#so a reminder. i can do something like this for 25$! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javiscigarette · 10 months ago

Text

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort.

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea.

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.”

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.

“I sure do.”

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him.

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

7K notes · View notes

the-boy-meets-evil · 11 months ago

Text

all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind.

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around.

Not this year.

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it.

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same.

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year.

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy.

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown.

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?”

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist.

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately.

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine.

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere.

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects.

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists.

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen.

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks.

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,”

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.”

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists.

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder.

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask.

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.”

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.”

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone.

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be.

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer.

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree.

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge.

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply.

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.��

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks.

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises.

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.”

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead.

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker.

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on.

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks.

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.”

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused.

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn��t know,” Wonwoo says.

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you.

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t.

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.”

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share.

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.”

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks. Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.”

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.”

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.”

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?”

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.”

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area.

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.”

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing.

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says.

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation.

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time.

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins.

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well.

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response.

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside.

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him.

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree.

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left.

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?”

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away.

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.”

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him.

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right.

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin.

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him.

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss.

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine.

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.”

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.”

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.”

“Good,” he says.

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture.

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg.

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?”

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive.

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.”

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath.

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out.

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.”

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest.

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body.

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down.

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment.

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters.

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.”

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say.

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him.

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment.

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out.

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream.

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans.

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans.

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him.

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out.

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers.

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care.

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty.

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question.

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says.

“We’re already here,” you point out.

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back.

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder.

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.”

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded.

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says.

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up.

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles.

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says.

“And?” you prompt.

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke.

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him.

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe.

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says.

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say.

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you.

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say.

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke.

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos.

“Me too,” you agree.

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace.

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

3K notes · View notes

wlfchnlv3r · 8 days ago

Text

friends don’t know the way you taste…

childhood friend!fem reader x inexperienced!Hyunjin

synopsis: you and Hyunjin are childhood friends, you guys are one the opposite of the other, he’s shy and clumsy while you’re determined and outgoing. What will happen when Hyunjin asks you for a favor that you can’t say no to?

warnings: 🔞!!!, mdni!, smut, unprotected sex, virgin!hyunjin, riding, sex

word count: 900

note: u-u hi! Just a little reminder that that is pure imagination and that being “virgin” is NOT something you have to be ashamed of.

“you want what??” you ask sitting up on the bed.

"... I want to lose my virginity with you," Hyunjin says in a whisper, his checks red and his heart racing; he is never been intimate before but he wants his first time to be with you.

You look at him for a moment then he starts speaking again “please y/n, i’m 25 years old and you know… i haven’t done anything yet so please”.

“you sure?…” you ask him before you come, dangerously, near him, your lips grazing the the shell of hyunjin’s ear.

You wait, watching his reaction to be sure he isn’t uncomfortable but he remains still.

“y-yeah…” he just says, so you start to bite down his aer lobe, before turning around and kiss his defined jaw.

Hyunjin feels his face heat up and his breath becoming unsteady, though his eyes focus on you; and despite how nervous he is his gaze met yours.

You glance at him before slowly beginning to kiss him, your lips touch his; Hyunjin kisses you back gently, his mind fuzzy and a warm feeling starts spreading into his body.

As he opens his lips, you catch the opportunity to take full control of the kiss by sliding your tongue in his mouth and starting to explore it.

Hyunjin’s eyes widens but he doesn’t pull back, starting to move his lips in sync with yours.

“I don’t know if i would be any- any good but-“ his insecurities begin to kick in but you shuts him up “you..are so good already, so sensitive to my touch… don’t worry” you reassure him shortly.

Then you start leaving wet open mouth kiss on his neck, making him feel shivers running down his spine.

“Can I take this off?” You ask, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He feel you stop, eyes shooting open to look at you; he was so insecure, nobody has ever seen him like that before…but after a few moments he just nods “o-ok.. just-“ his mind was racing, you already slept with some boys, and first of all you are his friends, he knows that you wouldn’t judge him.

