for this trip, you set a time to visit the Almudena Cathedral, visit the local markets, and plan your menu. You weren’t going to hold Shena to that standard even though she is your assistant. You thought you would be fine if you focused on nothing but food and didn’t get distracted. Mingyu, however, might be proving you wrong.

You sit at his Airbnb, watching him make lunch for you and Shena. He insisted on making something instead of eating out somewhere, and who are you to turn down a free meal? The Royal Palace was everything you imagined, learning about the history of Spain beyond what was in your textbooks in high school. You consider yourself a history buff, wanting to learn more about the world across the different seas. You’ve had that desire when you were a little girl, sitting on your grandmother’s lap and listening to her stories from when she traveled as a young adult. She never got to visit Spain, but she talked about it a lot, being that they were world conquerors (or, as you like to say, colonizers) back in the day. You really miss her.

Mingyu sets your plate in front of you, a fried calamari sandwich with a side of garlicky mayo and fries he made himself. He tops it off with a small squeeze of lemon juice, just as you like it. When you make this at the restaurant, you always add lemon juice on top to give it more depth, but instead of the mayo, you have paprika-spiced tomato sauce on the side. Either way, this shows that Mingyu has been paying attention when you felt incognito.

“Dig in,” he announces, sitting next to you at the island bar.

It’s a comfortable silence between you three, munching away at your well-seasoned meal. If you had to be honest with yourself, it’s the best sandwich you have ever had. He fried the calamari in olive oil, turning it every minute or so because it doesn’t take that long to cook. He apparently had the calamari sitting in milk in the refrigerator since this morning, allowing it to tenderize before mixing it with his own seasoning flour. You and Shena offered to help, but he turned you down, stating you were his guests and he wanted to treat you to something good before you went out later that night.

“This was really good,” Shena praises him as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You have to come over again and make these for Lumina and me.”

“Anything for you two,” he teases. “As long as you keep making those margaritas.” They howl in laughter, and you feel a bit awkward as if they have an inside joke that you aren’t a part of. You smile politely, finishing off the last bit of your food before getting off your stool and grabbing your plate to wash.

“Aht aht,” Shena blurts, scrambling out of her seat. “I will be handling the cleanup. You two sit out there and act like you like each other.”

Your eyes throw darts at her for that last sentence, and she blows you a kiss as you walk to the balcony for some fresh air. The warm sun is welcome on your skin, the warmth taking away the chill you have in your bones from inside. You stare out into the sea, watching the boats go back and forth from the ports, the busy life from the markets a site to behold. You feel completely at peace for the first time since you’ve been here.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Mingyu pokes his head out from the balcony door, holding a pink lemonade decorated with an umbrella.

“Sure, if you are bringing that,” you quip, pointing at the drink.

“Of course, princess,” he jests back.

As you take the drink, you raise an eyebrow, debating whether you should be annoyed at that nickname or amused that he’s teasing you. He stands comfortably next to you, admiring the cerulean blue waters in front of you.

“This place is beautiful, isn’t it?” He sighs heavily. “I don’t want to leave.”

You look at him, his happy-go-lucky nature replaced by a look of sadness and longing. It’s unnerving, as you have always seen him with a warm orange aura around him. His hands grip the gate as he takes a softer, deeper breath, turning to face you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod slowly, your anxiety ticking up about what he wants to ask.

“What got you into cooking?”

You look away, staring back into the calm sea. No one has bothered to ask you anything personally about yourself besides Shena and Lumina, and you are unsure how to respond. It would mean opening a part of you to someone new, and you haven’t done that in a long time. It means that you would have to relieve your past and start trusting him, and you are scared of that.

Stepping across the magical line of faith and hope, you take a sip of your lemonade. “My grandma used to cook a lot growing up, and I would sit in the kitchen and watch her. Whatever you wanted, she could make it. My parents weren’t around, and she was the one who raised me. I eventually started cooking with her, which spurned my love for cooking, but mainly because I was doing it with her.” You pause, your breath shaky as you relive one of the hardest moments of your life. “On Christmas, I found her unconscious beside her chair. Apparently, she had a stroke and didn’t have oxygen for fifteen minutes before I saw her. I did everything I could to save her by hooking her with her oxygen machine before the paramedics arrived, but it was too late. She was declared brain dead.”

