#that it makes me nervous and anxious in a very very worrying way???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doqt33th · 1 year

Text

SINGULARITY

MIRAGE/READER

SUMMARY: You and Mirage have been pining for each other for a while now. A nasty summer storm drives you straight into his arms. Shenanigans ensue.

WORD COUNT: 18k. Sorry I’m insane

WARNINGS: 18+ and I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! Explicit PWP, fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mild spit kink. Reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns but is written fairly androgynous. No descriptors of appearance beyond the basics and no (y/n) used.

Familiar streets flashed by at increasing speeds, traffic and pedestrians flickering by and blurring together into a smorgasbord of color, all gilded by the setting sun. Unconsciously, you dug your fingers into the seams of the leather seat beneath you, worrying the stitches. Out of the corner of your eye, the radio blazed to life with color and that oh-so-familiar symbol.

“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, hot stuff,” Mirage crackled out of the speakers lightheartedly, and you immediately yanked your hands into yourself like they’d been burned. In your worrying, you’d seemingly forgotten about what — or rather, who — exactly was your ride.

“Oh— my bad, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, sinking your weight back and down, instead picking at your nails to give your hands something to do. God, you were so nervous, and for what? Mirage knew all these people— these bots, and knew them well. They were all friends! Or amiable towards each other, at the very least. And they were the good guys. Saved the world and all that.

So why were you so anxious?

“You’re good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. Your leg started to bounce. “Sooo… you wanna tell me what’s on your mind? Save me a trip to Noah’s repair shop? I’d hate for you to start taking your emotions out on me, y’know.”

You scoffed, eyes sliding to the radio. The grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth was one you were helpless to stop. He just had that effect on you, where around him you became a slave to your laughter and, additionally, also became one half of a terrible joke machine that Mirage happily completed.

Leather creaked as you nudged the inside of the door with your boot to chastise him. “You love when I take my emotions out on you, dick. Don’t lie.”

“Only the good ones,” he shot back, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “You nervous about meeting the others?”

His probe was successful; you fought the urge to shrink at your feelings being read so accurately and so immediately. “I— yeah. I am, and I don’t even know why. I’m sure they’re all great, I’m just working myself up over nothing.”

Red faded to green. Carried on the tide of forward-moving traffic, Mirage rolled ahead, eventually slipping over to make a turn. You watched him twist his mirrors to check his blind spot.

“Ah, c’mon. Nobody could blame you, you’re meeting a bunch of aliens for the first time. Pretty trippy for anyone. ‘specially if those aliens are, like, double your size. And robots.” A short chuckle topped off his words.

“Right. I just don’t wanna fuck it up or embarrass myself, you know how it is. I don’t wanna embarrass you, either.”

“Oh, Primus, trust me. You’re not gonna embarrass me. I don’t even think that’s possible. Prime’s seen me in a lot worse shape than bringing you in to meet him.” The world continued to roll by. Brick buildings blotted out the sunshine in intermittent flashes. “You got good marks from your favorite bot, you’ll be fine.” The dismissive tone of his voice was working, in a weird way, to assuage your fears.

“Excuse me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest pointedly. “My favorite bot?”

“What, am I not?” A downright theatrical gasp hissed out of the speaker. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Cheeks hot with a flush at even the joking insinuation of being together, you glanced away from the impassive Autobot symbol on the radio and out the window. Still, the laugh barked out of you was sudden and sharp, and quickly dissolved into giggles. “Yes. Mirage. I’m sorry. There’s another ten foot tall alien robot in Brooklyn that’s been vying for my attention. We’re done.”

“I should throw you out on the street right now,” Mirage fussed playfully, his evident pout tinging his voice. “For breakin’ my spark. Also I’m taller than that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m fragile.”

“I dunno. Noah gets his ass kicked around pretty good and he’s still kickin’ it.”

“I am not Noah,” came your tongue-in-cheek rebuttal. “And Noah just refuses to give up even when it’s good for him.”

“Thought qualities like determination were supposed to be big things with you guys.”

“In moderation.”

Mirage barked a laugh. “Ha! Should tell that to Prime. He’ll blow a gasket.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, seriously, tell it to Prime, we’re here.”

The easy confidence that your playful back-and-forth had teased out instantly chilled into a dense mass in your stomach; Mirage was rolling slowly up to a nondescript warehouse buried deep within the old industrial part of Brooklyn, and the way the worn brick loomed over you even in the car made your heart rate pick up.

Now or never.

Familiar alien whirs and clicks of shifting and setting metal filled your ears as Mirage rose into his bipedal mode, the driver’s seat gently ejecting you onto your own two legs on the pavement. Following the motion, you took a few steps forward, but still balked a little at the half open door. Inside, you heard voices of varying timbre, and you fought the urge to turn tail.

Now. Or. Never. Gritted teeth accompanied the repetition of your thought.

The displacement of air behind you — and the soft, constant mechanical noises emanating from his body — signaled Mirage’s presence before his voice.

He said your name with surprising care, using a tone that only came out when he was really being sincere. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at it as you turned, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you, uh, you want me to go in ahead of ya? Normally I’d be like ‘ladies first’ and all that, but you said you weren’t feeling too jazzed about going in—“

“Yeah, actually, if you could, that would be… great. That would be great.”

“Gotcha. Let you psych yourself up a little more before you go in, I see how it is. Let me do the talking,” he affirmed with an easy grin and a nod, bouncing on the balls of his pedes a few times before striding forward. His long legs folded easily under him as he ducked under the lowered garage door, and you traipsed after, smoothing your thumb over your knuckles repeatedly.

The warehouse yawned beyond you, orange shafts of light cutting gashes into otherwise brownish darkness. Old graffiti sprayed across the walls told you that Ramona had been there once, then Nick, then Darnell, and a million others. And you were there now, feeling impossibly small, yes, but a little more resilient with the fading sunlight at your back and Mirage, like always, at your side.

He’d become a permanent fixture in your life from the day you’d met him — when you’d strong-armed Noah into giving up his secret about his Porsche, and the mysterious car had ended up being a twelve-foot-tall robot with a literal motormouth that made a playful pass at you within the first hour of your first conversation. You’d been flustered out of your mind, but had just kept coming back out of unfettered curiosity and outright fascination. Aliens were real, and Noah was friends with one, and it— he could turn into a Porsche.

Mind-shattering observations on the surface, yes. Mirage tended to deflate the grandeur, though, because he never acted like aliens did in the movies or in books. There was no ‘We come in peace!’ bullshit. He was so easy. Everything with him was so easy. He was loudmouthed and extroverted and genuinely hilarious; you spent hours in Noah’s garage trading terrible jokes — mostly bad sexual innuendos — or buckled to Mirage’s driver’s seat as he flew down Central Avenue on the wrong side of the limit and blasted Haddaway so loud it nearly busted your eardrums.

Weird to say an alien robot was your friend, but he was. He gave you rides to work, to your lectures, to your labs, wherever; in fact, he got petulant when you dared to take the bus one day to give him a break, and made it a point to pry your routine out of you so that he could take you wherever you wanted, no fares needed.

So infuriating. You loved it.

You loved… maybe more than just the back-and-forth. Maybe more than the bad jokes. Maybe more than the late-night drives. You were starting to think— starting to realize you loved big blue optics, and the rumble of a 260 horsepower engine when you made just the right innuendo, and broad, incredibly intricate servos that dwarfed yours in size but were so, so careful…

Man. You tried not to think about it too much. It as a concept made you laugh with its own absurdity. Poor human chick fell in love with the giant alien robot that made her laugh. It wasn’t… debilitating. You still functioned like a normal adult. Mostly. Except for that one night like two weeks ago where you’d been arguing with him about some stupid shit and he’d scooped you up, right off the ground, in both servos and held you there, digits interlaced against your back and thumbs on your front.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever held you like that — he’d done it a few times — but something was different that night… even if he’d only done it to gain an upper hand in your bickering. The air crackled with latent electricity, made your skin buzz in all the right places, especially when Mirage had gone quiet for once in his life as he stared at you in his grasp. When you’d prompted him with his name, he’d only responded by gently stroking a thumb over the swell of your chest, which had made you gasp air in so sharply that it burned in your throat. The metal left a tingling path on your skin under your shirt in its wake and immediately sent your heart rate skyrocketing past whatever the fuck was a normal BPM.

He’d snapped back to reality at the sudden expansion of your lungs and had attempted to play it all off as a joke. You remembered how you’d still stumbled when your shoes touched the ground, an absolutely insane feeling of genuine heat rocking you as your brain seized the feeling of his touch while it still sparked against your nerve endings and helpfully replayed it over and over and over again. Sure, the rhythm of banter came back after a stuttering beat, but you never really cooled the warmth on your face for the rest of that night — and when Mirage had dropped you off at your apartment, your door was shut and locked for about five minutes before your shaking hand was frantically worked beneath the waistband of your pants.

…Whew. Definitely something a little more than friendly there. Maybe even more than pure love, something a little slicker and deeper that buzzed against your bones and coiled low in your stomach. It made you feel a little weird — just objectively, because of what Mirage was — but damn if it didn’t feel good to indulge.

God, fuck, why were you thinking about that now, of all times? Escapist fantasies be damned, you were going to meet Mirage’s comrades-friends-coworkers and leave a good impression. Not drool over the worn-out memory replaying in your head for the thousandth time this week.

Out of the darkness and around corners, they emerged. The stealth wasn’t on purpose; you didn’t even think they could be stealthy. Oh, one was coming right for you now — tall was the only word your brain could muster. Tall and red and square were added to the list of adjectives as the stately bot approached, servos collected into fists at his sides and shoulders thrown back.

“Priiiime,” Mirage greeted warmly, throwing his arms out at his sides in his favorite pose. “Look, hey, I know what you said about bringing more people around, but I swear— Hey!”

Completely ignoring your friend’s (status pending) greeting, the bot— Prime, holy shit, this is THE Prime, was kneeling down, leaning forward, and he was right in your face. You fought the very biological urge to flinch. Blue optics considered you for a moment before narrowing and flicking to your right from his lowered position.

“Mirage,” Optimus started with a gravelly tone from behind his faceguard that communicated exasperation above all else. “I explicitly stated that for our safety — and yours — that we were to come in contact with no more humans.”

“Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Kinda hard on a planet that’s got, what, five billion of ‘em? Six?” Mirage glanced at you for backup. You stared back flatly, refusing to say anything that might put you on the business end of a laser cannon.

“You were told to remain incognito so you could recover.” Optimus continued, his gaze returning to you. With a shunk of shifting metal, his faceplate slid away. His faceplates were weathered; the chipped metal around his optics gave the illusion of wrinkles and eyebags. Tired. He seemed tired. “This is not incognito. What is your name?”

You gave it after taking a beat to steady yourself. He repeated it back to you. “How did you come in contact with Mirage?”

“I, uh— Noah, Noah Diaz, he’s my friend. I basically pried it out of him,” you said with a nervous laugh. “So it’s not Mirage’s fault. I’m just nosy.”

At the mention of Noah, Optimus seemed to visibly relax; he moved back slightly, though he remained kneeling, and the narrowed, suspicious squint of his optics rounded out into something much softer.

“…I see. Then I assume you understand the… precarious nature of our existence on your planet.” he said, his tone grave and his optics searching your face.

You nodded, pressing the flesh of the inside of your cheek between your teeth for a moment as you came up with a suitably diplomatic response that still conveyed your friendliness. “I do, yeah. Noah told me most of it. What he could, anyway. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not— I’m not a threat here. Like I don’t work with the, uh, the government or anything. Whatever you guys need help with, I’m available, even if that just means keeping my mouth shut.”

Christ, you were glad this wasn’t your day job. You’d be such a shit ambassador. I’m available. What the hell did that even mean? Fuck yes, you were available, your brain guffawed, thinking of broad metal thumbs brushing over your chest.

You blinked hard, squeezing your eyelids together until the world came back in a photo negative, to scold yourself.

Although you’d stumbled through your reply, Optimus seemed to approve. He rose with a great creak of metal off of his knee and backed up to give you space, though he still regarded you with those sharp blue optics that felt as though they pinned you to the concrete below. “I see Noah chooses his company well. I should have assumed his sentiments would extend to his companions.” He shut his optics for a moment and dipped his head, as if considering deeply what to say next. “I am not sure how much Mirage — or Noah — divulged to you.”

“A fair amount— well. Any amount that won’t get them in trouble,” you called up, taking in deeper breaths to project your voice up the two stories of height to his head. To your side, Mirage snorted. “I know your name— Optimus, I know that, and I know about the Autobots. A little bit about the— fuck, what were they called—“

“Terrorcons?” Mirage supplied, and you were impressed at how quiet he’d been otherwise.

“Terrorcons, thank you. Other than that, not much. How much should I know?”

“Your knowledge is sufficient. All we fear — and all we risk—“ Optimus added with a pointed look at Mirage, who looked incredibly sheepish. “—at the moment is discovery. So long as you maintain secrecy, no harm shall come to us… or you, for that matter.”

It almost sounded like a threat, but Prime worded it very much like a warning. You decided it was best to heed his word — not that you really had another option.

“Right. Okay. Well— I mean, it was nice to meet you. People — humanity, I guess — aren’t bad. Most of us aren’t, anyway. Just, uh, let me know if there’s something Noah and I can get or do for you.”

Prime’s gaze shifted away from you. In fact, it seemed to shift away from the warehouse in general, looking somewhere far beyond the now-shut garage door. “Your generosity is admirable, but it is not humans primarily that we are concerned with.”

Brows furrowed at his vague answer, you thought it over for a second — and then decided not to push it. He probably knew best when it came to whatever foreboding nebulous space threat loomed over your collective heads; you would leave it up to the experts.

“Oh, well, golden rule and all that,” you still offered in terms of a response. That got his attention. His massive head tilted downwards to look at you once more with curiosity. “If I crash landed on someone else’s planet, I’d want them to be hospitable, y’know? Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Like he couldn’t handle the terrible punishment of silence anymore, Mirage butted in. “See, Prime? I told you she was cool.”

A short jolt shook the broad, boxy line of his shoulders, and at first you had thought he’d coughed, and then you realized he laughed. It was barely anything, a huff of a chuckle, but you glowed with the indirect affirmation. Just made Optimus Prime laugh. Maybe you weren’t such a terrible diplomat.

He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather at Mirage, and you swore from your low vantage point you could see a barely-there smile on Prime’s faceplates communicating…was that smug amusement? As the tall bot carefully made his way past you, he stopped in front of your companion, and let a heavy servo land on the headlight adorning his shoulder.

“No matter what you may feel, you chose well, Mirage.” Optimus rumbled out, before removing his servo and traipsing off into a darker section of the sprawling warehouse, ducking through a much-too-small cutout and speaking to Arcee about something indistinguishable. However, you couldn’t care less about whatever her and Prime were discussing — what the hell did he mean by Mirage choosing well?

You turned your head towards said bot, mouth open for inquiry and one brow raised. Mirage looked mortified, in every sense of the word; he stood shell-shocked, lips slightly parted and servos up and open as if to defend himself. His head was whipped around to follow Prime’s departure from the room. A whir started, bouncing off the walls — Mirage’s fans came on and off intermittently to keep his ambient internal temperature at safe levels, but the steady hum of this fan let you infer that he was flushing something fierce.

“Mirage? What—“

Interrupting you by breaking, nearly jumping, out of his trance, he clapped his servos together and started talking at a million miles a minute. “Well, damn, look at that, haha, it’s late, ain’t it? You got work in the morning, right? C’mon, hop in, I’ll drive you home—“

“No, Mirage, hold on, what was he talking about—“

“Seriously, c’mon, he was just messing around—“

“You’re telling me Optimus Prime was joking? Is he even capable of that?”

He said your name with a finality that nearly made you flinch. “Look, I can’t really— Just drop it, please?” It wasn’t angry, nor was it even commanding; in fact, his eyes were wide and pleading with you out of embarrassment. You knew the feeling all too well, and in the interest of sparing his feelings, decided to let it go, despite your intense curiosity.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay. Dropped.” A few beats of silence passed while Mirage was still tamping down his fluster. “You wanna take me home now or are we waiting for Prime to come embarrass you more?”

“Please, let’s get outta here,” he affirmed, dropping into his alt-mode and popping the driver door for you. As you slid in, you couldn’t help the little mischievous smile that grew on your face as your brain cooked up some other joke to take the edge off.

The garage door opened on its own. Mirage rolled into the noticeably darker alleyway. The burnt umber glow of the sunset-stained sky was only visible overhead; otherwise you were boxed in on the sides by blacked-out buildings.

Stifling silence was broken by a joke. Your joke, actually. “…Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me.”

The noise Mirage made was only comparable to a squawk. But obviously much more masculine, clearly. Still, his tires jerked on the road, betraying his surprise. “Hey— Prime is not my sire— or dad, or whatever you wanna call ‘em. He wishes.”

“I dunno,” you mused, arms crossed over your chest and back sunk deep into the seat. Brooklyn in transition blurred by in messy constellations of lit windows. “He got you pretty good there. Pretty standard dad behavior.”

“Hey, I don’t know what suddenly inspired him to go for comedy, but I do not appreciate it. That’s my thing. He’s stealin’ my thunder!”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on him.”

Silence.

The radio crackled. “Ew.”

Accompanied by the loudest eyeroll you could muster, you whacked the dashboard with an open palm, though you couldn’t stop your bubbling laughter. “Oh my god, you are so gross, Mirage! I hate you!”

“Ahh, don’t say that, c’mon! You love it here!”

“You wish.”

The rest of the ride home was spent that way, bickering like normal, and although you couldn’t let go of what Prime had said, nor his knowing look while he said it, you appreciated the return to baseline. When you got home, Mirage parked directly in front of your apartment building, and you lingered on the sidewalk for several minutes after you got out of the car. With the passenger door opened so it looked like you were talking to the ‘driver’ and not completely insane, you leaned on the doorframe and traded jabs with your ride until the humidity of the night air got a little too persistent to ignore. Damn you, Brooklyn.

“See you tomorrow?” Mirage never said goodnight. He only ever asked when he could see you again, corny bastard.

“Tomorrow. My roommate’ll take me to work, don’t worry about it. I’ll just stick my head in the garage when I get home.��

“I thought we had a thing goin’, man!” His faux petulance returned. “You movin’ on already? You just met my folks!”

Your jaw dropped for a second at the fact he’d turned the damn bit around on you. “I met one folk, and you literally said he wasn’t your dad.”

“Maybe I was warmin’ up to the idea!”

Another lethal eyeroll. Your smile still remained locked on your face. “Whatever. Get the hell out of here, asshole,” you said, playfully shutting the door just a little harder than you needed to and slapping the roof like a horse you were trying to send off into the desert.

Even as you turned to walk into your building, you could hear the way his window shot down, far faster than a normal roll. “Ay! Merchandise!”

You stuck a middle finger over your shoulder, thumb out and all, to give him an idea of what he could do with his merchandise. Tires peeled against pavement as he screeched out of his spot and down the otherwise quiet street, letting you know in return how he felt about that.

Smiling like an idiot as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you felt… airy. You were always smiling after hanging around Mirage, you couldn’t help it — especially as of late. But still, you were dying to know what Prime was talking about when he was messing with Mirage earlier. You chose well. Chose what? Your brain briefly entertained the thought of Mirage returning what you felt, and it made blood rush to your face.

It couldn’t really… work. You had made peace with your physical differences weeks ago. The both of you got along just fine despite the size difference, and it never impeded your normal interactions. But you doubted Mirage felt the same; no matter how familiar, how friendly you were with him, you could never shake the feeling of being just a little too alien. Your greatest similarities were in personality. The closest resemblance you held physically was the fact you were both humanoid in shape.

That didn’t stop you. No, not at all. It didn’t stop you from dropping into bed after a quick shower with a heavy sigh, your hand inevitably sinking beneath the covers as you thought of digits — Mirage’s digits, so well articulated for their size and so careful — playing with the hem of your underwear instead of your own fingers, pushing the fabric aside just a little roughly to explore your alien anatomy. It took very little time for you to grind yourself to climax; in fact, it was embarrassingly quick, and it left your face hot with some special kind of shame as you slunk out of bed to wash your hands. The entire time, you avoided your reflection in the mirror.

Even with the ancient AC cranked on and chugging away, it took you a long while to fall asleep.

Off in the industrial district of Brooklyn, meanwhile, Mirage was burning rubber as he took ninety-degree turns at sixty miles per hour. His processor was thrumming at max capacity, and his engine felt like it was about to either stall or explode.

Primus, it was all too much. Your teasing always got him some kind of hot and bothered, tight under his interface paneling, but the acidic rush of embarrassment still prickled at his cabling. Prime, come on, man. Mirage was still floored at the fact that Prime of all bots had embarrassed him like that, in front of you, no less!