“Mh?” you look at him sensing his anxiety

“Just- please..don’t judge me…” he speaks in a low wisher.

You stop yourself “why..would I do that?”

You don’t understand but he starts talking again “nobody has ever seen me naked before, and..you have already seen some boys- I mean- I don’t want you to think that i look awful or something…”

“Hyunnie- you are so freaking hot to me, and you’ll look even better naked- I’m into you, just- don’t worry…”

Hyunjin feels his your lips on his neck again and your hands grabbing the hem of his shirt pulling it off, a sense of vulnerability filling him but at the same time he wants it, and he can’t have enough of you.

You start to admire him and kiss his expose chest, while your hand moves lower, pressing on hyunjin’s hardening cock just enough to rutting up.

Hyunjin can’t keep his breath steady and when your hands touch him he felt his body trembles and his mind going fuzzy again.

“Can I remove your… your shirt, y/n ?” You just nod smiling, he unbottons your shirt slowly, though his hands are shaking and his breath is trembling, he’s nervous but his eyes never leave yours; seeing you like this make his brain blanks out completely “god- you are beautiful…” he murmurs starting to kiss your neck slowly

Your hands begin to take off his sweet pants and slips inside his boxer caressing the tip of his hard cock, feeling a little bit of precum already on your finger “so cute.. “ you comfort him seeing how whiny he was.

Hyunjin blushes profusely as you sit on him, your skirt lifted, and start to grind on his lap, feeling the friction between the two bodies. After a few minutes you pull out his dick by his boxer and positions him at the entrance of your tiny hole before looking in his eyes “you want this?”

He stutters “y-yes please” he says while you slide into him, Hyunjin lets out a guttural moan “f-feels so tight y/n”

You start to move slowly, allowing him to feel all of you, his moans and the sound of skin on skin fill the room.

Your pace increase at the sound of his shaky breath, he lets out a gasp, his hands instinctively reaching out to grab your hips for support “m-mh fuck” the felling of his dick sunk in to your pussy made him go crazy.

He grips the sheets under him tightly, his cock throbbing by your hips rhythmic motion and by your soft moans “you feel so good hyunnie”.

You know he is close to cumming at any moment so you increase your pace once again, your movement more sloppy; his grip on your ass gets tighter, his moans right against your ear mixed with a few curses and a few more minutes and Hyunjin comes spilling his seed into your pussy right before your climax.

He groans when he feels how tight you get around him, loving the way you look lost in pleasure.

You stay still for a moment before lifting up and laying down next to him; both of you trying to get your breathing under control.

He buries his face into your hair, his lips press against your ear before he speaks “can we do that again and again, y/n?”

tags: @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @elqivxstxr @slmnheart @multistancheck @catffeinexo-xx

(comment to be added)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin x reader #skz fanfic

478 notes · View notes

huboi · 7 months ago

Text

. SOFTY | 🎀

╰┈➤ summary; jjk men being big softies for you <3

╰┈➤ includes; gn! reader, possibly ooc characters, pure heart melting fluff, mentions of eating and drinking

╰┈➤ a/n; yes I’m aware I haven’t posted in years, I’ve been in a writers block for so long bro😭

GOJO SATORU

man’s already a huge softie, very smitten with you

even before you started dating he was all over you like an overexcited puppy when it’s owner comes back from work

when you guys started dating, nothing really changed

read as; gojo somehow managed to become even more clingy

LOVES PDA

dw tho, if you don’t like pda then he’ll respect that, as long as you guys can cuddle when you’re in private he won’t complain

if you are comfortable with PDA, prepare to hold hands 25/8

also he loves cuddles

kisses are a huge must, wether they’re short and sweet or long and spicy

GETO SUGURU

he doesn’t act very happy when you’re not around

only time when he’s happy when you’re not around is if his girls are there

when he comes back from his shenanigans he just snuggles you

will keep cuddling you even if you need the toilet

“suguru im gonna piss myself istg” “no you’re not”

even though you are a sorcerer, he wishes to keep you away from his sorcerer shenanigans

he doesn’t want you seeing his ‘ugly side’ to say the least

it’s as if a switch goes off in his brain when you come into the picture

“I will kill every non sorcerer there is😡😡😡” “hi sugu poo😙” “hi baby🥰🥰🥰”