Hot tears fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, embarrassed that you let yourself reach this point in front of Mingyu. He pulls you into his arms, allowing you to cry a little in his arms. Unbeknownst to you, Shena walks out and notices your tears, but Mingyu shushes her quietly, allowing you to grieve just a little bit longer. You regain your composure, giving yourself some space and adjusting his shirt. “I ruined your shirt,” you pout. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled softly. “You need something to lean on, and I’m glad I got to be that for you.”

Gazing into his eyes, you see the familiar warm orange swirling in his little orbs. Inadvertently, you move closer to him, your heart and body overruling your mind for once. Mingyu responds kindly, pulling you closer to him with his hands dangerously on your hips.

“Is it okay if I—”

“Mingyu, do it before I change my mind.”

His lips press against yours, and your legs almost buckle. It is soft and tentative, as if he is playing it safe in case you want out. But you don’t; instead, you kiss him deeper. It is as if something takes over you, and you can’t stop. Call it desire, passion, or any other synonym, but it’s what you feel. You want him, and so does he. His hands travel lower, giving your butt a soft squeeze, and you accidentally moan in his mouth. You think he likes it, though, because his bulge is hardening against your center.

“If we don’t stop, there is no coming back from this,” he breathes.

Your mind regains consciousness at those words; you know he is right. With one last kiss, you begrudgingly pull away, walking back inside and squarely bumping into Shena.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” She joked while taking a good look at you.

“Nothing, let’s just go,” you insist. “We still have to get ready for tonight and all.”

Shena looks at you and the balcony suspiciously but doesn’t say anything; honestly, you appreciate that. You don’t know how you can answer any questions she may throw at you. All you know right now is Mingyu drives you fucking crazy.

Part 2 will be coming soon. Likes, reblogs, and feedback are much appreciated :)

tag: @nonuify

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt angst #svt suggestive #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month ago

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Beautiful Stranger

(6) Oh, We're Dancing In My Living Room

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's time for you to celebrate your first Hanukkah and the boys to celebrate Christmas for the first time

Word Count: 887

Warnings: Pure fluff~

A/N: Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas! I've never celebrated Hanukkah so I hope I did it justice! If I got anything wrong please let me know so I can fix it!

December 7th, 2023Two weeks after Thanksgiving, the scent of fried potatoes and cinnamon lingered in the air as you celebrated your first night of Hanukkah with Wanda and the boys. The living room was cozy, lit by the soft glow of the menorah set on the windowsill. Billy sat snugly on your lap, giggling as you adjusted him to get comfortable, while Tommy stood beside Wanda, his eager little hands helping her steady the candle.

The room fell quiet as Wanda began reciting the blessing, her voice gentle and melodic. She paused between words, guiding Tommy through the unfamiliar phrases. You watched her with admiration, her patience shining through every syllable. It was one of the countless things you adored about her—how she could turn even the simplest moment into a gentle lesson filled with love. Billy’s little voice joined in, clear and perfect, mimicking Wanda with a confidence that made your heart swell.

When the blessing was finished, Wanda handed the boys their small gifts and a pouch of shiny chocolate gelt. The foil coins caught the light as the boys ripped into them excitedly.

“Oh, chocolate coins!” you exclaimed with a laugh, holding one up to inspect it. “I used to get these in my stocking every year!”

Tommy grinned, his excitement bubbling over. “Really? You had chocolate coins too?”

“Yup,” you said with a smile. “Looks like Hanukkah and Christmas have some things in common.” The boys beamed, clearly delighted by the connection.

As Wanda headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, the boys taught you how to play dreidel. It took you a few rounds to catch on, but soon you were spinning the top like a pro—or so you thought. The boys, with their boundless energy and infectious laughter, kept winning, leaving you mock-pouting at your growing pile of lost gelt.

Just as you were about to snag a victory, Wanda’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Come on, you three, dinner is ready!”

