#whoever made the grind i hope you are gRiNdInG in hell

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

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[joelscoffeemachine]

Echoes Of Him

Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: around 6.6k

Summary: After weeks of avoiding Joel, Joel finds you drunk at the tipsy bison, finally able to get some explaining from you only to end up in your bed later that night.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, slightly non-con, soft!Joel (in the end), grinding, language, unprotected piv, slight fingering, pet names, no use of y/n, reader uses feminine pronouns, jackson era!Joel, drinking, reader wears a dress and heels, possessiveness (if you squint), slight praise kink, fluff, kinda dom!Joel, aftercare, sorry if i missed anything.

A/N: so sorry this took so long, lately i’ve been going through a hard time, but i didn’t want to leave whoever is actually reading these, hanging. you should definitely read part one before this, but if you don’t want to, i won’t force you to. hahaha. not too much on the pictures, i was struggling. i hope this doesn’t make me hate my life any more than i already do, and i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

part one part three

It had been weeks since that awkward moment with Joel.

You tried your hardest to avoid him. He had to notice, because every time he’d walk into a room, and you’d walk out, you could feel his eyes boring into your skin.

You used every technique in the book to avoid him, but when you felt someone tap your shoulder as you sat at the bar at the Tipsy Bison, you knew you fucked up.

You slowly turned your head, eyes catching the man with the patchy beard, and flannel with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbow. The detail of his beard added an unexpected depth to his appearance, making the moment feel even more intense.

He let out a soft “hey,” sitting on the stool beside you.

You clutched your glass of neat whiskey, teeth biting away at your cheek as you glanced at him.

Joel’s gaze wandered over you, his eyebrows pressed together as that look of confusion took over his features. It’s been weeks and he hadn’t been able to get a word, hell, even a passing glance from you.

Now he was face to face with you, finally after trying to get you alone for so long and you wanted to ignore his presence.

The stool creaked as he sat down, adjusting how he sat. He cleared his throat, leaning forward in his seat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was because the man you were avoiding for what seemed like months was sitting next to you, or if it was because you were extremely drunk, swallowing multiple full glasses of whiskey like there’s no tomorrow. The scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp tang of whiskey created a heady cocktail that made your head spin even more.

It was an awkward pause, you looked away, his eyes stayed on you. You weren’t planning on saying anything, but the words just blurted out.

“How’d you know I was here? Or did you come for the same reason?” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the circle of emotions churning inside you.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, made it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.

He could only give a shrug of his shoulders, tilting his head to the side.

“Tommy told me you’d be here,” he answers, his tone low.

The deep buzz of his voice reverberated through the silence, adding a layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

You quickly hum in response, furrowing your eyebrows in realization.

How the hell would Tommy know you’re here — Fucking Maria. You sighed sharply as the thought ran through your mind, taking a deep sip from your glass, the bartender coming from nowhere to fill it back up.

The whiskey burned less now, but the alcohol didn't seem to dull the sharp edge of your thoughts.

You figured that if you drank until your tongue fell out, you’d forget. You’d forget that you even went to the stables, you’d forget what your goddamn name was. The burn of the whiskey was a welcome distraction, a temporary escape from the disorder inside your mind.

But you still fucking remember.

The memories clung to you like the scent of his cologne, impossible to shake off no matter how hard you tried.

Joel could clearly see the redness of your cheeks, taking in the way you avoided looking at him, but he could assume that the alcohol played a major role in how you were acting right now. The flicker of confusion in his eyes softened into something almost tender, as if he understood the disarray, you were going through.

He watched as your gaze fell, hearing the way you let words fall from your lips, a little surprised by your question. The slight tremor in your voice didn't escape him, and he found himself leaning in slightly, almost involuntarily, drawn by the vulnerability in your tone.

You didn’t know what to say. Usually, if that night didn’t happen, you’d be yapping about Tommy and Maria’s wedding, and the way her bump was the most perfect shape or making inside jokes. But you couldn’t think of any at the moment. The words that used to flow so easily between you two now seemed stuck, lodged in your throat.

“So, what is it?” you murmur, gazing back at him.

His eyes only showed confusion, slight furrowed brows. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes mirrored your own feelings, making the silence between you feel even heavier.

“What is it that you want?”

It irked him how you were acting, how you tried to ignore him, but he decided to brush it off, for now. He had more important things on his mind. The frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he kept it in check, focusing instead on the reason he was here.

He didn’t expect you to actually look at him, being given the chance to admire how your eyes seemed to shine in the low light, how your cheeks were tinged a light shade of pink. The sight made him pause, a moment of softness breaking through his resolve.

He leaned in closer, his voice just loud enough so only you could hear. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, darlin’.” His breath brushed against your ear, the intimacy of the moment heightening the tension between you two.

“Don’t—“ You flinched your body away, almost falling out of your chair as he moved closer.

“Don’t call me darling.” You demand, shaking your head.

You could see the look in his eyes change, he moved away, breathing the embarrassment away. The shift in his demeanor was palpable, the confidence faltering for just a moment.

Joel’s facial features hardened at your sudden outburst, his shoulders tensing at the way you recoiled back from him, his eyes widening just a bit. The shock was evident, but it quickly morphed into something more resolute.

“We need to talk about what the hell that—“

You cut him off, your neck breaking as you turned to look at him.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You lift the glass up to your lips, tilting your head slightly as you continued your slurred speech.

“It was a mistake.” The words came out harsher than you intended, the alcohol loosening your tongue and sharpening your tone.

His lips pressed into a tight frown, watching as you turned and looked at him, the words leaving you. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, searching for any hint of truth in your denial.

“Bullshit.” He mutters, leaning against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “If that was a mistake, you wouldn’t be avoiding me like the damn plague.” His voice was low, but the frustration was clear, each word laced with the weight of unspoken emotions.

You smacked your lips as you tasted the strong whiskey, placing your cup down with a slight cough from your mouth. The burn of the alcohol was a stark contrast to the coldness in your voice. “Yeah, well, I don’t talk to taken men, especially if something happened between us before.” You share, shrugging your shoulders, trying to mask the hurt.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Joel's confusion was evident, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece together your words.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Miller. I heard you and Tommy. A nice girl who’s been ‘dropping her panties for you.’ You didn’t turn down the offer, so, therefore, it was a mistake, because the same night, you went off, and fucked some desperate whore.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable, each word dripping with the betrayal you felt.

Joel’s heart sank in his chest, a frown appearing on his face. He hadn’t realized how loud he and his brother had been talking, but he also didn’t think that you’d overhear the conversation. The guilt gnawed at him, knowing the misunderstanding had caused you pain.

The sound of his last name coming from you took the edge off, but the words you spoke set him off even more. His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer.

“I didn’t even touch her, I left before I even got the chance to buy her a drink.” He states, his voice now gruff, deep, his eyes narrowing at your form. The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable, each word a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

“Oh, yeah? Well, either way, I don’t give a shit.” You say, looking straight ahead at all the bottles on the shelves behind the counter, focusing on the bartender who was darting back and forth between customers. You could feel it. You were two fucking sips away from being able to ‘forget.’

Hell, it’s probably already working with the way you went off on Joel. You wanted to glance back at him, but the feeling of having his sad, puppy dog eyes on you just made something in your chest ache.

You were drunk, but that person who cared so deeply for Joel ever since that night, was still deep down in there. Somewhere. The alcohol might have been numbing the pain, but it couldn’t erase the memories or the emotions tied to them.

The way you were behaving pissed Joel off; he hated the way you spoke to him, how you acted, how you looked everywhere but at him.

It pissed him off, but at the same time, he knew the alcohol was taking control of you. The frustration boiled within him, mixing with a sense of helplessness.

He sat and watched you, his features hardening at the way you sat, your body leaning forward as the glass was in your hand, almost empty. Each sip you took felt like a blow to his patience, his concern for you battling with his anger.

He wanted to say something, anything, just to get you to look at him, but he let out a sigh instead, his voice low and strained. “You’ve had enough.”

You ignored him, taking more sips of your drink, but slowly, swishing it around in your warm mouth just to tease. He hated every damn second of it, snatching the glass from your hands, throwing it on the ground with the pieces shattering everywhere, repeating his words, “You’ve had enough,” with more aggression.

Everyone who stood in the bar snapped their heads at you two, eyebrows knitted, some had smiles, some had no care at all. You glared at Joel, jaw slightly open, the shock mingling with your defiance.

He turned his head at all the men and women staring so deeply into his soul, scooting off his chair, hand gripping onto your arm. “We’re leaving,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Joel grabbed onto your arm, wrapping his fingers around your skin with a firm grip, ignoring the way you attempted to pull away, dragging you out of the tavern.

Everyone in the crowd around them continued to stare as Joel stormed through, pushing past random people until the both of you were outside. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and simmering anger.

He continued walking, still dragging you along, tossing you around like a rag doll, his hand gripping onto your arm even tighter, causing bruises. The pain shot through your skin, but the alcohol dulled it just enough for you to keep up with his relentless pace.

You finally manage to get yourself free from his grip, shoving him away with all the strength inside you. “Joel, what the hell is wrong with you?!” you shouted, your hand massaging the bruised area. He glared at you, no remorse shining through his eyes.

No response from him, just very quick breaths, the same grumpy face. You blinked, swallowed, then turned back around. Joel’s hand caught your wrist, forcing you to turn around.

You wanted to hit him, to call him filthy names, but you held back for some reason, because you did try, so why was your body rejecting you? Why were you giving in when you’re supposed to hate him? The conflicting emotions tangled inside you, leaving you feeling more confused and vulnerable than ever.

The sound of your voice echoed in his head as the words you spoke settled in. He looked at you with a hardened glare, panting softly from the adrenaline.

He ignored the way you attempted to turn, his hand gripping onto your shoulder to keep you in place, seeing the way you tried to shake him off or back away.

He took a step closer towards you, closing the space that separated you, the heat from both your bodies radiating off of you and onto him, your faces almost touching. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, the tension between you almost tangible.

“Honey, please. Let me take you home,”

Your face softened, lips pursing as you nodded. You were too worn out, the drinks finally kicking in and making your head swim. The lights from the streetlamps blurred into a hazy glow, and the sounds of the night seemed distant and muffled. But at the same time, you felt like the drinks kicked in at the wrong moment. You felt like you should be kicking and screaming, your emotions a chaotic storm inside you. But there he was, standing so close to you like that warm night, his presence both a comfort and a torment.