KENTO NANAMI

he’s a serious guy, and so when he sees you, he just low key switches personalities for a sec

“hi honey, you ok? have you eaten, drank some water….” he tends to ask you these questions a lot, but dw he’s just concerned for your health

no PDA, the closest you’ll convince him to do is hand holding

in the privacy of your home, he’s a huge snuggle bug (you didn’t hear this from me)

loves kissing your face, he doesn’t know why, it just comforts him

one time you interrupted his time with yuji, giving him his lunch as he forgot it, and he, surprisingly, ended up kissing you on the cheek

yuji was stunned (the boy was too stunned to speak)

SUKUNA RYOMEN

when people think of the sukuna, they think of homicide, murder and all things negative

what people don’t see, is that when his s/o wants a certain food, he’ll get them they’re food no matter the cost

doesn’t matter if you want something fancy or simple, he’s gonna get it (you have to plead with him to not kill anyone)

no promises though (he ends up simply paying for it)

low key begs you for hugs, when you point this out he claims he ‘demands’ you for hugs and that he never begs… yeah right

you are the most protected person out there, sorcerer or not

you claim he reminds you of a tiger, but he acts like a simple house cat when you’re in the picture

he disagrees with a huff and arms crossed against his (phat titties) chest

you notice a slight blush on his cheeks, but you don’t say anything

1K notes · View notes

mattsdolll · 1 month ago

Note

ooo ooo!! for childish gf and soft bf matt can u do a fic of matt finally buying her a cute little white bunny she’s been wanting!!

you had been longing – yearning for this plushie. you'd scrolled on tiktok a few days ago and came across an unboxing of a girl who ordered this white rabbit, particularly a jellycat. you wanted it, but not for that ridiculous price. matt of course noticed this, discreetly placing the order that very same day

after what felt like an eternity, matt got the notification that the package had arrived, he felt bad to lie, but how else could he secretly go pick this up?

"baby? i'm going to the store quick, we're out of a few things, be back soon okay? love you angel"

he announced, kissing your head as he walked past you to the frontdoor. you shouted a quick 'love you too' before looking back down. you had thought nothing of it, continuing your scrolling on instagram. matt was back within a few minutes, the reason why he had to "fetch" the plushie, is because he got it tailored to contain the same pattern of your bedsheets on the bunnies ears and feet. it came out absolutely perfect.

he snuck the plushie up to your shared room, sitting it right in the middle of the bed, perched up on the pillows.

"babe? can you come up here please? i think a rabbit or something got in"

matt called from upstairs. a rabbit? you thought, why would a rabbit be in your room? you quickly made your way upstairs, concern written across your features.

"matt? what're you.."

you began questioning him before your eyes fell on the plushie, sitting so perfectly on your bed, begging to be held. your mouth fell agape, staring between the bunny and matts now giddy expression

"baby why would you..that must've been so expensive!"

you took the plushie in your hands, gawking at her. she was adorable, the precise one you wanted – with embroidered linen sown into her. in shock, you threw your arms around matt.

"thank you baby..it's-"

"just the one you wanted? i know, sweet girl, i knew it'd make you happy so i got her for you. now what's her name gonna be, hm?"

he cut you off, a small smile tugging at his lips. his brain worked in such thoughtful ways. you paused in thought, trying to come up with a name before landing on the perfect one

"hm, i'm gonna name her angel, cus you always call me that, and she reminds me of you"

matts heart nearly melted in his chest, in complete adoration of you. he couldn't believe hoe lucky he got with a girl like you. he just held you ever so slightly tighter, willing you to stay there forever.