The boys whooped, grabbing their gelt and darting off, leaving you to sulk. Wanda met you at the doorway, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned in for a kiss. “What’s got you all pouty, pretty girl?” she teased, her lips brushing against your cheek.

“They kept beating me, and I was finally about to win,” you said with a dramatic sigh, earning another kiss from her, this time on the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ve got seven more nights of this,” she reminded you, her smile coaxing one from you in return.

The dining table was a feast of golden roast chicken, crispy latkes, and an array of colorful side dishes. The boys chattered excitedly about their dreidel victories as you sat beside Wanda, sneaking glances at her and marveling at how lucky you were.

⋆꙳•❅°⋆❆.ೃ࿔:･*❆ ₊⋆

December 24-25, 2023The house was bathed in soft, twinkling lights, the Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner, its ornaments glinting in the glow. Wrapped gifts lay neatly beneath it, the fireplace crackling softly in the background. You could barely contain your excitement as you handed the boys matching plaid pajamas.

“Family Christmas pajamas!” you declared, grinning as Wanda shook her head fondly at your enthusiasm.

The boys were quick to change, giggling as they admired the bear graphics on their tops. Wanda’s shirt said “Mama,” yours read “Papa,” and the boys’ shirts proudly displayed “Little” above the bears.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda murmured, leaning into your side as you both sipped hot chocolate, her arm draped lazily over your waist.

The boys begged to open one gift each, their wide eyes and pleading voices impossible to resist. “Okay, just one,” you relented with a laugh.

They tore into their gifts, unwrapping Nerf guns and immediately launching into an impromptu battle, their laughter echoing through the house. As bedtime approached, you and Wanda helped them set out milk and cookies for Santa before tucking them in.

“Goodnight, boys,” Wanda whispered, pressing a kiss to each forehead.

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” they chorused, their voices sleepy but filled with happiness.

The next morning came early, the boys bounding into your room with uncontainable excitement. You carried your mugs of coffee to the living room, settling onto the couch beside Wanda as the boys dove into their presents. Wrapping paper flew in every direction, and their squeals of joy filled the room.

When only two gifts remained, you exchanged a look with Wanda, a shared smile of anticipation. “Alright, boys, these are from your mom and me,” you said, handing them each a box.

Tommy and Billy tore into the packages, their eyes lighting up as they revealed shiny Nintendo Switch Lites. They screamed in delight, throwing themselves at both of you in a flurry of hugs.

“Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, Daddy!” they shouted.

Wanda chuckled, ruffling their hair. “Now, let Daddy put the cases and screen protectors on them before you start playing.”

“Yes, Mommy!” they replied in unison before scurrying off to admire their new consoles.

The rest of the day was spent amidst the chaos of new toys, chocolate-stained fingers, and snow falling gently outside. You watched it all from the couch, Wanda nestled into your side, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

It was, without a doubt, the perfect Christmas.

#ley writes #ley writes series #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #mommy wanda #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x beefy!reader #beefy!fem!reader

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nicnak20 · 19 days ago

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Scars fade eventually:

*Nicholas finds your self harm scars from the past and worries over you- more than you'd like.*

The fresh summer sun was pressed against the nath of your back. Lying face down on the lawn chair by the pool, You loved it when the sun was out and shinning down- brightening all of the ground in its contour.

Nick, your boyfriend, was out getting dinner to bring back home after a long day at work. The thought of him flushed your cheeks and fluttered your mind, aching to feel his warm careful arms wrapped around you like a cozy cloak. Once your tan was set, you folded your chair back up and went inside the house.

As you admired your tan in the mirror, you noticed your wrists- how little faint jagged lines traced them like stripes. The biggest scar was far up by your forearm; a small little burn mark that was made from an incident a while back. Something too painful to even remember... not wanting to remember it. You just knew how good it felt to make your skin sting with the ice slumping over the salt.

Scanning each little scar, a tear prickled the corner of your eye. A desperate jolt to move the tear down your plump cheek was quickly stifled by your desire for strength- survival rather than let a sneaky little whimper slide from your lungs.