He had it bad for you, and he knew it, but apparently every other bot in that warehouse knew it too. Ever since he’d met you, you’d stuck in his processor, the way the light glinted off your eyes and your all-teeth smile and the way he could get you to laugh. Sure, his flirts were only playful at first — and he only did them to mess with Noah, who’d harbored an on-and-off crush on you for a while — but the more he did them and the more you returned them, the more he started really… considering it.

It was so shameful. Primus, it was shameful. He’d barely ever interfaced in his life — there was just no time, especially not on Cybertron — and never with organics. After that one night where he’d hefted you up with ease in both servos and completely blanked when confronted with your soft, warm weight in his hold, he’d been on a spiral. It wasn’t just enough to be friendly with you; he was plenty friendly with Noah (though with the amount of stupid passes Mirage made at him, Noah would probably say too friendly) and he wanted something more with you.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled into some long-abandoned warehouse or pitch-black deserted alley and scrabbled at his interface panel to pressurize his spike before he feverishly, frantically humped his fisted servo for relief, mental processors supplying increasingly filthy fantasies of your soft skin against his chassis and your mouth, Primus, your mouth on his own, on his spike, wherever, he didn’t care. Every single time, though, after coming down from his high with steam pouring off his lax frame, he felt just a little more discouraged than the last — because he knew that his fantasies would have to stay that way. Fantasies. Your friendship was enough, had to be, no matter how bad he wanted you, because he’d be damned to the Pit before he scared you off by being stupid and admitting his feelings.

Ugh. Ugh. He took another corner too hard and felt his tires shriek, let the burn travel upward and reverberate in his frame. The chaos in his mental processors quieted as he neared HQ. All he knew was that it was late, and he couldn’t be too loud or Prime would get on his ass for interrupting his stasis.

Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me. Your voice played, unbidden, from some file that popped open in his memory bank. He willed it away with a vengeance as he rolled into the warehouse-turned-headquarters as quietly as he could, transforming as soon as the door was shut and stretching out his back. Clicking echoed off the walls as his spinal struts reset, and the residual burn in his scraped tires tingled.

Mirage turned, and—

Yelped. Bumblebee was standing right there, shoulder against the wall and fiddling with some holographic projection from his forearm. Mirage coughed into his clenched servo to preserve what was left of his dignity.

“‘Sup,” he greeted through gritted denta. “I, uh, didn’t see you there, man. How’s it hangin’?”

Bee gave him a flatly unamused look that communicated ‘No shit, you didn’t see me.’ very well. The projection phased out of existence and left the two of them in the dimmed space in some kind of standoff.

“Well, y’know, beauty stasis and everything, I’m just gonna—“

“I wanna know, what you’re feeling! Tell me what’s your mind!” burbled Bee’s radio in place of his voice. Mirage jerked back for a second, not expecting Information Society at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk about—“

“There are some things you can’t hide!” insisted the same song. Bee gestured for Mirage to talk. Clearly he wanted to know.

This was as good a time as ever to spill, he guessed.

Mirage groaned and clasped both of his servos over his face after explaining the bones of it, his head tilted upwards, optics fruitlessly searching the water-stained warehouse ceiling for a solution to his problem. His… very human, very embarrassing problem.

Not that he thought you were embarrassing— not at all, never. But Prime would have his head over falling for a human. Okay, well, maybe not his head; it was more like Mirage would be in for a lengthy disapproving speech about responsibilities and goals and distractions, and Primus, just thinking about it made the former option of decapitation the preferable one. Even though he seemed to approve of his choice, considering what he’d said earlier, the ‘Bots were still at war, and there wasn’t time for human distractions. Literal human distractions.

It wasn’t like he could help it. You were funny, okay? And smart. And you teased him in just the right way that made his cooling fans sputter, and you were so curious about… everything about him, he thought, remembering your impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lesson with a hot flash in his processor. He couldn’t help but be flattered by your attention.

“Ugh, Bee, I don’t know what to do, man,” he said despairingly after a moment, pacing in circles in front of said squat yellow bot leaned against the nearby concrete wall. “I mean, look at this, she’d be missin’ out if she said no,” he added, arrogance staining his words in an attempt to console himself. It didn’t work; insecurity eviscerated his bravado moments after he said it. “Or… I guess we’d both be, huh.” A short, self-deprecating laugh left him.

Mirage wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to Bee of all bots for advice, but he was sure as shit not going to Optimus after today, and Arcee would have just told him anyway. Plus, considering that Wheeljack wasn’t even in the country at the moment, his options were slim. Besides, Bee had… experience with this sort of thing. Dealing with humans and all. Just… not in this way. But it was close enough, and Mirage was totally lost; if he thought about it by himself for any longer, his processors were going to fry.

Speaking of, Bee tittered through his gutted voice synthesizer to get Mirage’s attention. Expression drawn into a very human grimace, Mirage turned to face his friend, servos planted firmly on his hips.

“Well, you gotta tell her— wanna know what love is— want you to show me,” Bee’s radio clipped, first from a talk show, then from a nearby station, and Mirage felt energon surge to his face in a hot rush at a very personal song being blared back at him.

He had the words memorized at this point. The shape of them was practically burned into his memory files, considering how much he played it for you. It was reserved for days on both ends of the spectrum, bad and good; Mirage would pick you up in his alt-mode and take you for joyrides across the city, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge at daredevil speeds, all the while blaring music loud enough to make your head pound.

The two of you had discovered a few favorites, but the Foreigner song was at the top of the list, right next to Careless Whisper, of course. The sound of your voice belting at the top of your lungs, softened with that specific human accent, thrumming and reverberating through your chest— you sounded so alive, but so different from what he was accustomed to.

“Dude—” Mirage nearly barked, voice up a full octave before clearing his synthesizer into his fist and repeating himself. “Dude. I can’t just do that. Aliens— we’re aliens. Well. She’s an alien, too, I guess, but we,” he paused to gesture frantically between himself and Bee, “are the aliens here. I don’t really think humans are into the whole giant robot thing.”

“Noah?” Bee played a clip of Mirage’s own voice back at him questioningly.

“Yeah, well, Noah’s a different story.”

With a whir of his actuators, Bee shook his head and looked away for a moment, big blue optics considering the floor. With a soft clunk, he crossed his arms over his chassis.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Mirage urged, tilting his head to follow the other bot’s motions. “Should I just leave it? I mean, I don’t want it to be weird, I just—“

Bee straightened up off the wall, clearly done thinking. His arms opened out in a shrug and his optics squinted, communicating I don’t know what you want me to say, dude, far better than his vocal synthesizer ever could have.

His radio clipped again, this time a few seconds of a Beatles song and then Noah’s voice. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah— right?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mirage groaned, rolling his head back with a pained expression and letting his body follow the motion as he paced another tight circle. His faceplates felt hot at the insinuation. “And if I ask, it’s gonna be weird. And if I make it weird, I’m never gonna—“

He stopped rambling when a four-digit servo thumped on the headlight atop his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. Bee’s optics stared him down, wide and bright blue, and it made Mirage press his lips together firmly as he awaited whatever sage advice he was about to impart.

ABBA filtered through the radio first. “Should walk right up to her and say—“ What came next made Mirage’s brow ridges shoot up so high he thought they were going to fly off his helmet. “—when I get that feeling, I want sexual healin’!”

Mirage’s jaw dropped. Immensely flustered and ten times more frustrated at his friend’s useless advice, he shoved the other bot off. “Are you serious, dude? Primus, I never shoulda asked you. Thanks, I’ll go walk right up to her and ask to interface on the warehouse floor, that’ll go super well.”

Bee nodded quickly and gave him a double thumbs up with a series of approving beeps and chirps, the bottoms of his optics flattening into an amused look. Mirage dragged his servo down his faceplates in mortification, although his cooling fans kicked on a click higher than normal.

Sometimes he wished he’d been left on Cybertron with Soundwave and all his other goons. This was one of those times. As he dropped back into his alt-mode with an embarrassed mumble about ‘going on patrol,’ Bee whooped behind him, and the last thing Mirage heard before peeling out of the warehouse was “There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, baby, no, no!”

Whoever gave Bee access to Marvin Gaye needed to be whacked upside the helm.

Knowing Mirage’s luck, it was probably you.

He stayed out for the rest of the night in his alt-mode, wandering the streets and staying away from your apartment, no matter how bad he wanted to go. The pool of people with any useful advice to offer for his predicament was steadily shrinking; after the disaster with Bee, Mirage just needed to stay away from that warehouse and let his processors cool.

Sometime in the morning he returned, though not to the warehouse. He almost immediately crashed into stasis as soon as he rolled into Noah’s garage, his simultaneously pent-up and exhausted processors eager for a chance to refresh themselves and defrag.

Ha, he thought blearily as he sank into stasis. Defrag.

You were waking as he was crashing, though you weren’t happy about it. The eight hour shift that loomed ahead of you on top of the bullshit from last night was a pretty potent combination for a headache of a day, especially when you couldn’t have your morning jam sesh with Mirage on your way to work. Thankfully, though, your roommate was a kind soul, and there was an extra cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter when you stumbled out of your bedroom.

As you sipped it, you wondered just how long you could keep the front up. By some small grace of God, your roommate’s schedule didn’t align very well with yours; you barely saw them in your daily life even before you met Mirage. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. It just happened that way. But on a few occasions, they’d been home when Mirage had dropped you off, and you’d been just calling him a ‘friend with places to be’ to excuse the fact that he never walked you to your door. Being somewhat prescient, they’d nudged you a couple times about this ‘friend’ turning into a boyfriend, but had never pushed it.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, though you traded a few jokes back and forth that had the both of you giggling into your food. The ride to your job was similar, and your roommate wished you a good shift before driving off leisurely — such a stark difference compared to Mirage’s affinity for peeling off into the street at Mach-fucking-10. Thinking of him made your face burn and your mind race. You tried not to.

Time was an especially cruel mistress today, though. You swore that people were actively winding the clocks back every time you looked up at them, and your shift felt like a thick slog, knee-deep, that you had no choice but to wade through. The worst part about slow shifts was that your mind wandered with nothing else to do, and like a moth to a flame— or rather, like metal to a magnet, your brain circled around to Mirage again and again and again.

Damn that bot. Damn it all. Every time you thought of him, it was some stupid joke he’d cracked or silly offhand comment he’d made or ridiculous flirt he’d lobbed your way — always accompanied by memories of his body, surprisingly lithe considering what he was made of, all legs and a dramatic waist topped with wide shoulders that made your own engine purr.

“Mirage, did you go upstate or something? You’re disgusting,” you’d laughed as you raked your gaze over his pecs, pretending to eye the dirt smeared there and not something else.

“Disgusting?! You gotta be kidding me, I’m not half as bad as the rest of ‘em. You should see Bee, dude!” He’d gestured out the door of the warehouse, where you assumed the other bot was lurking in dirt-covered shame.

“What the hell were you two even doing?”

“Pfft. Practicin’.”

“Practicing body-slamming each other?”

“Yeah, want me to show you?”

“Mirage,” you’d groaned, laughing despite yourself.

“C’mon, I know a few good ways to pin a bot down,” he grinned, winking at you. You fixed him with the most dead stare you could muster before breaking into a half-smile of your own.

“I’ll pass on the whole getting crushed thing, but I could be persuaded to spray you down by hand,” you flirted back, just for fun.

No, not for fun. Real flirt. It was real, all of it was, and you couldn’t shake the memory of his optics widening, brightening, with eagerness and the way he’d pleaded. Playfully. Playfully?

“Please,” he begged dramatically, clasping his servos together, optics enormous. “I’ll be good! Maybe even stay still!”

You pinched your nose bridge between your fingers and tried to think about something else, because you were starting to press your thighs together a little and you were still at work, damn it. Professionalism was something you were aiming to maintain.

Hot. It was hot. That’s what you were thinking about. You’d glanced at the weather report earlier in the morning, and seeing a row of little sun icons clued you in on an insufferable heatwave that didn’t have any intention of breaking any time soon. Even now you felt sweat collect under your shirt and dot your hairline; all you could do was wipe your face with the back of your hand and keep working.

And working.

And. Working.

And then, eventually, you watched the clock tick over the last minute of your shift, and you heard angels sing a holy choir as you all but slammed your things down and sprinted to clock out. Well. You didn’t sprint, but you did speed walk, which counted for something.

Such was your haste to leave your workplace and talk to Mirage that you speed-walked headfirst into the lashing rain outside without a second thought. Genuinely caught by surprise, you stumbled back into the safety of the entryway, eyes wide as you watched the storm front swallow the last dregs of the golden evening sky and pour rain on the streets outside. Ink blots bleeding across paper. Rorschach tests. Some other poetic fluff came to mind over the supremely annoying realization that you were going to have to walk to the garage in wet clothes.

At least it was a quick walk.

Patience waning, you nearly considered calling Mirage — or even Noah — to come get you, but at the last second your roommate swooped in, pulling up outside and honking the horn a few times to let you know your knight in shining Prius was here to rescue you.

They cracked a few jokes at your expense when they saw your wet clothes, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not after the trials and tribulations of Mirage. With a few clicks, the rest of your ride home was filled with Boyz II Men and intermittent conversation as you watched raindrops race each other down the window and considered what the hell you were going to say to Mirage tonight.

Mostly, you were dying of curiosity to know what Prime had meant to get him so flustered. Thinking about that, though, just made you go down a spiral of what-ifs… especially considering that one of them was ‘What if he feels the same way?’

You could handle rejection. You were an adult who paid taxes. But just this one time, you weren’t sure if you could handle reciprocation. Especially full reciprocation.

Mirage’s friendship was something you felt privileged to have. You were just quite scared to fuck it all up and lose out on all the things that made being his friend worth it — including him. Jaw tightening, you blinked and looked away from the window. No use stewing in it.

At home, your dinner was quick and light — something in a Tupperware that you didn’t look at too hard after microwaving. When your roommate asked about your rush, you came up with some lame excuse about hanging out with Noah, waving your hand dismissively.

Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go break Hynek’s scale of close encounters. Don’t worry about it though.

“In this weather? You’ll be soaked thirty seconds out the door. You were soaked thirty seconds out the door.”

“I’ll bring an umbrella,” you said, barely listening to them over the cacophony of your own thoughts. Mirage. Mirage. Mirage. I’m seeing him tonight. I’m talking to him tonight. I’m not going to pussy out of anything tonight. Now or never. “The place is like two blocks up the street, I’ll live.”

“If you’re so inclined to catch a cold, I’m not gonna stop you. Not making you chicken soup, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarked affectionately, and the last thing you heard before exiting your apartment was their familiar laughter. That bolstered you somewhat.

Even if the rain whipping at your face made you reconsider your stupid horny stubbornness.

Only two blocks felt more like two dozen as you tucked your chin to your chest and gripped your hood to keep the wind from snatching it off your head; in your other hand you white-knuckled your umbrella to keep it from tilting the wrong angle and washing water down your back. Thunder rattled your bones more than once and made you think offhandedly of Kris, the poor kid. He hated storms but refused to admit it out of pride; he was probably curled up in a ball under his covers right now trying to block out the worst of the noise. And you thought of Noah alongside him just out of pure association, and you weren’t sure what made your stomach turn, but it did.

God, you hoped Noah wasn’t with Mirage right now. You didn’t want to slam the door open to the garage soaking wet and wrestle Mirage’s true feelings out of him while Noah spectated. Wrestle. Soaking wet.

Fuck my life.

The side door to the garage was jammed like it always was, even after you unlocked it, and you huddled against it to stay under the mediocre cover of the awning as you shoved your shoulder into it to force it open. Old metal hinges wailed as you ground them open, and the blessed dry warmth of the garage — the temperature always heightened with Mirage’s presence — sighed against your freezing skin as you wormed your way inside.

“Mirage?” you called tentatively as you leaned back against the door to get it to shut and latch. A beat passed before your senses came to you and your hand fumbled behind you to lock it. Not for sordid reasons, honestly. You just didn’t want anyone to even have the chance of walking in on Mirage when he wasn’t folded into a Porsche.

Speaking of, you saw him then, pacing around the garage and seemingly very involved in a conversation with himself. Although the rain outside provided a dull roar of background noise, the whirs and clicks of his actuators and soft whooms of his pedes against the concrete filled your ears with their familiarity. It was Mirage, and you knew Mirage, and it helped dull the edge of abject nervousness in your gut.

He cut a sharp figure under the hanging ceiling lights, making sure to duck and avoid smacking his helm on them. When those bright blue optics registered your existence, you swore they flared with delight; he said your name with such enthusiasm it almost made you excited. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. “Hey, sugar, what’s k— Primus, you, uh, swim on your way here? Or do I just make you that wet? Cuz I appreciate the compliment.” He grinned wolfishly at you. Sparks flew off your rubbed-raw nerves.

The unimpressed stare you gave him was lethal. “That is not how that works,” you said, shaking your umbrella off on the floor and setting it against the wall to drip dry. “All the wetness is— would be in one place, dumbass.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention during my anatomy lessons. Wanna reteach ‘em to me? I’ll behave, swear on my spark.”

A scoff. “When have you ever behaved in your life?”

“When it counts! C’mon, you know you like it,” he said, gesturing down the length of his body with a flourish of his servo. “I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

“If I answer that question, I’ll hurt your feelings.” Excess rainwater dripped off your jacket as you peeled it off. Mirage’s optics followed the motion intently.

Amber lighting nearly glowed against the sleek metal of his torso. So what if your own eyes had wandered down it at his emphasis? He’d invited it. Expressly. He loved your attention, loved flaunting everything about himself just for a glance his way from you, for anything you’d give him.

It took him a second to register your words. He gasped and clasped a servo over his chassis— his spark, you remembered that from your own anatomy lesson a few weeks ago. “Gonna break my spark talkin’ like that. I hurt your feelings or something, sugar? What’s got you so bent?” With his question, he sank into a deep squat, draping his forearm over his thigh and leaning close to you.

A deep exhale left you. Your shoulders deflated. “It’s not you. Just the weather.” A short huff of a laugh, barely humorous, left you. “I mean, look at me.” You held your arms out and spun in a slow circle, errant droplets flying in every direction. “I look like a drowned rat.”

The lightbulb over his head was nearly visible. “You, uh, want a hand drying off?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hands fell to your sides. Something akin to lightning danced up your spine.

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, I got an idea,” he said, holding his hand out at you to tell you to wait, excitement ramping up in his voice. What the hell was he planning? Nothing good, you figured. Or hoped.

Otherwise harsh sounds of metal against metal were softened by the alien chirrs and trills of the mechanical viscera working in his chassis as he settled on the ground in a sitting position. His back was leaned against the wall, carefully adjusted so his darling paint job was away from the rough concrete. To keep his balance, he rested against his tires and scooched his hips away from the wall, kicking his long legs out with a flourish and gesturing at his lap.

Although he was shorter this way, it was still a climb you didn't want to make while you were damp and the general slip hazard was high. “Can you give me a lift so I can see whatever shit you’re planning?”

“I got you, sugar, don’t even worry about it. Just hang on,” came the reply, and your brain blanked just a little at the feeling of his servos on you again, picking you up just like they had done on that night two weeks ago. With zero effort — seriously, you didn’t even hear any mechanical creaking — you were scooped upwards.

Your damp clothes clung to your body, a fact both you and Mirage were painfully aware of; the chill of the soaked fabric contrasted against that fascinating living heat of your skin nearly made the sensors in his servos short-circuit. He’d thought about this, exactly this, so much that it had probably worn a path into his neural processors. So soft. You were so soft.

A shudder ran up his spinal strut and he prayed you didn’t notice.

You were set down with your feet firmly on the flat tops of his thighs, ignoring the slight wobble in your knees. Arms raised a bit for balance, you looked down at the living machinery beneath you. The flight paths of the butterflies in your stomach grew more frantic. Broad servos released you from their hold, but they didn’t leave; no, they skated down, down, down until they settled on the flare of your hips and stayed. They were so heavy.

A breath caught in your throat like a wild animal in a trap. “If I fall, I’m gonna be so pissed off. You know that, right?” Anything to make this more normal. You had no idea how you kept the shake out of your voice.

“Relaaax, hot stuff, I’m on it. I got it, I got it,” he replied, his voice a full octave lower than what you were used to. “‘sides, I’m Mirage, remember? Protecting humans is kinda my thing.”

You scoffed. “Not with the way you drive.”

“Hey, I drive perfectly fine! You’re the one who’s scared of fun.” His servos left your hips to brace themselves on the floor. “Mirage, don’t drive so fast! Mirage, that’s a red light! Mirage, there are cops behind us!” His voice pitched up into something high and nasally to poorly, poorly mimic yours.

It was your turn to be affronted, though your mouth was open in a disbelieving sort of smile. “I don’t even sound like that, you fucker! And sorry for trying to keep us from getting arrested!”

“I dunno, you all sorta sound the same to our audio processors.” He was lying, and blatantly so. He had the distinct tone and pitch of your voice memorized down to the wavelength. “And besides, we wouldn’t get arrested.” His own voice took on a smug, self-satisfied edge, accompanied by the raise of his brow ridges.