"never change"

a/n : i thoroughly enjoyed writing this

✉️ - @mattscoquette @blahbel668 @emely9274 @pearlzier @wompwomp-1

@bernardsgfs @sturnsxplr-25 @aesthetixhoe @jetaimevous @alyrasturnz

@adorsturns @cvntytiger @d0e-b4by @lysielaced @zay-sturns

@lanaswifeyy @delilahsturniolo @pr3ttyf4wn @gwennybenny @cherristurniolo

@certifiedstarrr

#mattsdoll ୨୧ #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #blurbs 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖♡#softbf!matt 𝜗ৎ ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

495 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 10 months ago

Text

anything you want

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you and him have your first kiss. It’s just Luke. He’ll do anything you tell him to, even if you talk too much. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: trouble is a yapper yall should know that by now. happy first kiss to you and luke!

(posted 1/25/24 unbetad)

—

“Come on, Castellan, we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry!”

Your foot taps steadily on the forest floor, waiting for Luke to finish his demonstration of how to slay a chimera, and at the sound of your voice, he sheathes his sword and claps Chris on the back to finish up the workshop.

“Where you off to, man?”

“Gotta help our favorite head counselor set up for Greek Legends & Theatrics,” he says matter-of-factly, setting his battle armor to the side and making the walk up the steep hill towards the amphitheater to meet you like he’s following a siren call.

“Simp,” Chris mutters before his best friend slaps him across the head and jogs away.

“My hands are full, Rodriguez!”

“You wish!” Chris calls out as he picks up his sword, watching the slight blush rise on Luke’s pale cheeks as he almost trips over his own feet.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Watch your fucking language,” you say sternly, which makes the both of you laugh when he finally meets you at the top of the hill. Instantly, you’re relinquishing everything in your hands: your water jug, the bag of costumes, a binder of scripts, and a ukelele. Luke’s juggling everything as best he can with no complaints, following your footsteps as he bumps the body of the uke against his hip to get a better grasp as he marvels at your excitement for your little drama club.

“What’re you teaching today, Trouble?”

“Orpheus and Eurydice, and it’s gonna be great! One of my personal favorites! The kids should be ready for the performance at the end of the month,” you grin, walking backward as you descend the stone steps of the amphitheater.

You’ve both grown into your roles here at camp, finding places you shine and excel at and together you bridge what the kids, your kids, are lacking. But he can see how you let yourself thrive here, being the operative heart of Camp Half Blood, and you’re radiating as you beckon him to follow you.

Following you around has become a habit as of late, one that he’s only recently made himself aware of. Sure, he’s always loved annoying you and doing something stupid to get a reaction, whether it be a snide remark or a smile, but something in your dynamic has changed. You’re head counselor after all, and even though he’s only in charge of busy cabin 11, his hand is always extended to whatever you have to offer. Quite simply, he loves it when you look for him, there’s no other explanation for it.

You’ve always troubled him, his thoughts, his life— but Luke can’t define it, or deem it something he can live without. It doesn’t make sense, and now he often finds himself wondering what it would be like to be more than whatever you are; not enemies, not necessarily friends, but perhaps a secret third thing, something he admittedly holds sacred.

Luke trusts you with his life, but wouldn’t choose you to be his quest companion again he thinks, not after the scar only you deem pretty is an evident sign of his personal transgression. He stares at you for a second too long while you ramble, organizing your thoughts out loud that he doesn’t notice any of the actual words falling from your lips because he’s entranced by them. Slight worry crosses his sharp features as he realizes he could kill someone if you got hurt.

Fuck.

There’s a space he’s carved out for you in his heart that he reminds himself not to name yet and now you’re looking for him again, turning to him when you realize he hasn’t followed.

When did you get so close to him?

“Luke!” you exclaim, nibbling on your bottom lip as you snap your fingers in his face.

“Are you even listening to me? I need an extra hand setting up smores stuff for the bonfire later if you’re free, and then we have night shift after…” You’re leaning against the table with a delicate smile on your face and in moments like these where you rattle off your routine that he gladly picks apart— Luke feels a sort of elation better than any quest or glory he can achieve. Only you can make unpaid labor sound like Elysium.

He nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering to your lips as you continue to speak, and he can’t help but admire how the way the sun filters through your hair…

Maybe Chris was onto something…

“You okay? If you need a break you can sit and watch us, the kids should be coming soon to start.”

Your fingers graze his bicep, and he blinks at you, your eyes wide with curiosity and a fire that can’t be tamed. You drive him crazy. He probably looks like a lunatic, frozen in place as he stares at you, so he shakes his head lightly, albeit unconsciously as he furrows his eyebrows, scar crinkling with his eyes as he smiles at you.

What a dork.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you laugh, your head falling onto your shoulder as you look at him sideways. You’ve noticed Luke is softer with you nowadays, hands always full when you keep him busy, and unlike the other cabin counselors, seldom does he fight you about camp duties. He’ll fight you about anything else though, just to get the last swipe at your attention, to make sure your eyes are on him.

And they always are, whether you can help it or not.

Luke steps forward, duffel bag still in hand and ukelele at his other side and suddenly he looks like he’s on a mission, his signature smirk stealing the air from your lungs as you forget what you’re saying.

“Like what, Trouble?”

Nervous laughter bubbles from you at the increasing proximity. It’s the first time he’s spoken since you got down here. His cargos brush against the smooth skin of your legs as you nestle your hips against the table, and the smell of sweat, musk, and citrus infiltrates your nostrils with a shaky breath.

“Like you’re about to make a mess of something. I can’t really tell,” you whisper. Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but you two and the sound of birds in the spring air.

It’s just Luke. Luke Castellan, who you glitter bombed when you were 14, who shoves you around every chance he gets, and steals food off your plate at every meal.

“I might. Not sure yet,” he swallows as he looms over you, the bag in his grasp falling to the side and the ukelele making a dissonant noise as he sets it on the table.

When did you let him past your defenses? The wall around your heart was well protected after years of whims of what you thought was love felt like running headfirst into concrete.

But Luke’s always been there, watching.

Though as a son of Hermes, sneaking in without a sound is what he does best. Perhaps a little too well, the both of you not noticing it for what it was until this moment.

“What are we doing?” you ask, and his reply is to pull you in by the belt loop of your denim shorts, snatching you closer with a curl of his fingers.

“You talk too much, you know that?”

Then suddenly, finally—his lips descend onto yours stealing your breath away like it's second nature, almost thoughtless and without anymore questions. There's a moment where you both sigh as if it was a relief to finally be touched like this, no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, and nothing else makes sense but to be here kissing him.

Luke’s calloused hand weaves under your jaw and into your hair, propping you up as your knees buckle slightly, so intense and gentle at the same time, lips forging the undeniable connection between you that’s gone unspoken for so long. His hands are full of you, and he tastes like the strawberries you snuck onto his plate at lunch.

Your hands slide up the front of his shirt, a featherlike touch to confirm that he’s there though the feel of his tongue slipping in makes you wonder how much time you’ve wasted arguing with him when you could’ve been doing this.

Everything about this kiss feels familiar in a way you can’t describe, but this embrace lets you learn about him what you thought you were already so sure of. It makes you wonder if you’ve been here before in a different life, and then you remember who’s in front of you.

It’s Luke, who likes it when he gets to fall asleep to the sound of your voice telling a bedtime story, follows you around even if his siblings tease him, and never ridicules you for your innate madness.

Perhaps he’s just as mad as you.

Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already walking away, nervously chuckling like he didn’t give you a life-altering kiss. When your heart finally feels like it’s in your chest again, you grumble loudly, shaking your head with his name still caught between your teeth—

“LUKE CASTELLAN! Don't you dare run away from me!”

He's quite sure he hasn't sprinted away faster in his life. But as he runs up the steps of the ampitheater to try and clear his head, he stumbles when he looks at you, turning around every few paces until he finally catches the unmistakeable smile on your face. Luke eats shit at the top, falling against a tree and he hears the sound of your laughter.

He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life running away if it means he can look back and see if you’ll follow.

—

“I don’t know how it is you are so familiar to me—or why it feels like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.”