Throwing a hoodie on, You went downstairs turned on the TV to drown out the thoughts that still ping ponged around inside your brain. It always rattled something in you, whenever you looked at those scars. You wanted them hidden- you had gotten over what hurt you the most- they should've disappeared long ago. They would slowly, you hoped. But deep down, the scars would always be this grim reminder of what you did to your body. That's why long sleeves were your friends. Nicholas never knew about the reason- the real reason you flaunted long hoodies in summer weather.

T- shirts only happened when the air was too hot and moist, and the sticky sweat became overbearing for you to handle.

The television distanced itself until it became blurry. Your eyes flooded with tears as your mind stirred up the pain from those scars. You sniffled back tears before shame flooded your face and tightened the air in the living room. It felt like eyes were on you every time you cried, even in the privacy of your own bed.

The room would become black and distant, and every little thing stood taller than you and became scarier and jaded. It sent goosebumps up your spine, while somehow quivering your lip at once. So lost in thought, that sound of the car door slam shook you off guard, moving your fingers to swipe away any resemblance of sorrow from your face.

**********************************

Like a sixth sense, Nicholas could tell something was off. It felt off; odd like something peculiar was lurking somewhere underneath something. It hit him the moment he entered the house, bag of Chinese food dangling from his curved fingers. "Hey baby," he pecked your lips quickly before setting the food down on the table. "Brought back dinner."

A smile ran over your face, taking in the smell of lo mien and beef and broccoli mixing into the scent of the home.

You and Nick were perched on the couch, stuffing noodles and eggrolls into your tummies while watching a movie. A scene had flashed like the flick of a switch; something about that scene- the girl sobbing loudly in the bathroom, hair wet, and a razor sat over to the side of her, like it was waiting to be used. A graphic thought of her using the razor- despite it being there for the purpose of her shaving and accidentally nicking herself, which sparked a last nerve in her- and striding it down her arm like she was peeling a potato or skinning an apple and watching the blood trickle down her arm like tears.

Maybe it would give her the satisfaction she needed, You thought. But instead, it moved your eyes to sting- not tearing them away from the screen once- and flood with tears again. Some dropped into your noodles before you could wipe them away and worst.... Nicholas noticed them.

"Yn?" His voice, quiet and hushed to a degree almost as if he knew better than to stir something up inside you even more.

You stiffened. A swallow got clogged in your throat and you blinked rapidly to dissolve the tears. Turning to him, you forced a bleak dry smile. "I get so emotional during movies..." Nick knew this was true. But a deeper sense hid behind your eyes and Nick wasn't about to ignore it. "Yn... what's wrong?" Careful and tender like a warm fuzzy heat blanketing over you- a safety overcame you.... something you tried to fend off.

Nick placed a hand over your warm cheek. Suddenly, the world felt smaller and the air thicker and harder to breathe. It seemed to swallow you up and bleed you dry of your own caged in air inside your lungs. Taking a deep breath, you spoke. "It's been a hard week... I guess... I'm just overwhelmed with stress a bit." Nick bit his tongue. He still kept a firm hand over your cheek and bored deep into your eyes with gentleness blazing all through his own.

"You can tell me, Yn.... it's okay..." You bit your lip before you snuggled into his side.

"Seeing this scene.... it just makes me.... it brings me back to a painful memory...." Nick listened intently." It's nothing though." Your heartbeat was speeding rapidly, hoping that maybe Nick would forget and continue on through the movie. You both did, but the scene felt darker now along with the air in the room.

**************************

As you were huddled in bed- feeling the warmth of Nick's body beside you, a tense feeling pressed into your chest. Worry peaked in and you started to wonder if Nick would see them one day- the stripes over your wrists and the through the sides of your body.

Nick guided his hand under your nightshirt and let his palm smooth over your delicate skin. As he discovered your sides, he felt it. The jagged subtle stripes that never seemed to have faded, but instead collected into another layer of skin like mis-matched piece of cloth that's been sewed into a frail pair of jeans.

As Nick's fingers traced your scars, you pretended to be asleep- unaware of Nick finding his way around your twisted past. And then you turned over......