He practically begged you to let him take you home. His voice was low and urgent, filled with a mix of concern and something deeper, almost primal. He begged like he wanted to know you were safe. Safe under him. You stumbled beside him, your steps unsteady, walking up the hills that seemed steeper than ever, and falling up your porch stairs, your legs barely holding you up.

The sight of you stumbling was a sight to be seen. He had never seen you in this state, so drunk that you could barely walk straight, your normally graceful movements reduced to a clumsy shuffle. Your hair was disheveled, and your clothes were slightly askew, adding to the disarray of the moment.

You leaned on the wall near the door, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of your flushed skin. Joel was searching for the key in the small purse you brought, his fingers moving frantically, too drunk to bring up the fact that you didn’t take the key with you. The realization hit you like a wave, but you were too exhausted to care, your body heavy and your mind clouded.

He silently shook his head as he searched through your purse, his brow furrowing in concentration. The realization that you hadn’t brought your key with you hit Joel the moment his fingers grazed against the bottom of the bag, finding nothing but the smooth lining.

With a low sigh, he closed the bag, looking up at you, noticing the way you leaned on the wall, your eyes fluttering as you tried to stay awake. The streetlight casting a soft glow on your face, highlighting the exhaustion etched into your features.

“Where’s the key?” he asked, his voice gentle but strained, the weight of the night pressing heavily on both of you.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, trying to make sense of it all when you watched him bend over to look underneath the mat in front of the door. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for.

He leaned up, sticking the gold key into the small hole, softly opening the door with a creak that echoed in the quiet night.

You stepped in first, the smell of home sweet home hitting you in the face. It was a blend of familiar scents—lavender, old wood, and a hint of something sweet, like vanilla. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you staggered to the stairs, catching yourself on the railing, the cool wood grounding you for a moment.

Joel helped you, his arm wrapped securely across your back as he held you up, his touch firm yet gentle. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, a difference to the chill of the night air.

The soft glow of the hallway light put shadows that danced around you, making your journey seem even more precarious.

You sat on the bed, back slightly slouched, mellowing out as the room swayed around you. The soft sheets beneath you felt like a cloud, and you let out a sigh of relief, the tension of the night slowly melting away.

The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the night settling in around you.

He kneeled in front of you, trying to look at your face as you were practically leaning forwards, eyes slightly closed, your breath coming in slow, heavy sighs.

“C’mon, pretty lady,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your muddled senses.

He slid your black heels off with care, his fingers brushing against your ankles, sending a shiver up your spine. The relief was immediate, and you could feel the tension in your feet dissipate as he set the shoes aside.

After every foot he’d take out, it’d be followed with a small foot rub, his thumbs pressing into the tender arches of your feet, coaxing the tension away.

He stood with a grunt, his knees popping slightly, heading over to your worn-out dresser. He opened the drawers one by one, the old wood creaking as he rifled through the contents, searching for some comfortable clothes for you to shimmy into.

“Bottom drawer.” You yawn, eyes focused on your fidgeting hands in your lap, the weight of exhaustion pulling at your eyelids.

He made his way back over to you, pulling you off the bed to a stand as he lifted the dress off of you, the fabric slipping over your skin with a whisper.

His eyes explored your soft body, the scars from knives, or even bullets, each one a testament to the battles you’ve faced. He admired every part of you, his gaze lingering on the intricate tapestry of your skin, the stories carved into your flesh.

He just wished this didn’t happen. He wished he would’ve seen your perfect body another day. A day when you didn’t hate him, and when you weren’t drunk. This feels wrong. The regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he helped you into the clothes, his hands trembling slightly with the weight of his own guilt.

Joel ran his thumb over the little nicks and scars that scattered over your body, the urge to kiss each one of them taking over, but he held himself back, instead, his eyes slowly exploring the rest of you. The way your skin was so soft, like silk under his touch, your curves in all the right places, how you looked so damn perfect, even in this vulnerable state.

He continued to slide the tank-top and small shorts over your body until it fit perfectly against your skin, his hands grabbing your hips, feeling the warmth radiate from you. His fingers traced the line of your waist, lingering for a moment as if trying to memorize the feel of you.

He didn’t want you to hate him, even if you were drunk. The thought of your anger cut deeper than any blade, and he wished he could turn back time, to a moment when things were simpler, when the world hadn’t yet driven a wedge between you.

You crawled under the sheets, his fingers gently pushing some hair behind your ears. He kissed your forehead, turning around to leave out the door, but your tired voice called out for him. He stopped in his tracks, his head looking over his shoulder.

“Stay.” You mumbled, slightly sitting up.

He nodded, just giving in even though he knew he shouldn’t, knowing that he should be at home, looking out the window as he sat at his single set table, waiting to see if Ellie got home safely. But he chose you.

He laid on top of the blankets, his hands resting on his stomach as his head turned to watch you. Your eyes stayed open, a small smile on your face as you two looked into each other’s eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air, a silent understanding passing between you.

The room was filled with a tender stillness, the kind that only comes from shared moments and deep connections.

He hated the way you made him so damn soft, the way he melted whenever you asked him to stay, hell, even just the sound of your voice saying his name made his heartbeat quicken.

He watched as the smile stayed on your tired lips, his own lips curving a bit as he took in the sight of you. A warm halo around you from the bedside lamp, making the moment feel almost dreamlike.

He didn’t get this, but in this moment, he didn’t care to question it. He was just grateful that he was here, with you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble where nothing else mattered.

“Kiss me.” You finally say, his eyes squinting slightly.

You moved closer, sitting up, him echoing your moves. You placed both clammy hands on his cheeks, eyes going doe.

“Kiss me.” You repeat, he obliged.

He kissed you gently, and then passionately, then aggressive. Like he’d missed this.

It was like that night, quick, rough, messy. His tongue found yours, roaming around in your mouth with free will. You moaned into the kiss, almost overwhelmed with the pace. The air around you seemed to thicken, charged with the electricity of your connection.

His hand went to your neck, pulling you closer, feeling as if he’d let go, you’d get mad again, pushing him away, telling him to leave. His other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you to him, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the soft rustle of the sheets, creating a symphony of intimacy.

A low groan rumbled within his chest, the ache within him taking over. He missed this, he missed the feeling of your lips on his, the way you tasted, how your moans filled the empty air around him, the way you grabbed him and held onto him. Every touch and sound from you seemed to ignite a fire within him that he could no longer contain.

He couldn’t deny you, he didn’t want to anymore. The walls he had built around his heart crumbled as he surrendered to the moment, letting his desires take control.

He pushed you back, roughly laying you down on the pillows, his body pressed against yours as his tongue tangled and explored your mouth. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve and contour, while his lips moved with a fervor that spoke of months of longing and pent-up desire. The intensity of his actions mirrored the desperation he felt, the need to be close to you, to be one with you.

You couldn’t help but fumble the button of his shirt, groaning out of frustration as each button slipped from your fingers. Finally getting them, you rip his shirt open, tossing it across the room. You run your fingers down his chest, down his chest hairs, and then the hair disappearing down into his jeans. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips sent shivers through your body, heightening the intensity of the moment.

His hands groping your tits, you pulling away from the kiss to let out little noises of appreciation. Your hands stretched out on his back, holding onto him like you did that night. The way his muscles flexed beneath your touch brought back memories of past passion, making the moment even more electric.

"Jesus, Joel..."

You prayed that Tommy wouldn’t randomly bust through the door, and interrupt this moment, but you start to think your intoxication is messing with your imagination. How would he even be able to get into the house - God, get it together.

The room seemed to spin slightly, but the only thing that felt real was his touch, his presence, grounding you in this whirlwind of emotions and sensations.

His eyes meeting yours, and the way you looked at him, like you were appreciating his body. The intensity in your gaze made his heart race, a mixture of desire and admiration that he hadn't felt in a long time.

A low gasp slipped past his parted lips when your hands wandered over his chest again, his muscles tensing slightly under your touch as he pressed his hips against yours. The heat between you two was noticeable, every movement and touch amplifying the connection you shared.

He pressed kisses down your jaw and down your neck. He wanted to mark you, make sure anyone who looked at your body knew what a fucking whore you were. His lips left a trail of possessive kisses, each one a silent claim, as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer, deepening the bond of this passionate moment.

Your hands aggressively moved on Joel’s jeans, pulling on them, trying to even rip them, too dumb to even realize he had a belt on. And that you had to unzip the fly.

“T-Take these off,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut at the pleasure from his hips pressing into yours, the friction driving you wild.

He slides his jeans off with ease, pushing them off to the side. You didn’t hesitate to yank your tank top off, tits bouncing as they were released. Joel groaned at the sight, placing a kiss to each one, his lips warm and soft against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You hummed, back arching off the squeaky bed. The sensation of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the pressure of his body against yours, made your mind spin. Every touch, every kiss, heightened the craziness of the moment, making you lose yourself in the passion that enveloped you both.

Joel’s tongue ran across your skin, trailing down your chest, peppering soft kisses across your stomach. He could already feel you squirming underneath him, your fingers buried in his hair, tugging on the strands as his lips went lower. The sensation of his tongue and lips left a heated trail, making your body shiver in anticipation.

His tongue glided over your hip and to your inner thigh, pulling down your shorts while he’s at it, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a mark. Each bite sent jolts of pleasure through you, the mix of pain and pleasure heightening your senses.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes looking up at you, dark with desire. “All needy and desperate for me.” His words sent a thrill through you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster.

You were already a moaning mess and he had barely even touched you. You were left in your pretty pink panties, hands gliding up and down Joel’s shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingertips.

His touch was gentle, but so rough as he slid your panties off with ease. He took a moment to just stare at you, mouthwatering at the delicious sight, his eyes darkening with desire as he drank in every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers ran through the flaps of your pussy, collecting the juices that came with it.

You noticed his desperate eyes, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up into a deep kiss. The kiss was intense, filled with longing and hunger, as if you both were trying to pour all your emotions into that single moment. His hands roamed your body, making you shiver with anticipation and need.

His tongue slipped past your lips, once again exploring your mouth, as if he’d never gotten the chance to before. The taste of the strong alcohol was still prominent on your tongue, but he didn’t pull away; it was still you, and that was all he wanted.

He pulled away from the kiss, only to nip and suck at the mark he’d left on your neck, the sound of you groaning filling the air. The sensation of his mouth on your skin sent shivers down your spine, each groan vibrating through you, heightening your arousal. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued to tease and torment your sensitive skin.