-Lang Leav

ask to be put on general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl l @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo show imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

1K notes · View notes

seelestia · 6 months ago

Text

⟡ within your waking thoughts (there i’ll be).

⎯ what do they do when they miss you? how do they cope with yearning when you're away? { y for yearning ノ ordered by @floraldresvi! (sorry for the ping!) }

RESERVED FOR! ノ characters. aventurine, sunday, dr. ratio ft. gn!reader. { 1.3k words }

FLAVOR! ノ genre. fluff, slight angst (my apology to sunday lovers yet again), established relationship.

TOPPINGS! ノ tags. aventurine has his tech savvy moment, pre-2.2 sunday (heavy references but no spoilers), ratio has two phones (king of separating work & personal life !!!).

BAKER’S NOTE! ノ thoughts. a repost! bcs tumblr didn't like it the first time. hopefully, this one will be here to stay. thank u to vivi for requesting this ‹3

in your absence, aventurine welcomes little thoughts of you that float around his mind with open arms - and the way he indulges them is by simply texting you. effective and efficient, there is a reason why the cosmos calls it the second most used means for long distance communication. what about the first? well, he would've opted for calling you with his earpiece if only his line of work doesn't require 90% of its usage time.

let's just say the idea of fellow stonehearts interrupting his conversation with you ruins the fun. besides, he has deft fingers; coin tricks aren't the only thing in his book, you know, typing a few sentences in one go is no problem at all.

but maybe, he is using that too much to his advantage . . . considering the “25+” staring back at you from your notifications every few hours or so. aventurine is truly, irrevocably relentless.

anything even remotely in your favorite color found within his vicinity? new message: Saw something that reminded me of you, you must really like crossing my mind.

an item he thinks would fit you well? new message: I got you a gift. Does it suit your fancy? [1 attachment]

reminded of how cruel fate is to separate you two for so long? new message: Haven't seen your face in a while. Fifteen hours are a total too cruel, don't you agree?

have faith that you will never grasp the true meaning of boredom when you’re apart from him. luck follows a man like aventurine, so do interesting events - remember how he won a vacation to a resort with one chip? he revels in telling you stories of his encounters while you're away. it is as if thrill revolves around him constantly. . . one wonders just how he fares living on the edge of it all.

(you, for one, are aware of his ways. he has allowed you to wander far enough behind his masquerade, after all.)

of course, texts on an illuminated screen can barely compare to seeing you in person. he prefers having you in his arms instead - but he'll live. solitude is an old friend of his, albeit distant and cold, aventurine can deal with its company every once in a while. at the end of the day, he knows you’ll be there when he comes home.

though, it's such a shame he cannot see your face when you're apart. the curve of your lips as you smile, the twinkle in your eyes with his reflection in them, and. . . ah, seems like he is making this harder for himself. maybe, he should consider buying that HD holographic communicative device on the market? his ears caught wind of some P45 officers at pier point whispering about it before.

it'll cost a large sum of credits but hey, he thinks it'll be worth it. for you? anything is possible.

(...him? clingy? well, guilty as charged.)

sunday’s self-discipline is not something to be underestimated. halovians are a species known for their enchanting voices, yet he feels as if he cannot spare any for even his inner thoughts. what an irony. his longing for your presence is persistent, tumbling at the edge of his tongue - but he is equally as, if not more, stubborn and so he swallows this yearning down instantly.

you are not confined to the dreamscape like he is, as self-imposed as that may be. sunday is aware of that, hence his first instinct is to keep quiet. the curse of sealing his lips till forevermore; watching you leave through the grand doors, letting his gaze fall to where your shadow used to be, savoring the last of your remaining fragrance from when you last bade him goodbye - all without a word.