Nick felt your wrists- striped and thick with fleshly scars ripped all over them like fringed jeans. "Yn..." his whispers trailed. You knew if you opened your eyes, his would be waiting for yours. And soon enough.... they were. His brown eyes wide with horror from realizing for the first time that you were in pain.... deep sorrow over something that he now desperately needed to know.

Tears trickled the corners of your eyes and then tears dripped down your face and onto the sheets and the pillow. "I'm sorry..." you cried. "I didn't want you to find out- because I wasn't sure.... if you would stay once you saw the scars...."

Nick grabbed your cheek. "I could never...." he said. "but... why?"

Yn shook her head. "A while ago, my brother died- he had gotten into a car accident because of drunk driving. He was drinking at a party we were both at.... and my parents told me that I was responsible because I had offered him the drink.... I didn't know he was going to get in the car- he told me he had a sober driver..."

Nick shushed you gently with a lulling intention. "It's okay.... it'll be okay-"

"I started cutting because they blamed me religiously. They practically disowned me as their daughter.... I was only eighteen when it happened... I cut because it relieves some of the pain.... but it never really goes away."

Nick pressed kisses to your wrists. He held you close to him and kissed your hair. "Yn.... please don't self harm anymore.... I love you too much to see you suffer...." he looked into your eyes. "Please... get some help, Yn.... and I'll be with you every step of the way.... please... don't hurt your pretty skin...."

You finally let yourself sob into Nick's arms. He held you close to him and you breathed into Nick's body- calming your breathing down enough to look up into his eyes. "I love you too, Nick."

"I love you too..." you slowly drifted off into sleep and let the thought of Nicholas swim through your mind- the first happy safe thought you've had that would be with promise of a reality.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez one shots #lavender baby #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez imagines

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reidsrambles · 22 days ago

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Part 1: New Year's Eve

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Description: My only New Year's Eve plan is to help my best friend Penelope entertain her many party guests. When I find myself alone with her coworker, Spencer (who I've had a crush on for ages), it seems that my New Year's might turn out different than I had planned.

(Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI] smut, protected (condom) PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving), brief mention of being drunk or high in the past

A/N: This fic is part 1 of a duo. Part 2: New Year's Day is in the works, and will hopefully be posted on time! I came up with this idea literally yesterday, and I've been writing like a madman since then, so edits might be made to this one after posting. I'm posting it right before midnight my time! Credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider graphics, including the one I cropped below.

Names used: Baby

Words (this chapter): 2,025

Words (total): 5,759

Penelope has always thrown stellar parties, but this one might be her largest to date. I can hear the music streaming from her apartment all the way down the hall. I sift through the keys on my keyring to find the one I need: my copy of her house key.

Streamers, balloons, and shimmery garlands cover the walls of Penelope’s apartment. There are somehow more guests than I’d expected. Penelope tends to make friends wherever she goes. Still, I didn’t expect for what seems to be everyone she knows to be free tonight. Many guests don party hats. Some are also wearing those silly New Year’s glasses with lenses in the shape of numbers. Not even two steps in the door, and I jump as someone prematurely blows a noisemaker.

Different dishes that partygoers have brought cover every inch of Penelope’s kitchen island. A potluck of appetizers and various salads, from the leafy green kind to the macaroni or potato variety. I squeeze around the guests loitering in her kitchen, leaning against the counter, probably because there’s nowhere to sit. Inside her fridge, it’s like playing Jenga, trying to find a spot to shove the champagne bottles I bought.

Penelope’s dazzling emerald dress sticks out in the sea of black and metallic fits. Nobody can upstage the hostess, dare they try. I wrap my best friend in a hug from behind and she reflexively smacks my arm before realizing it’s me.

“Oh, my god!” she shrieks. She looks annoyed, rolling her eyes, but my behavior has garnered chuckles from the group she’s chatting with. Two knitting club friends. “Look who finally showed up! She conveniently had to work all day while I finished setting up.”