His hand went down low, his fingers playing with your sensitive clit. Your jaw dropped open, squirming around as your hand gripped tightly on Joel’s arm.

For some reason, it felt weird for you to be fucking your best friend’s husband’s brother, but at the same exact time, you didn’t give a damn. You’ve been craving that longing feeling for so long now, finally finding someone to give it to you.

Joel’s touch was both gentle and demanding, his fingers expertly working you over, making you gasp and moan with every movement. The forbidden nature of your connection only seemed to heighten the intensity, making every touch, every kiss, all the more electrifying. His groans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of desire that filled the room, leaving no room for second thoughts or regrets.

You knew he was just trying to prepare you, but you needed him so bad. You smacked his hand away, and he pulled away from your neck to look at your face. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of concern and lust.

"N-Need your cock." You whisper.

Your fingers wrapped around the band of his boxers, pulling them down, his fat erection bouncing up to his stomach. You gasped at the sight, throwing your head back as a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

He knew what you wanted. He kicked his boxers off fully, jerking himself with quiet whimpers that sent a thrill through you before entering your pussy slowly. His gaze stayed on you, looking for any sign it hurt, his fingers gently caressing your thigh as if to soothe any discomfort.

You breathed out a ‘god,’ eyes slamming shut at the stretching feeling going on down below. He stopped immediately, brows knitting with worry, but you shook your head before he could speak.

“D-Don’t stop, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Feels s-so, so, so good, baby."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I ain't goin' nowhere. I just want to make sure your doin' alright," he replies, soothing your whines.

Joel’s movements were careful yet filled with a desperate need, each inch pushing deeper as he watched your reactions closely. The sensation of him stretching you was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you gripping the sheets tightly. His quiet whimpers turned into low groans, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to move, his pace slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt every bit of him. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire, the vigor of the moment making you feel more connected than ever before.

As Joel pushed deeper, your body instinctively arched towards him, seeking more of the delicious friction. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your hip to steady you while the other trailed up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple. The dual sensations sent shivers down your spine, making you moan louder, your nails digging into his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

Every thrust seemed to reach new depths, his rhythm gradually increasing as he found the perfect angle that made you see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless gasps and his guttural groans. The intensity built with each movement, the pressure inside you coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your body trembling with anticipation.

Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with raw desire and an unspoken promise of more. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath away, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervor as his hips. The connection between you was too good to be true, every touch, every kiss, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, it was all too much.

"C'mon, baby. C'mon." He praised; hands glued to your body.

Finally, the pressure became too much, and with a cry of his name, you shattered around him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

Joel's hips stuttered, his thrust losing rhythm as he asked, "Where?"

"Inside, please. Fill me up, Joel." your response quick, breathy.

Joel followed soon after, his release spilling into you as he buried his face in your neck, his own groans of pleasure vibrating against your skin. The two of you stayed like that, tangled together, riding out the waves of your shared ecstasy, completely lost in each other. The aftershocks of pleasure left you both breathless, hearts pounding in unison as you held each other close.

Joel pulled out with an over-exaggerated groan, plopping next to you. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hand resting on his chest. You lay there, half-asleep, your mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Did you still hate him? Did you still want to forget everything that had happened between you two?

Joel, sensing the fragile silence, got up without a word and headed to the bathroom just outside your room. You could hear him rummaging around, and you idly thought that he must be having trouble finding a rag or towel. Not that you cared; you were too tired to move, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of your name being called softly. Joel had returned, a wet rag in hand. He sat at the end of the bed, gently spreading your legs to clean between your folds and inner thighs. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped away the remnants of your shared intimacy.

He held the rag under your leaking hole, rubbing your lower stomach to coax your droopy eyes open. “I know, baby. Just wait a minute. Push f’me.” You complied, feeling the mixture of his spend and yours rush out. He caught every drop, folding the rag and tossing it into the dirty hamper.

Joel then shimmied back into his boxers and gently pulled your panties over your hips. He walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping under the sheets beside you. He kissed your shoulder once, maybe twice, as you turned onto your side, your back facing him.

His chest pressed warmly against your back, his hand finding its way to your boob, grasping it for comfort. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep, the complexities of your feelings momentarily forgotten.

[holylulusworld]

Go to hell

Title: Go to hell

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Collaborator(s): Holylulusworld

Square Filled: K4: "Oh, hell no."

Ship/Main Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ex!Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: jealousy, ex! sugar babe trope, mentions of daddy kink (but no one is into it), groping, fluff, hopeful ending

Summary: He let you go.

Word Count: 1,3k+

BBB BuckyBarnesBingo 2024 masterlist

Written in Bucky’s PoV

She does it on purpose. I just know it.

Why else would she waste her beauty and grace on someone like him?

He’s old enough to be her father, and I’m sure she doesn’t have a daddy kink or daddy issues. I know her well, and she never showed any signs of being into men double her age.

She came here to my party with that man I despise the most. Not weeks ago, she was mine and screamed my name.

I said the wrong things after that night. I saw our relationship in a different light and had to make myself clear.

Now she hangs on that grandfather’s arm like a random arm candy, not the goddess she is. My girl always hated men treating her like a stupid bimbo. She is smart, and charismatic, but hides it well to play the perfect doll for this man.

I unclench my metal fist because, if I don’t, I’ll break that guy’s face. He leans closer to whisper something in her ear and Y/N giggles like a schoolgirl.

That’s not the noise she made when I whispered filthy things in her ear. She whimpered my name, and her knees buckled.

What she does with that man is all for show. She pretends to be with him to get back at me for not fulfilling her wish to make things between us official.

“If you keep in staring at her, you’ll hurt yourself,” Ayo smirks at me before turning her gaze toward the woman I was watching all night instead of enjoying the party. “I wonder how she ended up with him. I thought you and Y/N were going steady.”

“She was fun for a while,” I brush Ayo’s question off. I made my decision and won’t discuss it with people working for me. “Now the fun is over, and she can go out with whoever she wants to.”

“Says the man watching her all night,” ever the observant bodyguard she watched me all night only to find her boss staring at my ex-girlfriend…or rather sugar babe. “If that was my woman, I’d go over there and stab that old man’s face for grabbing her ass.”

“Grabbing her ass?” I jerk my head toward Y/N only to find her smiling at the guy. I exhale sharply when she pushes her ass into his crotch to grind into him.

Ayo dips her head to look at me. “It’s not too late, White Wolf.” She says before turning to take her place in the shadows to have my back like she always does. “Why don’t you go over there and show that little man whom your woman belongs to…?”

My shadow is not wrong. I could go over there and show that bastard Y/N belongs with me. But do I want to? If I step on that man’s toes, it means trouble. Even worse, Y/N will believe that I’m jealous of that old man.

“Ayo said you need my help.” I roll my eyes when Steve stands next to me. He tried to talk me into winning Y/N over the last few days. “How can I help you?” Steve smirks at me, like the cocky bastard he is. “Do you want me to bring her here? I can just throw her over my shoulder.”

“Why are you all so obsessed with her? I don’t want her back. She can fuck whoever she wants to. Even that old man’s dick,” I huff, and look away when she rubs herself against the man’s body.

“Do you want her to fuck him? Imagine she rides him, and he gets a heart attack,” Steve tries to be funny, but I can’t laugh. “She’s meant to be yours, not some old bastard’s toy.”

“She chose him,” I shrug. “And she won’t come back to me. I cannot offer what she wants from me.”

“A good dick?” Steve snickers.

“Commitment.”

“What did Beyoncé say?” God, I hate my best friend when he quotes songs. “Ah, yeah. If you like what you see put a ring on it.”

“You’re not helpful,” I sneer at Steve. “Stop quoting pop stars.”

“Punk. Beyoncé is not a pop star. She’s a goddess…” He grins before downing his drink. “If I had the chance with your girl, I’d put a ring on her finger.”

“You are a slut and love to whore around, Stevie,” I know Steve better than he knows himself. “You’ll never put a ring on a girl’s finger.”

“Maybe not her finger,” he gives me the dirtiest smirk in the history of dirty smirks. “I know better body parts to put rings on. I know that girl wearing a ring on her pussy lips.”

“I didn’t need to know that” I decide to get fresh air. If I stare at Y/N a little longer I’ll change my mind and break that old man’s face.

“Oh, hell no,” I hiss under my breath. All I wanted was to get fresh air, and now I’m staring at her backside because she had the same thought. She’s sticking her ass out, making her short dress rid up. I can see her panties, and my cock stirs in my pants. Treacherous bastard.

She turns around, and my stupid heart does somersaults when she looks me up and down. Y/N smirks, tongue poking out to wet her too-red lips. I remember she loved to leave my cock stained with her favorite color.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” She exclaims loudly. “Where is he? What did you do to him?”

“I did nothing to your gramps. Why would I? It’s not as if he touched what’s mine,” I snap at her, and she flinches. I regret my harsh words because she turns around to not look me in the eyes.

“Well, then leave me alone. He’ll be back in a minute. At least he’s not afraid to show anyone that he loves having me around.”

She ignores me then, staring into the distance as I stand behind her to admire her ass for a little longer. “Why him?”

“Why not?” There was venom in her voice, but her shoulders shook for a second. “After you tossed me out, I had to get back up and move on.”

“By selling yourself to that slimy bastard?” I don’t know why, but I grab her arms to press her against my chest. “Tell me love.” I nuzzle her neck. “Does he fuck you as good as I did?”

“He needed someone to pretend he still got it. And I needed someone to take care of me. Love didn’t work out for me so, that’s all I get for the time being,” she answers honestly as I drop my hands to her waist. “A limp dick, and a man believing I’m nothing but a doll he can dress and show off.”

She holds her breath when I kiss her neck. “How about I remind you how good it feels to be taken care of by a man not giving a shit on you.”

“Oh, Steve will finally make a move?” I chuckle at her comeback. “I didn’t know he’s into me but why not? I’m free as a bird.”

“Come to my bedroom, doll,” she sighs at the pet name, but doesn’t give in so easily. “Forget about him.”

“I told you that I can’t do this with you any longer,” her voice trembles as she struggles to not give in to my advances. “Love wasn’t in your plans. You told me so.”

“What if…” I bite my tongue for a second and take a deep breath. Maybe she doesn’t care for the old man and his dick. But soon enough someone will come along to turn her world upside down. “I’ll put a ring on that finger one day?”