(don't go, he wished he could say.)

is it a bad habit? “your voice shouldn't be used just to utter words that others want to hear,” you reminded him once. “it's also for you. it's yours.”

but even then, your words are akin to a faint whisper; muffled by the thoughts that plague his mind like a mist. he can't help how they fog up his reflection in the mirror, leaving remnants of something acrid that wafts in the air. something like doubts, sunday would know because he has dwelled in it for as long as he remembers.

you are outside, fluttering your wings in the sky and enjoying what it has to offer. does he have any rights to disturb you? perhaps, in his eyes, sunday views himself as a string tied around your talon, trailing all the way from the heavens where you soar to the humble ground where he resides. each time your absence compels him to reach out, it is as if he’s tugging on that string and dragging you lower from the height you truly relish in, from the height you deserve to be at.

(sunday believes that you belong to the sky, unlike him.)

so here, he shall stay and here, he shall wait until you return. sunday’s heart begins to grow cold - but the farewell kiss you've left on the apple of his cheek hasn't faded. its warmth remains, even when he brushes his freezing hand against it, it remains.

you remain.

(and that is enough for him.)

dr. ratio is a man with a packed schedule, so it's safe to say he keeps himself occupied particularly well. tasks at the intelligentsia guild are nothing short of demanding, after all. there are researchers asking for his input left and right, although some tremble while speaking to him even when he hasn't even uttered a word yet. ignoring that, he also aids in projects that require his expertise. last but not least, his students and classes which he takes very seriously.

(but be careful with how you phrase it — the doctor doesn't view them as distractions, no, he sees them as his responsibilities — saying the former might offend him.)

as you can see, he is perfectly capable of spending time away from you. . . .or at least, until it's time for a break and a part of that perfection chips off.

his office is quite tranquil, free from outside noise, just the way he likes. this place bears a similar purpose as his headgear, to let him focus in silence without disturbance - but he hasn't expected that exact silence to be this deafening. hah, how absurd! in what realm of possibility could silence ever be associated with deafening as an adjective? he supposes it could be a case of tinnitus. . . but veritas knows that isn't the case.

something's missing and it is, much to his dismay, you.

veritas has his standards. he prefers things to be set at a specific level - and this level of silence, one marred further by your lack of presence, is too low for him. he's getting too used to seeing you barge into his office with neatly packed sandwiches in your hands, a revelation he'd rather keep to himself.

veritas reaches for his personal phone, his work one left neglected at the far end of the desk. he considers making a call to you but the clock is ticking. tick tock tick tock, as if to hang the fact that his break is reaching its end over his head.

utilizing whatever time he has left, his finger gives the gallery app a tap. various pictures pop up on the screen; selfies of you with silly expressions, candid shots of veritas himself and some photos of random objects like your matching mugs. all of these were taken by you, of course. seriously, is this his phone or is it yours?

who knows at this point? he nearly lets out a snort, but that smile on his face is fooling no one. the doctor continues scrolling through his gallery, utterly content with just this until he gets home. to you.

(yes, yes, this still counts as keeping himself occupied. thank you for your concern.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.

#hsr x reader #—stellaronhvnters.#aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #dr ratio x reader #hsr fluff #seelestial.inks #reveriesincups

959 notes · View notes

ice-cream-writes-stuff · 3 months ago

Text

Spider and Bats Snippets 2

[0.] [1.]

I headcanon Spider!(Y/N) meets Clark/Superman on accident before Batman does.

Just, imagine. Your heading to a part time job, super excited about it! Get on the bus, and wait... Then fall asleep..

The bus driver kicks you out at the Mertropolis bus station. Not good! You don't have enough for a ticket back to Gotham so you managed to get a part-time job at The Daily Planet, as the coffee runner! Simple enough?

Bumping into a meek Clark Kent, who is shyly thanking you for his cup of joe'. Then you, eagerly wanting a new friend in a strange enviorment, (again), asking about what he's writing.

"Wow Kent, didn't expect you to snag the new girl."

Lois teased light-heartedly. "Oh, ha-ha it's nothing like that. They're a good friend."

He shrugs it off as Lois shakes her head. "Sheesh, a lot of fella's make a LOT of trouble with that word. Good luck Smallsville."

Blinking in confusion, you were suprised she didn't notice you as you walk up beside him. "Huh... Wait, you think were good friends!?" You beam in awe at Clark, happily spinning around his desk chair. "Clark! You should of said something sooner!"