I was here on Sunday doing all the decorating grunt work, but I choose to not argue the semantics. I’ll let her have the upper hand. Consider it an apology for the jump scare, Penelope.

“It’s not my fault that New Year’s Eve isn’t a holiday, and I, like most people, work a Monday-to-Friday, nine-to-five. You are aware of that, right?”

Penelope pecks my cheek before swiping at it with her thumb to wipe her bright red lipstick off. I ask her if she needs help with anything, as a good best friend to the hostess does, but predictably, she’s on top of everything.

I make my rounds, catching up with the many people I already know and greeting those I haven’t met. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet! I’m Penelope’s best friend.”

Hours pass, filled with stories of so-and-so’s new baby or graduation or other meaningful milestone. Then there are the few party games I’m roped into. On the plus side, every time I loop back around past the kitchen, I pick at the hors d'oeuvres. After work, I picked up the champagne, and then came straight here. The finger foods will suffice as dinner, I suppose.

From the spot I’ve claimed as my own against the wall, I watch my best friend, with her seemingly infinite social battery, open the door and gleefully welcome a couple I’ve never seen. How are people still showing up!?

With a quick flick of the wrist, I glance at my watch. Still two hours to midnight. Ugh, shit.

I push myself off the wall and snake my way through the field of bodies, metaphorical white flag a-waving.

“Pen, I know we’re getting closer to midnight, but I need to go take a nap or something. I’m absolutely drained. Just let me recharge for a few, and then I’ll be back out here. Promise.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Penelope says, guiding me a mere two feet to the side—all the crowd will allow. “I’ve seen you chatting it up all night. You know you don’t have to do that, my love. I’ve had the bedrooms locked, but Spencer was feeling a bit overwhelmed, so I let him into the guest bedroom if you want to join him in there.” She’s sincere, but teasing, gently bumping my shoulder with hers. Her innuendo is far from lost on me.

Huh, yeah. Spencer’s the only one on her team, besides Aaron Hotchner, who I haven’t already bumped into tonight. Hotch is probably at home with the family. Where has Spencer been all night? He is usually a bit of a wallflower whenever he does show up to parties. Being friends with Penelope since childhood and moving out to D.C. with her, I’ve gotten to know everyone she’s close with, especially her coworkers. I’ve had a teensy-weensy crush on Spencer Reid since I first met him, not long after I moved out here, and Penelope’s teased me about it ever since.

I pull my lips tight and nod. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

Yes, I’ve gotten to know Spencer quite a bit over the years, which has not helped ease my crush, but there’s no way he thinks of me as anything more than a friend. He probably just thinks of me as a friend-of-a-friend or as an acquaintance. Even worse…

It’s kind of become a cycle. I start seeing someone or get into a whole relationship, and then I don’t have to think about Spencer at all, which is great. But, when I inevitably become single again and Penelope mentions his name, the longing starts all over again.

It’s just a crush, though. Everyone has crushes. And most people don’t act on these types of crushes. Why would I put Penelope in the middle of that?

The hall where Penelope’s bedroom, the guest bedroom, and a bathroom are is already much quieter than the rest of her house. All the noise is coming from behind me. The quiet is calling to me like a siren’s song; hopefully just luring me into a 20-minute catnap, if I’m lucky.

I gently tap my knuckles against the guest bedroom door twice before opening it. Only the nightstand lamps are on, and this cozy, warm room feels like escaping to actual Heaven right now. Spencer is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” I ask, my heart rate ramping up instead of slowing down.

“[Y/N], hey! Of course. Did Penelope tell you I was hiding away in here?”

I close the door behind me, and the roar of the party dies down to a rumble. “Well, I told her that I needed to get away from the crowd for a little bit, maybe take a nap or something, and she said she had just let you in here. My social battery died like, an hour ago.”

I join Spencer on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectable amount of distance.

“I’m not much of a party person if you haven’t already figured that out,” he says.

“I don’t think I am either, honestly. Well, not anymore, at least. I was a little bit of a partier when I went off to college. But as I’m sure you could guess, me and Penelope weren’t really a part of the ‘in’ crowd as teenagers.”