“One day?” She sounds surprised but allows me to slip my hand between her quivering thighs. I find her panties soaked, and her pussy in need of my touch.

“How about we talk about our relationship in my bedroom?” I purr in her ear. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I can’t leave him all alone.”

“You can,” I nip at her earlobe, “and will, baby doll. If you do, I’ll put a ring on that finger…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[yarrowsrammarchive]

Imagination?

(afab reader x cis male ghost)

Showering at night always brought out the horny in you, and you never knew why. Was it some deep, evolutionary impulse that made you feel safer to mate at night? Was it the water? At any rate, here you are again, your mind firmly in the gutter, and your nipples hardening because of it.

That's why you thought it was your imagination at first.

It felt as if a tongue was lapping at your earlobe.

Then, it felt as if lips were kissing down your neck and across your shoulder.

Those things you could pass off as your mind, but then you gasped as two big hands cupped your tits. And it made you moan.

As your nipples were already perky, the intruder didn't have to do much to make them stand at attention. You felt fingertips rubbing them in circles, then pinching them. You reflexively arched your back and sent your hips backwards, and that's when you felt it.

There was a dick--you couldn't see it, but you could unmistakably feel it--and it was huge.

Whoever this was, he was already rock solid, so you decided, what the hell? You began to grind slowly against him, and his dick throbbed.

You like that, you dead bastard? You thought to yourself. As if responding to your thought, you both heard and felt the wind of a sigh ruffle the back of your hair. The invisible hands then moved slowly downward, down your lower stomach, to rest on your hips. He then ground his dick harder into your ass.

Awkwardly, you grabbed at one of the big, invisible hands resting on your hip, and moved it downwards. You parted the invisible fingers, moving them so that two were extended. You then slowly, slowly slid them inside you. You felt another, longer moan from him. The fingers then began to scissor, and you moaned, too.

So it went, his fingers working inside you, and your hips and his hips bumping and moving as he humped you. Suddenly, after several minutes of silence, he withdrew his hand. You only had a spare five seconds to ponder this before you felt the ghost's dick pushing into you.

You felt weight pin you into the wall, and a hand again rubbing one of your tits. You whimpered as your inner walls stretched to accommodate him and his big, thick rod. Despite being dead, he had gotten it up quite nicely, and you felt him twitch in pleasure somewhere deep within. Moving much like before, your hips went back, and his went forward. Giggling to yourself, you realized that you even heard and felt a soft slapping of balls against you.

He then changed his thrusts to be harder, and angled himself so that he kept hitting a sensitive spot over and over. It was too much to bear for the both of you.

As your pussy trembled, you felt a rush of tingling warmth let go. The ghost left a big, hot load fly deep up in you, causing you to sigh in pleasure. The soft dick then pulled out, and you felt a few fleeting kisses down the back of your neck.

The presence left, and you were left aching for more.

This was sitting in my drafts for a while, so I finally decided to finish it. There has GOT to be more ghost porn on this website.

Next, I'll either continue this, or write for a god.

Hope you liked

[spikedhe4rt]

Need more sub Dallas smut 🤭👀 possibly him getting hard at a bad time when you kissed him

Word Count: 1440

A/N: hi pookies. DID YALL MISS ME :) Im sorry i haven't updated!! happy new year? Back with a good one tho!! also follow my tiktok: spikedhe4rt bc i don't really care who sees my face fr! I LOVE YALL AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Dallas never really showed his submissive side infront of others. Only me. His reputation was important to him, what would others think if they knew he gets on his knees and begs just for the chance to fuck me. Im his girlfriend, the girl that makes everyone jealous because "shes getting fucked by Dally". Its boosts his ego so I let it happen.

Dallas, after tons of convincing got me to go out for night with him. I never been a huge fan of parties. Dally on the other hand was a party animal, dragging along two-bit for his shenanigans constantly. Two had better things to do, surprisingly, so he looped me in.

"Dally, I thought Two bailing on you would inspire you to take a break" I told him as I looked at myself in a full body mirror.

"Nah. The party animal in me never stops, doll" He says in response, I roll my eyes at his comment.

I hear his footsteps creak against the floorboards as he comes up behind me. His arms wrapped my waist, warm hands coming to touch my stomach. I reached my hand up to touch his hair as i leaned into him. "I can count on you behaving tonight-" I tugged his hair to bring him closer to my level "-hm?"

A quick flash of desperation came over his face before that signature smirk. "Yes ma'am" I flipped myself around so our chests were touching, "Good boy. You ready?" I asked with a toothy smile. He nodded, grabbing my hand to lead me to the door.

We decided to walk to the party because Tim's wasn't that far. After we got there, I picked a corner for us to stay in. I know its a party but sometimes you just need a moment. Dallas decides to venture off and catch up with his pals. I take a sip of my beer as I sit with my legs crossed, scanning the room.

I decide to find Dally in boredom, I spot him with Tim and some other guy. I walk over and tap him, he opens his arms to invite me to sit on his lap. "Hi, Dal." I say in a sultry tone.

He says nothing, pulling me closer to him and continuing to talk. At some point, Tim and whoever the hell he was left, leaving me and Dally alone.

After a little bit of talking, I go to the bathroom, needing to pee. As I washed my hands, I heard the laughter of people outside. One particular laugh stuck out to me, some girl sounding like a damn bird. I laughed to myself and walked out.

My face quickly changed when I saw the scene in front of me. The cackle came from a girl talking to Dallas. " Oh my god. Dallas, you're so funny" she exclaimed. His face read confusion "All I said was my name-"

I smiled to myself before walking up to Dally and kissing him feverishly. I got up on his lap as we continued. I heard heels click as I ran my hand down his chest. I smirked as I felt his cock get harder against me. At a party? I pulled away to look at him with a cocky expression. "All it takes is a kiss and a hand down your chest for you to get hard like desperate slut, huh?" I whispered in shell of his ear.

His body leaned into mine, before he whispered back "Please- Can we go to the bathroom" I beamed. "Im glad y'know who you belong to," I told him before jumping off his lap and leading him to the bathroom. I made sure to lock it behind us.

His lips captured mine as soon as I turned around. Dallas's tongue quickly slipped into my mouth. The kiss was hot and passionate, feeling like he never needed anything more in this moment. Fuck. The feeling of wetness flooding my underwear as I started to grind against him.

"I need you so bad..."

"Baby please"

"You're so beautiful, fuck"

Praises and pleas spilled from his lips. My lips curled into a smile and Dally's hands came down to my ass. I started to kiss his neck, my lips lightly pressed into the supple skin. "You're such a good boy for not entertaining her. You deserve a reward." My hand came to rub his hard-on over his jeans. "You want my mouth on your cock, hm?"

He nods.

"Use your words like you want it" I rebutted. 

"Yes- Shit right there" he interrupted himself as my hand slipped into underwear past his denim.

I brushed hand along his cock, sending goosebumps against his skin. My knees touched the floor as I pulled down on his jeans and briefs.

I placed kisses down his hard cock, making him let out a deep breath. "You're such a slut for my touch, aren't you?" I asked looking up at him. "Yes, ma'am" he breathed. Thats new.

I take the head of his cock in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip. I smile as I him almost fully in my mouth. My other hand came to message his balls, rolling through skin in my fingers. Another moan spilled from Dallas's lips "Please. Can I guide you?" he asked in a low voice. "Mhm" I hummed with him still in my mouth.

Dally's hand rested on my head before he started to slowly move it up and down. His tip hit the back of my throat lightly as he whimpered. Dallas's hips bucked in my mouth harshly, making me gag a little. He continued to lightly fuck my mouth as I rubbed my hand on his meaty thigh.

I pulled off him, looking up "You're such a good boy baby, You wanna cum for me?" His lip was caught between his teeth as he nodded. I gave him a knowing look, "Yes yes. Let me cum. Please" he said, vocalizing what he wants.

Mouth came back down to his tip, swirling my tongue on the tip once again. Both my hands came to stroke his cock. Dally choked on a moan. "Fuck, please don't stop. G-gonna cum" He was loud but we didn't care at the moment.

I felt the taste of his cum a minute later as his body lightly shook. "You did so good for me" I praised his as I lifted myself off the ground. I immediately captured his lips, the taste of his own cum flooding his mouth. "You think you can handle another, hm? Ill let you fuck me for your behavior." He nodded, still drunk from his orgasm.

I jumped up on the counter, the cold material resting against my thighs. Dally pulled my pants and underwear down in a swift movement. I brought my hand down to my pussy, collecting my arousal. My fingers came up to his mouth, he accepted them quickly and bobbing his head. Dallas desperately aligned his cock with my hole, bottom out inside

Dally let out a whine, "Oh...I love so much" I smiled at his words "Mhm...You love me and pussy so much, don't you? Say it, you can do it." His thrusts started off slow as I lightly clenched down on him. "I love you and your pussy so much. Shit" His hands came around my hips and head fell into my neck.

Dallas's thrust became faster and more aggressive as he groaned into my neck. He soon started placing open mouth kisses on my neck, increasing the euphoria I was feeling. His balls slapped against my ass with each thrust. "Mm. You're making me feel so good" I told as I moaned.

My walls flutter around his cock as I feel my orgasm getting closer. Dally's pants get louder, his hair getting light moist with sweat. "You're so handsome like this. Keep fucking me, just like that" I take my hand from Dally's shoulder to rub my clit, increasing my pleasure.

I topple over the edge with a loud moan, my orgasm making legs shake. Dallas's thrust stay at the current pace, with him chasing his own peak. "Baby can I cum please" he says with a groan. His face stayed in my neck as he moaned. "Look at my when you cum, sweetheart. you can do it, hmm?" I coo.

He looks up at me with low eyes.

"Good job, go ahead." I say with a smirk.

Dallas's eyes roll back in his head as he cums inside me. I kiss him as he rides his high. Good behavior deserves good rewards.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ 2

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine. Part 1

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮 Note: I got Constantine on my brain, y'all! 😆 I write about vampire hunters all the time, but never from the vampire perspective. This was new. I hope you enjoy!🧡

2. whoever drinks my blood has eternal life

In the end, he was too late.

Oh, he killed them all, wiping out the entire coven with his magical holy shotgun, and a handy spell that basically burned the remaining undead to a crisp around you.

But you were already half dead, drained and forced to drink their blood in kind.

You were well on your way to becoming one of the Damned.

