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parkerluvsu · 1 month ago

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ANGELEYES (virgin! art donaldson x fem! reader)

(my first halloween fic.. i don't have the energy to do kinktober <3)

art donaldson is a virgin. a big fat virgin. it's his biggest secret, the only person who knows about it is patrick, and he endlessly makes fun of him for it. it's hard living in the shadow of such a sex prodigy like him, patrick had been relaying stories of heavy makeout sessions and 7 minutes in heaven with random girls ever since middle school. art has been on a multitude of double dates with patrick, only for them to end with him and a girl sitting awkwardly next to him while patrick and his date messily makeout on the couch next to him.

of course art tried to mimic patrick, his smooth words and even smoother hands.. but never successfully. the longest he's ever had a girlfriend was only 5 months.. and she broke up with him on valentines day. this year was the first year he actually had a girlfriend on a semi-romantic holiday. or at least art thought it was, he remembers every year that couples in cute costumes walked by and made him want to cry. and even worse was the halloween parties, with drunk college students wearing stupid costumes and grinding on each other, leaving art to sip on a room temperature beer in the corner.

art was abruptly brought back to reality when you tapped on his shoulder, alerting him to the fact that he wasn't still in a stupid party, he was lodged in a costume store dressing room, holding on to the costumes you still wanted to try on. "what do you think?" you spin around, showing him the back of your cheesy tennis player costume. art chuckles, shaking his head, "i think it's offensive.." he jokes, of course you look cute but he can't stop himself from thinking that you'd never be able to move around a court in that stupid uniform. "hand me another one art.." he gives you the next costume, turning to face the wall while you change. "you know you can look.. right? im your girlfriend aren't i?" art blushes and he's thankful you can't see his face. "i- im just being respectful" he says, seeming genuinely concerned about offending you. you let the issue go as you zip up the costume, tapping art on the shoulder.

when you got home, you set down your costume and turned to art. "so now what are you gonna be? we should match right?" he nods shyly, not exactly knowing how to enter this unfamiliar territory. "i guess you could be a devil too and then we could match.." you look at art for inspiration, and settle on his baby blue eyes, biting your lip before getting an idea. "oh i know! you should be an angel! it'll be great!" you say, already envisioning art in a pretty white costume. art blushes, "isn't that.. like a girl costume?" he doesn't mean to offend you and it's not like he hates the idea but.. he doesn't want to embarrass himself. "no not at all! cmon art it'll be so cute.. you'll be my little angel!" you almost squeal, immediately taking out your phone to look for costumes. art nods slowly.. realizing that he doesn't really care what he dresses up as.. as long as he's yours.

art almost drops the costumes he's holding when he sees the little red skirt, tank top and horns you have on, accompanied by a pair of fluffy wings on your back. "what d'you think? it kind of looks silly don't you think?" you turn back to face art. he shakes his head silently, his eyes wide, looking you up and down. you giggle, "guess we have a winner then!". you leave the store that day with a devil costume in a bag, and art leaves with a tent in his pants.

art has never considered himself religious. he was raised to go to sunday school and church and all those other fun events, but he never believed any of it. so why did he feel so guilty when he got hot and heavy seeing you in that costume? maybe it was the fact that he was always reprimanded as a child for liking things that he shouldn't.. playing with dolls, stealing his moms clothes... and maybe even looking a little too long at girls from church. now he still felt like he could get caught any moment doing something he wasn't supposed to, even though he wasn't in that environment anymore.

you're putting on lip gloss, using your phone for a mirror when art pops out of the bathroom, having a little trouble getting the fake wings to fit though the doorframe. you put your things down, standing up to meet him, "oh art.. you look so good.. this costume is perfect for you, don't you think?" you say, looking him up and down. art blushes, trying to avoid your gaze "i- i guess so.." he says, trying to downplay the fact that he likes the costume so much. you pick up on his tone, and decide to speak up. "what? you don't like it?" he shakes his head quickly, "no.. no that's not it.. it's like the opposite.. maybe i like it a little too much" he looks away, shifting from foot to foot. you smile knowingly, not surprised that he feels this way. art let's you guide him to sit on the edge of your bed. "well, why do you like it so much?" you ask, wanting to see if he'll be honest.

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・

when halloween night finally comes around, art finds himself staring in the mirror, tugging at the tight white t-shirt that came with his costume, shifting his back and shoulders to re-adjust the wings sitting heavy on his back. god.. what's patrick gonna think about this? he's probably gonna be made fun of relentlessly.. but there's a feeling in the bottom of his stomach when he looks at himself.. he can't deny that he likes what he sees. he's just nervous for you to see him too, what if you laugh? what if you think he looks silly? what if you make fun of him? all these thoughts swirl around in his head as he leaves your bathroom, stepping into your bedroom as you look up from your phone.

art mulls that over in his head, pretty.. did he feel pretty? was he pretty? he's a boy isn't he.. was he even allowed to be pretty? even with all these thoughts swirling in his head he knows the foundational truth: he likes when he say that, he likes when you call him pretty. you bring art back to reality by kissing him softly, leaning closer to him. arts tentative hands grab hold of your waist, squeezing tight when you slip your tongue into his mouth. "won't you let me take care of you art?" he nods, knowing that you saw the bulge in his pants the moment he stepped out of the bathroom.

you run your hands over arts warm skin, swinging your leg over his lap in order to straddle him. "we'll go slow, alright? don't be scared" you whisper, pressing your lips to his once again. art whines against you, his hips jerking under you even with the simple makeout session. art finds it easy to let you take the lead, you always do, in every facet of your relationship, and art likes to just turn his brain off when he's with you. he lets you run your fingers through his hair, pulling off the silly halo headband while you do. art shivers when you make your way down to his neck, sharp canine teeth poking and pulling at his skin. you pull at the hem of arts shirt, "can i take this off?" you ask, waiting for a nod before pulling it off of him, pressing your lips on his again and raking your nails down his chest, almost making him curl up on himself.

you were so warm inside, hot even, he could feel your every move from the inside, every ridge and squishy spot made him take a shuddering breath. you try to lift up again to establish a rhythm, but arts hands keep you still, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. after a few seconds, he takes his hands away, letting you start to bounce gently. his moans and whines become almost screams, "k-keep goingg please.." "y'r so warm 'nside" "never wanna stop.. wanna do this f-forever" he feels himself approaching his peak far too quick, but he cant stop, he couldn't even if he wanted to, he needs you to keep going, he needs you to touch him, he needs you to love him. you can feel art start to move his hips with you, planting his feet on the mattress and pushing up, slamming into you with the last of his strength before his whole body goes taut, shaking and shivering before you feel him cum inside you, even through the condom.

you kiss some more, before you pull away to take a breath and look at him. arts pretty pink cheeks and white wings contrast perfectly, only making your heart beat faster. "do you wanna see me?" you gesture to your chest, covered by a skimpy red tank top. art nods very quickly, almost getting dizzy. "y-yeah, yes please" he says, watching with stars in his eyes as you strip off your shirt, exposing your chest to him. art almost gasps when you take hold of his hands and place them on your boobs, letting him experiment and touch and squeeze to his hearts content, you want to giggle at his facial expressions but you don't want to make him self conscious. "c-can we keep going?" he asks, hands still on your breasts. you smile and laugh, nodding. "alright art.. can you take off your pants for me?" art almost thinks his heart stops when you ask him to do that, still getting it through his head to nod slowly. he shuffles them down his legs, his blue boxers already a little stained from the precum leaking from the makeout sessions. you shift closer to him, sitting between his spread legs. "ill be gentle okay?" you start slow, running your fingers softly over his bulge, smiling when you feel him twitch under your touch. tapping his hip to signal him to lift his hips up, art complies, suddenly feeling self conscious at the fact that no one has ever seen him like this before.. he doesn't even know what he's supposed to do, or say. you notice this of course, placing your palm on his hip, "you're doing great art" he visibly relaxes at your touch, sinking into your bed. he lets you touch him softly again, with no barrier this time, he's softer than you thought, his pretty pink head already drooling, the pronounced veins on the sides pulsing. you wish you could take a polaroid of this moment, the look of his innocent white wings contrasting from the very lewd image in front of you. art slaps a hand over his mouth, his brows furrowed, he's never had anyone else touch him here, your hand feels so much different than his own, so much softer and warmer. art has to concentrate his best on not cumming immediately, the sensation of your hand jerking him off becoming overwhelming. he has to reach down and push your hand away before he cums, wanting to save the best part for later. "i-im sorry i didn't wanna.. cum" he says, his face flushed red. you smile, understanding his predicament. "it's okay, i did the same my first time too.. do you have a condom?" art nods quickly, opening up a packet of condoms he bought a little prematurely maybe.. but he wanted to be prepared no matter what happened. art had taken a sex ed class before, but putting a condom on himself versus a banana were very different, so you had to help him roll it down his length. art does nothing but watch you throw your panties to the side, again climbing into his lap. "like i said, we'll go slow, tell me if you don't like how it feels yeah?" art agrees, placing his large hands on your hips in an attempt to prepare, but nothing could prepare him for this.

you move your hips slowly to let him cool off, before slipping off of him and settling down beside him. you take off the condom for him, cum dripping onto his stomach before you can throw it away. you place your head on arts chest, unable to resist dipping your finger into the drops of cum on his stomach, the translucent liquid almost glowing on his pale skin. you can't help the word that escapes your mouth, "angel..." you whisper against his skin, not thinking he's back to his senses yet. art perks up a little, hoping he heard what he thought he heard, "w-what?" "nothing" <3

art sighs, not even knowing why he likes it so much. "i dunno, i guess i feel.. nice in it.. like it's natural?" you nod along with his words, encouraging him to keep talking. "like when i put it on, it kind of made me get butterflies.." you nod, seeing where this was going. "you thought you looked pretty yeah? i mean i always say you look like an angel, this just proves my point" you remark, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. "yeah.. well you're right as always.."

#parkerluvsu #parker.talks #art donaldson #challengers x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers #art donaldson x reader #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #mike faist #halloween #angel boy

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kessellluvr · 16 days ago

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|| ARCTOBER ᵈᵃʸ ²⁹ - ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ||ｓｅｖｉｋａ

Summary: Long nights in the club.. reader is a bartender, unspoken promises wafting through the air like magic everytime Sevika’s gaze met yours. You couldn’t quite tell what to make of that smirk she gave you every time you walked past, bent down to place her drink down infront of her - the way her eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than they should.. welp, that night you were feeling risky, testing limits and pushing boundaries.

Warnings: NSFW/ MDNI ; r!recieving, mention of smoking, name- calling, fingering, edging, semi-rough handling, bruising/hickeys, hook-up

AN: This isnt proofread and i was in a rush to finish it so i apologise for any typos x

Purple neon lights lit up the club, the bass of the underground techno music blasting through the large crowd. The magenta-grey smoke of cigars and hookah’s filling up the clubber’s senses. It was full house tonight, people going in and out - swarming the dancefloor like a bunch of bees. The bar was stacked with lines of people, some sitting, others having sloppy-drunken makeouts and most just wanting to get more booze. Great, the bartenders nightmare.

A big guy, middle aged lady and a precious little thing serving drinks - that‘d be you. Right, innocent and easy-prey looking, but oh boy you got a mouth on you. Apron tied tight around your waist, shaping your figure perfectly, hair tied back in a mid-high ponytail, waterline painted black and lashes adorned by mascara. A whistle rung over the music, making you quickly spin your head to find Sevika shoving away some other people at the bar. "Whiskey, neat and hurry the fuck up, im in no mood." Sevika´s deep voice grumbled, giving you an expectant look. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head but you quickly prepared her drink - top shelf whiskey in her signature glass, yes, she had her own glass. You slid it across the counter "Wait in line next time, you aint the only one in here."

"Whatever." As she grabbed her glass and went back to the gambling table. And so, the night went on, people getting more drunk and reckless, the music blasting louder - every possible chance you got, you stole a glance at Sevika - the way she confidently carries herself, winning game after game with that fucking smug smirk on her dark, scarred lips, god you had to admit: she was sexy, despite being an asshole. Everytime your eyes met you felt a strange heat coursing through your every cell.. your breath hitching a little anytime the corners of her dark lips twitched up.

Silco and the other chem-barons had taken their seats at their table a few minutes ago and you were supposed to bring their drinks over, cause of course they get special treatment. You despised them, they stink with money and order their workers around like animals..ugh.