“Oh, really? Why’s that? Please, enlighten me,” you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down. In response, he leaned his head in, closer to you, closer than you expected, and an insufferable smirk crawled across his faceplates.

“Cuz cop cars can’t drive that fast,” he whispered conspiratorially, like it was a clever response.

What should have been a minute movement — just a shift of the head — actually became very noticeable on a twelve-foot-frame; his hips repositioned of their own accord to account for the redistribution of weight, and the change was enough to trip you up. Especially when you had been leaning in already to match his movement.

The world tilted as you started to fall forward; fearing injury or worse by tumbling off your semi-precarious perch, you jammed your hands out in front of you—

And slammed your palms directly on his chassis. It was all very fast after that. Mortified, you stared down at the planes of metal beneath you, feeling heat creep up, up, up your neck and seep into your face. Mirage had cursed above you out of surprise, and you felt the displacement of air as his servo shot up behind your back and hovered. Right there. He was right there, and he always would be.

You raised your head and made eye contact, and you knew it was over. His optics were wide with surprise, and they searched your face for any expression of pain or discontent. They cycled once, seeing none, and then flickered down to your lips.

He was so done for. Something in his expression sagged at your proximity; in his field of view, he saw an alert stating that his internal temperature was rising beyond ideal levels, and he would have laughed if not for you. Finally. Finally. Finally. He was half-expecting this to be a dream, something cooked up by his fried processors that he would wake up from any minute now.

His servo was still hovering over your back.

“Can I—“

“Yes,” you said immediately in a sharp exhale — before he could even get the question out — and there it all went.

He surged forward like a flood from a dam, closing the distance between the both of you with a hungry rev of his engine. Explaining the logistics of it would sound silly; all you could do was go with the flow, just like every other time you’d ever kissed someone. All you knew was that it was satisfying, supremely so, and completely encompassing. Every sense was filled by him, and you realized with a kick of your heart that you never wanted it any other way.

Though your hand shook, you shoved past the fear and indulged in everything you had wanted for weeks, let yourself sink deep into that pit of want and refused to come up for air. Your fingers skated his curves and edges; you brought your palm up to the sharp angles of his jaw and smoothed it upward until it ran over the curve of his cheek.

He reacted to your touch like it was a live wire. Minute jerks of excitement ran through his frame, and when your hand rested on the side of his face, he tilted his helm into the kiss with barely restrained excitement. He was so careful, it made something inside you purr. That kind of caution was only reserved for something precious. You were precious. He couldn’t ever risk hurting you. Especially not by his own hand.

First impression was that his lips were far softer than you’d ever assumed. Pliable, hot metal pressed greedily against your mouth — more, more, more was a mantra echoed wordlessly between the both of you. The hovering servo came to rest on your back, pushing your front against his chassis as you shifted up on your toes to keep the angle of the kiss correct. Digits splayed against the planes of skin they found there, pressing down to feel your warmth — your heart slammed against your ribs so hard that Mirage could probably feel it against his palm.

With a hot flash, you wondered if the metal of his lips would bear the dent of your teeth from a bite. So you bit. It was more of a playful nip than anything, but the reaction you got was so instantaneous it was like Mirage had been waiting for it. Again, his engine throttled, the powerful rumble surging through you as his servo pinned you to his chassis. Against your mouth, his lips ticked up into a smile.

Air. You needed air. He let you pull away with no resistance, though his head did trail after your mouth for a moment.

You let your forehead sink down and rest against the top of his chassis for a moment; the condensation from your breath fogged the metal. Out of nowhere, manic giggles erupted from you. They shook your body incessantly as you rose and fell in time with Mirage’s heavy vents, your knees feeling weak and mind frazzled. From one kiss. One.

Laughter rocked his frame too, short chuckles of disbelief as his thumb rubbed circles into your back.

“Oh my god,” you murmured into the warm metal beneath you through shocks of giggles.

“Not exactly, but, eh, I’ll take it,” Mirage replied above you, and while he laughed at his own joke, you groaned and whacked him lightly with a palm. It wasn’t like he was unaffected though — far from it, in fact, judging from the steadily heating chassis beneath you and the tinge of static fringing his words.

“Bring me up,” you said hoarsely, twisting an arm behind you to paw at the servo on your back.

Without question, his other servo came up and curled under your thighs, hoisting you up so that his face was easier to reach. With most of your body now resting on his chassis and very much secured in his grip, you grasped his face in both your palms; he leaned so far into your touch with a shaky ex-vent that your noses almost brushed.

“Again?”

“Yeah, again,” he agreed, and this time you pulled him in, fingers hooking in some unseen seam behind his jaw as you crushed your mouth against his. Hunger, latent and now finally triggered, drove you closer, as close as you physically could, until your skin was starting to hurt from the random edges being pressed into it.

Curious above all else, you licked your tongue into the front of his mouth. The searing heat inside surprised you; it teetered on the edge of uncomfortable and reminded you very much of your computer at home when it ran for too long, with that special kind of mechanical stress and burning warmth that only came with overworked processors.

“‘S like that, is it?” he murmured into your mouth with a grin, his engine kicking up a notch and the vibration of his chassis hitting you very nicely right where you needed it most. You made some soft noise, half-gasp, half-groan, and hiked one of your legs up so it was bent at the knee, flattening your hips against his chest and fuck, there it was. The consistent rumble of his motor pressed a steady vibration right into your cunt over the seam of your jeans; a particular grind made you gasp and falter as you rolled your clit against the line of denim and held it there.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Heyyy, hot stuff, something feel good down there?” His voice was bursting at the seams with some rich kind of excitement; you breathed into his neck cabling as your hips jerked a little against his chassis. One servo pawed at your ass, clumsy with its eagerness, gripping and massaging the soft flesh it found there with intent.

Experimentally, his servo pressed down, pushing your pelvis down with it, and the pressure on your clit pulled a groan of satisfaction out of you that had his cooling fans sputter.

“Fuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and before he could say something stupid, you leaned your head down and pressed kisses to the delicate cabling of his neck.

A delighted noise rattled out of him, and his helm rolled back against the wall to allow you more access. Impatient, your kisses soon turned to bites, playful nips that tugged at the sensitive wiring and made his body jolt beneath yours like he’d been shocked. To your utter delight, you found that Mirage’s proclivity for talking extended to situations like these, too — noises streamed from his mouth as your curious teeth and hands worked over such a fragile part of his anatomy in ways that only a human could.

“Oh, Primus, babe, babe—“ he stammered out, and you lifted your head for just long enough of a window to allow him to swoop down and kiss you again, feverishly now.

Something thick and wet prodded past your teeth experimentally. For just a second you balked— and then remembered it was his glossa. His tongue. Yeah, you remembered that from your anatomy lesson; he’d stuck it out and pointed at it in a dumb way then, but fuck if it didn’t have your thighs tightening now. The hot biomesh probed your mouth, and it was so big you inadvertently drooled around it — but Mirage didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you were pretty sure the spit dripping from your mouth around him was getting him even more worked up, judged by the way his digits tightened their grip on your ass.

You had been cold when you’d walked in that garage. Keyword there was had. Now your skin seared with a deep flush and steadily increasing heat; mindlessly, your hips started a slow, staccato rhythm that kept your breathing heavy. The servo on your back slid upwards to the point where it encompassed the back of both your neck and head. He could not get enough of your taste. He wanted it burned into the sensors on his glossa, for all he cared. Spit and lubricant swapped between the both of your mouths — you found that the metallic taste that seeped into your tongue did nothing but turn you on further.

Pulling away again for a deep inhale of air, you propped yourself semi-awkwardly on an elbow to look at him. Open adoration was written across his faceplates, along with blatant want that made his optics cycle frantically.

“I thought you were— fuck, I thought you were supposed to be drying me off,” you said, breaking in the middle of your sentence as his servo carefully started to move you. Just barely — just enough pressure to keep your hips working against him and chasing your pleasure.

“You really wanna?” He grinned at you, spit shiny on his chin. “I dunno about you, but I think I’m likin’ you being wet more.”

“You’re awful. That was terrible,” you laughed, brain foggy with arousal and general swelling affection for the bot underneath you.

“How many more of those you got left in you before you start admitting the truth that I’m the funniest bot you’ll ever meet?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly have stiff competition.”

“Aaand the best-looking.”

“I dunno… Optimus is kind of—“

“Hey!” he interrupted, bringing you up for another kiss to silence your thought before you could finish it. You happily complied, laughing into the heat of his mouth and then moaning in the same breath as his servo ground you down against his rumbling chassis again.

Hot. You were getting really hot. The damp clothes sticking to your skin were not helping; in fact, they felt as though they were going to start steaming being pressed against your skin like this. Against your wishes, you pulled backwards again, bracing yourself against the warm vents that substituted for his collarbones. They cycled hot, dry air against your fingertips, though it didn’t burn. Not yet, at least.

“Mirage,” you breathed, and that got his attention immediately. “…Are we fucking?”

“Please,” he instantly replied, so eager that it made your cunt throb. His enormous blue optics watched you with such intent that it almost made you want to shrink away from the scrutiny — but you steeled your resolve. You had him, and you had him right where you wanted. Opportunity of a fucking lifetime. You were not about to waste it.

You glanced down for a reprieve from the eye contact. “Fuck,” you swore softly, staring at the metalwork beneath you for a few heartbeats before shaking your head and glancing back upwards at him. “Okay, well— I— Okay. Let me just— do this—“

Hands shaking slightly, you balled your fists in the hem of your work shirt and wrestled it up and off you; the damp fabric lingered and peeled off of you, which made Mirage’s motor throttle powerfully underneath you. Other than that, though, you got no reaction, which made all that heat in your abdomen cool rapidly into a dense ball of abject horror.

Oh, you made a mistake. This was too much, you were too alien, too different—

The servo not supporting you against his chassis slid around from the planes of your back to your front, and you gasped sharply as he did the same fucking thing that drove you insane the first time, however many days ago. His thumb, warm on the palm-side, gently passed over the peak of your chest. His optics narrowed in on the indent in your soft flesh his digit created. Nerve endings in the trail it left behind sparked.

“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he said reverently, voice steeped in a combination of awe and victory.

Oh-kay! You sucked a deep breath in, a litany of responses running through your head. The boost to your ego was very much appreciated, and it helped lighten the sinking mass of worry that had formed in the pit of your stomach.

Mirage nearly groaned when you placed your soft palm atop the junction of his digit and the heel of his servo. “Do it again,” you decided on, and that worked damn well.

As his servo groped at your chest, he leaned in, tucking his face under your jaw. To accommodate, you tilted your head up and away—

Only to swear into negative space as he very much returned the favor from earlier and began carefully sucking the world’s biggest hickeys into the skin of your neck. Breaths came harsh and choppy as the expanse of his glossa, hot and spit-slick, laved over the gentle bites he worried into your skin with his denta.

“Ah, Mirage, Mirage,” you breathed; every mention of his name spilling from your bruised lips made his circuitry heat just a little more. It was so much all at once — his servos were so broad that their expanse covered huge swaths of skin at once, and his mouth on such a sensitive part of your anatomy wasn’t helping either. Your hands clawed for purchase against his helm and the back of his neck. One palm flattened as much as it could on the back of his head, trying with all of your laughable human strength to bring him as close as possible. The other ended up cradling the side of his head, your thumb brushing over the audial disk there. With no small amount of wonder, you watched the plates of his back ruffle at your touch.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be weird, but he could die happy so long as he had the taste of your skin still registering on his glossa. It was more addictive than any high-grade he’d had back home by leagues. That human flavor of salt and skin and some kind of sweetness had his processors thrumming at maximum capacity; you made his mouth flood with lubricant, a fact you could corroborate by the amount that spilled over your bare sternum. The feeling of his own spit sliding down your front between your bruised breasts made the muscles of your abdomen twitch. Fingers shaped like claws now, you pressed weak kisses against the smooth curves of his helm wherever you could reach.

Your jeans were just getting in the way at this point. The minute shocks of pleasure you derived from grinding your clit against the inseam were just that — minute. You needed something more now or you were going to get frustrated, and you’d dealt with enough sexual frustration over the past weeks to be very sick of that feeling.

“Oh, fuck, okay— Mirage,” you said breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the side of his helm to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your chest, optics dimmed with pleasure. They cycled once and returned to their full brightness as he cleared the fog of arousal — barely — away from his processors.

“All systems go, sugar?” Static hissed underneath his words.

You tried and failed to stifle a snort of a laugh. “Corny ass,” you mumbled, although you were absolutely close enough for his audial sensors to pick up on it. He made a sound of indignation, but you pushed forward regardless. “I, um, I need to get these off.” Hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your jeans to emphasize your point, you glanced up at his optics again.

Blankness for a second. Then it registered. “Oh, right, right, of course, haha! You, uh, want help? Or you got it?”

“I think I can manage taking my pants off,” you laughed. “Just— let me sit on like— the top of your chest, there we go,” you instructed, and the hand under your ass pushed you up until you were turned around and seated on the lip of the top of his chassis. For a second, you wrestled with the denim — still not fully dried — but you managed to kick both your jeans and your shoes off. They were thrown somewhere in the direction of the door. God, you were so glad you locked it.

Underwear went next. There was a beat of hesitation — for what, you weren’t sure — but like you’d done so often as of late, you just ignored your trepidation and worked the elastic down your legs. A laugh barked out of you when you lifted the fabric up and saw the downright ridiculous wet spot that stained the gusset.

“Jesus Christ, look what you did to me,” you said with a faux accusatory tone, holding your panties out for Mirage to inspect. Two digits delicately took them from you; he held them up to his face, so close that it made you blush from sheer embarrassment.

“Wow. You weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout all the wet being in one spot, huh?” He examined them with no small amount of fascination, much to your mortification.

“Mirage! Put those down, oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth with a choked noise.

“What, I can’t admire my work?”

“No you can not.”

Mirage pouted at your denial, and mumbled something about you being no fun, but he still lifted you off his chassis regardless. Like he was helpless to your draw, he pulled you in for another kiss, though he couldn’t stop his mouth from wandering. Down, down, down, until his nose was nestled in your chest and he spoke into the soft flesh of your stomach. Shaky ex-vents tickled the damp skin there.

“Shit, baby, tastes so good,” he mumbled, and you were impressed by his ability to sound completely sex-drunk without even having done anything yet.

Your hips rolled against nothing; they bumped into his neck cabling and the top of his chassis fruitlessly, and a noise of frustration eked out of you. Mirage seemed to get the memo and pulled you away. Your body was brought down until your ass was sat firmly on his hips — his interface panel nestled right in front of your dripping cunt — and your back was leaned up against the flat support of his thighs; his knees were tucked up and his pedes placed firm and flat on the floor to give you the most stability. Fumbling for a second before you found somewhere to place your own feet, the enormity and absurdity of the situation brought more of those breathless giggles to your mouth that seized your chest and shook your shoulders.

Toootally breaking Hynek’s scale here. So beyond abduction. Way beyond abduction.

A few careful digits slipped around your knee, wormed their way between your legs. “Can I—“

Your thighs fell open without a word.

What had made you fall for Mirage the hardest was his motormouth. He never stopped talking; he always had something stupid to add, something to pitch in with, some silly joke to crack. There was a lightness he teased out of you that even you didn’t expect. But now? Now, for once, he was speechless. It made uncharacteristic shyness flare in your gut and heat your face as he studied your very bare, very human form with slightly parted lips and enormous optics.

His body caught up before his mouth did. The servo on your knee slid over it until it gripped your bare thigh; he watched the flesh shift back and forth under his touch with no small amount of fascination.

“Is it— it’s okay?” Your voice sounded very small. It was a special kind of insecurity to be faced with.

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. It’s cool, you’re just— just different. A lot different.” He jiggled your thigh again playfully.

“Good kind of different though, right?”

“Very good.” To punctuate it, his engine snarled again, seemingly in response to the drool of your cunt on the hot metal of his interface panel. “Primus, you look good, babe. Shit.”

Ego boost! You smiled. Any other partner — any person — and this would be too much, this position too unflattering, your everything too open… With Mirage, though, it just felt like it always did. Easy.

One of your hands rested atop the servo still holding onto the meat of your thigh. The other slid down over your shining chest, passed over your stomach and pubic mound, and brushed past wiry hair, shiny with slick, in order to slide a finger up your folds. A whine ripped its way out of you at direct contact with your clit after mere heavy petting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing tight circles with your fingers and twitching your hips forward to eke out more of that delicious pressure.

The servo on your thigh dug into your skin. Mirage’s vents became far heavier at the open display of your arousal; it has always been him vying for your attention. Now that it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Transfluid was seeping between the seams of his interface panel, joining your own fluids in a shiny pool that sent sparks up his struts. He made you like this, made you so wet you dripped, made your clit swollen enough to be visible, made your cunt tight with heat and Primus, he needed you on his spike so bad, he thought he might die without it.

He verbalized these thoughts with an unintelligible noise of adoration.

It was enough encouragement for you to slide down from your clit and venture two fingers into yourself. Zero friction. They glided. Christ, when was the last time you were this wet? You’d slept with a handful of people, especially in your first couple years of college, but you’d never been soaked like this. Mirage’s cooling fans choked at the sight of your fingers vanishing into you. His thumb dug into the crease of your thigh and hip as he leaned just a little closer to watch.

Very little time passed before it devolved into your fingers working inside your walls, crooking against that one spot that made your breath hitch and hips jump. Mindlessly, you ground against your palm, catching your clit on the heel of your hand with a sweet moan that nearly shorted out his processors. He had to hear that again. Without thinking, he moved his servo over, resting the digits on your lower stomach and gently, gently nudging the heel of your hand out of the way to replace it with his thumb.

“Ah!” spilled from your lips at the insistent, broad pressure of his thumb, and your hips jerked against it, working your fingers that much deeper. Tears pricked at your eyes from pure sensation. “Mirage, mmm, just— just rub, up and down— or circles, just move, I don’t ca—are,” you floundered, the last word breaking as he did as he was told, carefully sliding his thumb up and down on the bead of your clit and sending twinges of searing pleasure up your spine.

You found quickly that just your fingers weren’t enough. Not when the reminder of his servo lay heavily on your lower stomach, tips of his digits digging into the soft fat there insistently. Although you were loath to part with your hand, you pulled your fingers out with a sigh. Mirage froze, optics flicking to your shiny hand as you spread your fingers, examining the strings of fluid that connected them with a far-off feeling of pride.

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, and you saw, for one endearing second, a puff of actual steam rise from the vents near his shoulders as he ex-vented harshly.

“Okay, well, here,” you said, unable to come up with anything clever with the purr of arousal in your cunt fanned by the heat of his interface plate and consistent, maddening rumble of his engine. Your hand, still shiny and wet with your fluids, grasped the top of his servo and gently pushed it downwards, until the tips of his digits rested against your drooling entrance. To fight the whimper that threatened to claw its way out of your throat, you nearly chewed a gash into the inside of your cheek. A gasp of an in-vent jolted his frame in awe.

“You sure? I mean— it’s cool?” His flustered stammering was so damn endearing; supreme affection for him swelled in your chest.

“I’m sure. Just— just go slow.” His adoration was fueling your bravery. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you; if he did, it would never be intentional, and it would never be something he couldn’t fix.

He paused for a second before remembering the position of your own hand and flipping his servo so it was palm side up; you dragged a large enough breath in to balloon your lungs fully at the sight. Anticipation danced in the burn of your spread thighs. For a few seconds, it was just exploration; his digits slid over your silky folds, collecting the gathered slick with minute trembles. One delicious slide all the way up from entrance to clit had you gasping. Mirage silently thanked Primus above that your whole set-up was similar enough to his valve to know at least some of his way around it. It was just hotter. Wetter. Softer. So much softer.

“‘Raj, just— fuuuck,” you groaned out, your head rolling back as the tip of one digit sank into you, soon followed by the rest as it slid all the way to the base. Stars flickered behind your eyelids. The width matched the two fingers put together you’d just pulled out of yourself, though the texture was so wildly different to anything you’d ever put up there that it made your brain stutter for several moments as your nerve endings processed the feeling. The individual ridges and articulations of his knuckles dragged against the silk of your walls in a way that pulled the breath right out of you; your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths as your thighs twitched.

You were a mess. Mirage was in love. “Holy shit, baby, I get you this bad?” It was only partly teasing. “l— fuck, a second one good?”

“Good, yes, please.”

All thoughts were wiped clean from the forefront of your brain with the addition of a second digit. Slick noises and the sound of dripping fluids landing on metal and concrete filled your ears over the steadily climbing racket that Mirage’s entire body was making — his cooling fans competed with his engine to make the most noise, over top of the typical whirs and clicks that came with his motion. You couldn’t look, could only feel with your eyes squeezed shut as Mirage pumped both digits in and out, in and out, in and out. One arm was thrown up behind you, hooking loosely around his knee to ground you somewhere. The other was occupied: your hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline, white-knuckling it even as your sweaty palm slipped over the metal cuff. When his thumb returned to your clit, swirling clumsy but eager circles on top of it, that only contributed to the tight, hot coil building in your gut.