John knew this, as he cradled your cold body in his arms, carrying you like a bride to the cab outside the warehouse. He knew it as he held you close in the backseat, reciting ancient prayers over your fevered brow, hoping just this once God might grant him a good miracle, and not forsake one of his children just because of an unlucky twist of fate.

Your only crime, as far as he knew, had been extending the mercy of your kindness towards him, and that should not have earned you this.

He barely thanked Chas for a job well done, carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your apartment building. Rather than return you to your bed, he brings you to his. He doesn’t know if the vampire who you must have inadvertently invited into your home died that night, and all his holy weapons are at hand in his own space.

He lays you down in his bed, wishing he’d washed his sheets more recently for you. He wishes a lot of things, in the interim hours that follow.

He can tell that his incantations are not touching the dark magic that is taking hold of you, and he knows that he should just put an end to it here and now. You are damned, and there’s no going back, and who knows what chaos you will reap with your new thirst when you wake?

He can’t bring himself to do it.

Looking down at you, huddled in a ball, trembling as your body is dying and remaking itself anew—he falls to his knees to talk to God, though his words aren’t exactly a prayer. “Our father, who art in heaven…fuck you. I hope you're happy, asshole. Another innocent who you should have protected, fucked over by your stupid games. Why? Why is it always the good ones? I hate you. Amen.”

He takes your hand in his, and only because you are practically unconscious in the fever-pitch of your transformation, does he let his eyes fill with silent tears.

One more soul he was too late to save.

One more weight upon his conscience.

He cries for you. For himself. For the impossible odds God and the Devil pit against humans, then punish them when they're just not up to the task. Flesh is weak, but They made you this way. None of it is fair.

Constantine has never actually been present at a Turning. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how you’ll act when you come out of it. He has crosses and holy water to keep you in line if he has to…or maybe you’ll rip out his throat, and he will absolutely deserve it after what he let happen to you.

He wonders how the vampires knew about you. Did they watch through the window from some impossible perch, as you made love? Maybe he would never admit it out loud, but that was what that merciful night together had felt like, with you.

This was a hell of a reminder, as to why he couldn’t ever let anyone get close.

It never ended well.

Fully clothed, shoes and all, he spoons your smaller body with his arm around your waist, and waits.

***

When at last you wake, the first thing you are aware of is a heartbeat, right next to you. Behind you. Pressed against you. You hear it like a drum, thundering in your ears. There is a grinding pain in your belly. You are so hungry.

You do not recognize your surroundings, or the bed you lay in. A heavy arm is draped over your waist. You study the large hand upon the sheets, long fingered, veiny. Maybe you know that hand.

Slowly you turn, to find John Constantine beside you. He looks up at your through hooded dark eyes. He was dozing, but no longer.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and the smells that hit you: his aftershave, sweat, deodorant, dirty sheets, scotch whisky in the kitchen. Old Chinese food. But most of all, you can smell his blood, and it is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled.

You lean towards him, mouth open, hands reaching.

You don’t know that your incisors have lengthened to deadly little points.

Casually, John holds up a little crucifix between you. You feel it like a hand pressing back against you, and instinctively you flinch.

What is going on with you?

“John?”

You feel something long brush your lip, and you reach up to touch your teeth, finding the sharp points. Your eyes go half-dollar round as you nearly cut yourself with the tip of one.

“What happened to me?”

He sighs, and there is so much weight and sorrow in that one exhalation of air.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“John?” The panic in your voice starts to rise.

“Shh. Don’t get excited. It won’t be good.”

A rampaging new vampire was the last thing he needed on his hands.

“Those things took me,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You start to remember what happened, those creeps who snatched you from your apartment, the impossible things you saw. They were monsters. Vampires. Things you only thought existed in folklore, books, bad B movies. And they’d told you a little about John Constantine too. That he was some sort of demon hunter, crazy as that fucking sounded, who clearly they wished to do harm to.

“Yeah.” 

“They took me,” you repeat with emphasis, still trying to understand.  

A longer pause, pregnant with lots of words you sense he doesn’t quite know how to say.

Again, he settles for, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I guess…they thought that you mean something to me.” 

After everything that happened, this hits you like a knife between the ribs, a long sharp blade aimed right for your heart.

“Do I not?” 

“Come on, I didn't mean it like that.” 

Yes he did, and you realize... that maybe he's just like all the others. 

At least he'd warned you. 

You just...had hoped, anyway, like the stupid little romantic you are. 

You look down, unable to meet his eyes. 

You kind of want to cry, but you're not even sure you can anymore. 

“I came for you as soon as I knew,” he says quietly, not liking this at all.

You nod, your lip quivering.

“What's going to happen to me?” 

The haunted way he looks at you rends your heart in two.

“We'll…figure it out.” 

“I'm hungry...I think.”

He nods gravely. 

“I was afraid of that.”

“What am I going to do?” 

“I'll...try to help you.”

Your eyes go to his throat again. The thought should be gross, but...you just feel hunger pangs, instead—and a confusing wave of desire.

He notices the focus of your attention, and looks uneasy about it. Your eyes have started to glow.

“Why don't we start with the wrist?” he deadpans, not enthused about your untried razor-sharp fangs in his throat.

You nod shakily, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say. 

There's a flicker in John's soulful brown eyes, and though he says nothing, you feel his guilt as though it's your own. You feel it crawling over your skin, and it scares you. 

What is happening to you? 

“Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let's get this over with.” 

You've seen the movies, and you’re not a total idiot. But the thought of actually...biting him? And drinking his blood? It freaks you out, ok, even if every cell in your body is singing out for you to swallow him down. The smell of him. You'd thought it was intoxicating before. Aftershave, spice, and cigarette smoke. The smoke was good only because it ticked some deep buried memory box in your subconscious. But now...it’s like you can sense the strength of his very soul, in the smell of his blood, and you know he will nourish you. 

These thoughts come to you unbidden, and you don't even really know what they mean. Just... that they are unequivocally true.

You take his wrist, the blue veins there seeming to dance for your new improved vampire vision, as though you can see the blood pumping within them.

This is so fucking weird.

“You’re going to be really strong now,” he cautions you. Then, the corner of his mouth ticks. “So be gentle with me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the thought that you could actually hurt him. This big, strong man who threw you around not so long ago like you were just a doll. You’d loved that, truth be told. The memory is so sweet that it almost makes you want to cry again.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You should do it now,” he says. “Because you’re just going to get hungrier, and young vampires when they’re hungry are at their most dangerous. I’d hate to have to—”

He cuts himself off before finishing that thought. Your eyes drift to his nightstand, the holy water, crucifixes, and a broom handle piece that has been sharpened into a nice neat stake. Just in case he has to shove it through your heart.

“Could you do that to me?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself, still staring at the stake.

“I don’t want to find out,” he deflects. “So come on. Pull up your big girl panties.”

You glare at him, taking his wrist again. “I think I have a right to be freaked out about this.”

“Sure, but it is what it is,” he fires back unkindly. “You’re a vampire now. You have to drink blood to survive, and you’re Damned. Welcome to the club.”

You frown at him, your eyes flashing dangerously. You notice him tense, his attention flicking over to the stake on the bedside.

“You’re afraid of me now,” you marvel. 

“A little, yeah.”

“And I should be afraid of you? They told me what you are.”

“Let’s agree to have a healthy respect of one another, alright?”

You sit quietly, contemplating him. With his wrist in your grasp you can feel the thump thump of his pulse through your entire body, like bumping bass out of a speaker. It is distracting, and as you think about what you must do a warmth rises in you, a tingling rush of power that spreads from your fingers into his arm. It makes him shudder, his pupils suddenly blown wide with desire.

This feels good. Better than the fear, although you’re ashamed to admit, that had been delicious too.

You don’t know how you’re doing any of this. It’s just happening, and you let your new instinct take you, straddling his narrow hips to find his burgeoning erection straining against his slacks. You are still wearing the sundress those creatures took you in, and nothing but the thin cotton of your panties barricades the space between you and him.

He is so handsome, and strong. His blood smells so strong, and it fills you with an aching desire, wetness flooding between your legs. Suddenly the desire to bite him while he is inside you grips you like an iron fist, some ancient knowledge of arcane pleasure pulsing through your veins. You blink, the urge receding only slightly, and you do not know it but your eyes glow like coals. It’s strange, how your body feels cold, except where your skin is touching his. Your points of contact are almost searing, in comparison.

“Y/n…”

“What?” you taunt him. “You don’t want me now that I’m a monster?”

You can still hardly believe this is really happening to you.

“I think you can feel that’s not the case.”

Again, you sense his fear, cloyingly sweet upon your tongue. You like it, and that is the thing that brings you back to yourself. Wanting anyone to be afraid of you is so opposite your true nature that it shocks you.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you apologize again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“It’s alright,” he says in that deep voice of his.

It’s not. It’s really not.

“Just…can we get this over with, please?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not going to help you now, believe me. Just…go slow, ok? Don’t bite me too hard. I need use of my hand still, if you don’t mind.”

You let out a shuddering breath. It feels weird, and you realize…you don’t need to breathe? Taking in air is a reflex, but there’s no effect of your body processing oxygen.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay. I’m going to do it.”

“Any day now.”

“Shut up.”

This is the thing that actually makes him smile, that slight curl of lips that is like a full-on grin for most people. Maybe it’s stupid—but it gives you courage.

You graze his skin with your new sharp teeth, and like a beachcomber searching for treasure with a metal detector, you just sense the sweet spot. You move as carefully as you can, pressing down into his flesh to make two neat little holes.

The spill of blood is divine, and you don’t have time to think that it’s gross. It fills your mouth and it is good, and you are so hungry, and you can’t get enough. The magic in this bloodletting rises like a tide, desire crashing over the both of you in a tingling, intoxicating rush. You feel everything, and there is no extricating the sexual pleasure from the gustatory. They are one and the same with this man, his delicious, powerful blood filling your mouth, his strapping body beneath yours, his hips bucking against you.

You feel his hand slide up your thigh, his thumb seeking the molten center of you. When he makes himself stop just short of your panty line you whine in protest, straining for his touch, but he resists your goading, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Perhaps you should be grateful, that he is strong enough to resist the pull of this magic between you, trying not to debauch you while you feed for the first time and everything is new and you have no idea what is happening. And yet, you can hardly think past how wonderful it would be to have his teeming erection buried inside you to the hilt while you drink him down.