Nonetheless, you went ahead and poured their order, carefully placing the glasses on a tray and moving through the crowd swiftly - well, atleast until some drunken asshole overlooked you and stumbled right into you. Drinks spilling all over you white apron - soaking into the fabric and revealing a tantalising glimpse of your bra underneath. Your eye twitched in annoyance, temper flaring as you spat some curses at the drunkard. "Get this dickhead out of my face!" you snapped, looking expectantly towards the bouncers. Of course, your wish was their command and the drunk was dragged out immediately, spluttering out an apology.

Your co-worker quickly re-made the drinks while you were busy kneeling on the floor and wiping the mess. "Well well, looks like you had a little mishap there, hmm?" that smug voice echoed above you. You scoffed, straightening up and looking up at her, defiance gleaming in your crystal eyes. "I dont need your fucking bullshit, Sevika. Think your something better, huh?" you spat - making Vika´s brow arch up, eyes taking on that dangerous purple gleam. Her thick, long fingers came to grasp your chin tightly "I think someone needs to fuck that damn attitude outta ya." You couldnt deny the delicious sensation in your lower abdomen at her words, your lips parted as if to say something but nothing came out.

"Thought so." Vika says with another smirk, lifting you up and throwing you over her shoulder unexpectedly, you yelped. "Let me go!" but you didnt really mean that, you loved the way she had her hands around your waist and you both knew that. She carried you up the stairs not even bothering to tell you where she was heading - soon enough you found yourself being thrown on the couch in her office. Your eyes widened, breath quickening as you tried to keep your composure. “What the fuck?”

“What’dya think? I’ll help you out of that damn soaked shirt and make good of my promise.. unless you dont want me to.” There it was again, that self-confident smirk, your teeth came down on your lip - teeth digging into the soft flesh as you nodded slowly, thinking of a snarky reply. “Of course, you totally wanna help me change and not just get your hands on me.”

“Shut it.” Vika growled, grasping your hair surprisingly gentle and smashing her lips down on yours, slow at first, tounge probing at your lips before you opened them for her - tangling your tounges together in a twist as her large hand slid down your body, mapping out the curves and grasping every bit of flesh she could find. Squeezing, caressing..

A soft moan slipped from your lips, muffled by her mouth as she eagerly tugged your shirt over your head - pulling away to throw the shirt carelessly on the floor. Her hands came to swiftly undo your bra - letting it join your shirt on the floor. "Fuck, such gorgeous tits." Vika growled before latching onto one of your nipples, suckling and making them form into hard peaks. Whimpers mignled with the wet sounds of her sloppy sucking, her hand sliding down your pants and lightly rubbing over that wet spot in your panties - stealing another beautiful whimper from your lips.

"Sevika.. please.." as your hips bucked forward, making her press her fingers harder against you fabric-covered clit. She pulled her mouth from your tits and pushed you back against the desk, hand finally going beneath your panties and sliding over your slit to collect your wetness before rubbing it over your fattened clit. Your moans quickly filled her ears, a beautiful melody for her - her teeth grazing your neck before leaving sloppy kisses in the wake of her lips.

Your hips kept bucking, feeling youreself getting closer cause of her tight circles - suddenly, Sevika stopped, moving her fingers down and easily sliding them into your wetness, curling them upwards to hit that delicious spot deep within you. Your head fell back, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as she sucked hickeys while keeping her fingers in a steady motion.

"V-vika.. ´m close.." Was when she pulled out, smirking down at you. "I think you dont quite deserve cumming, fucking brat. Get back to word." as she spanked your ass playfully, you sulked and gave her puppy eyes. "Come back up here when youre done closing."

That made your eyes light up again, you nodded, getting dressed into the fresh shirt and leaving your ruined on right there on her office floor.. great, having to finish your shift with soaked panties was not how you wanted that night to go, but Sevika knew she was gonna give you a proper reward later.

kessellluvr 10/29/2024

#sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #arctober #arcaneedit #arcane #wlw #lesbian #i love buff women #vi arcane #jinx arcane

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pumpkinbxtch · 7 months ago

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-ˋˏ blame it (on the alcohol)

— percy jackson x daughter of ares!reader

☆ radiostar is playing: blame it by jamie foxx ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

warnings: alcohol consumption, intense makeout & language.

n/a: I was looking for someone who best suited this fic and Percy was my answer. this is a kind of mad makeout 'cause reader and percy don't get along. ready girls? go

Percy had been drinking too much, an argument with his father had him clutching the beer can with enough force to make his knuckles go white. Stupid oceanic rules, stupid gossiping gods, screw it all. He took another sip of the drink and tried to relax his jaw, which had been as tense as a bear trap. Barely enough light to maneuver through the crowd without bumping shoulders, not that he cared much at the moment anyway, so he made his way to the living room where everyone was dancing. He wondered if drowning himself in the music could make him forget his troubles, was almost willing to entertain the idea until he saw you. Shit, did he really have to run into you right now?

Almost simultaneously, you caught his eye from across the room and smirked, that way Percy couldn't stand. You raised your drink in the air in a greeting gesture, and he huffed, looking away. Your interactions as sweet as ever. Now his night was ruined, and he'd have to leave not even half as drunk as he wanted to be, but the sea of people he'd have to navigate through again kept him in place.

“Just finish this drink and I'm out,” he swore to himself, not very convincingly. That's how the son of Poseidon found himself postponing his departure for over an hour. Beer after beer and drink after drink, he found himself mixing various types of alcohol. The fact that he could still string coherent words together without slurring made him curse his semi-divine metabolism. His green eyes scanned the room, maybe he was looking for you, just out of curiosity, and that's when he spotted you not far from him, dancing. He deliberately sat on the arm of the sofa and leaned back against the wooden wall, watching you.

It angered him that you were there, he hated the children of Ares and their irreverent ways. The way you looked at him earlier told him you knew he'd had a shitty day, rumors spread fast. Now, even having left the camp to have a moment of peace, he couldn't shake it off.

He gripped his disposable cup tighter. He hated you and hated the way you treated him, but he detested even more the way your legs glistened with sweat or the way your dress lifted, giving him a glimpse of your thighs. He must have been crazy to be so focused on that, but knew he had definitely lost his mind when realized he was walking towards you.

You smiled as if you had been waiting for him for a long time, as if you knew he would end up walking towards you, and he felt another pang of anger.

He looked terribly hot, standing there holding the cup with one hand while the other gripped the pocket of his jeans, with a grumpy face and messy hair. Made you bite your lip, and you took his forearm, inviting him to dance.

He would have refused, if it weren't for the soothing contact he felt when your warm skin touched his. He downed the drink in one go and tossed the cup somewhere only the gods knew, couldn't wait to put his hands on your waist and pull you close to him.

— Running away from your problems, Jackson?— You murmured, standing on tiptoes to reach his ear, and he snorted. He gripped your hips, moving them to the rhythm of the music or to his own whim, just to feel control over you, and for the first time, you gave him that pleasure.

—None of your business —he snapped, eyes darkening from the alcohol's effect. He leaned challengingly towards you, you caught his typical sea and cologne scent that only he could wear so well. Your stomach twisted, and you eagerly grabbed the fabric of that plaid shirt he wore over his t-shirt. He smirked.

He was winning, you were losing, and for the first time, you didn't care.

Still, you had to do something, so you turned around, adjusting his heavy hands on you. You started swaying your hips, rubbing your ass against his jeans. Instead of being startled, he pressed himself against you, and nestled his chin on your shoulder, his hot breath on your neck made you tilt your head back, hitting his shoulder.

You knew you’d end up like this eventually, you hated each other, runnin' away from each other, but the tension that was growing up between you only someday win over you. You were a daughter of Ares, you knew hate wasn't far from of passion, in the end, it was a very thin, almost invisible line.

You felt his lips on your neck and how the tension break in an instant; becoming voracious and totally carnal. It didn't take long before he had you pinned against the wall in some corner of someone's house while he devoured your neck. You controlled small moans, although truth be told, in that hustle and bustle no one would notice, nor care. Two more people making out at a party full of drunks?

Your hands eagerly slipped under Percy's shirt, groping blindly as he left kisses on your collarbone until you hugged him under the fabric, impatient to have him closer. He groaned in your ear and made you tilt your head back to give him more space. Your hips rose to clash against his, and he pushed you to be totally plastered against the wall again.

—Behave — he demanded against your ear, and you let out a small whimper. He smiled arrogantly and gave a wet kiss on your cheek. He stroked you with his nose, inhaling your sweet scent mixed with sweat, just teasing you.

Desperation grew in your stomach, and impulsively you buried your hands in his hair, forcing him to look at you, noses colliding and the smell of alcohol mingling with yours. The sober part of your mind wanted to stop and think if it was a good idea, but you were too lazy to reflect when you were so hot, so you kissed him hungrily.

Percy smiled against your lips and let out some huffs when he lacked air, kissing you annoyed, frustrated even he was frowning. He hugged you by the waist to keep you even closer, he felt his lips intertwining and bit your lower lip, making you hiss, he could barely control himself. He growled when he felt you now biting his lip. His head spun with each kiss, with each touch and caress. In no time he couldn't shake the feeling of your body against his, and he squeezed your body even tighter, you just reacted the same way.

Percy felt the anger of finding it pleasurable, of wanting more and having to accept that it was the best makeout session he'd had in a while, and all with you. He didn't want to accept it, so he blame it on the alcohol.

—ffuck, yesterday i drank too much — he said the next day in the dining hall, he looked tired, and a scar was noticeable near the corner of his mouth. From a few meters, you smiled and approached.

—Me too!— you chirped teasingly, obviously poking your nose into other people's conversation. You did know better, you covered your scar with make up.

Percy rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to look at you while nibbling his blueberry pancakes. His friends didn't suspect anything, of all your little daily fights, nothing was new anymore. You held the tray tighter and walked away from them with a smile. So scandalous, so funny, hope gods wanted it to happen again.

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #the heroes of olympus

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glitterjay · 8 months ago

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— staring contest

⠀⭒ paring heeseung x afab!reader. friends to lovers(?, makeout, pet names, drabble, mention of alcohol(?, short, semi suggestive content under the cut (minors DNI)

parties like this were often in this side of town. big houses, loud music, it was what you and your friends called the rich kids neighborhood as kids. and here you were now, walking into one of those big houses for a party you were invited.

you had met jake in one of your classes and you had both hit it off instantly. it would be too fast to call him your best friend, but he was definitely making his way up to that title.

you heard about this big party invitation going around, to which jake gladly filled you in. it was lee heeseung's party. ironically, he and jake were really good friends, which made the latter earn a plus one to the invitation he had received.

jake had told you before that heeseung limits a lot who he hangs out with, which just makes him even more popular for his "mysterious" reputation. you weren't going to lie, he was handsome, but you wouldn't try to get to know him if he didn't want to.

once you both made it into the house, jake grabbed your hand to lead you to his group of friends (which included the host of such party) who seemed to already be playing around with each other. "damn jake, i didn't know you had a girlfriend" one of the boys teased.

"she's not my girlfriend, jay. but at least i have a pretty girl to accompany me." the comments made you blush furiously, coughing as if that would make the redness leave your face. "we'll see about that" a voice called. it was the only face you could put a name to besides jake. it was heeseung.

"you're just in time, yun. we were just about to play some games."

it had been 3 hours since you arrived at the party. cans of beers flooded the table where you guys had originally started playing beer pong. "i know! why don't we have a staring contest?" the one who you had learned was named sunghoon suggested.

"i think thats a great idea!" jay exclaimed. "jake can hardly look at anything without giggling anymore, this should be easy." as the other two kept pestering jake for his clumsy and drunk behavior, you had felt someone else starting the staring contest.

heeseung's eyes were locked on you. it was as if a lion had just seen the perfect pray. he looked hot. you turned around nervously, trying to find the one who brought you here in the first place.

"jake is long gone. probably playing around with hoon and jay." he said.

your body tensed a little after hearing his voice. it was much deeper and heavier for some reason. "yeah, i guess you're right." you could see heeseung eyeing you up and down, licking his lips. it made you feel insecure for a moment, until you realized how close he had gotten. "i could kiss you right now."

"so do it." you said, feeling bold. heeseung didnt think twice, rapdily grabbing your face and slamming his lips into yours. it was quick at first, but then it turned more romantic. your hands rested on his broad shoulders while his held your face steady.