You let go, now thoughtful. "Hmmm, we should do friendship bracelets then.. I mean, I did make one with another friend of mine.. OH! I got an' idea-" "-Guh.. I-I think I.. Need to rain check.."

"Hm? What's wrong? You look dizy... Vomit-y."

I know there's different versions of how Batman met Superman. Personally, I perfer The Animated Series Ver!

I would like to think, Robin and Nightwing asked her to get Superman's autograph as a casual comment if Spider(Y/N) went to Mertropolis.

So during her "stay" at the other city, she'd often patrol and help a bit when she could.

Would totally meet Supes' on acident.

"Wow! Hello! Why is your city so much cleaner? I like your cape! Reminds me of Miguel-!" You try to descalate the situation.

You happily greet him, babbling as your buddy glared at you. You shrug at Batman's gaze, giving him a slight push. Herding him close to your side incase of any... Bad, course of action, between you and the supposed "Man of Steel".

Superman paused at the greeting, after thrown into a wall. He expected more hostily from you as well, since he read most crime-fighters were, due to the Gotham Gazette. Yet you seemed more occupied with keeping the Batman away from HIM.

Using his x-ray vision, he peaked underneath your masks.

"Bruce Wayne..." He mumbled under his breath as Batman shoved you to the side. Glaring at the super-powered male, "You peeked.."

"Hm? He did what?" You weren't paying attention, more focused on the destruction and damage. Frowning worriedly, knowung your "unexpected vaction" would meet it's end.

Superman The Animated Series: Season 1 Ep 16 - World's Finest Part 1

I can see Spider!(Y/N) being pen-pals with lot's of heros and vigilantes. Possibly even anti-heros and villians?

Carefully web-shooting the civillians away, you keep squint as you watch them dance in sync. Slightly envious, before shooting a glance at Batman.

He collapsed as groups of Music Meisters pawns held him down. Grunting as he tried to move away. You used your web to toss them away quickly. Huffing as you glanced down at your comrade.

Even with the ear-plugs, you couldn't help it!

As if spotlight shone on your cue, you sang encouragingly. Smiling underneath your mask, you hold out a hand to him. He grasps it as you slowly pull him up.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ."And you can rise above...!" ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

The Brave and the Bold Season 1 Episode 25 Mayhem of the Music Meister!

We all know that THEE Batman has a certain type.

But this is for fun, so, (。ゝ(ェ)・)-☆

Overall, I stated perviously, it's more a comedic pairing that has many set-ups to be serious.

Watching Catwoman flee once more, you walk to Bat's side. Standing beside him politely, before.. Slowly... Reaching out your hand to his. Holding it firmly with no caution.

The vigilante glares at the action, yet you don't let up as he tries to shake your hand away.

You giggle as you watch your arm swing with his, your laughter becoming louder as he finally gave in.

Batfam relationship depends on if Spider!(Y/N) came before or after the Batfam was formed.

Personally, I perfer it before. I feel like it would show growth in Bat's and Spiders dynamic.

I sorta wanna explore it, but if ya'll got ideas Im open to it.

{Yay! Another self-indulg work! Lol. I was inspired once again, I really just love that more people are intrested in the idea than just myself! Horray! Comments, art, reblogs are always wanted! This is purely for fun! If anyone gets the easter egg I put, let me know!}

445 notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 5 months ago

Text

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago.

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert.

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed?

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to.

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all.

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.”

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now.

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.”

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours.

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place.

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose.

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point.

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention.

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck.

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.”

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy.

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily.

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him.

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.”

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you.

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options.

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal.

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink.

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance.

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest.

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait.

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be.

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk.

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs.

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy.

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised.

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it. Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him.

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue.

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun.

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice.

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum.

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?”

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.”

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself.

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?”

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you.

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light.

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.”

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning.

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.

#yami x reader #captain yami x reader #yami sukehiro x reader #sukehiro yami x reader #black clover x reader #black clover imagines #black clover smut #kendall writes #the bird and the bull

454 notes · View notes