You would tell him all this, but you can’t bring yourself to separate your mouth from the font of his delectable lifeblood. In fact, you don’t know how you’re going to stop, period.

It’s just so good.

John watches you through heavy lidded eyes, seemingly enjoying this as much as you are. Yet he has more sense of the situation as well, and when he tells you, “That’s enough, y/n,” an inhuman keening of protest escapes from deep in your throat.

“Y/n…” he warns again, his words thick with desire. “You have to stop.”

You close your eyes, telling yourself just one last mouthful.

That was two long sucking draughts ago.

Suddenly you feel a searing heat very near your face. Startled, your eyes fly open to find the crucifix there before you, and you hiss in answer, scrabbling back on the bed away from the holy item. With John Constantine’s blood on your lips you cower, shielding your eyes with a hand.

With a shuddering sigh he lowers the cross, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. He presses a tissue against his wrist, and your eyes are drawn to the crimson stains flowering on the wad of paper beneath his fingers.

What a waste, you think, before shaking the thought away.

Then the horror of what could have happened dawns on you.

You could have drank him dry, and in the heat of the moment you would have done it gladly.

Oh God. What have you become?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “Are you ok?”

He actually has the gall to smirk at you, as though any of this could be funny. “Yeah. Not the first time I’ve lost a little blood.”

There’s some inside joke in that statement you don’t understand, though you sense the darkness of self-deprecation in it.

Somehow, you feel simultaneously sated, and horrible. With a whimper you curl up at the foot of his bed, closing your eyes against the world. You can feel everything. You sense the people in the building, the fragile sound of their juicy little hearts beating. Even outside, the life on the street, men and women going about their lives with no idea what lurks in the shadows, wanting to eat them up…

But most distracting of all, the sheets beneath you smell like John, and the lust in your blood has yet to abate, even if the feeding is over. You feel it marching across your skin like red-hot ants. The desire to crawl up the bed and press your bloody lips to his is real, and you fight it with everything you have, because you don’t imagine he’d appreciate that very much after what he’s done for you. The sour expression on his face did not match the size of the tent in his pants, that is for sure.  

You wonder, is it going to be like this every time you eat from now on? The thought does not thrill you.

“Hey,” he goads softly, and your eyes fly open to regard him. Again, your irises shine like lanterns, fueled by the roil of emotions warring in your heart. “Come here.” He holds out one of those beautiful hands to you. Hands that you had so relished upon your body, on your flesh, in your hair…hands with such thick, beautiful blue veins…

You’re not sure how he knows that you want to be held, but now you fear it too. You fear what you are, and your ability to control yourself around him. Because the truth is you still want him very much, and he’d basically told you point blank that you mean nothing to him. The thought weighs on your heart now like a thousand stinging needles, and you feel your eyes fill with moisture of some kind.

So, vampires can cry after all.

You touch a finger to the corner of your eye, and see it comes away tinted red.

You kind of want to throw up.

“Maybe…I should go,” you say sadly, sitting up. You’re certain you look as disheveled as you feel. Your hair is a bird’s nest. Your once pretty floral sundress is dirty and torn. No wonder he doesn’t want you.

“If…you want.” Why does he sound sad about it? Shouldn’t he be glad to see the backside of you? Constantine the Demon Hunter? If you’d been nothing but a one-night fuck as a human, he certainly didn’t want to spend time with you now.

 “You know you’re going to need a dark place to rest for the day?”

Is he actually worried about where you’re going to sleep?

“Okay.” You think you can manage that, in your apartment next door. Or maybe…you’ll see what happens, if you watch the sun rise. Maybe it would just be better that way. Are vampire suicides double damned? You’ve never really been a religious person, but he’d said it like it was A Thing.

It reminds you of what John had said earlier. “What did you mean before? When you said join the club?”

He sighs, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the night stand. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Feeling like you’ve now been dismissed, you slide from the bed, standing on bare feet. You should be sore, but your movements are lithe, liquid as a cat’s.

Something else to get used to.

You can feel Constantine’s eyes glued to you, and you dare to take one last look back, waiting to turn to a pillar of salt. He’s so handsome it hurts, even in his rumpled state, his cuffs rolled up his forearms and his tie loose around his neck. How do his soulful dark eyes seem to hold all the sorrow of the world right now?

“Bye, John.”

He just nods, and you let yourself out.

***

Much to your surprise, ten minutes before dawn, you hear a knock on your door. You know it's John. You can tell by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beat. You can smell him, and it is a heady thing in your nostrils. When you do not answer he just lets himself in, the cheeky bastard. 

He finds you sitting in one of your thrift store chairs by the window, one of the only ones not broken in the mess the vampires who took you left behind. He does not like this, you can tell, by his hairline frown. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“Hate to tell you, but you're going to have to find a new way to get your vitamin D.”

“Ha ha,” you say, turning back to the window. A few people are out and about below. This city never really sleeps. 

“Hey,” he says again, crouching down by your chair. “I know this is a lot...”

The look you pay him is not exactly kind. He plows forward anyway.

“But take it from someone who's been there. Hell isn't a place you should be in a hurry to go.” 

You blink at that. He says it like it's so black and white, not a hint of uncertainty. Not faith. Fact. Once upon a time, you might have questioned his sanity. Not anymore. 

“Sounds like you've been.” 

“For about two minutes. It was enough.” 

“What was it like?” you whisper. 

“Pure agony.” 

Your eyes go wide at hearing that. 

“So...want to show me your bolt hole?” he asks.

Once upon a time you would have capitalized on the opportunity for inuendo with such comedic gold just handed to you for free, but you’re not in the mood. You just stare at him.

“John...You're a demon hunter. Why do you care?”

He tries to meet your eyes, but in the end can only look away. “Come on, y/n. Just…don’t give up yet, ok?”

He just feels guilty, you tell yourself, and you pry yourself from your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure what the point of anything will be, anymore. But maybe you’ll make an effort to go on, because he asked you to.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

“Fine.”

You figure the closet will be the darkest place in the apartment for you to hide.

[billluver0124]

"once more to see you.."

Narrators POV:

Imagine being who you are and being open about it. Having pride in who you've become when you entered this world and not living in fear. Sounds great right? I wonder what it's like too.

I hope you are brave enough to be who you are and love whoever the hell you want. Since I couldn't, being afraid made me lose the only person that could fill the empty void I had for so long. That void becomes bigger and bigger everyday. I'm losing hope for love.

It all started back in 2007...

"fuck.." he moaned out, the feeling of y/n grinding his neediness on Bill's lap was driving him nuts. He pulls y/n in, entrapping them in a wet passionate kiss. But this little make out was cut short with the sound of Bill's mother coming home.

"s-shit!" he muttered, pushing y/n to leave Bill's room through the windows, So his mom wouldn't see y/n. So no one would see him. So no one would see two boys making out; two boys in love.

This whole thing had been happening for months now, y/n and bill would meet up somewhere private and be themselves with each other, hold each other, kiss each other. But it all had to stay private because the world can't handle something like that. Two people of the same gender, being in love.

Especially not for Bill, he had a reputation to uphold. Being a musician has its pros, but with every pro comes double the cons. One wrong move and his entire career is over, it's like one long excruciating game of poker. But instead of gambling money, you're gambling your entire life. He's gotta play the cards right to stay in the game, if not, he could lose everything. But he's not gay...y/n and him are just friends...right?

The next day they met up again,what's so special about that? they do it every day, kiss, hug, make out? but this time was different, y/n just had to say what was on his mind today...the last time Bill would ever speak to y/n ever again.

"what is this?" he blurted out, holding it in was eating him alive. "what're you talking about?" asked Bill, his confused eyebrow making an appearance. "this..us..why are we still hiding?" y/n spoke, his eyes pleading for Bill to answer. "we're not hiding from anything..we're friends, just hanging out y'know?" y/n's stomach dropped to his ass. Just friends..? "friends don't do the things we do Bill.." "well we aren't together..I'm not gay y/n you know that." Hearing Bill say those words triggered tears in y/n's eyes. "so I don't mean anything to you..? at all?" Bill started to get annoyed now "what the hell are you even talking about?" "Bill, you told me you loved me..we've kissed, made out, we've cuddled..I even trusted you so much I let you touch my body bare..naked. That means nothing to you?"

"It's just something me and you do..it's a casual thing we do." Broken glass, the sound similar to y/n's own heart breaking by Bill's words. the sound of broken glass.

"why are you so afraid?" "what?" Bill was caught off guard by y/n's question. "why are you so afraid of this..of us?" he asked, "we could run away to a place where we don't have to hide anymore Bill..go on walks in the cities together..not having to hide anymore. I'm tired of hiding Bill." Bill started to become really annoyed, "dude I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but I'm not gay, we aren't together and the things we do are just casual things..we aren't in love y/n." he said those words so carelessly, like it doesn't have an impact on y/n's feelings. y/n stood there trying so hard to keep the tears back. "my career and reputation is more important than this..than you."

then he just couldn't hold it back anymore. the tears just started falling. "if that hurts your feelings, then go." y/n didn't say anything back, he just turned around and went back home.

Bill didn't mean anything he said, but he just can't admit who he really is. He's afraid..

It had now been one week since the fight. Y/n hadn't showed up to school..matter of fact he hasn't shown up anywhere. Bill was becoming worried. After all, he still cared about y/n. After school, Bill walked to y/n's house. Hoping to see him again and fix everything, resolve everything. But that hope was cut short almost immediately. "y/n passed away a few nights ago.." Y/n's mother said. "w-what..?" Bill felt his whole world collapse, this cant be true. "yeah, he committed suicide..I'm sorry." "n-no its okay! I'm so sorry you lost your son. I wish you well" That was the last thing Bill said to y/n's mother. He ended up not sleeping that night. He now has to live his life without y/n, without the love of his life; the person he was so afraid of loving.

It has now been seventeen years since y/n passed, everyone has moved on. maybe even forgot about him, but not Bill. He gives with a sense of pure guilt for the rest of his life. "hey y/n, it's me Bill!..the band has been super successful and we've gone on so many tours sometimes I wish I had a break..y'know, a break with you." Bill laid a bouquet of flowers on the grave, hoping y/n would accept the flowers in the afterlife.

Bills POV:

"I'm so sorry..." I sobbed as the tears flew from my eyes, If only I wasn't such a fucking coward. he would still be here, we could've had a life together; a really good life together, but I didn't want it. Because I was afraid of what everyone else would think of me. If only I was proud of who I was, just like y/n was. If only I told him my true feelings that night and not what I needed to tell myself in order to feel "normal". Then he would still be here..