"your pretty dress kept calling me all night. it wants me to take it off."

i feel like this is sooo bad... | © glitterjay | tumblr

#— ✿ c's work!#kpop #hard hours #enhypen #enhypen smut #kpop smut #enhypen hard hours #engene #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

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˗ˏˋ Summertime ⛱ Madness ˎˊ˗

Dear Diary...summer is finally here, and you're ready to spend it all with your best buds — Itadori, Megumi, and Nobara! Because the season is meant to be eventful, no? Though, how eventful? You already have plans with your friends to make every day count...Yet, so much has happened this summer that you NEED to write it all down! Especially since five men, in particular, have put you through a complete whirlwind of a summer...

Collector's Note: Hi, hello!! This is my first time doing something like this, but to commemorate getting 1k followers (tysm!!), I felt this would be a fun way to celebrate!! These entries will be posted throughout the summer (with dates provided), so keep your eyes open for when a diary entry opens! They can be read as standalone fics, but some (2-3) may be linked with one another. And no, they are not gonna be in first-person, only for this post as a sort of introduction to the pieces, lol. And FYI: these adorable sea-themed dividers are made by the wonderful remi (@cafekitsune), whose dividers I use non-stop!! Thank you sm for the dividers as always, remi, love what you do sm!!

Diary Status: ongoing!!

Word of caution: fem!reader - modern AU - age differences (the reader is at least in their 20s; the guys' ages will be specified in their respective fics for convenience's sake) - explicit content/nsfw so minors DNI - mentions of alcohol/drug use - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - taboo (consensual sex b/w professor/undergrad; a friend's relative) - size differences - one night stands - be sure to read the content warnings (cw) to fully grasp what each fic will contain before reading!

Intrigued readers: wanna be tagged when an entry is posted? Lmk in the replies plz!

✎﹏﹏﹏ 📖 Y/n's Diary Entries 📖 ﹏﹏﹏✎

Dear Nanami Kento... ༄ My Professor's Final Spring Praise

Entry Narrative: Before my summer break officially started, I had to finish my last in-person exam with Professor Nanami. It was so tough, but I made it through! I was the last to leave, so I thanked the professor and shared some final words before heading to my dorm to finish packing up. However, how do a few gratitude and praise exchanges end up with me on his desk and him between my legs? Contents: professor! Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content so minors DNI - taboo (consensual sex b/w a professor & undergrad) - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Nanami approaching early 30s) - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - semi-missionary position (reader lies on their back on a table while Nanami stands) - public sex/sex in a university classroom - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - pining if you squint - praise - pet names (baby, darling, love, sweet pea) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - kissing/makeout sessions. Completion: July 3rd (Nanami + my bday :DD so I better see y'all wish me and my hubby a hbd or this shit isn't getting released >:T)

Dear Satoru Gojo... ༄ Sweet Blind Summer Fling

Entry Narrative: Due to a bet made by Nobara, I made an online dating account to set myself up with a blind date. Although a bit witty and annoyingly childish, Gojo's remarkably handsome and sweet...So, how the hell did I end up sleeping with him on the first date!? Contents: switch! Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content so minors DNI - blind date/online match-up - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Gojo is around early 30s) - texting back and forth - sex at a hotel - one night stands - consensual sex under the influence - protected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - cowgirl + lotus positions - pet names (angel, baby, dollface, pretty, princess, sweet thing) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - mentions of drug/alcohol use (reader and Gojo don't get blackout drunk, but y'all get tipsy) - a bunch of silliness bc it's a Gojo fic (duh). Completion: July 24th

Dear Suguru Geto... ༄ Swim in Waves, Chill in Caves

Entry Narrative: I went to the beach with my friends!! Only for me to...run into Gojo again!!? And to make things crazier, I met his attractive best friend who heard "so much" about me??!! Thanks to Gojo's nonstop blabber-mouth, Geto was interested in me in ways I would rather not be known for! Contents: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Geto is around early 30s) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - heavy depictions of a blowjob - semi-handjob - sex at an open area; cave by the beach - 69+ doggy style/backshots + missionary position - unprotected sex but Geto doesn't shoot inside (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - fucking while the sun sets, lmaooo - pet names (baby, cutie, sweetheart, sweetie, princess) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - Gojo is here so expect some silliness. Completion: August 4th

Dear Choso Kamo... ༄ In[put]s & Out[put]s

Entry Narrative: My friends and I are getting ready to go out, but I'm feeling a little nervous about my outfit since it looks a little risqué... So, I took a pic of it and sent it to Itadori to hear his thoughts. Come to find out...I instead sent it to his half older brother, who was coming to pick me up......and he liked the outfit so much that he gave me his personal opinion?? Contents: still deciphering... Completion: TBA

Dear Toji Fushiguro... ༄ Secrets, Sweat, and Summer Fever

Entry Narrative: The gang and I hung out at Megumi's place for the last week of summer. But when I'm left at the house alone with Megumi's hot father, how am I supposed to act normal after "accidentally" eavesdropping on him jerking off to me!? Also, why and how the fuck does he know about my personal endeavors!? Contents: still deciphering... Completion: TBA

© hoshigray 2023 ~𓆉~ Diary entries above are collected by, written by, and belong to me, so please do not steal, edit, or post my works. Or I'll find all the people in your family who don't know how to swim and throw 'em in the ocean (and yes, that includes you). :/

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 18 🍒

"I Wanted It To Be You"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 7,467

Summary: Moving on from Joel, your life takes many unexpected courses: college, marriage.. yet you keep wondering What If..?

(Warnings contain spoilers, so please check beneath the cut if you're curious)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (the difference is 17 years, and there are a few time skips throughout this chapter), starts in late 2003 and ends in 2023, Angst Angst Angst, brief mention of jailtime, breakup, parental issues, heavy on the mom guilt, underage drinking, dry humping, anonymous drunk sex (never ever do this, folks), vomit, reader going through a slutty era after getting her heart broken (just like Joel in Chapter 14), allusions to smut, time skips (labeled), panic attack, mention of drugs and alcohol, rough sex, creampie, surprise pregnancy, infidelity, lil bit of a makeout sesh with Tommy, semi-public sex, pussy pronouns, light degradation, Ellie is Joel's daughter, mention of cyberstalking (not as serious as it sounds), mention of reader having a therapist, Joel and Tess are married. If I left anything out, please LMK!

Author's Note: this took forever to write because the more I edited the more I wanted to add. And I know this chapter has quite a few time skips, I just wanted to highlight the important parts as much as I could. ALSO: I apologize for the unrealistically speedy law process at the beginning. I have no idea how that situation would pan out, but it would almost definitely drag out for months if not years.

So much angst here, but now the reader is all grown up! I wanted to add the convo with Sarah but this chapter was already getting so long, and I think it'll fit better in the next installment anyway.

Series Masterlist

"I would've said yes."

You've lost count of how many voicemails you leave Joel, who's been ignoring your calls, but this is the only time you say it, that you admit your love could have gone a different way if you'd just gotten back to that hotel room together.

You replay that night over and over in your head, but with different endings. In a perfect world, your father would never have even been there in the first place. In a separate, less perfect world, you would not have called out to him, just ignored him the way he ignored you. Then you'd have some peace of mind, and you'd belong with the man you love.

Each time you call Joel, you expect to hear his gruff voice on the other end of the line. And soon enough the ringing stops and goes straight to voicemail, where you leave him the words of your bleeding, broken heart:

"I would've said yes."

You haven't taken the ring out of its box, worried you'll jinx whatever luck you have left. Joel is supposed to kneel, take your hand in his, and place the ring on your finger. You've never envisioned what getting engaged would look like, but it definitely bears some semblance to tradition.

When Chris refused to press charges, the law stepped in and did it for him. Thirty days in the Bexar County Jail is what they sentenced Joel. That was why you couldn't reach him, why you felt like you were hitting a brick wall. It's a relief when you're finally able to speak to him.

"I'm so sorry," you cry to him over the phone, his voice like a warm and soothing balm. You imagine yourself curling into his embrace, allowing his arms to enfold you, make you small and safe, hidden from the dangers and ugliness of the world.

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he grunts.

"I love you." You sound pitiful over the phone but you don't care. "Joel, let me come see you and we can work it out. Please."

He sighs. "I got somethin' I need to tell you. Might change your mind how ya feel about me."

"What?" you ask quickly, your young mind scrambling to imagine what he could say, as if to fortify your already shattered heart. Your stomach sinks, nausea threatening to make the bile rise in your throat. "Joel, what is it?"

He's quiet for awhile and when he speaks it's monotone. "I've been seein' someone else."

It sounds like he's speaking a foreign language. You shake your head, looking at your wall calendar. It's only December. You last saw him in late September. The biblical manger scene on the church calendar your mom put on the fridge is an evil harbinger of time now lost.

"Who?" you ask, dreading the answer.

"Doesn't matter," he says gruffly, sounding uncomfortable.

"Tell me who," you insist.

With a deep sigh he relents. "Hailey."

Again, it's like hearing a foreign language. "Hailey? The girl I worked with? The one who went to Sarah's party? That Hailey?"

"Yeah."

"How.. how did this happen?"

"Ran into her at a bar my first night out of jail. I was lonely and she was.. she was there for me."

"What do you mean? Did you-" you take a moment to breathe, try not to let your emotions take over.

"I slept with her. That's all it is between us, just fuckin'."

It's like a punch in the gut. No, worse. It's a blade plunging into your heart over and over.

In a blur of upset and disappointment, you utter the words of anyone who's ever had a broken heart: "How could you do this to me?"

There's no answer for it from his side. His refusal to go into detail feels like he's hiding his fling with Hailey on purpose, withholding part of his new life to you, but you never stop to think he might be saving you from the pain he knows is due.

You cry after hanging up on him. You cry more than you did when he left you in San Antonio. You cry until you can no longer see because your eyes are puffy, nearly tiny slits that still somehow shed tears when you think of Joel with your ex-friend.

Once the sadness has been cried out, there remains only rage, simmering and profound. With small, practiced movements, you take the engagement ring in its box and mail it to Joel's address. No note, and no explanation needed.

"You're not yourself," your mom mentions one night when you push your plate away, your dinner barely touched.

"Not hungry," you mumble.

She sighs in exasperation. "I don't know what to do with you. You won't talk to me." She pushes her own plate away and downs the rest of her cheap wine. "You come home from God-knows-where, with a damn bruise on your face."

You touch your cheek where your father had accidentally knocked you backwards, wishing it was the only physical pain you endured from that night.

"..you don't bother with the chores anymore, you lock yourself away in your room, probably not even studying. Do you even attend classes anymore? Do you even care about your future?" she continues.

"No," you say quite simply.

"No??"

You shake your head and shrug, as if answering something as easy as 'do you want to watch a movie later?'

"I don't. Give. A shit."

Anita scoffs, refilling her glass. "Great. That's just great. Maybe I'll drink this entire bottle and give myself alcohol poisoning. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your shitty attitude anymore."

The scrape of your chair as you push away from the table is as loud as nails on a chalkboard. "You want me to talk? I'll talk." You lean forward, relishing this moment where your mom looks scared as shit.

"I said I was in College Station, but I lied. I was fucking Joel every weekend I was away. We met up in hotel rooms and fucked each other's brains out. And the best part of it all was that he loved me," your voice breaks but you're wickedly delighted by the look of shock and disgust on your mother's face.

You're on a tirade now that can't be stopped. "Two months ago I found Dad in San Antonio. I did," you nod, a psychotic kind of laughter breaking from you when she gawks. "And do you know what? He's forgotten all about us. He has a new family, new kids, new young wife. And he doesn't give a shit about you or me. He never really has, has he?" You realize you're standing, towering over her as you spit out all the venom she's ever poured into you right back at her.

"Now.. how does it feel to have the truth shoved in your face? To be deprived of the fantasy world you wanted so badly to live in, cushioned by your idiotic pretenses? Because I'll bet you could've gone your whole life not knowing, staying innocent. Well, Mother Dearest, fuck you."

Without a word you pack your things, your body moving way ahead of your brain, stuffing every necessary item into a couple of bags before you leave her house, with the intention to never return again.

Summer 2004 Louisiana

Staying with friends in a shitty apartment, you finish the rest of the semester before transferring to another school. Three schools in one year probably isn't a very good look on your transcript, but it's the first choice you make that is truly your own. Working two jobs over the summer you finally have the money you need to survive as you begin a new chapter in Louisiana.