Mirage had half a mind to pop his interface panel right then and service himself, because the sight of you, shining with sweat and slick with his spit as you rode his digits, was almost too much to bear. The plush folds of your cunt, tight with arousal, were so soft against the hard planes of metal that comprised his servos; the contrast was short-circuiting him. Under his paneling, his spike was already pressurized. Had been for what felt like hours. Your ass was beginning to slide back and forth just a little due to the transfluid collecting underneath you; the rippling motion of your flesh was driving him insane. As were your walls, Primus, your walls that sucked greedily around his digits as they glided in and out of the tight ring of muscle that made up your entrance.

Your name left his lips in a groan that was an octave too high to be suave. The thought of your cunt clamping down on his spike — so soft, so hot, so wet — like it was doing on his digit had his hips rolling against nothing, working fruitlessly for friction they weren’t getting.

Sweat collected wherever skin touched skin. Condensation fogged wherever skin touched metal. The combination of his digits stretching you, curling in you when he realized what a dramatic reaction it incurred, and his thumb working your clit was getting to be too much. Heartbeat roaring in your ears like the rain outside, you clawed a grip into a seam in his leg and jerked your hips against his servo with breathy noises and gasps that you certainly wouldn’t be proud of later. For now, though, all it did was fuel Mirage’s ego and go straight to his spike.

Almost there. You were almost there, grinding your way towards it, sweat beading on your hot skin—

He pulled out. He pulled his digits out. A keen tore out of you at the loss of feeling, tears springing to your eyes as the hot edge you were so fucking close to fell away, your hips working unconsciously against a servo no longer there. With a gasp of a breath, you wrenched your eyes open, blinking away the collected tears and nearly baring your teeth at the bot beneath you — until you saw what he was doing.

In utter astonishment, you watched as the digits that were just inside you slid into his mouth, peeks of his glossa flashing as it worked them clean.

“Oh fuck,” you said before you could stop yourself. One of your hands slapped over your mouth; you tasted sweat and metal. His optics slid to you, lidded and cycling frantically as he processed your taste. A harsh ex-vent slumped his shoulders — the servo not preoccupied with his mouth clutched your hip like you were something precious.

“Sugar,” he breathed, static grating on the word. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Servos hefted you up, and you clutched onto them out of instinct as he helped you up to his face. Without thinking, you lunged forward to kiss, your tongue seeking out his glossa and tasting yourself with a resurging thrum of arousal. He cut it short, though, ignoring your protests as he cupped your ass in one servo and held you aloft.

For a second, you stared at him in confusion. “What are you—“ Then it hit you. “Oh.” Your heart rate skyrocketed.

The grin stretching his faceplates was downright devious. “Hang onto something, wouldja? Not that you’re gonna fall. Just want you to enjoy the ride.” A short, heady chuckle rounded out his words.

“You’re insane— oh!” Your lighthearted scold was immediately interrupted by the press of your hips against his face and the slide of his slick glossa over the entirety of your sex. “Oh my fuck!” sobbed out of you as your upper body jackknifed over his helm. One arm curled around it with clawing fingers; the other slammed, palm flat, against the concrete wall.

A groan of satisfaction rumbled into your cunt as the taste of salt and sweat and girl bloomed on his glossa — just like earlier but so much stronger now. The proud line of his nose bumped your clit for a second before his glossa followed, narrowing so he could flick at it experimentally. Lubricant spilling from his mouth mixed with your own slick and ran down his chin; his cooling fans sputtered and spun weakly for a second as he pushed up further against your hips, malleable mesh drawing shapes between your clit and your hole.

Your fingernails scraped against the wall as your hips jerked of their own accord; the edge stolen from you earlier had very much returned, and the feeling of his faceplates sliding over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs was doing something terrible to you.

“Mirage, ah, ah— I’m— fuck, fuck!” Broken syllables and curses streamed from your lips as a substitute for real words. When he closed his lips around your clit and sucked, it was over. It was so quick, embarrassingly quick. The orgasm that had been building suddenly snapped free and tore through you like a fucking hurricane, leaving spasming muscles and a wonderful endorphin afterglow in its wake. As you sobbed out his name, he slid two digits of his free servo back into you just to give you something to clamp down on, and it made tears spill down your burning cheeks from pure stimulus. Mirage drank you; he wanted nothing more than this, to swallow you down and leave your taste buzzing on his glossa like high-grade. Several thundering heartbeats later found you hunched over his helm as his glossa continued to work lazily against you, forcing twitches out of your thighs from pure overstimulation.

“Okay, okay,” you managed to croak, voice hoarse from weeping moans and boneless from what was probably one of the most insane finishes of your life. You tapped out weakly on the side of his helmet. Reluctantly, he pulled your pussy away from his face and cradled you in both servos, one noticeably damper than the other, in front of him.

His chin was shiny with you, his grin wide and completely self satisfied, and his optics dimmed with pleasure. If you were being honest, he’d never looked better, but in your frazzled state you weren’t sure if you had the capacity to string together enough words to form a compliment.

“I gotta say, compliments to the chef,” he hummed, and you stared at him, words not processing.

“Did you seriously— you just gave me head and that’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Uhh, yeah, babe. And I meant it.”

A genuine laugh shook you. “Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Okay. Well, put me back down there, you corny fuck,” you said with a gesture back at his hips.

“Oooh, keep sayin’ that. I’ll start thinkin’ you mean it.” Your body, errant trembles still running through it, was set carefully down back near its original position. This time, you sat in something closer to a straddle, back straight instead of leaning.

The garage air had gone from temperate and warm to fucking scorching. Outside, the rain droned on, occasional rumbles of thunder sounding so far away that they may as well have not been real. Your entire world had been compressed down to one point — a gravitational singularity in this garage, crushing space and time down until only bricks and concrete stood between you and the oblivion outside. All you knew was living metal and Mirage’s voice, trembling with excitement and fuzzy with static, and that was all you wanted to know. His chassis was making so much noise that you probably, under any other circumstance, would have been concerned; if he blew a gasket fucking you, though, you would wear that with pride.

Pure adoration reflected right back at you from his optics as his servos settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking your slick skin. Any concerns he had about Prime’s reaction to you, or to this — well, maybe not to this specifically, but to the both of you being together — were completely null and void in your presence; the reality of your soft weight in his lap was enough to short out his circuits.

Your hands slid down from the cooling fan in his abdomen spinning at maximum speed towards his soaked interface panel; glancing up at him demurely through your lashes, you spoke.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

“Huh?” He broke out of his reverie. “Oh, right, um— yeah. Yeah, please.”

A smile crawled over your face at the reminder that despite all the poetic words you could come up with in your head, Mirage was still, and always would be, Mirage. Dazed already, he ran the subroutines to open his interface panel. Machinery shifted with a few clicks, and there was a hiss and an outpour of steam as his spike swung up before you, clearly aching for some kind of touch.

You heard more plates shifting lower, too, and out of curiosity peeked downward; something slick glowed lower down, but the nervous shifting of Mirage’s hips and his closed thighs obscured it from view.

Probably better to just focus on what’s in front of you. Your eyes roamed the length of his array first, your mouth going dry just at the size of it. It was bigger than any toy you owned, anyone you’d slept with, and bigger than his digits, too. Still, though… what were humans if not persevering?

And flexible?

You wrapped a hand around it right below the tip, and a full shudder lanced up Mirage’s frame; it was so thick that there was still space between your fingers and thumb left over. Transfluid, milky in consistency but pearlescent pink in color, spilled from the flared head. Curiosity overtook you, and you swiped a thumb up to catch an errant bead of it as it trailed down the side. The fluid was semi-oily, and smelled… fairly innocuous. Metallic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The array itself was as impressive as it was pretty. Like everything else about Mirage, it was fancy, mostly chrome with blue striping up the sides that led to a fully blue head. The biomesh it was made of — similar to his glossa — gently throbbed with alien pulses as you stared at it. Oh, that was hot. Why was that so hot?

Exploration in full was rewarded with soft noises spilling unbidden from Mirage’s lips, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you carefully slid your hand down from the tip to the base in one fluid motion, feeling the transfluid slick under your fingers. “Mmph, I— ah,” he choked out through gritted denta as you observed him.

Oh. Oh. The realization of the power you held over the big mech made a special kind of arousal thrum through you. Another slow pump had his hips jerk up once and a servo clamp over his mouth.

“This was not included in your anatomy lesson,” you said pointedly, a cheshire grin on your face as you hovered dangerously close to his spike. It throbbed in your grip, working another bead of transfluid out of the tip.

“Oh shit, babe,” he groaned, rolling his helm back against the wall. “Uh— hands— hands-on learning?” he offered weakly, unable to focus on anything other than the soft, damp skin of your palm around his spike.

He made the mistake of looking down as you let spit drool out of your bruised lips and spill over his spike for additional lube, and he snapped his optics shut to avoid from a spontaneous overload right there. The noises he made as you slid your tongue over the head were pitiful.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, spinal struts clicking as they arched. Primus, was he seriously about to overload in your mouth? Your lips closed around the head and sucked lightly, and he yelped. A servo shot out and carefully grabbed your shoulder, though the tremors running through his digits told you of the restraint he was barely employing. A string of spit and transfluid connected your mouth to his spike as you lifted your head, and he had to force himself to look away for a second with that same servo clutched over his mouth to keep steady. “‘m not gonna last like that, you— can we just—“

“Fuck?”

“Primus, yes.”

“Yeah, we can. I guess.” Despite the leap of excitement in your stomach, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even start with that, c’mon,” he said fondly, one servo supporting you as you lifted yourself above his spike and stared down at it with no small amount of trepidation.

It looked a little more manageable from above, but working with something the size of your forearm would cool anyone’s heels, even if there was slick drooling down your inner thighs. Mirage’s servos settled heavy on your hips and you braced yourself on first his knees behind you, then his wrists as you tilted your pelvis to align your entrance as best you could. You sank. The head pressed insistently against your hole. Relax. Relax. Relax.

A deep breath filled your lungs, then whooshed out, deflating your shoulders. Unable to help himself, Mirage inched one of his servos over and ran his thumb through your folds, rolling over your clit and jolting your hips enough to slip the head inside. A long sigh of “Fuuuuck.” was all that managed to come out of your mouth, your toes curling at the stretch and then the pop of the flared head sliding past your entrance.

Mirage’s entire frame trembled. His vents became shallow and sharp, and the tips of his digits clamped onto the soft meat of your hips desperately as the sensors on his spike reckoned with the realization of just how wet and warm humans really were. “Babe, babe, babe, shit,” he stammered out. “That’s— um, fuck, that’s good!” A weak laugh escaped him as his chin sank down to his chassis, cooling fans hiccuping from stress.

“Hold on, just hold on, I can… shit.” Sweat-dampened palms slid off his wrists for a second before you resituated yourself and leaned back a little, letting your upper back rest against his tucked up thighs. Whatever you were doing worked, because you sank further, and you thanked whatever god was listening that you’d already finished once, making your body quite boneless and that much easier to maneuver.

Mirage, on the other hand, was as taut as a fucking bowstring, made helpless to his own pleasure and completely powerless to you. His optics first scrunched shut, unable to look at you for fear of overloading at the sight of you finally on his spike; then they flew open at the realization that he wanted this burned into his visual processors forever.

Your skin shone with sweat and lubricant; rivulets trailed down your body like a visual pointer to your slick sex, nestled within wiry hair and stretching so beautifully around his spike that it tore an honest-to-Primus whimper out of his vocal synthesizer.

“Mirage, I need you to— mmnh, fuck, I need you to just touch— please,” you gasped, his spike punching the air right out of your lungs. Although your words were broken, he seemed to get the memo, and despite his minute tremors, brought his thumb back to your clit and pressed down. Just the surface area alone made you sigh and roll your head back in pleasure, and it loosened you enough to take him right up until the head nestled against your cervix and your ass brushed his hip plating. There was maybe an inch or two left, but you felt immense pride at managing to work most of his spike in — and immense pleasure, too. If he moved his thumb at all, you were done; you were so fucking full you could barely breathe, and you felt the slow, rhythmic pulses of his biomesh throb through you.

Mirage had never been one for restraint. He did things all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, all with a flourish to top it off; the feeling of the hot silk of your walls flexing around his spike just sitting there was enough to quite literally kill his cooling fans via a micro-short in an attempt to divert more power towards keeping his hips still. Senseless praises streamed from his lips, voice whining and roughened by static fuzz. “Yes, yes, yes, sugar, Primus, that’s good— feels so good, please, can I move, please,” he fumbled, jaw slack and optics flickering with the power surges cascading throughout his frame.

“Just— let me start,” was your response, tears pricking at your eyes, and although Mirage groaned pitifully underneath you, he listened.

You had a fair amount of experience with riding toys, and you knew what felt good; the lightbulb above your head became apparent. A shift in your position pushed further weight to the back so that the ridges and nodes of his spike pressed insistently toward the front — though, to be fair, it pressed everywhere — and oh, fuck, right there. Now shoved against that sweet spot inside you, the pleasure teetered on the edge of pain, and you dragged yourself up with a vicious grip on the seams of his thighs behind you. Mirage whined and shifted his hips just slightly; it was enough to pull a moan from your lips as you slid upward. Thick, sluggish droplets of slick swirled with transfluid oozed down his spike. He watched — it was all he could do — with an open mouth and rapidly cycling optics.

The flared head caught against your entrance; a spike (ha!) of pleasure lanced through you. “Okay, now, you can— help me, please,” you stammered out, dizzy with pleasure already and feeling a loopy kind of open-mouthed grin situate itself on your face.

Your words were all he needed. Although he desperately, desperately wanted to snap his hips up and chase the vice-grip of your slick walls, he’d rather take on Megatron alone with his servos tied behind his back than risk hurting you. Especially while interfacing. He did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

Thumb slowly working your clit, his servos gripped your hips just a little too tight and assisted; you could feel the tremors lancing up and down his arms as he helped you establish a rhythm. At a word, the dam would break, but for now, you maintained tenuous control over the mech and over yourself as you rode him with his help.

Well. Rode was a strong word for it; he all but dragged you up and down the length of his spike, earning each of you luxurious groans from the other, but your quivering thigh muscles assisted as best they could. Heat surged through your body at the drag of his nodes against your walls, and you realized with a hot flash that Mirage was going to fucking ruin you for anybody else, and you liked that. Which was good, because he could have stayed buried in your cunt for the rest of his life and offlined happily just like that.

It was good. It was really good. But even the overwhelming stretch wasn’t enough. Just like earlier — it seemed like light years away now — when you’d still had pants on and hadn’t been completely lost to metal-on-skin debauchery, the grind of your clit on the seam of your jeans had been good, but not enough. Your fingers clawed at his wrists. The burn of your thighs from exertion seared through you, mixing with the jolts of pleasure from your clit to create some new, terrible monster that had you twitching with shameless ecstasy.

“Mirage, Mirage,” you croaked, as he slid you down his spike again and pushed it into your lungs, “I’m— fuck, please, faster, please, please.” In any other scenario, your begging would have immensely embarrassed you; now, though, it seemed like the only viable option to get him to fuck you like you needed him to.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, and you gasped as he kept moving you, legs jerking uselessly. “You— fuck, you sure?”

“Yes, please, just— oh, fuck!” The cry — and the air in your lungs — was knocked right out of you by a single desperate snap of his hips upward, his spike driven straight home. Your entire upper body crumpled forward, kept upright only by a tenuous grip on his wrists, and then he really started fucking you, and you were gone.

His cooling fans surged back to life as he slammed into you, power no longer diverted towards holding the actuators of his hips back. No, now he was fucking jackhammering into you, and you were barely moving as his spike pistoned in and out of you, slick drooling from your cunt. Like he remembered himself, his thumb began to work furiously against your clit, and you rewarded him with a gasp and more than a few uncontrollable moans of his name, which only served to fuel him more.

Not like he was being quiet, either. You were glad that the building was solid brick and the rain continued to pour outside, because the amount of noise coming from his chassis and spilling from his lips was worrying. Praises and broken mentions of your name streamed from him; he tossed his helm back against the wall with his optics squeezed shut to keep from overloading prematurely. It was too much— it was way too fucking much. Your poor overworked cunt was nearly bruised with sensitivity, barely able to keep up with the stretch of his spike as the nodes pulsing along it raked that sweet spot inside of you mercilessly. Neither of you were going to last long; not your fragile human body nor his torqued-up frame could handle much more of this.

Every sharp thrust paired with the frantic, messy circles he pressed into your clit brought you viciously closer and spilled tears from your eyes. All you could really do was hold on as Mirage wrung pleasure from both your body and his. Impossibly, his thumb worked faster, his pace got even more brutal, and you were almost seizing from pleasure as your nerve endings were frayed raw. That peak was building in your gut, that familiar tight coil of heat, for the second time that night, and you knew it was going to completely destroy you, and you wanted it to.

Without warning, Mirage spread his knees apart, slammed his pedes flat on the floor, and thrusted up. His spinal struts arched again to get his spike that much further inside of your yielding body, his overload imminent and warning signs flashing in his optics’ periphery. “Fuck, yes— yes, baby, yes, yes, ah, shit!” His frenzied whine rang in your ears as steam from his vents heated the air around you; the only thing that rang in your ears besides your thunderous heartbeat was the heady slap of skin against metal, everything slick with your combined fluids.

You responded in kind at the new angle with a cry of his name and some noises that resembled words, but the way he sheathed his spike inside you — fuck, was it all the way in? — and ground his thumb against your clit was too much— too much— you couldn’t—

You shattered. Doubling over from pleasure, you sobbed incoherently as your climax slammed into you. Pleasure crackled through your veins like lightning; a fog of pleasure dulled your senses until the only thing you could focus on was his spike pulsing in your cunt and his thumb still grinding against your clit. Tears pricked at your eyes, joining the ones already wetting your cheeks, as jolts of pleasure lanced up your spine. Maybe you moaned his name, maybe you didn’t. You couldn’t tell.

Mirage went soon after you, because the feeling of your walls clamping around his spike as if trying to suck him in impossibly further did him in instantly. His optics snapped open wide before slamming shut and he cried your name as the best overload of his life wracked his frame; the actuators of his hips trembled violently, along with his servos, as transfluid gushed into you and was immediately forced out by the pure lack of room inside your cunt. Engine snarling, cooling fans nearly spinning off their axles, he held your hips as flush to his as possible while the both of you rode out your respective climaxes, twitching around each other violently. Minute jerks of his hips attempted to work more transfluid inside of you. Brain still wiped blank with pleasure, all you could do was make soft noises and let the aftershocks spasm through you.

Consciousness eventually came back to you in gritty waves. Mirage had set your body down, leaned back against his thighs, his spike still seated within you but depressurizing slowly. Transfluid seeped out of your puffy folds, and you lifted a shaking hand to collect some of it and taste it. Metallic. Like you’d expected.

Enormous vents whooshed through his frame as he attempted to cool his chassis; coolant dripped from him, some of it turned to steam by the pure heat of his internal mechanisms. Body shaking and feeling very small and human, you stroked a thumb over his wrist where you held it, feeling both its ambient warmth and a surge of affection. And satisfaction.

You were absolutely going to feel this in the morning, holy shit. Thank God you didn’t have work tomorrow.

Mirage eventually came back down to earth, his optics cracking open and cycling a few times before they flared to their usual brightness. Lids heavy and a dopey grin on his face, he carefully lifted you off his spike — it slid out of you with a slick noise that made you flush — and brought you up to face-level. With one servo, he held you tight against his torso; he planted the other flat on the floor and resituated his hips so he could slump down further against the wall, his entire frame lax.

Self-satisfaction beamed at you from his faceplates. “Oh, that was good, huh?”

You scoffed, too tired to get riled up at his teasing; you knew he was feeling the same as you. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, to be totally honest.” An exhausted laugh left you.

“Gonna count that as a win.”

“You… do whatever you want.” You waved a limp hand at him dismissively, letting the rise and fall of his chassis with his vents rock you.

“Well, then, I wanna do this,” he purred, and brought you in for a kiss that communicated all his smug affection without any of his stupid jokes. You returned it gratefully, a smile on each of your mouths as you basked in that pleasant post-sex glow.

The rain still droned outside. A boom of thunder rolled through the building; the lights flickered. Both you and Mirage glanced upward. His optics slid back down to you first.

“You thinkin’ about going anywhere in this weather?” he asked, raising a brow ridge.

“I dunno, do I have a ride?”

“Nah,” he replied playfully, kissing you again, and you found that it could storm for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t really care. So long as you had your favorite — yes, your favorite, not that you could ever admit around him — to keep you company.