I would see him one more time.

AUTHORS NOTE: hey guys! I've been on a break but I've decided to come back! I might not post as often as I used to because I've been working on small little film projects here and there, but I will be posting again! I know this one is not good Im a little rusty. But I hope y'all enjoy!

[bookmaker-untaken]

i have options -

play me like a violin - stephen

nonsense - sabrina carpenter

talk - hozier

whoever calls to u strongest

used all three songs cause i couldn’t help myself

Bodyguard! Nanami Kento x CEO! Reader

Summary: But hey, it's not Nanami Kento's fault he's got so much cake. 

Warnings: Attempted Thirstiness, Likely OOC, Cringe, Drinking, Cursing

Word Count: 1,277

i. Think I only want one number in my phone I might change your contact to "don't leave me alone”

These old cronies disgust you. 

It takes everything in you not to throw up at every word they say, and you still gag a little in the back of your throat.

Every policy these higher ups throw your way is so blatantly self-serving, so clearly made to line their pockets, it's almost comical. 

But it's not funny, it's business. 

You curse your Mom for deciding it would be a good idea to retire early and travel the world while you get to stay here and pick up the damn mess. 

Ugh, this meeting should have been an email.

You’re so bored. 

And when you are bored, your eyes wander to the same spot - your bodyguard, standing with his hands behind his back and his arms on full display looking all scrum-diddly-umptious.

You wish you could grab his ass, but you, unlike the dusty old men your acquainted with, you have some decorum.

Even if it is hanging by a thread.

But hey, it's not Nanami Kento's fault he's got so much cake. 

ii. I don't want no one else (don't want) Baby, I'm in too deep (too deep)

Despite your innate capacity for evil and how down bad you are, you do not make a move on Nanami Kento. 

You do, however, yap his fucking ear off. 

Your therapist says she thinks you where neglected as a child. 

You say you pay him well so you can do whatever the hell you want. 

He carries your shopping bags for you and listens as you discuss fashion and complain about campaign lobbyists in the same sentence. "And then ... Kento?" 

He's quiet for too long, alert. "We're being followed." 

"Ugh, it's probably just the paparazzi," You say with a flick of the wrist and a roll of the eyes.  

"Probably," He says. "But the precautions remain the same. Stay close."

He guides you by the small of your back and inside you are literally internally punching the air.  

"You could have said please,"

He glances down at you. Well, you can't see it because of his glasses, but you know the weight of his gaze. "Please."

Your going to melt on the spot, on god. If he's any more sexy you might just kiss him in the middle of the street. 

"It seems they got the message."

"Damn, I was really hoping to see you fight." You say, mostly just to cause problems. You pay this man, but you don't know really what he's capable of. You’ve never had to see.

"That's unfortunate," He says, pushing up his glasses. "Because I do not wish to fight." 

"That's, like, your job!"

"No," He says. "My job is to protect you."

You blush a little. "Stop flirting with me." 

"Believe me, you would know if I were flirting with you." 

iii . This fire in my head's got me on edge I'm going out tonight

You need this man, biblically.

It's embarrassing.

You're suppose to be an independent woman. And falling for your bodyguard?

That's cliche as hell.

You’re disappointed in yourself.

So what do you do? You work out, you work hard, you focus on therapy.

And when that doesn't work - you party, you spend, you drink. 

The air is moist with the sweat of grinding bodies and the smell of much cologne illuminated in electric blue for a second, then cast in halogenic pink. You can feel the beat in your chest.

"Just you and I," The guy is singing over the remixed trap beat. "Far from the places we can't get away from- "

"Kento!" You call over the pulsing music. "I wanna go home!"

"Alright." Is all he says. 

You put your hands out. "Carry me!" You trying him on purpose now. Will he do it?

He turns around, lowering his broad back toward you. 

Your happy it's a piggyback ride, because he can't see the blush forming on your cheeks.

"That was too loud," You complain. 

 Nanami is silent. 

You move your cheek away from his warmth. "Aren't you going to ask why I went?"

"You don't pay me to be nosy." He says.

"What if I wanted to tell you?"

"Then you would," He says. "And I would listen."

"Because you were payed to, right?" 

"It does come with the job description, yes." 

"That's all I am to you, huh, a job description?" You sigh hard. You should have expected as much.

Nanami, notably, doesn't respond - but your a little too far gone and a little too in your own feelings to process that.

iv. I'd be the last shred of truth In the lost myth of true love (hey ya)

One time, you saw a girl flirting with Nanami. 

You where jealous for all of two seconds. You weren't some unreasonable fanfic CEO, he could talk to people damn it!

But the feeling that quickly washed over you was just as icky. 

She was pretty, naturally so. She pushed her hair behind her ear with a bashful smile. 

You wondered if she was the kind of girl Nanami liked. 

If he was gonna hold her hand and they where going to walk off into the sunset and have normal looking poor people babies.

And you would get some older, gruffer looking bodyguard who liked to hit it from the back and never loved you. 

Nanami seemed like the kind of guy who would hit it from the front. … Not that you'd thought too deeply about that. 

You'd die.

Your therapist told you it was okay to want things.

You thought that hag should mind her own business. 

… Even if you payed her and she was one of the only other people, other than Nanami, that always told you the truth.

Anyway, after his lunch break - promptly at 12 o'clock, Nanami arrived to work with a small box.

He slid it toward you.

You raised an eyebrow. 

"You seemed ... upset after that last meeting," was all he said. He cleared his throat.

You wanted to make him wify. Posthaste.

But you knew you’d probably never get the chance.

v. I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

You are not one of god's strongest soldiers. 

You know this because of the barking you hear in the back of your head when you see Nanami's hands on full display. 

(How Victorian maiden of you.)

You watch as he unbuckles your heels, slides them off. 

"Fuck me," You breath. 

His hands and taking care of you? It's too much. 

Your therapist says that we often crave things we don't normally have. 

Nanami doesn't respond. 

This frustrates you.

"Hey!" You bark, reaching to throw a pillow at him. "Didn't you hear me?" 

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" 

You don't give him a second. 

"Is it because I'm a bitch?"

"Why would you believe anything that comes out out the mouth of those degenerates," He says, with a bit more force than usual.

You feel it react in you like the Advil disintegrating in commercials. 

"Then why not ... " You say, more quietly, hugging the pillow to your chest. 

He sighs. "Now is not a good time." 

You click your tongue at him. "When is it? I've been trying to jump your bones for years!" 

"You're drunk."

"So you'll fuck me when I'm not? Like ... in the morning?" 

"We'll see."

"Kento?"

"Hmm."

"Will ... " Your cheeks dust with color. "Will you kiss me too?" 

"If your good for me now and go to bed, yes."

You puff out your chest, accepting the challenge. "Goodnight, Kento!"

The corner of his lips jump at this. “Goodnight, princess."

[amaretigris]

Can I request a Jonah fic please?

Hi! Of course lovely. Thank you for this request 🤗💖 I just wrote what I came up with since there were no specifications. I hope you like it! 🫶❤️

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A New Adventure

2.3k words | Angst & fluff | Language warning

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Jonah had always been around. He was your brother's best friend. You'd seen him in settings ranging from family events to nights out at the bar. In every situation though, he'd always just been Jonah. You weren't nervous around Jonah; he was familiar. He'd been friends with your brother for half your life.

Sure, your friends would always gossip to you about how hot he was. You never had much input. You simply didn't see him that way. All of your friends had casually asked you to give Jonah their numbers at least once. You explained to them, over and over, that your relationship with Jonah wasn't like that. He was Sebastian's friend, not yours. You couldn't just walk up to him and start a normal conversation.

Jonah never made you uncomfortable; no, that wasn't it. It was the fact that he almost completely ignored your existence. Aside from passing each other in your house when you lived with your brother and parents, Jonah had literally never paid attention to you. You thought maybe he'd been around you so long that you'd become invisible to him. Or worse, that he thought of you as a little sister. An annoying little sister, perhaps.

So, you never bothered him. You never talked to him. You rarely even looked his direction or smiled at him. You just went about your daily life, knowing that nine times out of ten, Jonah would be there.

One Saturday night, you planned a night out at the bar with your friends. Not surprisingly, Sebastian, Jonah, and their mates arrived at the same bar shortly after you and your friends. Your groups stayed on opposite sides of the bar, per usual when you ran into each other. It had happened several times before.

"O.m.g. How does Jonah get hotter every time I see him?"

Your friend Veronica pretended to swoon.

You rolled your eyes. While all your friends were huddled in the corner, giggling and stealing glances at the guys across the room, you were taking shots. You were so bored of this topic. You just wanted to get drunk and dance. After throwing three shots back, you dramatically stood from your chair.

"I'm going to fucking dance," you mumbled.

The DJ at the bar was just starting to play your favorite dance music. Walking out onto the small dance floor by yourself, you began shaking your hips and moving to the beat, and others soon followed. Before you knew it, the small dance floor was packed. It was getting warm. It could be from all the bodies, or from those shots. Either way, you were finally starting to enjoy your night.

After about six songs, you felt a body come up behind you. The person tenderly grabbed your hips, bringing them back to theirs. Normally, you would turn and scold whoever dared touch you without your consent. But at the present moment, with the alcohol flowing through your system, you found that you didn't mind it. Their hips moved in time with yours, and it was nice to have someone to dance with. Feeling all your inhibition fly out the window, it wasn't long before you were grinding your hips into theirs. What did it matter anyway? You were just dancing.

You and your dance partner went through three or four songs this way, and you had even leaned your back to their chest, letting your fingers reach up to their soft hair. You still hadn't seen their face. The idea of turning to them had just crossed your mind when, all of a sudden, you felt an arm grip yours harshly. It yanked you away from the body behind you. Immediately snapping out of your buzz, you looked up to see who the hell grabbed you.

"What the fuck?"

You spat. Your lips clamped shut as soon as your eyes found the person responsible. It was your ex. Your very jealous, very angry ex. The two of you had a very nasty break up three months ago. It didn't upset you much; the two of you had only been together for a couple months anyway. He, however, took it very badly. You'd had to block his number and block him on all social media. He was saying crazy things about you being the love of his life. You felt nowhere near that intense love for him, so you thought it was best to just detach.