You do everything in your power to get over Joel. The first step was deleting his number from your phone, even though you've already memorized it by heart. To be safe, you also delete Tommy's number, and Sarah's. It feels final, and a small part of you wishes they could get a notification informing them you no longer consider them important enough to keep, even as data.

It still stings when you think of Joel with Hailey. She's older, more experienced, and can probably do whatever he wants without being asked. After you've deleted the Millers from your contact list, you hover over Hailey's name, pressing it and, in a moment of antagonism, send her a text. I thought you were my friend, Turns out you're just a fucking slut Then you delete and block her number.

Dating other guys doesn't come very easy. It's as if they can smell the heartbreak on you, sense your loneliness and unease, the untempered anger simmering below the surface of your smile. You're a walking red flag and you know it, but that doesn't stop you.

You grind on a guy at a club after he buys you a few appletinis. Never mind that he's twenty five and trying to get you drunk so you'll fuck him. With your twenty-dollar Charlotte Russe dress hiked up as you drag your sopping panties over his clothed hardness, he sucks the apple flavor off your tongue, one hand gripping your hips while the other slips inside your underwear to rub your clit and you come for the first time in months. So loud, in fact, that you're caught and promptly kicked out of the club. When your partner (you never remember his name) asks to continue at his place, you decline, already walking to the next bar.

Once the high wears off, you are consumed with guilt as you think of Joel. What would he say if he found out? Would he even care? Maybe he's fucking Hailey right now.

And it hits you that it's already been a year since you first slept with him.

You pause in the middle of the street, coming back to earth when a car honks at you, cursing at you to hurry up and fucking move dumb bitch!

Walking on, you can't get the memory of the feel of Joel out of your head: the way his tongue licked into your mouth, fingers traveling down to play between your folds, telling you he needed you nice and wet before he fucked you, those thick fingers slipping in and playing you like a well tuned instrument, his lips gliding over your throat, resting just above your pulse point, then finding their way down the slope of your breasts, taking each nipple between his lips, his beard rasping against your skin.

You try to force the thought away, but it returns manifold. His mouth, the stiffened warmth of his tongue lapping at your cunt, drinking up every fucking drop and telling you you taste so sweet. He doesn't stop until you come more than once, finally fitting himself inside you, teasing you with the first few inches. Sure you can handle the rest, babygirl? before sliding in in one smooth thrust, joining you body and soul, moving against you just how you need.

You cover your face with your hands and wander into an alley, overcome with despair at the loss of your love, the loss of what innocence you thought you had. Both of those things given to someone who only saw fit to fuck you as he wished and discard when he couldn't handle the reality of your personal life.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks, approaching softly from behind. You turn and see a man, another college student like yourself, dressed in jeans and a striped button down. His features blur together until all you hear is his soft Southern accent and all you smell is his Curve cologne. The next thing you know you're kissing him, begging him to touch you, fuck you, and then he's spinning you to face the wall, dress hiked up, panties pulled down. Your arms support you against the wall as he pushes into you from behind and all you think about is him fucking the pain away, pumping into you hard and fast. He's nowhere near as big as Joel, but you've been so touch starved that the sounds coming out of your mouth are shameless.

Without warning you vomit, splashing your shoes and the wall in front of you with appletini puke, and the guy pulls out immediately, getting away from you as fast as he can, tucking himself back into his jeans.

You rest your forehead against the cool brick wall, spitting out the sour taste in your mouth as tears weep freely from your eyes.

September 2004

At the start of sophomore year you're the only one who doesn't have family come down to help move in, to visit with and take silly, memorable photos with. Nobody comes to your dorm and helps you decorate and put your belongings away. By the time your assigned roommate comes with her parents and little brother you're already set up, fresh sheets on your twin bed, your side already claimed.

You're reading when she comes in, a young girl, freshman, with hope in her eyes, excited to meet you, looking forward to her new life away from Montana or Missouri or wherever she says she's from. You're barely listening.

Who you do notice is her dad: mid-forties, slight beer belly, wearing a polo shirt and cargo pants with brand new New Balance shoes. You make eye contact immediately before he shifts his gaze away. His daughter, your new roommate Jessica, starts to unpack, asking you questions about the classes, what student groups to join. You offer what advice you can, stretching out on your bed in your tank top and running shorts. Her dad's eyes roam over your curves when his wife and kids aren't looking, and you unabashedly flirt back, making sure your shorts ride up, pulling down your tank just a little to expose more cleavage.

Once they leave for a quick tour around the campus you're back to your reading.

Jessica's dad comes back. Alone.

"I think I forgot my wallet in here," he says, giving a forced look of timidity as he checks his pockets.

"You didn't," you smirk, putting your book down and sitting up. "But you can stay if you want.."

He doesn't make an excuse about his family and you wouldn't care if they walked in anyway. Once the door is locked his hands are on your body, grabbing your ass while your hand goes down his pants. You tell him exactly what will make you come, and he does it so willingly it almost touches your heart.

Later as he's leaving and you're trying to get his cum off your bedsheets, he's asking you not to say anything to his daughter, as if you'd proudly exclaim that you fucked him, having barely remembered his name.

You're learning that a lot of men are the same at their very core.

You're a fantasy for the older ones, a college coed with daddy issues and an IUD. Having already been with an older man, you know just what they like, and when you give it you live for the way their eyes light up, and a little of their youth comes back to them for a moment.

It's almost pitiful how easy you figure out the opposite sex. Once you know what they want it's easy to become that, to dress how they want, to feign interest in the things they like, even to keep your thoughts to yourself. You learn to live inside your head, which until now has been the hardest thing to do.

But it's necessary when you're holding onto the headboard of some frat guy's bed while fake moaning as he's holding your hips, going as fast as he can because that's what they do in porn. Each and every guy has a Scarface poster above the bed, or Playboy centerfolds taped to the walls, neon lava lamps on the nightstand along with CDs by Kanye West, Franz Ferdinand, or Velvet Revolver. Your thoughts are elsewhere as you give halfhearted head.

You learn to feel nothing, not even pleasure, because they certainly can't tell that you fake every sigh and gasp.

But the older men, the professors, TA's, even men you meet off campus at the bars in town.. they are what interest you. It's not common for you to find yourself bent over a desk during your professor's office hours, or with your panties around your ankles when a one-on-one study session turns to something else.

You fuck men who remind you of Joel because you can't fuck Joel. It's his hands on you instead of theirs, his breath hot on your ear.. but no one else can fill the part of you that Joel hollowed out for himself when he made you his on a hot Texas summer night.

Though you think about him every day, soon enough, you start to wonder whether he was ever even real, or just someone you made up.

March 2006

Spring Break finds you at a beach house on the coast. The friends you came with are nowhere to be found, and you're pretty sure your drink is laced with something. The music is so loud that you hurry out into the night, seeking solace before the roaring waters of the gulf, black water topped with silver waves. Their rushing sound is soothing, yet you sink to your knees because your world is too heavy.

"I'm dying," you whisper to yourself, crying. Your chest feels tight. It's so hard to breathe, and it feels like your heart will explode.

Only one person on the entire planet comes to mind, and after all this time you still remember his number. You dial it, fingers savoring the press of each button on your phone. How many times have you called Joel and hung up before he could answer? There have been a couple of times when you dialed him while having sex, not sure if he ever picked up, hoping that he heard you moving on and moving away from him. That'll show him.

But you can't even breathe to talk to him. And what if he doesn't answer? What if he's changed his number?

You leave all his numbers entered on the screen but you don't hit the call button. Not yet. You have to think of something to say. Tell him you love him before your body rejects the air it's trying so desperately to claim into your lungs.

"Hey, are you all right?" a gentle voice asks behind you, and a hand is on your shoulder.

You flashback to that night in the alley, the guy who took advantage of you, but this time it doesn't go that way.

A man with soulful eyes and a kind smile kneels next to you, his hand remaining on your shoulder. "I think you're having a panic attack. Can I help you with that?" His voice is as kind and gentle as he looks, and you nod.

"Can you breathe for me? Like this." He inhales deeply and slowly, and when you try it it feels so foreign but you manage it.

"There you go," he says quietly. "Now breathe out.."

Soon he has your breathing back to normal, and you don't have to force your body to do what it naturally does.

"Tell me five things you can see," he continues.

A shaky breath in. Hey, at least it's a breath. "Um.. the water.. the sand.. the moon.. you.."

That's when you get your first good look at him, beyond the smile that works its warmth into your heart, and the eyes that search yours, exuding humanity that you haven't experienced in a long time. He's really cute. You can't deny that your heart skips a couple of beats.

"One more thing?" he says, his voice soft.

You snap back to reality. "Uh.. a ship.. out there in the distance?"

He glances behind him at the water, seeing the great big liner, possibly a cruise ship, on the inky horizon, and takes a seat next to you. "How are you feeling now?" he asks.

"Good.. I think. Better." You nod. "Thank you."

"May I?" he lifts your hand from your lap and turns the palm up, his fingers poised above your pulse point. You nod again.

He presses his touch to your wrist, and you watch his eyes calculating, his lips silently moving while counting. Despite everything you've been through the past two years, this is the most intimate thing you've felt.

"Your pulse is normal." He gently places your hand back on your lap. "Do you want to go back to the party or do you want to stay out here a little longer? If you want to go back," he adds, "I'll be with you, make sure you're okay."

You opt to stay on the beach, embracing the quiet for a little longer. This is the first time a man has had you alone and hasn't tried to fuck you. It's nice, for once.

Towards the end of the night he leads you back to the party house, guiding you through the throng of people there, the air rife with alcohol and the pungent aroma of weed. You're holding his hand, you realize as you walk together. He's your lifeline in this very moment. You grab your jacket and purse from one of the bedrooms, passing by couples making out, some slipping into rooms to do much more than kissing. To think you could have easily ended up there with a random guy makes your skin crawl.

"What was your name again?" you shout to him over the music.

"Justin!"

"Dustin?"

"Justin!"

You both laugh. You tell him your name and of course he mishears you.

He drives you to the small motel room you're sharing with your friends who are inevitably crashing at the beach house, too drugged or drunk or fucked to return for the night.

Justin smiles at you as the engine idles. "Is it okay if I ask you out?"

You exchange numbers, your heart thrumming with a pleasant nervousness. You haven't had a boyfriend since..

..not since Joel.

Don't think about him.

"You can reach out to me if you ever just feel like talking," he says. "I'm here."

So you do, and after a week of texting and a couple of late night calls and getting to know each other, you go for a date for the first time in three years.

Justin picks you up in a Honda Civic, and as you get comfy in the passenger seat you breathe in the scent of the black ice air freshener and his spearmint gum. The radio blasts Smashing Pumpkins at a level you know is too much but it only adds to the excitement of the evening.

He's a year older than you, native to Louisiana, and on leave from the Army.

Living just a half hour from your campus, you start to spend much of your time together. Movie dates, dinner dates, and dates where you just drive around, talking about nothing and everything.

You only sleep with him three months into your relationship, desiring to take things slow for once, to know him better than you have ever known anyone.

It's nice. It's like what you see in the movies, two people wrapped up in each other, soft, no words needed. For once your head isn't forced down into the pillow, or your pussy spit on. For once it's just normal, and normal feels so good.

June 2008 New Orleans, LA

Bourbon Street is alive, electric, no matter that it's a Sunday night. People will drift into work tomorrow still drunk on Zombies and Hurricanes. The entire street reeks of piss, but people either don't care or have been here long enough that it no longer harasses their senses. But more often than not, people are having too much of a good time to care.

You're behind the bar at little hole-in-the-wall place, slinging daiquiris and kamikaze shots when you hear a familiar voice and a tap on your shoulder. "Hey there, Cherry."

You turn and your eyes go wide. "Tommy!" You reach over the bar to hug him, nearly spilling a beer on him in the process. "It's been ages! How are you?

He looks older, more mature, even though it's only been five years since you last saw him: he's letting his facial hair grow, but his eyes still sparkle with mirth and kindness. "It's good to see you, girl." He's no longer with Sofia, their romance having ended a few years before, on friendly terms or so your cousin claimed. You always blamed yourself for the demise of their relationship, believing that your breakup with Joel cast a shadow over her own connection with Tommy.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

"We're good, just here in town, expanding the business."

"We?" Your hands start to shake, and you put away the bottle of gin you have your grasp on. Your heart starts to pound before the next words even leave his mouth.