“Is college the only time you and Penelope weren’t attached at the hip?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Basically. Right before I sent off my college applications, we had gotten into a fight over something stupid. It was so stupid, that neither of us can remember what it was over. But, instead of applying to CalTech with her, I applied to a couple schools I knew she wasn’t applying to. I ended up getting accepted to Georgia Tech. Literally, the other side of the country. I think that I had it in my head that I was going to show her that she’d miss me.”

“And then you guys made up?”

“We literally made up two days after I sent off my applications, yeah,” I nod, my story earning a laugh from Spencer.

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard that story before.”

Another rogue noisemaker is sounded, muffled by the wall between us and the chaos, but it’s enough of a surprise to startle both of us.

“Sorry,” he says, “I should’ve asked. Did you want the room to yourself? I don’t mind if you need me to step out.”

“Oh, no. I’m completely fine. If I wanted to be alone, I could’ve just gone to Penelope’s room. It’s not like you’re a stranger or anything. As long as you don’t mind if I accidentally pass out.”

I sit up and round the bed to the far side, and when I slip under the sheets, I regret my choice of a black skirt and tights for tonight. Spencer sits on top of the sheets on the other side.

“I really wish I hadn’t left my book out in the living room,” he jokes.

“So, you’re saying I don’t get a bedtime story?”

I try, as discreetly as I can, to slip my tights off under the sheets. Every time I adjust my position, I tug them down a little bit more.

“If you want me to read to you, I can,” he says.

Got ‘em down to my knees.

“I forgot about that whole memory thing,” I laugh. “What’s that called, again?”

“I have an eidetic memory. It’s primarily for things I’ve read, though.”

So close.

“I mean, you definitely don’t have to, but if wanted to read me something, it would be really helpful to mask the noise.”

Yes! Finally. I’m freeee.

I kick my tights off my feet under the covers (a problem for me to deal with later, when I’m more awake) and I can breathe a sigh of comfort at last.

Spencer begins to speak, but I cut him off.

“Sorry. Just don’t let me sleep more than 20 minutes. I’m aiming for 15, even. I should be out like a light. I’m a good napper. Gold-medal worthy.”

I flop back down onto the bed and let my heavy eyelids fall shut. Spencer reads some story aloud with no text in front of him. As I drift off, his voice lulling me to sleep, I know this is going to be something that I playback from memory in the future. A decayed version in my own, fallible memory.

The world is dark, but noisy. I haven’t yet gathered the strength to open my eyes, but the rest of my senses are slowly feeding my brain information. I feel a steady rise and fall against my back. Breathing. A man’s face nuzzled into my neck. I’m being spooned from behind, but he isn’t under the covers with me. He’s above them. Even through the fabric, I can feel him against my ass. The hardness between his legs pressed into my backside. Where the hell am I?

It’s New Year’s Eve. Penelope’s guest bedroom. Spencer.

Spencer’s breathing picks up, and as my eyes flit open, I’m ripped from my sleepy bliss and plunged into utter panic. He’s woken up too. Spencer jumps out of bed at the same time I do, clearly stunned.

“[Y/N], I am so, so sorry. I completely didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Shit. No, I’m sorry.”

Does he know I have a crush on him? Is he going to think I planned that? In my barely-awake daze, I jump to the worst-case scenario.

Spencer just keeps rambling apologies and swearing up and down that he fell asleep by mistake. My disorganized words of reassurance don’t seem to be cutting through.

“10... 9…”

The chanting from outside our bubble only takes a moment for me to register. It’s already midnight?

“8…7…”

Spencer still hasn’t shut up. Before I can fully realize what I’m doing, I round the bed to where he’s standing. He stops mid-sentence.

“6…5…4…”

He hears it. He realizes. Our faces are so close; mine, angled up to his. Was I going to say something to calm him down? I don’t remember anymore. His eyes are darting across my face, mirroring my gaze. Eyes, lips. Eyes, lips.

“3…2…1…”

Our lips crash together right as a chorus of Happy New Years and noise-makers chimes.

Spencer Reid’s lips. On mine.

Next Chapter: New Year's Day

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