#mirage rotb #mirage x reader #transformers rotb #transformers x reader #mirage x you #valveplug #tf mirage #maccadam #nsfw////#transformers #rise of the beasts #i wrote this entire thing on my phone in like 4 days so excuse any spelling mistakes LMFAO #doq.fic

3K notes · View notes

funficwriter · 1 year

Text

Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fontaine #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff

2K notes · View notes

jiayouqi · 4 months

Text

✩‧₊˚ first time with him. | m!rover headcanons.

⋆.˚ ⁀➴ synopsis: it's just you and rover alone...so what's it like when things escalate between you two for the first time?

⋆.˚ ⁀➴ characters involved: male rover, gender neutral reader.

⋆.˚ ⁀➴ warnings: sub!rover, dom!reader, very soft first time, gentle, lots of praise, handjob (sub receiving)

⋆.˚ ⁀➴ notes: sub rover is literally something that infects my brain and i'm happy to let it do so. this is self-indulgent, being soft with subs is my achilles heel > <;;!! hope you all enjoy this as much as i like fantasizing about it! requests are open as always, please read rules before sending them in!

⋆.˚ ⁀➴ minors dni with this post/blog.

୨⎯ male rover ⎯୧

a pretty sub, both in looks and in how he sounds.

nervous, about to explode from how anxious he is at the prospect of you two going at it together for the first time.

worries that he'll do something wrong, so his touches are shaky and a little hesitant.

a bit shy, needs your guidance in order to help him understand the flow of it all.

a praise fiend, loves hearing that he’s doing a good job from you and how cute you think he looks when he’s in this state.

the briefest of touches sometimes can rile him up easily.

going on the running theory that tacet marks are sensitive, he’ll whimper whenever your hand brushes against his, feeling his cheeks flush hot.

it’s the smallest of things for him that get him worked up. a soft kiss on his jawline down to the nape of his neck, the way you nibble his ear, the way your hand is gently rubbing circles on his hip bone, goodness he’s going to burst.

has the cutest gasps. he’s always surprised by what you do, no matter what it is.

by the time you actually get to his length, he’s already dripping from his pretty pink tip. he’ll whine and squirm, begging you to help him finish, help him release, help him with the mess you created.

rover glances down at you with his golden eyes, gasping softly as he sits on your lap and grips onto your shoulders. he’s becoming undone by the second at every tease, every soft graze, every sweet nothing you whisper into his ear. he feels as if he’s going to go insane at this point, whimpering cutely as you gently grab his shaft into your hand. you lean your head a bit to the side, stretching a bit and kissing his tacet mark softly, which earns another small whine from him.

“p-please, you can’t, i-i can’t do this, i need, i need…” he trails off, cut off by a soft moan as he leans forward and hides his face in the nape of your neck. it's a dizzying feeling, having you touch him like this. his legs are shaking, his pale white thighs on either side of your waist as he hiccups. rover can hear you smile when you talk to him, babying him through everything.

“what do you need, pretty rover?~ use your words, sweetheart.” augh, there you go again with another compliment. he whines a bit, feeling a bit overwhelmed as he tears up.

“p-please, i need you. i need to cum, i-i’ve been so good haven’t i?” he’ll ask, his voice soft and hoarse as you hum for a moment. he takes your silence as a no sign, but when he suddenly feels you picking up the pace, he’ll suddenly get louder and more vocal. rover’s grip on you becomes harder as he bucks his hips a bit, moving with the motions of your hands to reach his climax faster. but, he doesn’t release until you let him by whispering into his ear that he can. he’s obedient after all, and he would hate to cum without your permission.

he lets out one last high pitched whine before he cums, making a mess on his stomach and yours, the pretty white seed spewing everywhere. rover’s breathing is staggered and shaky right after, hiding in your neck. he feels embarrassed when he feels your fingers brushing up against his soft tummy, whining softly as he hears you lick some of his cum onto your finger and exaggerate the noise of you tasting it.

“you taste so sweet, rover~ you did such a good job for me.” you tell him, gently rubbing his back and coaxing him down from the high as he loosens up his hold a bit, clinging onto you cutely like a koala as he feels his breathing slowly steady out. he felt as if he just went to the divine and back, and it leaves him wondering when the next time will be.

614 notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 6 months

Text

A Burning Desire part three

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, firefighter!joel, reader feels anxious for a bit, feelings, fluff, the miller brothers line dancing (that deserves its own warning bc whew... anyway), the cowboy hat rule!!!, slight smut (joel and reader get touchy and rub up on each other, making out, fingering), no use of y/n.

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: joel invites you over for a barbecue, and you end up unexpectedly meeting sarah while also rekindling with someone from your past. it isn’t until you talk about joel aloud to someone who isn’t your sister that you realize how deeply you feel for him.

a/n: thank u to @endlessthxxghts for letting me brainstorm about this chapter, and giving me the cowboy hat rule idea... ;)

You were nervous.

Nervous as hell.

The slightly anxious part of you wanted so desperately to back out of today’s plans, but you promised Joel you’d be at his place.

He was throwing a barbecue at his house and had invited you, and originally, Sarah wasn’t supposed to be there. Her friend got sick, so she ended up staying home.

You hadn’t known Joel for more than a month at this point, and the prospect of meeting his daughter and being introduced as the “woman he’s been dating but not quite his girlfriend” terrified you.

The last thing you wanted was for Sarah to dislike you, because you couldn’t bear the thought of the one person in Joel’s life who’s opinion mattered most to him not being very fond of you.

Joel said she’d been okay with him dating and only wanted to see him happy, but wasn’t it too soon? The last thing you wanted was to wedge yourself between the father-daughter duo.

Then again, your feelings for Joel had hit you full-force, and you were in it with him—for him. You’d cried to your sister over the phone about being scared of feeling things too fast, but she reassured you: if you know, you know.

Nobody has ever made you feel the way Joel makes you feel. Your thoughts may’ve been repetitive with what you felt, but that’s how you knew you were so sure about him. He was a breath of fresh air in a place full of smoke (no pun intended).

You were just worried what Sarah would think. Some might think it’s ridiculous to let a fourteen-year-old’s opinion matter so much in this circumstance, but that girl was Joel’s whole world. Her opinion of you mattered and could quite literally make or break your relationship with Joel.

You’d be devastated if it didn’t work out.

You nervously tapped on the steering wheel as you stopped at the last stop sign before turning onto Joel’s street.

The quaint neighborhood just outside of the city was chalk-full of cookie cutter homes, looking like it belonged in a friendly neighborhood magazine.

Several cars were parked in front of his house, but he’d texted you to park in his driveway beside his truck. It was sweet that he saved that spot for you. Another truck was parked in the driveway as well, and you assumed by default that it was Tommy’s.

You grabbed the tray of cookies out of the passenger seat after you’d gotten out and smoothed your sundress to straighten it out. Joel said everyone at the firehouse loved your cookies, especially him and Tommy, so you made them as a surprise to bring for a dessert option today.

Nerves coursed through your veins as you made your way up the front steps of his porch, ringing the doorbell. The chime went off in the house with a muffled “I’ll get it!” coming from the other side of the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened and you were met with a smiling Tommy.

“Hey there sweetheart, c’mon in.” He stepped aside and you thanked him as you entered the house. It was your first time over, so you took a second to take in your surroundings.

Many family photos clung neatly to the walls, the leather couches in the living room adorned with quilted blankets, an array of DVD’s scattered around the entertainment center, a well-worn but gorgeous coffee table that sat atop the huge area rug, and the mantle above the fireplace full of trinkets from past trips and a few of Sarah’s soccer trophies.

You smiled as you took in the scene before you, really admiring how cozy the home looked. It looked lived in and well loved, and it was all very much Joel. Simple, yet homey and functional.

“Ooh, are those the same cookies you made for us back at the firehouse?” Tommy motions to the tray in your hand, bringing you back to present time.

“They are. Thought I’d surprise you and Joel with these again.” You laugh as Tommy’s eyes light up, leading you to the kitchen.

“Don’t blame me if these are all gone by the end of the night. You should give your recipe to Sarah. She loves to bake.” He groans as he takes a cookie from the tray, biting into it.

You have to stifle a laugh at his genuine reaction. You knew your cookies were decent, but not as good as the Miller brothers made them out to be.

“Speaking of, where’s your counterpart?” You teasingly ask, too shy to go into the backyard and introduce yourself to the array of people chatting and having a good time.

You didn’t do too well in new settings, so it would take you a little while to warm up.

“Ah, he’s cookin’ on the grill.” Tommy jerks his head toward the sliding glass door that leads out the backyard, and you follow in his footsteps as you walk up to the main man of the gathering.

“Oh Jooooeeellll,” Tommy calls out with you in tow, “Found your girlfriend for ya.” He teases, and your heart skips a beat at that. You’re just dating the man. It wasn’t anything official yet, and somehow it just seemed so fitting.

Joel didn’t correct Tommy either, which you took note of as his gaze averted to yours. A smile immediately spread onto his lips and he pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead. You took a second to study the contrast of his tan skin against the white linen shirt he was wearing with the first few buttons undone, and the Raybans that sat comfortably on his face. You held in a groan, because fuck he looked so good, once again. Does this man ever look bad?

“Hey baby.”

Your face heats at the public display of affection, but it dawned on you that he was never trying to hide you or keep you a mystery like you were doing to him.

Well, your sister knew about him of course, but everyone else in your family didn’t have the faintest idea. They were too overbearing sometimes, and you wanted to be official with Joel before you even said a word to anyone about him.

“Hi handsome. I brought some cookies but left them inside. Thought I could surprise you again with them.” You grin at him, and he smiles as he pulls you into his side.

“I’m gonna let you two lovebirds have a moment to yourselves. Gonna go find my lady and introduce you to her.” Tommy pretends to tip an invisible cowboy hat and sends a wink your way. You huff a laugh and shake your head at his wit.

“He always that charismatic?” You question, and Joel laughs.

“It’s even worse when he’s drunk.” He rolls his eyes, and you bury your smile in his bicep. You wrap your arm around his back as you watch him work the grill, flipping hamburgers and chicken that are seasoned to perfection.

“‘M glad you could make it today, darlin’. Was startin’ to miss ya real bad. Those twenty four hour shifts kick my ass, I tell ya.” He sighs and gives your body a light, playful shake.

“Of course, Joel. I missed you too.” You gave his shoulder a kiss before Tommy called your name to avert your attention to him. Your eyes flit to the woman he has his arm wrapped around, and your eyes widen in shock.

“This is my girl–”

“Maria?” You interrupt Tommy, and her smile spreads wide.

“Oh my god! Hey you! How long has it been?” She’s laughing as you two embrace each other while the Miller brothers give each other a confused glance.

“Four years I think? How are you?” You grin, separating from her, holding onto her forearms.

“Wow I can’t believe it’s been that long. I’m great! Just dealing with this guy over here,” She juts her chin over to Tommy, and his eyes flicker between you two.

“Sooo you two know each other?” He asks, and you both laugh in unison.

“We used to work together at the same company. Our cubicles were across from each other.” Maria explains, and you nod along.

“Well I’ll be damned. Small world!” Tommy grins, patting Joel on the back harshly. Joel glares at his brother and rolls his eyes, turning back to the grill to take the food off and place it into the foil pans next to him.

“Dad, is the food done yet? You hear a voice call, and you stiffen up immediately. Maria notices your change in demeanor and gives your arm a squeeze of reassurance, which you exchange for a weak smile.

A curly-haired girl with bright green eyes comes into view. He turns to look at her and nods, motioning to the foil pans.

“Lemme fix you up a plate. But first, I want you to meet someone.” He says, and he holds his hand out to you. Maria releases your arm so you can step forward and grab Joel’s hand, and Sarah’s bright green eyes meet your gaze.

“This is the woman I’ve been datin’. Darlin’, this is my daughter Sarah.”

You extend your hand to her with a sincere smile, hoping she didn’t pick up on your nerves.

“Ah, so you’re the woman my dad can’t stop talking about!” She laughs, flashing you her gorgeous smile.

“Oh really?” You quirk an eyebrow up and look at Joel, nudging him playfully.

He raises his hands in defense, “Guilty as charged.” You huff a laugh at Joel and shift your gaze back to Sarah.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Do you mind if I steal her for a second, dad?” Sarah asks, and you can’t help but feel extremely anxious. You genuinely don’t think a fourteen year old has ever made you so frazzled with nerves like this before.

You follow her to the lounge chairs by the pool, taking a seat across the one she sat in.

She slaps her thighs with her hands, a small smile evading her lips.

“So,” She starts, seemingly collecting her thoughts. “This isn’t some ‘what are your intentions with my dad’ intervention, I promise. But, like, I really hope you’re serious about him.” She looks at you with apprehension in her eyes, and you’re a bit taken aback by her words.

You could’ve guessed this was coming. Judging from what Joel has told you about their relationship, it was only fitting that she’d be so protective of him.

“I’ve seen him get hurt before. Not just by what my mother did, but with other women, too. I honestly think you’re the first woman who didn’t skip out on him after finding out he has a kid.”

“That would never make me run. Your bond with your father is something that’s so strong, and I would never want to come between that. I can promise you that your dad has a better chance at breaking my heart than I do breaking his.”

“He won’t. He’s a good man and he deserves someone kindhearted like you. I can tell you are. I’m glad you two found each other. I haven’t seen him this happy and relaxed in… a long time.” Sarah laughs, and you can’t help but smile at her admission.

“I pinky promise I’ll treat him great. He’s a real special guy, and I like him a lot.” You hold your pinky out to her, and with a beaming smile, she hooks her pinky with yours and gives it a little shake.

“I know. It’s just nice to finally see him getting his feelings reciprocated back to him. Most women only romanticize the uniform he wears and not the person he actually is.”

“Well, I gotta say, they all definitely missed out on an amazing man.” And part of you was thankful for that, which is something you didn’t want to admit aloud.

Because if it weren’t for those women in his past that didn’t work out with him, you would’ve never had a chance with him. You glance over at Joel, and he was chatting with some other guests. You couldn’t help admire him and his calm, happy demeanor.

As if he senses you looking, he turns his head in your direction to meet your gaze and winks. You offer him a soft smile before turning back to Sarah.

“They are, but something tells me you’re here to stay. Not saying that to like, I don’t know, scare you off or anything, but you and him really do make a nice couple.”

“Actually,” You huff a laugh and glance over at him once more, “He hasn’t asked me to be official or anything yet. I am here for the long haul, though, and I want you to know that I respect you and your relationship with your dad. I wouldn’t ever want to overstep any boundaries.”

Sarah groans and huffs, rolling her eyes as she looks over at Joel. “This man, I swear. Want me to yell at him for you?” The mischievous glint in her eye tells you she would actually do so.

You shake your head with a laugh, and she puts her hand on your shoulder as she leans forward.

“Also, you don’t need to worry about overstepping. It’s… nice having someone else around. I appreciate you saying you respect our relationship, though. Dad was always apprehensive about bringing women over because my opinion means so much to him. You’ve got my approval in the bag, though.”

“I appreciate that, Sarah. I’m sorry if meeting me was too soon or awkward for you. I wasn’t expecting to exchange pleasantries today.” She grins and waves her hand between your bodies at your words.

“Nonsense. I’ve been pretty excited to meet you, seeing as you have my dad crushing like a teenage boy again. I just want him to be happy, and I know he is with you.” She throws her arm over your shoulders, and you immediately reciprocate the hug.

Admitting to Sarah that you were in this for the long haul even shocked you. It’s not that you didn’t want to be, but your love life in the past hasn’t exactly been to your liking. Joel is different, though, and seeing that he has people in his corner who love and care about him tells you that they’d go to great lengths to protect him.

It was crystal clear that both of you wanted whatever was going on between you two. You were apprehensive to put your all into it.

You’ve been known to pull back when things got serious. It was a defense mechanism to protect your heart and peace.

You knew you were falling, but the million dollar question still remained: would Joel catch you?

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Sarah separated herself from you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She says, and she coaxes you to follow her back to the grill where Joel and Tommy stood.

“Everythin’ good?” Joel asks, slinging his arm around your shoulder. You nod and offer him a smile.

You were about to go after you plated your food, but Joel shook his head and gently pulled you back to him.

“Uh uh, where you goin’?” He has a goofy grin on his lips as he pulls you in, giving you a kiss. You can’t help but laugh against his lips and gently push him away.

“There’s people here, Joel!” You playfully tsk, and he squints his eyes.

“What, I can’t kiss my girl?”

My girl. The phrase made butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat to rise to your face.

“Never said that, but technically, I’m not your girl yet.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

Tommy laughs and nudges Joel, “Damn brother, you haven’t asked her to be official yet? Hell’s wrong with ya? Hop to it!”

“Coming from someone who didn’t settle down until like a year ago. Shut up you little shit.” Joel huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Was watin’ for the right one! Then this beauty changed my life in the best way possible and put me in my place,” Tommy pulls Maria into his side, kissing her cheek. She rolls her eyes and nudges him playfully, walking back into the house before Tommy points at you. “‘N this missy right here is gonna do the exact same for ya. Don’t be ‘fraid to put him in his place, sweetheart, he needs it.” Tommy howls with laughter as Joel glares at him.

“So fuckin’ dramatic.” Joel mumbles under his breath.

“So what, you don’t want me to put you in your place?” You’re enjoying seeing him squirm a little as your hand traces circles over the white linen that clings to his back.

“Nah, it ain’t that. You can put me in my place anytime, baby.” He winks, and you immediately pick up on the innuendo behind his voice.

“You’re fighting with fire, Mr. Miller.” You murmur to him, and his hand moves down to your ass to give it a subtle, playful squeeze.

“‘S my job, baby.”

“Don’t think this is one you can put out.” You wink at him before walking away to join Maria in the house.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” Maria situates herself on the couch with a glass of wine. You sit down next to her and tuck your legs under yourself, smoothing your dress out before leaning your head on your fist. “How in the world did you and Joel become a thing? What happened to that one guy that you used to tell me about?”

You laugh at her enthusiasm toward your love life, inhaling a deep breath before diving into the story about your shitty ex and all the stupid trust issues he gave you. He really did a number on you, which is why you were so content with being single and thriving. You told Maria that you kept your guard up to protect yourself and your heart, because the last thing you wanted was to give your all to someone once again, only to be burned. Maria put her hand on your knee as a reassuring smile spread across her lips.

“Honey, I can promise you that that man standing out there has it bad for you. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been seeing each other. I can see it in the way he looks at you,” Your gaze trails out to the backyard as Joel sips on a beer, talking with Tommy and a few others who you presume are the neighbors before Maria’s voice pulls your attention back to her, “Joel is a good man, and despite the way you both have been hurt in the past, you still both found each other and gave this,” She waves her hands to gesture between you and him, “A chance. Lord knows that man could use a good woman like you in his life.”

You felt the sting behind your eyes immediately. Maria’s words were nothing short of assuring, and she smiles as you wipe your tears with a small laugh.

“Baby, just because you finally got the flame on your candle to burn bright again, doesn’t mean he’s going to dim yours. His is finally strong on its own, too. I know that you’re so independent and you’ve been used to it for some time now, but let his flame make yours even stronger. You can be stronger together.”

And you knew she was right. The clarity blindsided you, but you got your answer: Joel would one hundred percent, undoubtedly catch you.

A few hours later, the sun had started to set and the neighbors went back to their respective homes, leaving you, Maria, Tommy, Joel and Sarah left. You and Maria insisted you help clean up even though Joel and Tommy both told you it wasn’t necessary. You both waved them off and got everything put away and washed in less than an hour.

Maria refilled her glass of wine as you poured yourself one and both went to settle back onto the couch, Joel and Tommy in tow. Sarah came running down the stairs and up to Joel, a pleading look strewn across her features.

“Kelly invited me over to a night swim and slumber party. Can I go? Please?” She had a hopeful look as she clasped her hands together to shake them, silently begging Joel to say yes.

“I thought she was sick?” He asked, running his hands over the stubble on his chin.

“No dad, Sasha is the one that’s sick.”

You tried to stifle a laugh at her ‘duh’ tone, so you just bit your lip and stared at him. He sighed and looked at you, his demeanor changing in the slightest.

“Sure, but please check in with me every few hours or so. Do I need to drop you off?” He asks, resting his beer bottle on his thigh.

“Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he grunts as he returns the hug. “No, Kelly’s mom offered to pick me up. She can drop me back off tomorrow, too.” She says, and before Joel can get another word in, she rushes back upstairs.

Joel sighs as he leans back into the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Teenagers.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. You pat his thigh and lean into him, giving him a smile.

“Well now that it’s just goin’ to be adults, why don’t we get the real party started,” Tommy wiggles his brows, and all three of you look at him in confusion. “‘S a joke, people. Sheesh. How ‘bout some music, though.” He connects his phone to the speaker sitting on one of the shelves, playing a mix of late 90’s and country music.

Joel finds himself leaning into you as one of his hands slips below the hem of your dress, drawing circles into the skin of your thigh. His touch sends a shiver down your spine and he looks at you with a quirked brow, clearly pleased with your reaction to his touch.