"Yeah, me and Joel are lettin' off a little steam, wanted to toss back a few before we go back to the hotel."

You feel his eyes on you before you're even aware that he's here. Looking up, at a small table near the entrance, is Joel Miller. Your heart stops, and you don't know how it is you're still alive. He looks you up and down, appraising every feature and detail about you, and you wonder if you've changed in five years or not. You wonder if he still loves or hates you.

"...and we thought this was that bar where girls dance and pour tequila down guys' throats, but this is just as good 'cause you're here."

Tommy manages to snap you out of your trance. "Oh.. you mean Coyote Ugly.."

"Yeah, they opened one in Austin a couple years back but this one ain't never wanna go nowhere," he motions back with his head to Joel.

You return your gaze to the older brother but he's no longer looking at you, his glance dotting along the crowd, following a younger woman as she saunters up to him, smiling, flirting. Your stomach turns and you force a smile at Tommy.

"Whatever you want is on me."

Tommy's smile and laughter is infectious. "You sure about that, Cherry?"

"I'm sure," you say, pouring out a shot for yourself. "You know, nobody's called me that in a long time."

"What's that?" he catches a bright sparkle on your left hand, and quickly takes it within his own. "Cherry, you didn't tell me you were engaged!"

Joel must have one ear straining to listen because Tommy's outburst got his attention right away and he swivels his head to look at you.

"Yeah.. he's a nice guy." That's how you describe Justin to everyone: he's a nice guy. He'd proposed last year after your one year dating anniversary. "He's in the Army, they're shipping him out a week after our wedding. And I'm going with him."

"He's a good guy if he's an Army man," Tommy approves, just as Joel approaches, the woman he was talking to now gone. "So? Are we invited to the weddin'?"

You can't tell if he's teasing or not, and Joel's poker face gives zero indication as well. "I already sent out save-the-dates, but if you'd like to come I won't object. The more the merrier." For the first time you see Joel up close and your heart stutters, an irregular beat that you'd gotten used to in the aftermath of your disastrous breakup.

He's still so fucking handsome: the dark brown of his hair fading to what you can already see as gray, with gray patches in his beard. There are more lines around his eyes. There's still that jolt of electricity when your gazes meet.

"You happy?" he asks, his countenance giving nothing away of his true feelings, so it's difficult to gage whether he's legitimately asking, or simply being nice.

"I'm happy." But it sounds forced, like taking the pliers to your own mouth to fix your own abscess.

Joel only nods as you pour a couple whiskeys for them. "To Cherry getting married!" Tommy beams his salute and the three of you down the shots quickly.

It's sometime after your shift, and you're in the parking lot with Tommy, his arms around you as he presses you to the side of his truck. Or maybe it's Joel's truck. You don't know and you don't care, all you want is to feel something again. The nearness of Joel all night has rewired your brain, and as Tommy deepens the kiss, you're disappointed that it's not Joel's taste, not Joel's scent that surrounds you. Luckily he's not a bad kisser, and his hands roam everywhere you want them to be.

Better the wrong Miller than no Miller at all, your whiskey-soaked brain tells you.

"Always thought you were pretty," he whispers, hands palming your breasts over your shirt. "But you were Joel's from the moment he set eyes on ya, told me so himself. Leave that one alone, she ain't for you.'"

"He didn't want me enough.." your voice cracks as tears spill effortlessly down your cheeks.

"Don't cry," he says gently. "I don't got any tissues with me." He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. "Still want me to give you a ride home?"

You nod, telling him you need to make a quick trip to the ladies' room to fix your makeup, and in the narrow hallway where the restrooms are hidden from the rest of the bar, you run into Joel.

"Sorry," you mumble, trying to get around him, but he puts his large hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"You gonna take my brother home and fuck him? Then marry some Army jackass?" he says as in disbelief.

You put your guard up, tougher now than you were five years ago. "What I do is my business. By the way, how's Hailey?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb." You push past him and start for the women's room to fix your makeup when Joel stops you again.

"You ain't gonna fuck my brother tonight, or any other night, babygirl," he utters.

There's a fire lit under you now. "Oh? What are you, the Morality Police? Fuck off."

"Fuck me," he says. "You know you want to. You're probably wet from Tommy, and I appreciate his gettin' ya ready for me, but I notice the subtler signs: your eyes are glistenin', you've been lickin' your lips every time you look at me, and you probably haven't noticed, but your nipples are pokin' right through your shirt. I bet they're just beggin' for attention, huh?"

He says all this while just standing in front of you, not crowding you like any other guy would. And you realize he's not even trying to rile you up. He's giving you a choice.

"What makes you think I want you? I have a good man who loves me. He's all I need."

"Needs and wants are different, babygirl. Once you're married you're stuck with him til' death. Hope you realize that."

"I'm aware." But it's already hit you: you'll be with Nice Justin for the rest of your life. You'll be a Nice Wife and maintain a Nice Home for the inevitable Nice Kids you'll have. You hate Joel for putting this thought in your head.

"He fuck you like I did?" he asks in an intimate tone.

You shake your head, already pulling him into the restroom with you. "Joel, no one's ever fucked me like you did."

Your body delights in the quick, sweet reunion with him. It's as if time has never separated you, as if both your hearts are whole again. His mouth greedily devours your kisses. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, the latter a bad habit. You're shoved into one of the stalls, fumbling with the lock while Joel's hands find their way across your body, one under your shirt, palming your breast, the other going into your jeans, expertly finding your soaked panties, crooking his fingers into your cunt.

Your back is pressed against his broad chest, his cock already hard inside his jeans, rubbing furiously against your lower back until he bends you forward to press against your ass, finally pulling your jeans and panties down in one go.

Too much time has passed for you to be gentle or even careful. He presses you to the stall door, nothing but heat and raw need between you. Words not needed, your only communication grunts and whispered curses that echo against the tiles of the cramped space.

"You ain't takin' no slow and gentle with me, sugar. i ain't got the patience for that right now." He nudges against you and it's a wonder you don't burn up with all the fire that inflames you. After so long it's a labor of love to fit him again, but as his fingers add pressure to your clit you get wetter, opening for him as easily as you did years ago.

"There she is," he says. "Been waitin' for me, been needin' a real man to fill ya up, ain't ya, babygirl?" he huffs in your ear, breath warm against your skin. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes.." your voice comes out in a hiss, your brain only thinking about his cock, the way it stuffs you, the only thing that completes you.

"That's what I thought. These lil' college boys don't know what to do with such a tight, pretty pussy. And neither does your fiance." He hikes one of your legs up, tucking your knee under his arm, keeping you nice and open, watching himself slide in and out of your weeping slit, slamming himself against you as he sinks his thumb into your puckered asshole, eliciting an all-but muffled gasp from you. "I know you called me just so I could listen to them fuckin' ya.. I know you never came with them, not once. This pussy is mine, has been from the very start."

You're no longer a virginal high school grad, and he takes what he wants from you, giving you what he knows you need.

The door opens but he doesn't stop, just quiets his own noises and clamps his hand over your mouth to squelch your sounds. The stall door jiggles and you put your hand over it until the person grumbles and walks away, muttering about having to piss. When they're gone Joel pumps into you relentlessly, chasing his pleasure and yours. He knows by now what will make you come, which combination of touches and kisses make your knees weak and your clit stand at attention.

"Fucking come for me, you little slut," he whispers, his tone almost loving if you didn't know better, and when you let go the pleasure is almost painful. Years of need and pent-up longing are released as your cunt squeezes around his rigid cock, milking him, smiling when you feel the warm spurt of his come as he presses deep at your cervix.

"That's my girl," he says proudly, your come spilling out already, lining his dick with a mix of both of you. "She's wrecked, split wide open like she's meant to be.. gonna send you back to your man drippin' with my come, used up like a good lil' whore."

His words add a sweet sting to the pleasure that has yet to ebb, resounding through your veins like thunder that takes its time in rolling away from the storm. Whore.. well, he's not wrong.

When your heavy breathing has subsided, you feel him start to slip out of you and you put your hand back on his thigh, a silent gesture to hold off.

"Missed you.. needed you," you mutter, tears of joy and relief and heartache brim in your eyes, until you allow the pleasure of the moment to take over without thought or feeling.

"I know.." he says softly, slipping out of you, careful as you're still sensitive.

That could have been the end. You could have gone your separate ways, but you're drawn to each other, and that doesn't go away easily. When you emerge from the rear entrance of the bar, Tommy looks up, and you can tell he expected that you'd end up with Joel instead. He simply nods as you pass him, walking with Joel to the tiny apartment you share with Justin, who's out of town visiting family. And as you and Joel spend the rest of the night locked in each other's embrace, you realize you don't care if he walks in on you, kicks you out, breaks off the engagement. You're with Joel and nothing else matters.

By dawn you wake up to find that he's gone, leaving only the scent of him on the pillow next to you. No note, no explanation, no goodbye. And once again you're sure you only dreamed up Joel Miller, used him as a mental escape for the life you were tying yourself down to.

It's very atypical for you to forgo a period, even at your most stressed, you can count on seeing that bright red stain on the toilet paper around the middle of every month. And when, by mid-July, you haven't even spotted, the first thing you do is take a pregnancy test.

All the men before have been careful, or you've been fortunate enough not to have a scare. But when you finally force yourself to look at the the little blue plus sign developing on the test strip, you realize this is no scare.

You're pregnant with Joel's baby.

The wedding takes place as expected, and your heart sinks when you walk down the aisle, seeing the joy on Justin's face. You've told him the baby is his, and he doesn't doubt it for a moment, that's how much he loves you. But for a fleeting moment you want so bad for it to be Joel at the altar instead.

The ceremony goes by in a blur, as everyone warned you it would. Group pictures are taken, the videographer is capturing the moments that photos alone can't encapsulate.

"Over here, honey!" photographer gets your attention. You barely hear him as you watch a figure walking out, one of the last guests to leave the church. From behind he looks like Joel, but you can't quite tell, and when your eyes fully focus, he's gone, and your own vision can't be trusted.

Tommy gave his regrets that he couldn't attend, and Joel simply never RSVP'd. But in your heart you know it was him, you know he had to come and see for himself that you're moving on, growing up and growing away from him. The only tether you have to him is the baby growing in your belly.

"Front and center, Mrs. Williams," Justin smirks, giving your cheek a soft kiss. "One more picture then we're onto the reception."

March 2009

Your daughter is born in the springtime, a loud and howling child from the moment she leaves you. The only time she's quiet is when she's in your arms.

"We need to decide on a name," Justin says, a little miffed that his daughter cries when he holds her despite his best efforts to soothe her.

"I told you, I like Ophelia," you say, gathering her into your arms to feed her.

"It's such a prissy name. And I can already tell she's not gonna be prissy."

"Then what do you suggest?" you ask tiredly. He doesn't seem to understand you've gone through labor for twenty four hours, only thinking of himself.

"Eleanor, after my mother."

You groan. "I always hated that name."

"Please, babe. It'll make her so happy to have her granddaughter as her namesake."

"Fine. Fine. But her middle name is Ophelia."

"Deal." Justin smiles as he fills out the paperwork.

"Eleanor.." you tell your baby. "But I'm going to call you Ellie."

Your mother once told you that when you become a parent, your life is not your own anymore. She said it as a kind of warning, a prophecy yet to be fulfilled when you were just a pre-teen, rolling your eyes at her warning you away from all kinds of danger.

You never expected she'd be right. Every waking moment holds more weight than ever before. Ellie is completely dependent on you, even as she grows and becomes more independent. It's you she looks to for validation when she does something right, and you she looks to when she knows she's in trouble.

She's smart as a whip, quick with a comeback and well versed in anything she can get her hands on. She excels in sports too-- individually, at first. As she gets older you notice a little bit of a mean streak in her. While she craves friends and wants to be part of a team, she has trouble making connections sometimes.

You have to wonder if part of that comes from Joel, his stubbornness and his lone wolf tendencies. Has he unknowingly passed down the most insecure parts of himself to his daughter? Sorry, his secondborn daughter?

Now there's literal proof of Joel Miller as a person, in human form, and she's trudging upstairs with her field hockey equipment and slamming her bedroom door.

Between the years of 2004 and 2008 you could almost convince yourself that he didn't exist, that he was a figment of your runaway imagination, born of a father complex and attachment issues. You work on yourself in therapy, feeling small as you divulge the innermost secrets of your heart and the intrusive thoughts, even going so far as to reveal that you've looked for Joel on social media, now that everyone has a profile.

Born of an intrusive thought, you type his name into the search bar on Facebook. Getting quite a few findings of those with the same name, you narrow the search. Joel Miller, Austin Texas His company logo comes up as its own page, and you notice it's changed, probably Tommy's idea as Joel never liked change.

Searching further you find his picture. There it is: Joel Miller, Boston Massachusetts

Huh?

You click on his profile while your heart thumps strongly within your ribcage. You wish you could let it out, set it free.

There he is, looking older than the last time you saw him, the grey more prominent in his hair, looking serious in his selfie. Even though it's just a selfie, a random moment in time, you can't help blushing, as if he's looking at you through the screen, appraising your own measure of aging. You wonder what you were doing that exact moment he took the picture.

But your hunger for knowledge needs to be fed, and scrolling down you swear you misread it at first.

Relationship status: Married

There's a roaring in your ears as your mouse hovers over the name next to those words: Tess Servopoulos

From there you check out her profile, see that she's from Detroit, five years younger than Joel. While his profile pic is only of himself, hers shows them together, on a hiking trail somewhere, Joel's arms around her from behind.

You slam the laptop shut, your blood buzzing in your veins. You feel distractingly alive, the heartache spreading through every muscle and nerve ending. Your past is brought to full fucking focus.

Against your better judgment you open the screen again and search through Tess's photos, specifically the ones of Joel. Most of the comments are from a couple of guys named Bill and Frank, who after some digging you come to find are married, and friends with Joel and Tess. You hit the jackpot when you find a video she uploaded, a fifteen-second clip of Joel holding a baby. Your heart stops when you realize the baby isn't his but Sarah's, and he's now a grandfather.

It feels like you're spying on them. You know so much about them by now, and the one glaring omission is children. They don't seem to have any.

Going back to Joel's profile, you hover the mouse dangerously over the Add Friend button. When you click it, it's the strongest rush you've felt in ages.

Weeks later, he hasn't accepted it. The sparkle of your anticipation is dulled, and with a heavy heart you click to cancel the request.

A couple years down the road you get a notification from Facebook Messenger while you're watching Narcos.

Message Request. Sarah Miller Hey! It's been forever! How are you?

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #pedro boys #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu

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suguru-getos · 2 years ago

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okay…. Kaveh Thirst.. he needs a good reward after a long stressful week ;__; i'm too weak for this man i want to give him a hand while kissing him when he's tired and sad, letting him relax and know that he's absolutely loved bc he deserves it!! maybe even tease him a bit tbh. this is a very fluffy thirst istg im so sorry wwwwww

pls don’t be sorry my blog’s name is kaveh’s banner name 🤭 pls be my bestie bc let’s share kaveh together i love that man sm🥲🤍 he makes me feel in awe of his personality every single day.

warnings: drunk kaveh, drunk sex 😏 fluff & comforting words cause he’s just super nice

You opened the door to a stumbling, drunk Kaveh held by his ex-roommate, Alhaitham. “Alright, Kaveh. You are home now.” He glanced at you, helping Kaveh inside and on the bed, “All yours now.” Alhaitham chimed, passing you a friendly half-smile and leaving.

You knew Kaveh absolutely loved hanging out with people, sometimes it got a bit too much given his tight knit schedule. You didn’t mind though, he had his priorities sorted & you never, ever felt that you were left out, or drifting apart.

You walked back towards the bedroom, bidding farewell to Alhaitham. Kaveh was sleeping peacefully, your heart pounded right at your chest whenever you looked at him. Awestruck with the fact that he was yours… forever if need be.

“Kaveh. Goodnight.” You cooed, leaning in and kissing his forehead.

“Don’t go—” Kaveh mumbled, pulling you atop him in a drunken haze. “Don’t you ever, go…”

You smiled tenderly, glassy eyed at the pure innocence Kaveh carried. “I would rather die…” you cooed, kissing his forehead, inching towards his lips and softly kissing him. The supple skin of his lips felt exhilarating to you, especially when Kaveh kissed you back with a much needed fervor. “I love you-”

Kaveh was a mumbling, drunken mess, hands messily touching you all over, cupping your breasts, cupping your ass, caressing your waist, rubbing your back, holding your asscheeks and letting you feel his semi. “Look at what you do to me—”

Kaveh panted, groaning out when you straddled him, humping him while you both were fully clothed. “Argh- baby-” Kaveh groaned, eyes widening; a contrast to his initial droopy, dizzy gaze.

“Let me- Let me have you….” Kaveh sounded so gorgeous whenever he would express his need. Just like now, eager to feel your cunt wrap around his cock.

How could you not comply to your man? He had left you wet enough with the makeout session, however… despite being drunk enough. Kaveh stopped you when you tried to sit onto his erect cock. “Lube yourself up baby…” his observations were always on point. Sometimes baffling you to no end.

Soon you both were left panting messes, moaning each others name, kissing each other while Kaveh leaned against the headboard, hugging you snug & rutting himself inside you. “Don’t let any of me escape. You understand?” Fuck— whenever Kaveh’s politeness faded into orders, that’s when you came the hardest. He was well aware of thr fact, smirking at the sudden clench of your walls around him.

“…and, you will ask for permission, right Princess?”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin thirst #genshin fluff #kaveh #kaveh imagines #kaveh x reader #kaveh thirst #kaveh smut #genshin comfort

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kyoghurts · 4 months ago

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THE FALL IN THE MOONLIGHT ༺ ˎˊ-

mashle / rayne ames x gn reader

synopsis. rayne is more than willing to surrender his love to you. only if you’ll let him.

content. suggestive in its finest details. 2k wc. makeout sesh. dirty talk (???) reader is semi-toxic bc of their avoidant attachment tendency (not really further explained). drunk & a tinge of jealous rayne. literally the most shameless thing i’ve ever written.

you’re the epitome of a mantrap, and rayne ames is here to testify.

in the heart of the forest where moonlight weaves through ancient oaks, a mystical feast unfolds; a riot of colors and sounds demand the earth to swallow its boundaries. reality thickens with haze, blurring into a heady and intoxicating dream.

his pulse is in the throbbing bass of the music, pulling bodies in the rush; losing yourself with the rhythm. it vibrates through his bones, as if his body is in a bottle shaking itself, which he’s sure is the root cause of his dizziness. definitely not the butterbeer he’s consumed for the past two hours, his limits in shackles.

and most definitely not because he’s guarding you at a safe distance, ready to pull you away if the situation calls for it.

he’s standing across the field like an outcast, untouched. placing himself in a heavy and uncomfortable setting startled the masses, in any case, he’d shut this public rave party any time. or he’d leave them in their wild abandon for all he cares.

but what’s more alarming is that you’re here, a figure of soon to be in equal standing of his status. a figure of slight-authority—you’re getting there— and he makes sure you’ll get there.

which is why he’s stuck in this predicament, regardless of his principle.

this is not mandatory (he’s had enough of parroting himself every time your laugh annoyingly echoes within the trembling walls of his heart. his ears chasing your voice within the cacophony of sounds.) but his limbs are tied to your feet, wherever you go, he’ll follow without question. (he wonders if you notice this, and he’s not talking about now. you’ve always pulled him in your gaze, at the end of an abrupt sentence with no period of conclusion. he wonders what you think of him, or what magic you truly have lurking beneath your fine smiles and lingering touches and liquid stardust soaked on your tongue.)

(he wonders what sort of face you’ll make if he so bold as to pierce you with “what are we?” in a waking reality. and he can’t save himself for the things his mind conjures up once he seals your lips in his hungry ones. it’s a crime against fairness, then again, when have you ever played fair with him?)

whatever it is that sits between the two of you, it’s crawling beneath skin and muscles and even bones. a parasite gnawing and coiling around his insides, a devil’s ivy somehow caught in his throat; the distance of you and him isn’t helping either, it feels like you’re miles and miles apart. if he calls you out now, will you finally be able to hear his unbearable longing for you?

the music goes louder, his presence more quieter.

that didn’t take long until he finds you shrinking back in disgust when a guy smiles wickedly at you with an all-knowing intention. if he’s asking for trouble, it’s a broken face and teeth he’ll get.

the air is too thick with tension that’s palpable enough to make your breathing so difficult right now. in fact, you can’t even feel your lungs, your breath’s shallow and uneven. you feel rayne’s broad chest flushed against yours, heaving as he pants. and—fuck. your whole body is shaking and your knees are about to give in to the anxiety crashing you in harsh tides.

your mind is hurling at you to shove him off of you. now. you want to scream. you want to cry. blood is going to draw from your lips if you don’t stop biting them real hard. you try to swallow, anything, as he pulls you closer, practically crushing any possible space between you and him. his right arm is pressed against the bark of the tree, atop of your head, and his left is carefully hovered around your waist, just barely enough to drive you mad. his head is craning towards behind, occasionally turning left and right on high alert.

you’re fairly certain he’s keeping himself composed, despite the enclosed space forced upon him. he’s always been like this. so cautious, so careful. he’s everything you’re not. and god knows how many times he’s dealt with such things because of you. you bite the insides of your cheek, the guilt on your mouth is deserving of punishment. you both stay like this for—how many minutes has it been? ridden with hesitance, you try to whisper, “..i think they’re gone-”

“where are they ?!”

howls of skin deep fury travels across the entire forest, causing your trembling hands to cling onto rayne’s neck, squeezing your head in his chest as much as you can, trying to suppress a gasp filled with crippling dread. suddenly you feel hot, warmth envelops your sides, his hand are now around your back. the way he puts pressure while rubbing you is gentle and coaxing—something that’s almost sacred and fleeting.

his lips are on your head, hushing you, “shh, stay quiet.”

you hug him tighter than anything. not wanting to let go anymore.

if it’s his heartbeat or yours that’s drumming resonantly around the shell of your ear, you’re not sure. but you start pouring your focus on his embrace instead. his scent engulfs you, all woody and intoxicating. you take a long and deep breath, unhurried; the asshole’s presence still lingers at the edge of your mind, but his ugly and angry expression is a blur compared to the present. you feel rayne’s fingers stroke your hair, and you can think about nothing except the way his chest slowly comes to its normal pace of breathing each moments that quietly pass.

the sound of the party is distant. cicadas invite you to a place of nature’s refuge. your face is still buried close to his figure, but you get the sense that he doesn’t mind, not when his grip remains the same.

your eyes are shut when he sighs, soft yet reverberating. “you’re insufferable.”

“thank you.” you say, breathy and half-teasing. just trying to make anything light, even if there’s a tremor in the tone of your voice. “you could’ve handled the situation better though.”

“says you. you should’ve left him with me and flipped him off.”

“i thought you hated me. so i didn’t.”

the stroking stopped. hesitant.

he retrieves, and for a second you think you fucked up. really fucked up. you can see his eyes glisten through the dark night with—such messy, incomprehensible emotions. his jaw clammed and taut, as if he’ll never forgive himself if he opens his mouth and let himself free.

“i don’t hate you.” each word is emphasized, each breath is betrayed. “god you’re- are you serious?”

“i’ve been avoiding you, rayne. it’s only valid to hate me-”

“don’t make me repeat myself.”

you could be scared by now. but you’re not. this isn’t some guy who tried to fuck you all over like that ex of yours who showed up unannounced and started harassing you for no apparent reason. this isn’t anyone who’s taken so much of you that on some days, you don’t really know who you’re looking at in the mirror. this isn’t anyone else who you tried to impress for the eye to behold—this isn’t anyone who tolerates that bullshit.

this is rayne ames, one of—or probably the first one to have you bound by whatever laws of the universe has in its power, the one who has your heart wrapped in an unexpected gentleness, one who you truly felt so deeply about you could call it love—you don’t know the feeling well, but you do know this one’s real. because rayne has always told the truth, how there’s nothing to hide even if he doesn’t speak of it.

his golden beautiful eyes hold so much promises. and maybe he’s telling you now that you don’t have to hide any longer, too.

your lips curl into a frown. “i’m sorry.”

his hands pull you by the waist, with slight pressure, intense stare. “you better be.”

you huff a chuckle, “i am, rayne.”