You got turned on so easily now. It wasn’t fair. Just one look alone from the older Miller brother could have your panties around your ankles in milliseconds, and you truly weren’t above begging him to touch you.

The smug smirk on his face told you he knew it, too, but you both agreed to take things slow. You couldn’t even remember why you agreed to such a thing, because the tension between you two had been through the roof since your date at the fair. You truly didn’t know how much self restraint you had.

Maria’s laugh had ripped through your thoughts, earning your undivided attention.

“No way. I don’t believe you.” She says, laughing at Tommy.

“‘S true! Joel and I are a couple ‘a Austin’s finest line dancers.” Tommy shrugs, looking over at Joel.

“Those days are long over, brother.” Joel groans, leaning his head back onto the couch.

“Bullshit. Betcha still know how to dance to Brooks & Dunn.”

“Even if I did—”

“C’mon cowboy, show us what you got.” You tease, and Joel shakes his head.

“Mm mm. Won’t do it unless you ladies do it with us.” He negotiates, and your eyes flit to Maria who smiles upside down and shrugs her shoulders.

“Wouldn’t hurt to learn.” She says, and you nod in agreement.

“It’s settled then.” Tommy slaps his thighs, standing up and offering his hand to Maria. Tommy tosses Joel his Stetson off of the coat rack which Joel catches with ease, putting it onto his head as he grins at you, offering his hand to help you stand up.

“Hey dad! Kelly’s mom is here– oh god, are you and Uncle Tommy line dancing again?” She groans, and Joel holds his hands up in defense.

“Uncle Tommy coaxed me into it and these lovely ladies here wanna learn. Not my fault.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and looks between you and Maria. “Good luck with these two knuckleheads. It was nice to meet you!” She says as she heads for the door.

“You too!” You call back.

“Text me when you get there, please.” Joel calls out to her, and she says ‘kay!’ before the front door shuts behind her. Tommy plays the familiar tune of Boot Scootin’ Boogie, and Joel stands next to him before they start to dance in sync. They both hold on to the front of the waistbands of their pants where their belts would presumably be as their footwork syncs up perfectly.

You and Maria watch in awe as they move together effortlessly, mentally noting the moves they’re repeating. Maria nudges you and you look at her with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Girl, are you seeing this? Got damn near ten degrees hotter in here just watching my man dance.”

“Tell me about it. If Joel and I weren’t taking it slow, I’d probably jump his bones right now.”

“More power to you. I couldn’t do that even if I tried my damndest.”

“Trust me, it’s hard. Especially when he looks like… that.” You stare at Joel as he lets the familiar movements flow through his bones, dancing on beat to the upbeat song. He looks at you and shoots you a wink, making you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“C’mon ladies.” Tommy waves you both over, and you both join in with them. It takes a couple of tries to sync up with Joel, but you’re eventually moving with him. He takes your hand and spins you, pulling you into him as he presses you flush against his chest.

You smirk at him and pluck his Stetson off of his head, putting it onto yours. Joel moves his hand to the small of your back, causing you to practically grind into him while you dance. You bite your lip and bat your lashes as you can feel the tension in Joel’s body that desperately needs relief. He shakes his head with a chuckle, leaning in as his lips brush your ear.

“Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule, baby?” His voice is raspy and low. He noses at your jawline before leaving a kiss below your ear, pulling his face back into your view.

You shake your head no, and as the song ends, he gives Tommy a look before intertwining your hand with his to lead you upstairs.

“Joel—” You start, but as soon as you step into his bedroom, he closes the door and locks it. He cages you in between both of his strong arms, hands resting on either side of your head as he pops his knee out. It’s dangerously close to your aching cunt, and if you moved forward just a bit, you could easily grind yourself onto him.

The thought was tempting but your mind went blank, the close proximity between you both making your head spin.

“The cowboy hat rule,” He starts, leaning down to kiss your neck, “Is when a lady takes a man’s cowboy hat off of his head n’ puts it on herself. Means that the lady wants to be with the man and essentially wants to do more with him.”

“M-more?” Your breath catches in your throat as his hot tongue glides over the warmth of your neck. You’re beginning to pant harder, hands twitching at your sides, aching to touch him.

“Mhm.” He slots his thigh between your legs, and you can’t help the soft moan that bubbles in your throat at the delicious friction.

“Had a whole romantic thing planned in my head on how to ask you to be my girl, but fuck baby, I can’t wait no more. I know it ain’t been long, but I really want you to be mine. ‘N I sure would love to be your man.”

Your brain starts to function a little better, so you bring your hands up to cup his face. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your lips, Joel mirroring you.

“Don’t need fancy. Just need you, baby. I’d love to be yours, Joel.”

And he steals a searing kiss from you, arms wrapping around you as he moves you both backwards toward his bed. He takes his hat off of your head before setting it on his dresser, sitting down on his bed as you follow suit and straddle him. His hands hold onto your thighs, teasing you as they move underneath the hemline of your dress.

His lips separate from yours and he buries his face into your neck, kissing and licking your soft flesh as he grabs a handful of your ass. You can’t help but grind yourself into him like last time, the carnal desire for him shredding through you as your self-restraint dwindles down to nearly nothing.

“I-I know we said slow, but baby, can I touch you?” He asks, and you fervently nod your head. Your thoughts were so jumbled that you couldn’t be bothered to form a coherent response. Your senses were all-consumed by this man under you—your boyfriend. You smile at the thought before your jaw goes slack when his hand moves your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

You bite your lip to stifle the whine that shoots through your chest, heart leaping into your throat. You knew it wouldn’t take much for you to come undone if Joel kept teasing you the way he did.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet. This all for me, pretty girl?” He asks, his Southern drawl as thick as honey, darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Yes.” You cry, rutting your hips against his fingers.

“Can I?” He asks, prodding the tip of his fingers at your entrance. You nod once again, gripping onto his shoulders as you begin to leave kisses across his neck and collarbone. He slides a finger down to the knuckle in you effortlessly, and you can’t help but nip at his neck as the sensation courses through your body.

His one finger alone could reach places yours never could, and it made you dizzy. He slipped another finger into you, the stretch stinging in the slightest as you rocked onto his hand.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby. There you go.” Joel guides you as he begins to move his own fingers, curling them in your warmth. He was hitting that spot that you could barely ever reach, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your head fell back, panting his name repeatedly as you felt the coil already tightening in your core.

“So fuckin’ pretty, hm? My girl is so gorgeous like this, gettin’ herself off on my fingers. Look like a fuckin’ angel, darlin’. Such a good girl.” Joel praises you, and your head snaps up as your eyes meet his. He has a devilish smirk on his lips as you thread your fingers through his curls, smashing your lips to his. He groans into the kiss and picks up the pace of his fingers, your arousal now dripping down to his wrist. He felt your pussy clench around his digits, and he was coaxing you to come undone.

“That’s it baby. Can feel ya, I know you wanna cum. Give it t’me.” He says, and he swallows your moans in a kiss as the band snaps in your core, body convulsing as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re breathless as you slump against him, kissing his neck repeatedly as you try and catch your breath.

He slowly slides his fingers out of you and you moan at the loss of fullness, gaze meeting his once again. He slips his fingers coated in your arousal into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you. He leans in to kiss you, and you can easily taste yourself on his tongue.

“So fuckin’ sweet. Can I taste all of ya?” He asks, and you don’t even think twice before you nod. He flips you around onto the bed, kneeling onto the floor as he hooks both of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. You’re about to lift your hips so he can slide them off of you when a sharp knock on his door sounds.

He groans and sits on his haunches, forehead falling onto your thigh. You giggle and sit up, running your hands through his curls.

“What, Tommy?” Joel calls out, and Tommy laughs on the other side of the door.

“Jus’ lettin’ ya know Maria ‘n I are gonna stay in the guest bedroom. The hell are you doin’ in there?”

Joel gets up with a grunt and stalks toward his bedroom door, unlocking it before swinging it open.

“None of your goddamn business. That’s what.” Joel rolls his eyes, and Tommy raises his hands in defense.

“Shit, my bad!” He looks past Joel and winks at you, and your face heats up immediately.

“You have five seconds to get out of my face before I beat your ass. Fuckin’ cockblock.” Joel grumbles, glaring at his brother.

“Fair. Carry on. Wrap it before you tap it!” He turns on his heel and trudges down the stairs, and Joel turns back around to look at you, face beet red.

“Ignore him.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Noted,” You pat the spot next to you and he rejoins you on the bed. “Now where were we?”

tags: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagines #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #firefighter!joel #firefighter!joel miller #joel miller smut #fic: a burning desire

614 notes · View notes

6ix9inewiturmom · 6 months

Text

Rated R Video (Chris’ Version) Part One

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Summary: You and chris are dating and you got invited for a special edition car video which slowly turns into chris doing everything you asked for! Chris x Fem Reader!!

Warnings: Cursing, talking of sexual acts, use of Y/N

A/N: here’s a chris version for yall chris girlys!! lemme know how yall like this one!! part 2 will be smutty so :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

me and chris have been dating for a little over a 2 years now, chris was was absolutely perfect in every way known to man, but chris had only had 1 body before me so needless to say he a couple things to learn. his fans knew about us since about 6 months in, and i mean obviously we’ve had sex but it’s not like we’ve shared it with all 6 million of them but matt and chris thought it was a good idea to make a ‘Rated R’ video about all three of them (chris and i being a package deal) and their ‘personal’ life regarding sex mostly… i mean i was down if chris was down and boy ive only ever heard him say yes quicker then when he asked me if i was down to join the video… let’s just say nervous was not even close to what i was feeling.

“IM SITTING NEXT TO Y/N” nick yells across the parking lot of target that the boys suggested on filming in

chris rolls his eyes “she’s MY girlfriend and considering the topic don’t you think i should sit next to her?”

i laugh softly “you guys have assigned seats in the car chris, i’ll sit next to nick, don’t worry”

chris hugs me quickly placing a soft kiss on my head before entering the passenger side of the car sitting next to matt and i sit in the passenger rear seat behind him next to nick. matt sets up the camera and presses record.

“HELLO COOL CATS AND KITTENS” nick jokes

“please never start a video like that again” chris can’t help but laugh

“grumpy.. BUT since we talked about a rated R video you guys absolutely blew up talking about it on tiktok and every other form of social media so you ask and shall receive!” nick starts “BUT today we have a very special and important person in the car today.. shes my version of an ‘IT girl’ and i love her to DEATH… Y/N!” nick continues

“hiiii” i say shyly waving towards the camera

“she’s also my girlfriend nick” chris turns around and looks at nick and i with a smirk

nick brings me into a hug and holding me like a child “you know.. CHRISTOPHER… without me yall wouldn’t even know each other” nick says while petting my head in a joking manner

“okay first off, chris turn around. second nick let go of Y/N she looks like she suffocated by the way your holding her” matt spits but with a smile on his face

“okay tuff guy” nick lets me go and i get readjusted to my seat “so i asked you guys to send me some deep questions for us to answer…let’s just say there’s a LOTTT… so let’s get horny shall we” nick smirks doing a little shimmy with his shoulders.

“never say that again” matt breaths out in between laughs

“do any of you guys own any sex toys” nick says with the straightest face i’ve seen

“Y/N owns a vibrator” chris speaks up for me. i move my arm from my side and give him a light slap on his arm.

“well thank too chris for answering a question for me… might as well tell em the color” i laugh out loud

“AND ITS PINK WITH A LITTLE SPARKLE TO IT” chris yells a little too loud so again i give him another slap on his arm

“that was rhetorical chris…” i say shaking my head smiling

“you know i love Y/N like a sister and all considering she’s gonna marry my brother and all but im not sure how long i can sit through this video” nick says laughing

“matt do you own anything” chris says turning his flashlight on to interrogate him

“it’s just me and my left hand as far as i know” matt says holding up his left hand and moving it a little in a motion of ‘jerking off’

“OKAY NEXT QUESTION” nick stops matt abruptly “deepest sexual fantasies” nick looks up from his phone wiggling his eyes brow’s

“WELL mine would be letting my freak flags fly and go all freaky on my girlfriend” chris says smirking and shimmying in the passenger seat as a blush of embarrassment creeps up on my lips

“Y/N your turn” chris turns around to look at me with a deep stare

“ummm well i uh told chris anything he wanted to try sexually” i cringe “i would be down” i shrug my shoulders

“you don’t have ONE deep dark sexual fantasy in that brain of yours” nick questions

“well i guess to be fully submissive to someone i guess…i don’t know tho” i nervously laugh as i look up and see chris nodding his head and turning around

“matt? go on” chris says slapping matt on the arm

“not gonna lie same as chris but im single so one day” chris lets out a playful scream and attempts to dab up matt before nick places his hand in between the two

“that’s not something to dab someone up for ya freaks” nick laughs out

“NEXT QUESTIONNNN” nick says in a sing songy voice “okay most of these are about chris and matt.. really weird…” nick says almost gagging

“no way let me see” chris snatches the phone from nick “OH MY GOD” chris yells making the entire car jump

“i told you jackass” nick snatches his phone back “OOO OKAY A JUICY ONE… how many times in one night have you done it” nick smiles

chris smiles devilishly “6” he says a little too loud and proud

“UMMM Y/N SIX FUCKING TIMES?!?!” nick says turning to me quickly

“WHATTT… you guys were in boston for 3 weeks.. i’m a woman with needs” i hold my hands up trying to defend myself and laughing

“yeah most i’ve ever done is 3…” matt says smiling at chris “you got me beat by DOUBLED” matt dabs up chris

“chris can you not” i laugh at chris

“sorry ma” he smiles at me softly before chuckling

“okay yeah on THAT note thank you guys for tuning in on this adventure of information that even i didn’t wanna know BYE EVERYONE” nick laughs as matt grabs the camera zooming into chris

“i’m gonna get laid” chris says smirking and i slap his arm AGAIN playfully

“Christopher Owen.. shush” i laugh as matt ends the video clicking the red button on the top of the camera

there was a bit of silence in the car as matt was pulling out of the parking lot that was until nick says the most out of pocket thing he’s said to me since i’ve known him

“you know if Y/N was a vibrator she would be a pink and sparkly one.. so her having one is so Y/N coded” he had the straightest face ever plastered on his face as i burry my face in my hands.

“hey don’t talk about Jennifer like that” chris laughs

“YOU NAMMED YOUR VIBRATOR JENNIFER??” nick snaps his head around to look at me

“chris over sharing is a thing and im pretty sure you have a doctorate degree in it” i say muffled in my hands

matt turns up the radio for the rest of the drive but i hear a ping from my phone as i lift it up unlocking it and noticing chris texted me… why would he text me while being in the same car.

“You won’t be walking for the next week when we get home” chris’ message read and i immediately subconsciously press my thighs together and flip my phone over and turn it downwards trying to hide my blush on my lips.

we arrived at the triplets shared home and i’ve never seen chris get out of the car so quickly and dragging my hand out of the garage.

“we’re so tired so we’re gonna go to bed love ya guys” chris yells while practically running upstairs to our shared bedroom and throwing me on the bed letting a yelp escape my lips.

“i wasn’t kidding Y/N.. you’re gonna count how many times i can make you cum in one night” chris says sternly causing a rush of wetness and heat to my core.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

HERES PART 1 OF RATED R VIDEO CHRIS VERSION!! LEMME KNOW HOW YALL LIKED THIS ONE! i tried to make it different from matt’s but LEMME KNOW! it’s a little

short but i didn’t wanna make it exactly like matt’s version but stay tuned for part 2… she’s a working progress BUTTT she’s SMUTTY

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets

666 notes · View notes

ilwonuu · 3 months

Note

requesting in the middle of having sx with coups u get overwhelmed so he takes care of u 🙏🏻🙏🏻 hes prob the sweetest when it comes to his s/o

yes i actually can’t with this man. he is literally so perfect ,, cheol is so sweet i will actually sob <3 thank u for requesting !!

𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐

⋰˚☆ 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅

☾ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－ 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉， 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅！𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆！𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

☾ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌－ 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀， 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗐， 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎， 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗎<𝟥， 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌， 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖼 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖽 ，𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 （ 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌， 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒）（𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅／𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅𝗂��， 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒），，𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒！！！，𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀， 𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀<𝟥

☾ 𝖺／𝗇－ 𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅

your sex life was far beyond good if you were being honest. you had the sexiest man alive in your bed. he knew had to satisfy your needs always and he was always so patient. you knew your boyfriend was always gentle and sweet. but you wanted to have a nice change in the bedroom no harm there but you are completely valid for not loving it.

at first the roughness of his hips was a sensation you never knew you needed but that quickly made you anxious. cheol was very attentive to you. he can sense when something is off with you or something you’re uncomfortable with.

“y/n? baby are you okay?” your boyfriend was quick to stop his movements. you shook your head no as you mutter out a “too much”

“of course- fuck i’m sorry princess.” cheol pulled out of you before pulling his pants back up. you were already laying under the blanket next to him. he helped you cover up more as he planted a kiss against your head.

“i’m so sorry honey- i got carried away i didn’t mean to overwhelm you. did i hurt you? i’m so sorry if i di-“ you put your finger up to his lip to stop him from speaking. your tears in your eyes made him nervous. this was his actual worst nightmare. his rambling is sweet and it makes you smile to yourself.

“c-cheol- i’m okay baby. it was just a lot at once i just needed a break that’s all.” he nodded quickly pulling you so he can kiss your head again.

“still- i don’t want to make you feel like that ever. i want you to feel comfortable always princess.” you look at him with a slight tear in your eyes. how could someone be so sweet? only seungcheol was capable of being the sweetest man ever. he continued to prove how you deserve to be treated. you had never been with someone so caring and loving and you are so grateful for him.

“princess are you sure i didn’t hurt you? please don’t lie to me.” he gives you a pouty look as he looks down at you.

“no no baby- you could never hurt me. you’re just so sweet to me.” he shakes his head.

“i’m always like this with you. you are everything to me.” he hands your his t-shirt and your panties from earlier so you don’t have to worry about covering with the blanket. he helps you back into your clothes like a gentleman. his soft fingers caressing your body in a sweet way. he was taking care of you. as seungcheol always did. he brought you some water with a snack for you.

“what else can i do to help you feel better?” he hands you the glass as he sets your snack down beside you. he caresses your head as you take a sip from your water.

“i’m sorry princess.” he can’t help but to apologize again. he knows you are gonna scold him but he doesn’t care.

“i want you to lay with me please. stop saying sorry cheolie.” you kiss his cheek as he smiles at you. he gives you a tiny nod before crawling into bed with you. he wraps his arms around you gently as comforts.

“i know you said to stop saying sorry- and i will but i’m sorry this happened. you mean a lot to me so that’s why i’m so worried about you. i love you okay?” seungcheol is fully whipped for you so of course he is very overprotective of you.

“i love you so much more cheol.”

280 notes · View notes

theautisticwriter · 7 months

Text

Love Letters: Yandere! Helluva Boss characters X G/N Reader

Characters- Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli

Show- Helluva Boss

Genre- romantic, yandere

Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!

Warnings- swearing, pet names, yandere themes, mentions of planned kidnapping, stalking, delusional characters, unwanted attention

Word count- 1.5K

Extra notes- I have a Hazbin Hotel version of this uploaded as well!

key: f/l = first letter of your name, y/n = your name, n/n = your nickname

———————————————————

By this point you know who it is y/n, I’m the only person COOL enough to send u romantic as fuck letters like the old people do

Sorry for eating the food u made last night, when i was raiding ur fridge it looked so fucking good (and it was, who knew u could cook :P). i left u a pony as a replacement, u can’t eat it but it’ll make u think of me ;) and that pony cost me a FUCK ton of money, collectors addition and shit. i know, bad fucking ass right??

the stupid shitty loud alarm u installed didn’t work when i came in, ud be much safer with me and loony. that’s the plan anyways babe, u have NO idea the fucking creeps that live down here, they’re all fucking animals and ur…not, a fucking asshole i guess.

i drew you smth (it’s the thing stuck on the back of the envelope with the glitter glu)

^glue

it’s me and u holding hands, like other couples do. we’re better than those corny fuckers tho, hence the crowns on our heads.

ignoring my texts, BLOCKING ME (still upset about this BY THE WAY) and then ignoring my very nice letters is kinda a dick move f/l, but it’s whatevs. everything is almost ready for ur move in. i cleaned up n everything :D

from the only bitch worth ur time,

blitzø

<3 (ignore that, moxxie threw a gun at me and my hand slipped, might fire him)

———————————————————

Hiya sweet cheeks!!!

It’s Mills here, just checking in! Via letter! Ain’t that just the fanciest little thing? Mox said it’s the best way to show thought and care to someone, so here’s all my thoughts and care, just for you!

How’ve you been? Good I hope, I’ve been just peachy thanks for asking! My Ma and Pa are super excited to meet ya one day, they’ve even started planning the wedding! Now I told them to slow their horses down, and not the overwhelm ya, we’ll get to that don’t you worry darlin.