“show me.” it could be the alcohol (even if its in a very small amount, you could guess that rayne is a lightweight and butterbeer is no exception), but you notice the faint pink dappled on his cheeks. you’re tempted to trace your thumb across his double-lined marks, feel his warm skin against your cold palm.

instead, you brush the side of his hair and slightly fiddle his ears, his piercing catches light. you see him visibly wavering, half lidded gaze and quiet but nervous exhales. you fight back a smile, “how do you want me to show it, hm? tell me.”

“please—” he gasps when you lean closer, heat permeates the little space in-between, “i want you to kiss me.”

and you did. caramel-sweet meets your bitter taste heart.

its almost an imperceptible touch of the lips, slow and gentle and careful. as if it’s a whisper of a lover’s affection. the way you kiss is deliberate and measured, allowing him to pause and savor the softness. you find this rather strange—as if you haven’t felt vulnerability in this way, but that you find it’s comforting. each slight movement is intentional, it feels so intimate that you want it to last forever.

a prolonged, low moan escapes him. he explores you, down to your waist then to the hips and—“is this okay?” he parts, voice almost swallowed when you longingly chased his lips back, but you had to notice one of his hands is hovered over your thigh, and you nod as if the answer should’ve been obvious. you feel safe with rayne for him to touch you in places you’re most ruined. in places you’ve never let anyone come close to. he’s all yours.

he gives your thigh a nice squeeze, before he returns your kisses with much, much less measured and more passionately— so raw in his wake. it’s whole and messy and uncharted. you can’t help but let out a faint mewl, the searing sensation of pent up longing courses through his rushed veins.

his tongue slides against yours, permission being granted with your mouth slightly agape. every touch feels electric, wires buzzing and drunken wants flaring.

you want it—the cautious and protective rayne, the arduous desires and the saccharine taste. he gives you one lasting kiss before he moves to your temple, then to your ear with quick nibbles. he says something, a bit muffled, a bit tantalizing as you shiver, “you’re dangerous, you know that?”

even as your mind is in a hazy state, you’re sober enough to give a solid response. “you like the dangerous anyway.”

“i do.” he proceeds with your neck, wet and sloppy for the impatience he has of you. “makes me want to do dangerous things to you.”

it’s warm, so incredibly warm that you can’t breathe but you want that, too.

you tell this to him in the form of roughly grabbing a fistful of his hair as he sucks that specific spot on your neck, near to your collarbone. earning a satisfied hum from you— fuck it, you think, you want everyone to know you’re his. you’re not going to escape what the universe had so thoughtfully granted you and you’re never going to hide the truth.

“let me take care of you tonight.”

you smile, resolute and profound. “i want you, not just tonight, but your everyday’s, rayne. all of it.”

he spent many nights wanting you and your everydays, and he’ll spend the rest finally giving you what no one else can.

you’re truly the epitome of a mantrap, rayne ames is more than willing to surrender to you completely.

tags. @seneon @caelivir hi <3 gn yal honk shoo mimimi

#mashle #mashle x reader #mashle fics #mashle imagines #rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #mashle x you #mashle headcanons #rayne ames headcanon #ⳋ ★ .ᐟ — 𝒌. presents #ⳋ ★ .ᐟ — 𝒌. mashle

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thepaperpanda · 1 year ago

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Everyone might’ve heard us - Bucky Barnes headcanons & drabble

Summary: a set of headcanons & a little drabble for drunk sex with Bucky

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v), semi-public sex, drunk sex, female reader

Author: Fenrir

A/N: Today's prompt is: drunk sex.

Masterlist

Everything becomes incredibly heightened when alcohol courses through his veins.

Barnes may be a little more aggressive in his sexual advances.

Get ready to be thoroughly dominated and fucked mercilessly.

He's consistently forgetful about using condoms.

When he's drunk, Bucky becomes more interested in the idea of public sex - the mere possibility of getting caught red-handed is driving him wild.

Under normal circumstances, he can stifle his moans when you work your magic on his neck, but with the assistance of alcohol, he's a cacophony of pleasure - he’ll groan louder and more often.“Fuck, doll, you’re going to leave a trail of hickeys on my neck, aren’t ya?”

He'll thrust with unrestrained intensity, abandoning his usual caution as he seeks to pleasure you. He will be unstoppable.

Picture this: you both in front of a mirror, where he'll force you to watch how his thick cock slides in and out of your pussy. “You like that, babe? Look at that. My dick fits you fucking perfectly.”

And when he's inebriated, he tends to get a bit cheeky, chuckling as your body jolts because of overstimulation.

"Was that too much for you, babe?"

He's the type to initiate a passionate makeout session while you're in the midst of your fucking session, savouring the intoxicating taste of alcohol and your essence on your lips.

And here's a surprise — he'll want to experiment with your vibrator, using it to enhance his own pleasure, fucking your tight asshole with the toy while his fat dick is buried deep in your needy cunt.

Bucky's moans will reach a level of eroticism that feels like the very essence of desire. He’s going to sound like a fucking porn star.

He'll cup and squeeze your breasts like there is no tomorrow.

Get ready for ultra hard spanking, especially involving his bionic hand.

He'll deliver the most intense spanks while fucking your tight cunny from behind. Bucky isn’t typically into things that could cause you pain, but now he's gripping your hair like he's taming a wild stallion.

If you happen to be on top, of him, riding his dick, Bucky'll take control by gripping your hips firmly, rendering you immobile while he thrusts up into you with such force that you'll need to cup a headboard to prevent yourself from falling off; the sole sound in the room will be his ball sack slapping against the plush of your ass.

Bucky’s a fucking tease and he would rub his hardened shaft against your wet clit and folds first before sliding it on without a single warning. “Yeah, fuck, you’re so tight for me.”

“Baaaby, ‘m gonna cum inside of you, ok?”

The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the restaurant as Bucky and you sat across from each other at a cosy corner table. The low hum of chatter and clinking cutlery surrounded you, creating a perfect backdrop for the evening ahead.

You had chosen a dress that you felt confident and beautiful in, its neckline gracefully emphasising your décolletage. The deep, rich colour of the dress seemed to catch the candlelight just right, enhancing the allure of the moment.

As the two of you delved into conversation, you couldn't help but notice Bucky's lingering gaze, his eyes locked onto you. His usual demeanour was softened by a faint, appreciative smile, and his blue eyes held a certain warmth that spoke volumes. It was as if the rest of the world had faded into the background, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the magnetic pull of your connection.

_________________________________

Bucky firmly pressed your face against the restroom door of the restaurant, his hand gripping your neck, and his bionic elbow securing you in place. His other hand boldly explored your ass, while his lips trailed against your cheek. “So fucking sexy, aren’t you, doll?”

You trembled at his touch, a dampness growing bigger between your thighs.

Hiking your dress up slightly, Barnes cupped his hand over your clothed core, groping it, smirking widely as he felt how wet you were. Bucky purred, releasing his firm hold on you and withdrawing his hand from your pussy. With a deft move, he spun you around to face him. His hungry lips devoured yours in an intense, passionate kiss. As the heat between you intensified, your hands urgently worked to remove each other's clothing. Bucky's hand slid up, hiking the dress to your tummy while his bionic arm worked on the fly of his jeans.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, Bucky locked eyes with you, searching for any hint of hesitation and finding none.

His hand firmly gripped the shaft of his hard dick that was freed, aligning it with your eager entrance, all the while maintaining intense eye contact with you. He entered you at a tantalisingly slow pace, and both of you couldn't help but moan in unison. Your fingers dug into Bucky's back as you clung to him.

Barnes' hands held your sides, and he began a rhythmic thrusting motion, pulling out and pushing in, all while burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Both of you panted heavily, your nails leaving their mark on his skin, which only intensified his groans as he quickened his pace. "Fuck."

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he held you mid-air, allowing for even deeper thrusts, his hips meeting yours with a passionate intensity.

Intense waves of pleasure coursed through your bodies, leaving you both in a state of ecstasy.

Your silky walls tightened around him, causing Bucky's cock to throb with pleasure. His hold on your sides grew even firmer; you could be sure he'd leave bruises there.

"You feel so amazing around my cock," Bucky moaned, his Romanian accent becoming deeper as he peppered the crook of your neck with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. One of his hands wandered from your side, trailing up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and gripping firmly.

"Bucky," you moaned in response as he continued his rhythmic thrusting, and they grew faster and more primal.

The room echoed with moans, groans, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a cacophony of pleasure. Both of you were lost in pure bliss, completely unconcerned about the possibility of anyone overhearing or getting into the restroom to catch you both red-handed.

As a familiar sensation welled up in the pit of your stomach, you could sense Bucky approaching his climax. His thrusts grew sloppier, his bionic hand that had been on your left sides now moving down to where you were intimately connected. The pad of his metal thumb found your clit, and he began rubbing it in rough circles, causing your toes to curl in your shoes as your orgasm surged through you.

Barnes wasn't far behind, delivering one final powerful thrust before his cock convulsed inside you.

Your walls clenched tightly around him, and both of you reached the peak of pleasure simultaneously, filling the restroom with loud, unrestrained moans.

As he softened inside you, Bucky murmured a quiet, "I fucking love ya, babe."

Bucky leaned in close, his voice a hushed whisper, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "There's something about that electrifying thrill in my spine and tummy when I think about the possibility of getting caught fucking your cunt senseless." Bucky added with a cocky grin, "I'm pretty sure everyone in the dining room heard us."

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moonxmagix · 1 year ago

Text

Cubicles

Pairing: Gerard Way x Fem Reader secretary

CW: power imbalance, use of daddy, brat, spanking, fingering, choking, p in v, slight degradation, drinking, drunk while p in v, semi public ?, face fucking, hair pulling, soft ending, 18+

Summary: You are Gerards secretary and y'all do some nasty stuff in his office and at his home.

It had been my one year anniversary at my new job. I was the CEO’s secretary and was always told how I did an excellent job. I was an overachiever you’d say, I’d take over jobs before my boss told me to, and spend all nighters on work. I was one of the very few women in the office but I didn’t mind, it usually meant I got more expensive gifts! But my pay for the work I did was not satisfactory.

I love my job and wouldn’t trade it for the world. My boss Mr. Way was an excellent business man with the best of manners. But, he was a flirt, a tease, you’d say. Your attraction to him never went beyond a steamy makeout session in his office and some hands between your thighs. If you saw him outside of the law firm you’d never think he was some top boss to a bunch of lawyers that represented mob members. I will admit it was scary at times having grown men yell at you and not being able to yell back.

Being from New Jersey the one thing that got me in trouble the most was my mouth. Mr. Way loved it though, it tested his control. His closest friends and top employees were big flirts too, but I didn’t want them as much as I wanted him.

I walked into the law firm and greeted people as I passed. I had a small office of my own but it wasn’t nearly as spacious as Mr. Way’s. I made special cookie brownies for my one year anniversary here and couldn’t wait to share them. I put all my heavy things away and first went to go get coffee for myself and a couple others. As I stood at the coffee machine I felt a hand smack my ass. I turned to see Mr. Iero standing next to me, I was so used to him being touchy-feely. “I could sue you for that, Mr. Iero,” I said, trying to sound serious. He chuckled, “You’d lose anyway,” he took a sip of the fresh coffee I made.

I rolled my eyes, “You’d lose anyway,” I mocked him. “Better watch it or I’ll get you in trouble with Gerard,” he raised his brow following behind me. I opened Mr. Way’s office door to not see him there, “Is he here yet?” I asked Frank. He was always early even before me and I made sure to get there at 6:30 am sharp. Keep in mind I live in Jersey and transport by train to NYC.

“Haven’t seen him, why? You miss your lil boyfriend,” he teased. I placed his coffee on his desk ready for when he does get here. “Not my boyfriend and I brought a special treat for later and I want him to be the first to try,” I said going to make my way to Mr. Toro and Mr. Mikey as we called him. It’s confusing to have two different Mr. Ways. “Now, leave me to it, yeah?” I smiled ruffling his long hair.

I could tell I got him hot and bothered by the way he unbuttoned his first two buttons on his shirt. I walked into the office that both Mr. Mikey and Mr. Toro shared. “Hi boys,” I smiled, receiving compliments from both. “Don’t you look amazing,” Mr. Toro said, kissing my hand. “What’re you dressing up for,” Mr. Mikey asked. “It’s officially been one year since I started,” I smiled. “Thank you for the coffee Mrs. Y/N, and congratulations to you,” Ray smiled and I went to go see if Mr. Way was here yet.