Im just so excited to write this letter for you! Ain’t it so romantic?? I’m practically squealing in delight at the thought of you opening this and swoonin’, that’s what you’re doing, right?

Now i’m writing this on my break, and my boss really needs me back in the game! I got employ of the month! Most amount of kills, with the best and bloodiest results baby!

Until next time sweetheart,

Your Mills! ♡

———————————————————

Hi y/n,

It’s Moxxie here, I was a little nervous to send this letter to you, but I always try to follow my heart, and my heart was telling me to communicate with you in the most romantic way I know how due to our current circumstances of being so far away. It’s hard, for the both of us i’m sure, but we’ll be okay y/n.

As much as I don’t get along with my father, he has been helpful with my preparations for your arrival. It’s a big deal, moving in together. I’m sure your anxious, I am too, but in the best way possible. Love is pure, and can make somebody feel whole, it’s a wonderful feeling. I never want that to be taken away from me, and you are the source of all my love. That’s why we need to be together, being only half a demon isn’t good for the soul.

We can do lots of fun things together as well, like go to the opera, or to musicals, or I can show you my shooting skills. My boss says that I have a pretty good shot, which is the biggest compliment he’s ever given me. And we can do things you like too, marriage is equal of course. Obviously, this will all happen later done the line, you’ll need time to adjust, and I understand that. I understand you.

I’m running out of room on my page, but I will write to you again tomorrow. Please respond? Just once, y/n? It’d be nice, to hold something from you since I can’t hold you yet.

All my love,

Your Moxxie <3

———————————————————

Uh, hi?

Wait, you don’t put ‘uh’ in letters do you? Or put wait whilst you think, fuck shit fuck

Sorry, I’m new to this. Normally I just send a text to people but, your phone is off at the moment I think? Or you lost it? Or you blocked me?

Either way, I’ll send you these stupid letter things until it’s back on. So, uh, what are you up to? Blitz has been up my ass about meeting you, heads up, when I come get you and bring you to our room he’s gonna go all psycho dad mode and integrate you, but he’ll back off after a while. He’s a dick sure, but he does want me to be happy. And your, likeable or whatever, so i’m sure you’ll get along.

Once you get comfortable at home with me, Blitz said you could work with me at I.M.P. You’ll be like the co-secretary or something. You won’t be put in danger, I won’t let that happen, you’ll just get to sit with me. We can watch things together, if you wanted.

I guess i’ll see you soon, how do you end these?

See you,

Love from,

Regards?

Bye y/n,

Loona.

———————————————————

My dearest y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I yearn for your presence here, besides me. It’s quite lonely without you, I will admit my dear. It would be oh so wonderful if you could write back. I understand you may be preoccupied with your current activities, but I can’t help myself from desiring a response. I know, it’s selfish of me to expect you to reply to my letters when you’ll be here with me shortly, but I can’t keep my thoughts at bay at the moment.

Your face is a constant in my mind, night and day, asleep and awake, your voice in my mind calms me when I need it most, your smile brightens the bleariest of moments and so on. You can imagine the difficulties I’m facing with no response from you, but that’s alright. If you can’t write back to me dear, I won’t pressure you. Your time is precious, and we will have all the time in hell quite soon. Isn’t that exciting?

I can give you the life you deserve n/n, any luxuries or mundanities you wish for will be handed to you on a silver platter. Or a golden one, if that’s more to your liking? We can properly discuss the specifics once we are together. How thrilling, the though of you and I together at last.

We truly are written in the stars!

Yours until the end of the sky and then some,

Stolas.

———————————————————

Hey there baby,

It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry if you feel neglected babe, it’s so hard keeping in contact with you when you’re so far away hun. Wouldn’t it be so much better if you were here with me? Sure I’ve got a lot of meetings, being a sin and all, but I’d be at your beck and call n/n, you could even be my new excuse to leave those awful “business” discussions. They barely talk business with me, it’s just complete bullshit babe.

I know the lust ring can be intimidating, we have quite the reputation, but I assure you, love is not a foreign concept to me. Romance is one of my most favourite things! Though that’s a secret, let’s keep that between us, yeah? That side of me is reserved for you n/n.

It’s so boring over here without you, I feel like i’m just lounging around and last time I checked, I was the lust sin, not the sloth sin. We’d have so much fun together babe! Can’t you picture it? Even if you can’t yet, I can wait. Having you near me will be enough, you are enough just as you are.

Sincerely yours,

Asmodeus (Ozzie) xoxo

———————————————————

Heya cutie!

Letters are a lot harder to write than I thought they’d be y’know? I’ve rewritten this like 16 times already, sheesh. It just feels so awkward, I can’t see your reaction to my words which means I can’t fix any mistakes I’ve made :(. I’m sure I haven’t made any though! Right? This letters going really well so far and is definitely wooing you, right, y/n?

Hah, I’m asking questions as if you can reply right away. Silly old me, I don’t know what i’m worrying about! We’re meant to be together. I know it’s super sappy, but we’re like soulmates. Soulmates are bound to be together! That’s why I’m bringing you home soon, I can’t wait! I’ve got sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many awesome tricks to show you!

And, the best news, I quit my job!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ ༘⋆-ˋˏ This means, we will have a LOT more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about Mammon being possessive over me, because fuck him! I’m my own clown! Or, well, your clown.

I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be great for us, I pinky promise :P

Love from,

Fizzarolli !!!! ༘⋆!!,-!ˋˏ!!!

———————————————————

513 notes · View notes

a-hazbin-reader · 7 months

Text

THIS WAS MY BAD I FUCKED UP ANON I'M SORRY

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Brief mention of Y/N not having control over her own life

Description: 👆⬆️

It took a lot for Alastor to be nervous about something, like A LOT

He wasn't nervous to start his radio show, he wasn't scared to sing in front of a crowd or dance with a stranger

But meeting your father has his mind in shambles, he's never been so nervous in his entire life

Every negative quality he can think of is coming to the forefront of his mind and making a home there

Not even asking you out made him feel this anxious

Okay so that was a fucking lie

He's heard all about your father from you, knows how close the two of you are-now he knows how you felt meeting his mother

Your father made you the woman you are today, and all of your best qualities were apparently cultivated by your father, according to you anyways

But he plays it cool when you ask him to meet your father, giving you a charming smile and confident response

"It's about time you asked me that, my dear~"

Hugs you from behind and buries his face in your neck so that you don't see the panic in his eyes

Pretends like he's not worried about it whenever you bring it up but as his S/O you pick up on his mannerisms

He's often distracted, getting lost in his own thoughts, doesn't hear what you're saying, messing up food he normally makes with ease

It's different for him, to him meeting your father makes the possibility of losing you feel more real

If your father doesn't approve of him then not only would you be disappointed but he could keep you from seeing Alastor

And nobody would question it, nobody would ask what YOU want, a girl's father knows what best for her

Then you two would have to elope which wouldn't be the worst thing but you deserve more-

"Alastor..? Are you sure you want to do this?"

He immediately relaxes at the sound of your voice, turning to give you a reassuring smile and kissing your forehead

"Of course, my dear~! What sort of a man would I be if I was too scared to face your father?"

Oh, he's scared of making a bad impression

He leans into your touch as you place soft hands over his cheeks, smiling at him in a way that makes him feel childish for being nervous

"Oh darling, you have nothing to worry about...I'll protect you~"

"Very funny..."

"I'm serious! He will love you, you're very hard not to love~"

Your gentle embrace on his arm keeps him grounded throughout the entire walk to see your father

Maybe he nuzzles your head to give you affection, or maybe he does it because your scent relaxes him

Alastor is hilariously stiff when you two enter the restaurant, tensing up as you approach your father

He's handsome for a man his age but the way he carries himself with kindness and pride reminds Alastor of you

The old man's eyes light up and happiness envelopes his features as he takes notice of you, standing to meet you

The love between you and your father is painfully obvious, this here is a man who would die to protect his daughter

Something he and Alastor have in common

Then suddenly, a switch flips in him once you go to hug your father, no longer is he your nervous boyfriend

"Papa, this is the man I've been telling you about, this is Al-"

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you, sir! Quite a pleasure! Might I just say you've raised an exceptional young woman!"

This is Alastor, the charming radio host who is utterly mesmerizing and able to talk his way out of any situation

The Alastor that originally caught your attention and kept it long enough for you to fall for him

He spends the entire lunch charming your father, laying out all his best qualities in the hopes that he's making a good impression

And he definitely is, or at least he seems to be

"Oh Y/N, you didn't tell me that he would be such a gentleman! Wherever did you find him?"

Oh Papa you don't want to know

"Oh you know...we just bumped into each other-"

"She immediately had my heart in her pocket from the first moment we met! I was wrapped around her little finger and didn't even know it until it was too late!"

Now you're blushing, Alastor's words, along with him pulling you into a loving hug, making you feel flustered

He may have been busy trying to impress your father, but he didn't forget who he was doing it for, making sure to pay attention to you

He couldn't ignore you even if he tried, kissing your cheek whenever you boasted about him or squeezing your hand when your father embarrassed you

Which he did, your father couldn't help but brag about his darling daughter and every good deed she ever did

All of Alastor's earliest worries are gone, now understanding that your father isn't the type of man to rule over his daughter

Rather the kind to build her up and encourage her to be her own person, loving her for her strengths instead of smothering them

Which makes Alastor respect the man even more than he already did

At one point you leave the table to use the restroom, leaving the two men alone with each other

The mood shifts a little bit, your father suddenly serious and doubtful as he looks Alastor over

"Just what are your intentions with my daughter? She's not the kind of woman who you can just toy with until the next one comes along. My Y/N is too good for a playboy."

Oh, so now it's a serious talk, that's fine, Alastor came here for a serious reason anyways

"I'm no boy, and I don't plan on playing with your daughter's heart, I meant what I said earlier. In fact, I wanted to meet you so that I could ask your permission to not only continue seeing her but to marry her."

Apparently, he said the right thing because your father's eyes widened in surprise for a moment before the warmth flooded back into them

The old man relaxed into his seat and simply nodded at Alastor as you came back, the two men coming to an understanding

The atmosphere at the table becomes much more casual after that, your father and Alastor talking and joking like old friends

It warms your heart to see your boys getting along so well, leaning on Alastor happily

He smiles and rubs noses with you for a moment before going back to the conversation, something that leaves you flustered

And apparently, it makes your father blush too, finding the two of you to be a cute couple

The love you both have for each other radiates more than any sort of PDA would

Your father thinks that Alastor wouldn't be the worst son in law to have, he's charming, hardworking, obviously loves you

Why he's nearly perfect but there's something about him that makes your father think he's dangerous

And maybe he is but as long as Alastor keeps his daughter safe and happy then what does he care?

It's your life after all

Later, when you all get up to leave, your father ignores Alastor's offer of a handshake in favor of hugging him

"If you marry her, then you best not ever leave her, not even in death."

"Not only will I never leave her, I'll do everything in my power to make her happy~"

"Good man, welcome to the family.."

You give your father a loving hug, and he whispers his approval to you, making you tear up and kiss his cheek

Alastor is a little concerned when he sees your glassy eyes but you kiss him happily before he can even ask what's wrong

Presses his forehead to yours once you two finally stop kissing, both of you panting softly

Your smile is so breathtaking, he almost doesn't even hear what you're saying because he's so mesmerized

"I told you that he would love you~"

GAHHHH SORRY THIS TOOK ALL DAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

I HAD IT THEN DELETED IT AND HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

740 notes · View notes

jennifer-jeong · 7 months

Text

Fluff + Slight Angst | Zayne x GN!Reader A Cure.

SUMMARY Zayne has trouble sleeping after overtime and you’re the only thing that helps ):

CONTENT Gender neutral reader, established relationship, kisses, hugs, slight angst, mention of previous patient deaths, mentions of guilt, mentions of nightmares + insomnia, mostly fluff, taking care of sleep deprived boyfriend, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOR NOTES I finished reading his anecdotes and I’m in shambles. Hubby is traumatized. One of his affinity level up quotes is “you are the only treatment for my nightmares” and I didn’t even know he had nightmares until I read the anecdotes and now I’m just in pain. I will probably also write about the parallel version of him, his dawnbreaker self, because he deserves some love too, his world sounds much more desolate than ours ):

WORD COUNT: 1106

Zayne has always had trouble sleeping or even wanting to entertain the idea of going to sleep. His nightmares have plagued him for so many years now and it’s become his norm. His only relief from it has been you.

Some of the staff that work closely with Zayne have been acquainted with you and they’ve come to understand that if they want the cardiac surgeon to sleep, you’re the key. You love his co-workers because they really do care about each other and you’re so grateful they make sure Zayne rests well. You always make sure to bring them some snacks or coffee when you come to the hospital.

A recent wanderer attack at the outskirts of the city has left the emergency unit overflowing for the past 2 days. You’ve been helping where you can to defeat wanderers and the combat side of things has calmed down. But the hospital is still working overtime. AKA Zayne is working overtime.

He’s been up for 2 days straight due to back to back emergency surgeries that he insists he helps on. The staff will allow him to push himself but they know when to cut him off. They asked if you’d be available today to pop by and you mentioned that you’re already on your way after finishing your last area sweep and clearing the place for wanderers.

When you walk in, you set some coffees onto the clerk’s desk and quickly walk over to Zayne’s office. You slowly knock quietly and open the door cautiously so as not to spook the sleep deprived man. Zayne never shows when he’s nervous, he doesn’t get jittery because he’s literally a surgeon and can’t afford to. But, you can tell when he’s exhausted and anxious, and he is exactly that right now. You walk over to him and he hugs you from where he’s sitting at his desk, swiveling his chair to face you as you stand between his legs. You stroke your hands through his hair and rub his back, letting him enjoy the peace. “All successful?” You ask. He nods with his face buried in your chest. You’re glad that this means his surgeries and patients were all okay, but you know it doesn’t ease the pain and stress of going into a surgery worried that it might not end well. Also, not to mention the immense stress simply performing a surgery brings. The notches on his notebook always come to mind at times like this. It took a while for you to talk to him about it but when he told you they were a tally of how many patients have passed in his care, your heart ached. Since then, he hasn’t kept track and you’re very glad that he confided in you and made the decision to stop. He doesn’t deserve to have that guilt hang over his head when it’s never been his fault.

You continue to soothe him and ask “couldn’t sleep again?” He responds slowly and clearly exhausted “I haven’t felt tired…” he pauses “but you being here is already making me drift into sleep” he says muffled into your chest. “Thank you, I’m happy to see you, I just… I have another surgery soon.” “The staff has already shifted the time slots, you know they don’t let you push that far. It’s been 2 days, love,” you explain to him. Surgeons have already been called in due to the emergency and Zayne has a 12 hour period until his next shift. The staff know he’d get upset if they forced him to not work for more than a day, especially during an emergency. He’s quiet for a minute or two. “I know you trust your team. Take this time to breathe baby,” you say to him gently. When he’s in this state, he can’t form thoughts coherent enough to help calm himself down with logic. So you do it for him, softly, with lots of kisses. You kneel down to meet his eyes and cradle his face in your warm hands. He nuzzles very slightly into your touch and you kiss him on his forehead. He honestly almost falls asleep right then and there. You move him to the couch in his office, he has a wider couch to accommodate naps. He prefers his office to the call rooms (in hospital rooms for staff to sleep in), it just feels cozier and you’re also usually here.

You let him get comfy as you bring over pillows and a blanket for him, all prepared nearby because he quite commonly has to do this. With his eyes closed he mutters a slurred “love you s’much.” He has more words for you but can barely even conceptualize them in his head, let alone speak them out loud. But he knows that you understand the sentiment. He’ll make it up to you when he wakes up.

Somehow you’ve been able to stop his nightmares since you two got close again. He isn’t scared to sleep as long as you’re around. You’re his only safe haven from the dreams and just thinking about that makes him so emotional. He just thinks it makes so much sense that you cure him in this way and he loves you so much, you take such good care of him and he does the same back.

He quickly drifts off into sleep as you sit in front of the couch on the carpet while holding his hand and patting his back slowly. You purposely pat slowly to encourage his heart rate to slow and calm down. You will sometimes leave to do your own thing after he falls asleep but most of the time you stay close, wanting to keep protecting him in his sleep in a way. It probably doesn’t really make a difference but you don’t mind doing your work or playing on your phone nearby. It’s kinda like you think he subconsciously feels you there and so you stay. You don’t pay it much mind but he hasn’t told you that he feels so much better when he wakes up and sees you there. It makes a wave of warmth flow over his cold self and he can’t explain how much he loves it and you.

You watch him a little longer as his breathing slows and you know he’s fast asleep. You go to sit on his chair and check some messages on your phone but you make sure to give him another kiss on his temple before going. You don’t really see it but his lips curve ever so slightly, completely subconsciously enjoying it.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

#zayne x reader #reader x zayne #li shen x reader #reader x love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #li shen #zayne fluff #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace #self insert #j's silly ramblings

448 notes · View notes

woniedarlin · 2 months

Text

Rich in Heart pt.2: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x rich girl! reader

synopsis: Today is the big day for Jungwon. He's feeling a bit nervous…or maybe a lot more anxious because he's about to meet your father, who is a very successful businessman. Of course, he wants to make a great impression – who wouldn't? But he's worried that your dad might not like him because he's not as wealthy. But one thing is for sure, he’ll be sweating like buckets.

warnings: Jungwon is very anxious in this 🥹😭 He just wants to impress your dad, YOUR DAD IS SOMEWHAT INTIMIDATING BUT HE JUST LOVES HIS LITTLE GIRL SM, your dad kind of threatening the poor boy, mentions of punching, a lil cursing, bloody nose, chasing after a thief and mini you protesting in middle school 😭 Let me know if there is more!

note: Hello my darlings! I've received requests for a part 2 in Rich in Heart. So, here you go! Think of it as a thank you gift just for existing 🙈🫂

Caution: You might find yourself feeling a bit sorry for the nervous boy. He’s just too cute in his attempts to win over your dad ✊ Let’s go support our wonie!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @13tter @chlorinecake

If you haven't read Rich in Heart pt. 1, please do so before continuing to read this!

Jungwon was nervous. More nervous than he had ever been in his life. He couldn’t stop pacing back and forth in his room, his mind running a mile a minute. He checked himself in the mirror one last time, making sure his hair was perfect and his clothes were wrinkle-free. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. How was he ever going to impress your father? He was just a normal, poor, average guy. Would your father even approve of him dating you?

But then, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Baby? Are you ready?”

Jungwon nearly jumped at the sound. He walked over to the door and opened it, revealing you standing there, looking beautiful as ever. He forced a smile and tried to sound calm, but he couldn’t hide the slight shakiness in his voice. “Yeah. I’m ready. You look very beautiful, as always.”

“And you look so handsome, my love,” you said, cupping his face with your hands and gently stroking his cheek with your thumb.

He placed his hand over yours, gently holding it against his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the warmth. “You think so?” he asked quietly, the doubts still lingering in the back of his mind. “I’m so nervous, what if I mess up? What if he thinks I’m not good enough for you?”

“Of course,” you replied, leaning in to peck his lips. “You’re perfect just the way you are. My dad will see that too.”

The kiss momentarily distracted him from his nerves and worries. He chuckled softly, trying to mask his anxiety with humor. “Are you sure your dad’s gonna like me? I mean, he’s this big, important guy, and I’m just… you know..”

“Yes, he will. Just be yourself. He’ll see what I see in you,” you reassured him, your voice full of confidence and love. “Besides, you have this charm that no one can resist.”

Jungwon nodded slowly, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “Alright, I’ll try. But if he doesn’t like me, I’m blaming you.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Me? I’m offended. I’ve never made a bad decision in my life, and choosing you was definitely one of the best.”

Jungwon chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yeah, you. If your dad decides I’m not worthy of you, it’s totally your fault for choosing me in the first place.”

“It was never a mistake choosing you,” you said softly, looking into his eyes with sincerity. “You make me happy, and that’s all that matters.”

Jungwon’s smirk softened into a small smile at your words. “I’m glad you don’t think so.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the meeting ahead. “We should get going. Don’t want to keep your dad waiting.”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s do this together. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

He took a moment to gaze into your eyes, drawing strength from your confidence. “Thank you, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably be pacing a hole into the floor,” you teased lightly, earning a chuckle from him.

“True,” he admitted with a grin. “But seriously, I’m really grateful to have you by my side. You make me feel like I can do anything.”

“And you can,” you said firmly. “We’re a team, remember? We’ll face whatever comes our way together.”

With one last look at each other, you both headed out, ready to face whatever awaited.

Jungwon walked with you outside, holding your hand tightly as he trailed behind. He nodded at the driver, feeling a bit out of place in the extravagant car. He was used to taking the bus, not private cars driven by personal drivers. He sat down next to you in the backseat, his mind racing with anxiety.