I snuck by his office and peeked in the door window to see him working on his computer and taking sips of his coffee. I hurried to my office and grabbed the cookie brownies I made. I checked my makeup one last time and freshened up my dark red lipstick.

My heels echoed in the halls as I nervously approached his door, I knocked before opening right away. Gerard met me at the door and saw my hands full of brownies and papers. “Whatcha got here?” he said excited and curious. He took the papers from me and placed several kisses on my cheek and jaw. Smothering me.

I blushed and laid the brownies on his desk, a cigarette from his ash tray filling the air with smoke. He stood in front of me, staring at me up and down. “I made brownies and wanted you to be first to try them,” I said, scooting closer to him, our faces inches apart as I put my arms around his waist. “Aren’t you sweet,” he smiled, grabbing my chin and kissing me gently trying not to get my lipstick on him. I gave him a piece and I heard him moan in joy, “They’re delicious but not as sweet as you,” he said, rubbing our noses together cutely.

But there was more that I wanted to talk about with him, getting a raise. Which I knew wasn’t going to be easy. Gerard sat on his chair taking a puff of his cigarette, “Could I talk to you about something?” I asked shyly. “Of course you can,” he said, patting his lap motioning me to sit on it. I played with his messy hair and took in his features, it didn’t look like he got much sleep. “So?” he said, pulling me out of my gaze.

“Y’know it’s my one year anniversary here anddd I wanted to see if I could get a raise,” I was so nervous for his response. He chuckled, “We’ll see about that. You’ll have to earn it though,” he said with a smirk. I swallowed, “Haven’t I done enough Mr. Way? So not fair,” I whined. He grabbed my face and pulled his mouth next to my ear, “You watch that fuckin attitude right now, understand?” he said, placing a kiss on my neck. I nodded, when he got dominant like that it made my heart race and that wasn’t the only thing having a heartbeat.

I moaned when he kissed my neck, making his demeanor change completely. He told me to get up from his lap and I thought he was going to leave the room but he locked the door and put the blinds down so no one could see inside. He rolled up his sleeves and walked over to me with a dominating hunger in his eyes. “Take your skirt off,” he demanded as he sat in his leather chair.

I hesitantly took my skirt off, leaving me in a black silk button up and black tights. Shoes left with the skirt. He grabbed me and laid me over his lap, “What’re you doi-,” SMACK. I moaned out in pleasure and pain. “Brats like you don’t get to boss around their daddy like that,” he said, smacking each cheek several times. He rubbed and grabbed my ass with such force, leaving more hard smacks. He told me to get up which I did and he shoved all the papers that were once cluttered up to the side.

He pushed me against the desk, towering over me. I grabbed his black and white striped tie and pulled his face closer to me, “Is that all you got, sir?” I teased him, knowing that would only make him more rough with me. He pushed me onto the table and ripped a large hole in my tights. “Gerard!” I was upset with him at that moment, I didn’t bring an extra pair with me. “I’d prefer if you didn’t wear these. I want easier access to what’s mine,” he said, getting on his knees and kissing around my thigh and on the small fabric that covered my pussy.

He slowly moved my panties over, running his finger up and down the wetness. I bit my lip trying to contain the moans. He teased my hole with his fingers, “Beg,” he said, removing his fingers. “Gerard please, give it to me,” I begged him, getting sexually frustrated with him. He inserted two fingers and slowly worked them, my juice leaking out and all over his fingers. His thumb rubbed on my clit which drove me mad. I was a squirming, wet, and hot mess for him.

“Gerard, I..I’m gonna,” I breathed heavily, gripping his full head of hair. “Cum for me you dirty whore,” he growled, slapping my sensitive cunt. I came all over his fingers and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting me. He unbuckled his pants, throwing the belt onto the floor and ripped his pants off, leaving him in his boxers. You could see how hard he was, he pressed his bulge right against my soaking wet cunt.

He pressed his lips to mine, our mouths dancing messily together. His lips and face were covered in lipstick, but mine was too. Gerard took out his cock and teasingly rubbed it against my folds. He slapped my cunt with it, “How bad do you want it? How bad do you want your boss's cock huh?” he smirked. “Give it to me, I’ve never wanted something so bad,” I whined, throwing my arms around his neck. “You’re forgetting something sugar,” he said, pulling his cock away from my cunt.

“Please daddy,” I whispered in his ear, my warm breath sending chills down his arms. He slowly put his cock inside me and I moaned in pain and pleasure as he was thick in size. His pace sped up and his hips slammed into mine. My moans echoed in the room and Gerard kept a tight grip around my throat. “Take that fucking cock,” he murmured in my ear. “Look at you, taking your boss’s cock like the whore you are. Let everyone know how I’ve claimed you,” he said, staring into my soul. “You don’t own me, you stupid man,” I smirked, fighting back with him.

“Oh yeah? Everyone on this floor can hear you right now taking my fat cock. If they try anything with you they’re gone,” he said, pinning my arms down and slamming into me. My walls tightened as I came all over his cock, my ears rang and my mouth was dry. “Daddy’s gonna cum, holy shit,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face. Gerard had plans of pulling out but I stopped him by wrapping my legs around him, forcing him to cum inside me.

“Look at you, what a good girl,” he said, kissing me all over my lipstick covered face. “Do I get that raise?” I said, trying to catch my breath. “We’ll see,” he smiled, putting his clothes back on. I took my tights off and threw them in the bin. We looked at ourselves in the mirror and tried our best to wipe off the lipstick. I laughed at him trying to rub it off with his fingers, smudging it even more.

“Do you think they’re gonna stare at me?” I whispered standing at the door. He chuckled lightly, “No sweetheart, just hide your face and you should be fine,” he said, staying in his office. I took a deep breath and exited. I used my hand to hide my face but while shielding myself I accidentally bumped into someone. “What the hell happened to you?” Frank said. “Mind your business,” I said pushing past him into my office. I scoured through my purse for my makeup wipes and started hurriedly wiping it off. KNOCK, “I need to talk, it’s important. I’m too impatient to wait,” Frank came in bothering me.

I groaned in annoyance, “Do you not have any manners? Holy shit,” I said, throwing my wipe away and taking out my makeup to touch up. “Do YOU have any manners?! Moaning for the entire office to hear,” he mocked my moans. I got fed up and took my heel off and threw it at him.

~^~^~^~^~^~^

It was about 7pm and I was beyond tired, my office was dimly lit by my computer screen and a lamp in the corner. I sighed frustrated trying to set up meetings and such for Gerard. KNOCK, “Come in!” I yelled not taking my eyes off the screen. “My lil workaholic,” Gerard said, leaning against the desk. I sighed, “I wouldn’t be if these people knew how to communicate,” I was frustrated and ran my fingers through my hair. “Log off for the night! Wanna get drinks with us?” he offered, grabbing my stuff and placing it in front of me. “Who’s us?” I asked. “Frank, Ray, Mikey. Oh and Mikey told me he was scared,” Gerard laughed. “He’ll get over it. But yes, I’d love to,” I said, grabbing my cardigan so I wouldn’t absolutely freeze on this autumn night.

We all walked out of the building together with me wrapped around Gerard’s arm, the taxi ride to the bar was just the guys teasing us for our little workplace hookup. “You’re just jealous!” I exclaimed, nudging Frank in the ribs.

We got to the bar and we got placed in a dark private corner, Gerard and I sat together on one side and the three of them on the other. Several drinks were ordered and I quickly got drunk but not belligerent. I was so touchy with Gerard, whispering several compliments in his ear all night. “You smell so good, it’s so intoxicating,” I said, kissing his neck. “I want you,” I whispered in his ear. Gerard grabbed my face with his hand and kissed me, “Wait until we get home,” he said which caught me off guard.

“Home?” I said, confused. “Mhm, you’re going home with me tonight,” he turned his attention back to the table after his sly comment. While I was still intoxicated by his smell and way with words, I got myself on his lap and rested my head on his chest. “Look at you two, your love makes me sick almost,” Ray said jokingly which made me chuckle. “He doesn’t know that,” I said, shushing him with my finger. I loved Gerard, he was my type to the T. I felt his chest vibrate from nervously chuckling at my drunk confessions.

~^~^~^~^~^~^

I stood outside with Gerard holding me up and forcing water down my throat. Which I fought of course. “Y/N sweetheart it’s starting to rain, please just drink this while I get a cab,” he said sternly which made me stop and do as he pleases. I love when he bosses me around, I couldn’t imagine myself as anyone else’s secretary.

He catches a cab for us and takes me to his place, my legs draped over his. He walked me to his high rise apartment and I was in awe at how nicely decorated it was. “Holy shit, this is really your place huh?” I said, starting to undress myself without any care in the world. Left to my bra and underwear. I make my way to his bed and hop into the cold sheets, “Can I finally have you?” I giggle trying to hint at him.

There he stood at the end of bed, undressing himself in such a hurry to get to me. He crawled to me getting under with me and immediately assumed into the big spoon position. His body was so warm despite looking like a vampire. Wet kisses covered my neck making me giggle, “What’s so funny?” he joked. “It just feels good,” I smile, tiredly. “I’m not done with you yet,” he said, shoving his face into my neck, kissing and sucking. “Gerard,” I moaned. “Everyones gonna see-” he covered my mouth, shushing me.

His other hand trailed down to my abdomen, his fingers slowly lifting the edge of my panties. His fingers worked themselves around my clit, I wanted more of him. “You’re already so fucking wet for daddy,” he growled into my ear. I palmed his cock through his underwear, feeling the wetness of precum leaking through. I stopped him so I could take his cock out, pulling his underwear off and onto the floor. I spit on his head, lubricating my hand.

“Suck on it you dirty whore,” he grabbed a fist full of my hair. I whimpered as he shoved my mouth onto his cock. My mouth was small and I couldn’t help but gag on his length. He bucked his hips up, going deeper into my throat. Drool began to fall and pool as he face fucked me, not loosening his grip on my hair. I felt him pulse and do one more push down my throat to release himself. He pulled away with cum all over my lips. “C’mere baby,” he said, pulling me back to his chest.

He lifted my leg and teased my hole with the tip of his cum and saliva covered cock. Without warning he shoved his cock inside me making me gasp in pleasure. “Yeah? This what you want?” he purred in my ear, pounding. The sound of skin clapping together.

Somehow we ended up in doggy but my phone rang. I groaned in annoyance and I was going to hit decline but Gerard said, “Who is it?” he questioned. “Frank,” I moaned out as he didn’t stop fucking me. “Answer it,” he demanded. I hit the green call button and put it on the speaker.

“Hey I just wanted to know if you got home safely,” he asked, seeming about as drunk as I was earlier but tried to hide it. “Y-yeah, I did,” I said, trying to not moan or whimper but it still came off suspicious. “Are you okay Y/N? Do I need to come over?” he said, trying to have an excuse to hook up. “No, it’s fine. FUCK!” I yelled into the pillow as Gerard railed me, cumming all over his cock. “Gerard, please-,” I said, gripping the sheets.

“Well I’ll let you two love birds have fun,” he giggled like a schoolgirl. I hung up the phone and Gerard pulled my head back by the throat and pulled me up. He kissed me on the neck and back, burrowing his cock deep inside me. He pulled out and I felt his cum leak out of me.

Our bodies collapsed together and my eyes fluttered. “You’re so hot, you know that?” he said, stroking my hair. “Say’s you,” I poke his chest. “We should probably get cleaned up before we go to bed sticky and sweaty,” he suggested, rubbing my thighs gently and kissing my temple. I agreed and was able to stand but barely, as my legs were too wobbly and weak. Gerard noticed and came to my side, “Let daddy help you,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist.

He started the shower and the steam filled the bathroom, we took turns washing each other and it was everything I could’ve wanted. It was bliss, to have someone care for me, love me, hold me. The thought of past relationships came rushing to my head, I covered my face with my hands. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, pulling my hands from my face. “It’s nothing, really,” I tried sucking up, letting the shower water cleanse my salty face.

“It’s clearly something, Y/N. No need to hide,” he said sweetly, he was a lot more protective than what I was used to but I loved it. It brought a sense of comfort and safety, not the type of protectiveness that sheltered you from the world. “I’ve just never felt so cared for, so wanted,” I said sniffling. “I’ll always be here for you, you’re my baby,” he said, holding me in his arms, rocking back and forth gently. “Does this make us…” I said, raising my brows at him. “Partners? Absolutely.”

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