🎩

Jungwon’s palms were sweaty as the car came to a stop outside a large, luxurious building. It was a hotel and a nice one at that. Not at all what he was used to. He took a shaky breath, mentally preparing himself for what awaited him inside.

“Breathe, Jungwon. Breathe. You look like you are about to shit yourself,” you said with a concerned look. Poor baby…

Jungwon chuckled weakly at your comment, giving you a sheepish smile. “Yeah, that’s because I feel like I’m about to.” He muttered under his breath. “I’m about to piss myself as well.”

You nodded sympathetically. “I get you. A lot. I know the feeling when I met your parents.” You winced at the memory.

Jungwon laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing a bit at your admission. He took your hand in his. “Well, glad I’m not the only one then. I don’t know what’s worse, you meeting my family or me meeting yours…”

“My dad will like you, alright, baby?” you said, trying to reassure him.

Jungwon wanted to believe you, but his nerves were getting the best of him. He nodded shakily, still gripping your hand tightly. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. He’s gonna like me, no biggie…” He repeated, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

“You are sweating,” you pouted and whipped out a handkerchief, gently wiping his forehead.

“Thanks, love.” He murmured, his heart warming at your caring nature. But the butterflies in his stomach continued to flutter with nerves.

You held both of his hands, looking into his eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He managed a weak smile, still slightly nervous but feeling a bit calmer thanks to your presence.

You tilted your head with a playful smile. “Kiss first?”

Jungwon felt a small, genuine smile form on his lips at your request. Despite being nervous as hell, he couldn’t say no to a kiss from you. “Yeah, c’mere.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin tenderly. The kiss, though simple, made him feel more at ease.

You pulled away slightly, savoring the moment. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice with sincerity.

Jungwon smiled at your words. “Love you too, princess.” He took a deep breath and straightened up, ready to face whatever came next.

“You ready for the battlefield?” you joked, nudging him playfully.

Jungwon laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I think I need some armor and a sword. You got any of those in your fancy car?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Nope, just that handsome face of yours.”

“Great,” Jungwon said, rolling his eyes. “I’m totally screwed.”

“You’ll be fine, Jungwon. Just be yourself, and everything will be alright,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to impress a guy who probably owns half the city,” Jungwon muttered, his nerves flaring up again.

“Hey, you’re amazing, and my dad will see that. Just relax, okay?” You leaned in and kissed his cheek, trying to calm him down.

Jungwon sighed, trying to take your advice to heart. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to relax. But if he challenges me to a duel, I’m running.”

You burst out laughing, and Jungwon couldn’t help but join in. The laughter helped to ease some of his nerves, and he felt a bit more confident as you both exited the car and headed into the hotel.

🎩

Jungwon was still holding your hand as the hotel worker led the way. As they entered the private room, he felt his heart beat faster once more.

He looked around the room nervously, taking in the elegant setting and the luxurious furniture. He couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place like he didn’t belong in such a fancy and upscale environment. He was acutely aware of the contrast between his own life and the lavish world you resided in.

"This is it," you muttered under your breath.

"This is it," he echoed softly, his voice filled with a mixture of trepidation and determination. Despite the butterflies in his stomach, he held your hand tighter, refusing to let go.

He wasn’t going anywhere without you.

You walked inside, spotting your dad sitting at one of the seats at the table. "Hi, daddy!" you called out with a bright smile.

Jungwon felt a pang of anxiety as you let go of his hand and moved to hug your father. He followed closely behind, his steps feeling heavy and his palms starting to sweat once more.

Your dad's face lit up with a wide smile as he hugged you tightly. "Sweet pie! How I’ve missed you. How have you been?" he asked, his voice full of warmth.

"Oh, come on, daddy. We just saw each other a few days ago, but either way, I’m fine, and I miss you too," you replied, laughing softly.

Your dad chuckled, his fond smile never leaving his face. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but still. I can’t help but miss my little girl whenever you’re not around." He finally noticed Jungwon standing nearby and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Jungwon felt like he was about to pass out as your dad’s gaze landed on him. He could feel the older man’s eyes appraising him, studying him from head to toe. Jungwon tried his best to show a polite smile. "Good afternoon, sir. It’s nice to meet you." He greeted, his voice slightly shaky as he offered a small bow in respect.

Your dad chuckled at Jungwon's somewhat nervous greeting. He gave the boy a subtle once-over, taking in his appearance. "Ah, so you're the infamous Jungwon my daughter has been telling me about," he finally spoke, his voice calm...a little too calm. "She is right, you are very handsome."

Jungwon felt his cheeks heat up slightly at your dad’s compliment. Being complimented by someone as influential and important as your father felt surreal. He then gave a gentle smile. "Thank you, sir. You are handsome as well."

Your dad laughed heartily at Jungwon's response. "Well, aren't you a charmer? No need to be so tense, son. Have a seat." He gestured towards the chair next to the one he was sitting on.

"Son?... He called me son?" Jungwon thought to himself, his mind racing.`

"Yes, of course, sir. Thank you." He said before walking over and taking a seat in the indicated chair. The butterflies in his stomach were flapping their wings furiously.

Jungwon felt relieved as you took the seat next to him, your presence a small comfort in this nerve-wracking situation. He sneakily reached under the table and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers tightly.

"So, Jungwon, my daughter has told me a bit about you, but I’d love to hear more. Tell me about yourself," your dad asked, his eyes fixed on Jungwon.

Jungwon swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He tried to gather his thoughts and recall any interesting tidbits about himself worth mentioning. "I’m a student at the same school as her," he started, then continued, "I enjoy photography, and I hope to be a professional photographer someday."

Your dad nodded, seeming to mull over the information Jungwon provided. His face gave nothing away as he looked at the boy. "A photographer, hm? That's a nice career choice," he said, his tone neutral. "And what do your parents do, if you don’t mind me asking?"

Jungwon felt his heart kick up a notch at the mention of his parents. He gripped your hand tighter under the table. "My mom is a nurse, and my dad works as a mechanic."

"A nurse and a mechanic? Those are admirable jobs, respectable professions," your dad said, his tone genuine.

You decided to chime in. "Absolutely, daddy. His parents are also very nice and welcoming. It would be nice if you got to meet them."

Your dad looked over at you, a small smile appearing on his face. He didn’t miss the slight protective tone in your voice, nor the fact that you had interjected on Jungwon's behalf. "Ah, I’m glad to hear that," he said, his gaze returning to Jungwon.

Jungwon tried to hide the small, grateful smile at your interruption. He appreciated your defense and the support you provided, though he also felt slightly guilty for making you speak up for him. He nervously met your dad's gaze, feeling like he was under a microscope as the elder man looked at him with sharp eyes.

"I must say, Jungwon, you seem like a good kid. Polite, respectful, and clearly very much in love with my daughter," your dad said.

"Yes, sir, I am," Jungwon confirmed, his voice earnest. He caressed your hand gently as if telling you that he was indeed very much in love with you, just as your dad had said.

You felt your heart warm. Gosh, you really love that man.

A small smile appeared on your dad’s lips, but he quickly turned it into a more serious gaze. "But let me be honest with you. I have high expectations for the person who dates my daughter."

"Daddy!" you said, exasperated.

Dads are really... sigh...

Your dad knew he was being strict, but he wouldn’t apologize for it. Not when it came to making sure you were safe and happy. "Hush, sweet pie. It’s my right as a father."

Jungwon nodded with confidence. Even if your dad was terrifying to him, he needed to prove that he was worthy of being your boyfriend. "Of course, sir. I understand."

"I hope you genuinely care for her. My daughter deserves nothing less than absolute respect and love," your dad said, his tone softening.

Jungwon nodded. "I do, sir. I promise I will always treat her with the love and respect she deserves."

"I'm counting on it," he said before letting out a small sigh and shaking his head. "She's grown up so fast, I can't believe she's already dating," he said, acting as if you weren’t there.

"And you are getting old too fast. I can see lots of grey hair on you," you retorted playfully.

"Excuse you, young lady." Your dad let out a small scoff, acting like he was offended. He reached up to touch his hair, running a hand through it as if checking for grey hairs. "I'll have you know, those are just a part of aging gracefully."

Your dad's response made you laugh. You were used to teasing him, and you knew how to push his buttons. He always tried to be strict and serious, but you had a knack for making him crack a smile or two.

Meanwhile, Jungwon couldn’t help but let a small smile slip as well, enjoying the playful banter between you and your dad.

He could see where you got your humor from.

Though…

Despite the comforting atmosphere, you really needed the urge to pee. “Alright, I think I should go to the ladies’ restroom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

(Do you think Jungwon is the only one nervous at the meeting? Nah, you really felt the need to excuse yourself.)

Jungwon, feeling anxious again, gripped your hand tightly and looked at you with wide, pleading eyes, as if silently begging, “Don’t leave me with your scary dad!”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungwon quickly said, standing up abruptly and pulling you up with him, both hands still clasped together.

Your dad raised his eyebrows in amusement. Jungwon going to the ladies’ restroom as well?

“You don’t have to,” you insisted, trying to hide your own nervousness.

But Jungwon’s eyes pleaded with you, and he muttered, “I need to.”

“Um, alright,” you relented, then turned to your dad. “We just need to go to the restroom right quick.”

“Alright, sweet pie,” your dad said, watching the two of you leave. He tilted his head, thinking to himself, “Am I that intimidating? Is that why Jungwon didn’t want to be alone with me?”

As you walked down the hall, Jungwon let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “I wasn’t ready to be grilled by your dad alone.”

You chuckled softly, squeezing his hand. “I figured as much. He can be a bit overwhelming, but he’s just looking out for me.”

Jungwon nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. I just… I want to make a good impression.”

“You’re doing great,” you reassured him, stopping in front of the restroom. “Just breathe, okay?”

Jungwon took a moment to gather himself, then nodded. “Okay. I can do this.”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading into the ladies’ room. As you disappeared behind the door, Jungwon leaned against the wall, taking deep, calming breaths.

A few moments later, you emerged, looking more relaxed. “Ready to face the lion’s den again?” you teased.

Jungwon laughed softly, feeling more at ease with you by his side. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hand in hand, you walked back to the private room, Jungwon feeling a bit more confident. As you entered, your dad looked up and smiled.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Much,” you replied, giving Jungwon a reassuring squeeze before taking on your respective seats, still holding hands under the table.

You just heard your stomach growling as you took your seat. You rubbed your stomach. “Well, now I’m hungry.”

Your dad chuckled at your declaration. “Of course you are. Alright, let’s order food then.” He called over a waiter.

As you all perused the menu, your dad took it upon himself to suggest dishes to Jungwon, often giving him detailed descriptions of each item.

“Oh, the steak is excellent here. Well-marbled, perfectly cooked.”

“The seafood platter is always a good choice.”

Your dad made it his mission to ensure that Jungwon tried some of the fancier, more expensive dishes on the menu. “But of course, it’s up to you, son. Pick whatever you like. It’s on me.”

Jungwon found himself feeling more and more overwhelmed as your dad continued to suggest dishes to him. He wasn’t used to such opulence, and the prices listed beside the meals made him feel a bit panicked. “Ah, thank you, sir. I, um, probably the steak then.”

You noticed his face and gently squeezed his hand under the table. “You don’t have to get the steak if you don’t want to, baby. Is there something else you really want to try?”

Jungwon looked over at you, grateful for your understanding and consideration. Of course, you would notice his discomfort; you always did. He took a moment to glance back at the menu, his eyes flicking over the various options. He didn’t want to choose anything too expensive, but he also didn’t want to disrespect your father by being too picky. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe the seafood platter?”

You nodded. “Alright, baby.”

“Good choice. Seafood is quite refreshing, excellent for the palette,” your dad nodded in approval.

When the food arrived, every plate looked like a work of art. The steak was perfectly cooked, the red meat glistening and tender. The seafood platter had an array of seafood, all arranged beautifully. It looked like something out of a gourmet magazine.

Jungwon’s mouth dropped at the sight of the food. The thought of eating a meal worth more than his entire week’s worth of pocket money made him feel a bit dizzy.

Your dad chuckled at Jungwon’s reaction. “Go on, dig in.” He picked up his utensils and began to eat.

Jungwon had to let go of your hand, unfortunately and took a small, hesitant first bite. The food melted in his mouth, the flavor bursting on his tongue. He stifled the urge to make a sound of how delicious it was.

“Try this, wonie,” you said, offering him a piece of your steak on your fork.

He smiled at you before opening his mouth and accepting the food, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel your dad’s eyes on him. “Mmm, it’s good.”

Your dad watched the interaction with a small, approving smile. “So, Jungwon, tell me more about your photography. What do you like to photograph the most?”

Jungwon swallowed his food and took a sip of water, trying to gather his thoughts. “I enjoy capturing moments that tell a story. It could be anything, really—people, nature, everyday life. There’s something special about freezing a moment in time.”

Your dad nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a noble pursuit. It takes a keen eye to see beauty in the mundane. So you said earlier that you wanted to pursue it professionally?”

Jungwon nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s my dream to become a professional photographer one day. I’ve been working on building my portfolio and improving my skills.”

“That’s commendable. I admire your passion and dedication,” your dad said, genuinely impressed.

You beamed with pride, squeezing Jungwon’s hand under the table. “He’s really talented, daddy. You should see some of his work.”

Your dad smiled at you, then looked back at Jungwon. “I’d love to see your portfolio sometime. Perhaps we could even discuss ways to support your aspirations.”

Jungwon felt a surge of relief and gratitude. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”

Your dad nodded, pleased with Jungwon’s response. “You’re welcome, son. It’s important to support each other’s dreams, especially when they involve someone as special as my daughter.”

Jungwon felt his nerves dissipate further, the warmth of your dad’s words reassuring him. “I promise to always support her dreams too, sir.”

Your dad smiled, clearly satisfied. “I believe you will.”

🎩

Your dad continued to regale Jungwon with embarrassing stories from your childhood, much to your embarrassment. But somehow, it made the atmosphere more comfortable. Jungwon found himself chuckling at the stories, imagining a younger version of you doing those silly things. He glanced over at you, enjoying the way your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

“Is that true that you punched the kid who bullied your friend?” he asked, teasingly, as he looked at you.

“Yeah, it didn’t end well for him. Got a bloody nose,” you winced.

Jungwon let out a small laugh, imagining the scene in his mind. He could easily picture you, young and fiery, standing up for your friend and dealing out your justice. “I can believe it. You’ve always been fierce and protective.”

Your dad chuckled. “Oh, that’s nothing. You should hear about the time she single-handedly organized a protest in middle school because they tried to cancel recess.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, looking at you with newfound admiration. “A protest? You really are something else.”

You shrugged, feeling both proud and embarrassed. “Someone had to stand up for our right to play.”

Jungwon smiled, his affection for you growing even deeper. “You’re a lot tougher than you look, you know.”

Then Jungwon decided to tell the story of the time when you chased after a thief who stole your Prada bag.

Your dad let out a hearty laugh at the story Jungwon told. He couldn’t help but find the image of you chasing after a thief and resorting to violence to get your bag back both hilarious and oddly endearing. “That sounds exactly like something she would do.”

“She was chasing after the thief in heels, sir,” Jungwon added with pride. He was still proud of you up to this day.

Your dad burst out laughing again at the mention of you running after the thief in heels. The idea of you in expensive designer heels, running down the street and throwing projectiles at someone, was too much for him.

He leaned back in his chair, his laughter dying down to chuckles as he shook his head. “Oh my god, only you.”

“Can you blame me? That was Prada,” you shrugged.

Your dad shook his head, still chuckling. He couldn’t fault you for being protective of your fashionable possessions. He knew how much you loved your designer items, and it was no surprise to him that you would go to any lengths to get them back.

“You and your Prada,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically before taking a sip of his wine. “Well, Jungwon, it seems you have your hands full with this one.”

Jungwon smiled warmly, glancing at you with affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.”

Your dad nodded, a pleased look on his face. “Good answer, son. Good answer.”

🎩

After finishing the meal, the three of you sat chatting for a while longer. Your dad regaled Jungwon with more stories, making the atmosphere light and comfortable.

But eventually, your dad glanced at his watch and sighed, a slight reluctance in his voice. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but I have another meeting to attend.”

“Aww,” you pouted, your lips forming a perfect little bow.

Your dad shot you a sympathetic look, clearly not wanting the evening to end just yet. But he had responsibilities and couldn’t blow off his work. He quickly paid the check before standing up from the chair and walking toward you. “I’m sorry, sweet pie,” he said, smoothing down your hair affectionately. “I wish I could stay longer.”

You stood up and gave him a tight hug, your arms wrapping around him with warmth. “Thank you for this, daddy.”

Your dad wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a small smile. “Of course, sweet pie. I enjoyed our time.” He gave you a little pat on the head before turning his gaze to Jungwon.

Your dad turned to Jungwon, his expression turning serious once again. He gave the boy a curt nod of acknowledgment, his eyes fixed on Jungwon. “Jungwon,” he said, making sure he had the boy’s attention.

Jungwon stood up, straightening his back. “Yes, sir.”

“You better take care of my little girl, you hear me?” he said, his tone both of fatherly concern and subtle warning.

Jungwon nodded. He met your dad’s gaze with as much confidence as he could muster, his voice steady and sure. “I swear, sir. I promise to take good care of her. I won’t ever let anything happen to her.”

Your dad saw the sincerity in the boy’s eyes and heard the conviction in his voice. It reassured him, knowing that you were in good hands with Jungwon. He patted Jungwon on the shoulder, a small sign of approval. “Good. I’m trusting you with my most precious treasure.”

Jungwon nodded again, meeting your dad’s gaze firmly. “I understand, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Your dad smiled at Jungwon, his expression softening. “I hope not. Because if you do…” He trailed off, letting the implied threat hang in the air. His face turned serious for a moment, letting Jungwon know he wasn’t fooling around.

Jungwon shivered internally. Your dad was very intimidating, but Jungwon understood because he was protective of you as well. “I understand, sir. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Daddy!” you scolded your dad at the threat, feeling bad for Jungwon. You stepped closer to Jungwon, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning your head on his shoulder for comfort.

Your dad smiled at your scolding. He knew he was being a bit overprotective, but he couldn’t help it. He was a dad, after all. “Sorry, sweet pie. I just want to make sure my little girl stays safe.”

You pouted and wrapped yourself around Jungwon’s arm, resting your head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I trust him.’’

Jungwon felt a rush of warmth as you wrapped your arm around his. He looked down at you, a small smile on his face as you rested your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but adore the fact that you were being so open and clingy with him in front of your dad.

Your dad hid a small smirk and cleared his throat. “Alright, lovebirds. I should get going now.”

Jungwon nodded at your dad. “Yes, sir. Have a good day. Thank you for the time and the food.”

Your dad nodded and walked away, but not before saying, “I have eyes and ears everywhere. So be good, you two.” He said this half-jokingly, but also seriously.

“Bye, daddy! Love you,” you said, still clinging to Jungwon’s arm, your eyes following your dad as he walked away.

Your dad smiled at you, his face softening as he heard your words. “Bye, sweet pie. Love you more.” He gave you a small wave before turning and walking away.

As your dad walked away, Jungwon glanced down at you, still wrapped around his arm. “That was intense.”

“It was,” you agreed, feeling the tension ease out of your body now that your dad had left.

Jungwon had felt a bit intimidated, if he was being honest, under your dad’s watchful eye. But now that he was gone, he could relax a bit. He looked down at you again, his gaze softening as he took in your clinging form. “You’re like a koala. Always attaching yourself to me like this.”

“Because I love you,” you said, your voice a soft murmur as you looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

He smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. “And I love you too, baby.” He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

Your head lifted from Jungwon’s shoulder. “Well, now that Dad is away, want to order more dessert?”

“Alright, one more dessert. But just one, okay?” His stomach was still full from the meal, but his sweet tooth was always up for dessert.

You pouted, your lower lip jutting out adorably. “But why one?”

“Because we just ate a big meal, and too much dessert isn’t good for you. One more, that’s it.” He said this firmly but with affection in his voice. He knew he was weak when it came to you, and he had a feeling he was about to give in.

“What about two?” you added, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Two. That’s it. No more.” He said this firmly but still fondly, knowing that he was giving in to your whims.

“Three,” you then said, pushing your luck.

“Three. That’s my final offer. No more after that, got it?” He said, trying (and failing) to sound stern.

“Don’t worry, it’s only a small serving,” you said like it was a good thing.

“Right. A small dessert. Definitely not some giant cake or anything…” He said, giving you a playful look.

“No, I promise, baby,” you whined, your voice taking on a pleading tone.

Jungwon let out a sigh. “Alright, alright. You can have three desserts. But if they’re big, indulgent treats, you’ll only have to eat one and we’ll share.”

“Fine,” you agreed, preparing to call a waiter when a ping sound went off on your phone. You opened it, and it was a message from your dad.

‘Don’t eat too much sweets. I know you. You’ll get a small one only because I love you, sweet pie.’

‘And by the way, Jungwon is a keeper.’

227 notes · View notes