And now here he was, staring back angrily at you. Before you could say anything else, he yanked your arm again, pulling you outside. Your mind started to swirl from the adrenaline and the alcohol. Once you were out the back entrance, your ex pushed you up against a wall. Your back slightly ached from how roughly he handled you.

"What the hell, Flynn? What are you doing here?"

You croaked out. You crinkled your brow, and held a hand to your head. Everything was spinning.

"What the fuck were you doing dancing with him like that, huh (Y/n)? All those times you told me not to be jealous. I always knew there was something going on between the two of you," he replied angrily.

You blinked your eyes open and fixed them on Flynn.

"What are you talking about?!"

You were sobering up quickly, and growing impatient. Flynn shouldn't be here, and he had no right to put his hands on you and drag you outside. Had no one seen him drag you out? What about the guy you were dancing with?

Flynn scoffed.

"Don't play dumb. I saw you grinding on him. I fucking knew you were sleeping with him," he sneered.

You attempted to shove Flynn away from you, but he caught your arms. You struggled against him.

"Hey!"

You heard a voice in the distance, but didn't have time to look up. Suddenly, Flynn was being pulled away from you.

"The fuck are you doing, mate? You don't put your fucking hands on her like that," you heard the voice echo on the patio as you put your hands on your knees, simultaneously trying to breathe and not vomit.

A scuffle must have erupted while your head was down, because you definitely heard someone get hit. The sound of the gate followed, cuing that someone ran out of it. Before you could look up, gentle hands were at your elbows, lifting you up.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

Whose voice was that? You'd heard it before. As the hands eased you up to stand, you connected eyes with Jonah. Your mouth almost fell open.

"Yes," you stuttered, licking your lips.

You didn't miss the way Jonah's eyes followed the action.

"Yes, I'm okay. Just a little stunned is all," you blurted.

Why were you nervous? You instantly noticed that Jonah's hands hadn't left your arms.

"Why are you out here?"

You were curious why he had come, of all people.

Jonah's face took on a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean, (Y/N)?"

You straightened your back at hearing your name tumble out of his lips again.

"I mean why are you here? None of my friends saw him grab me?"

Jonah shook his head.

"No. The crowd on the dance floor was packed pretty tightly. I was following the two of you out when he grabbed you, but I got stopped by some women," Jonah winced.

Ignoring the picture that popped in your head, you were still confused.

"How did you see him grab me and my friends didn't then?"

At your question, Jonah's mouth formed an o, and he dropped his hands from your arms. He scrubbed one across the back of his neck nervously.

"Oh, uh, I guess you might not have realized. I was the one dancing with you," Jonah admitted with a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

You swore time stood still.

"What?"

The question was more for yourself or the universe than it was for Jonah. Jonah chuckled, grimacing.

"Yeah, I apologize for coming up behind you like that. I'd been drinking, and I love watching you dance. I couldn't help myself tonight. I wanted to dance with you," he shrugged.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. What did this mean? You were grinding on Jonah that entire time. Had your friends or Sebastian witnessed it? Also, what the hell: he loves watching you dance? So many questions flooded your mind. You blinked at Jonah, and then moved to walk past him, back into the bar.

"Wait, (Y/N)!"

Jonah instinctively grabbed your arm, but let go when you stopped and looked down at his hand.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been the nicest to you over the years-" Jonah started.

"You're right, you haven't," you snapped.

"I was pretty convinced that you hated me, and now you suddenly have the urge to dance with me? What the hell, Jonah?"

You threw your hands up in frustration.

"I know what it looks like, and I'm sorry. I truly am. I have never hated you," Jonah tried to placate.

You were having none of it.

"That's not how it looks, Jonah. That's how it is," you corrected.

Jonah huffed a breath.

"Please, (Y/N), let me explain. If you don't believe it, then you can leave, and we can go back to never speaking again," he suggested.

You let out a tired sigh, shaking your head.

"You have, like, a minute tops," you acquiesced, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jonah looked relieved, clearing his throat.

"Right. When Sebastian and I were graduating high school, I noticed you at the ceremony. You had always been there, always as Sebastian's little sister, but I began to see you in a different light. I saw how you blossomed into a kind, intelligent young woman over the years. I began to notice that your laugh can always bring life to any room. I began to see things you were doing to better the world around you. I started to see who you truly are," Jonah smiled down at you, dimples on full display.

Damn those adorable dimples.

"I realized that I actually liked being around you. So, naturally, I distanced myself. I always kept you at arm's length, and pretended not to notice you. I thought that falling for my best friend's sister would be too ironic," Jonah sucked in a nervous breath.

"The fact of the matter is that I'm drawn to you, (Y/N). I can't deny it anymore. My eyes follow you anytime we're in a room together. I feel a pang in my chest when I realize that your eyes don't search for mine. I don't know what to do with these feelings, so I've pushed them down. But tonight, when I saw you dancing, I felt pulled to you. Like I said, I couldn't help myself," Jonah shrugged, letting you digest his words.

You pursed your lips, deep in thought. Jonah's bright blue eyes looked sincere. Over the years, you'd heard people call Jonah many things, but a liar was never one of them.

You strummed your fingers on your arm, grunting.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?"

You eyed Jonah suspiciously. As much as you wanted to believe him, you just weren't sure you bought the whole story.

Jonah's mouth fell open at your question.

"What? (Y/N), I would never do that to you. Firstly, Sebastian would kill me. Secondly, this has been years in the making. I'm sure that if my feelings were insincere, they would have passed by now. Haven't you wondered why I never date?"

Your eyes bulged at the realization. Jonah never dated because of you? That was insane. Women literally threw themselves at him all the time.

"I know what you're thinking," Jonah put up his hands in surrender, slowly taking a step towards you.

"And yes, I never date because of you. I had resigned myself to years of only seeing you at Sebastian's place or at your family gatherings. I thought that it would be enough, but it's not. I want to be with you, (Y/N). I want you to know me like I know you," Jonah cautiously lifted his hand to cup your cheek.

You fiercely studied his eyes. When you still only found sincerity in them, you decided to cave, leaning into Jonah's touch. His lips parted with a small gasp when you leaned your cheek into his hand, and closed your eyes.

"Don't fuck this up, Jonah," you begged.

Jonah chuckled, bringing up his second hand to cup your other cheek.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he whispered, leaning into you.

You felt his warmth growing closer, but you kept your eyes closed, feeling Jonah's lips brush against yours. You reciprocated, and Jonah molded his mouth to yours. You were getting lost in the kiss when the two of you were startled by the door slamming open.

"Oi, there you are," Sebastian yelled.

Wincing, you waited to get an earful from your brother. The reaction you got instead surprised you.

"Ugh, you two are finally hooking up? Took ya long enough," he slurred.

You fixed him with a shocked look.

"What do you mean?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe, holding his beer in one hand.

"Psshh. Jonah's been making googly eyes at you for years. I know how to read my best friend. 'm not an idiot," he said like it was obvious.

"Come on back inside, everyone's dancing now," Sebastian motioned behind him before he turned to go back into the bar.

You looked at Jonah with a cheeky smile. His dimples made their appearance again before Jonah grabbed your hand in his.

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's go start a new adventure."

[raahosh]

Joel Miller x reader.

summary: I really don't know what this is, I just started writing, but it's something with Joel and you making out in a club.

warnings: idek what to put here. kissing, stroking (?), grinding, Joel rubbing you, flashbacks about masturbation, age gap (reader is 25).

His mouth pressed on yours felt like heaven. Tongues melting so well together that Joel's mind fogged in so little time. His hands traveled your entire body and then stopped around your waist, gripping you tight and pulling you even closer until your bodies were so pressed together that you could feel his hard-on without even trying.

Gaspings, hard breaths, and a clouded mind. Joel never thought he could feel young again, but now you were making out in a crowded club, not even caring about the people around you. He was fucked, so doomed because of you. You were his biggest sin and a mistake he could never regret. Not when you felt so warm in his hands. Not when his fingers traveled down your dress, touched your panties, and felt how soaked you were for him.

"Fuck. Damn it-" He separated your lips for a short time and then went harder on your mouth, licking every part of your interior, eating you whole. Your body, your soul, your mind, your breath, everything belonged to him. Joel Miller.

It wasn't supposed to happen, not when you had half his age. God damn it, he never felt so guilty to be so hard for someone.

You're one of the bartenders who works in this club. One day he came in to talk to someone about a package then he saw you, he fucking saw you. A 25 year-old woman working her ass off to sustain herself and all he could think was how much he wanted to touch you, to taste you, to have you close.

"Want something to drink, gentlemans?" Her voice was light like feather, and when she got closer he could tell that she smelled so good it got stuck in his nose.

"Nothing for me, but I think my friend here would want a beer, right, Joel?" The guy, who wasn't even his friend, said and Joel was so entranced that he didn't even say anything about it, just nodded and hoped you would go away.

On that same day, you talked, and he noticed how smart you are, how he could hold a conversation with you without even noticing the hours passing. That same night, he felt too guilty to touch himself thinking about you, but he did, and it felt so good he wanted to kill himself for even thinking of you this way.

When his cock was in his hand you were in his mind all the time. He started by pounding it lightly, testing the waters, but when he remembered the feel of your skin so close to his, your breath hitching when he looked at you so intensely the air around you thickened. That was when he pumped faster and harder.

You moaned against his mouth, starting to grind your hips to feel his hardness, to have it rubbing on you so you could at least have a taste of him, even if he wouldn't be yours for long. It wasn't your work day, but you still couldn't be here for so long.

"I want you so bad." It left your lips without considering his state, without thinking for a moment, that now that he knew you wanted him just as much, how could he deny it any longer?

His hands traveled to grip your ass, then he slapped it lightly. "Don't say things like that to a man like me. Now better, you won't say it to anybody else." He put his lips on your neck, and now his fingers teased your clit through your panties. It was dangerous, but he wasn't thinking at this moment. He forgot what place you were at, he just wanted to feel your wetness getting even slicker on his fingers.

And then someone called you, loud and noisy but were enough to get Joel out of his trance. You both panted, separating from one another like you just remembered that it was a public place and you shouldn't be doing it. Even feeling relieved, Joel still wanted to punch whoever called you and made you walk away from him apologizing, and saying it wouldn't happen again.

Like hell it wouldn't.

[madricat]

I wish I would have seen you in the bakery…

summary: Carlos has had a crush on y/n for a while and hopes to see them throughout his days, but will he?

authors note: reuploading since last one got deleted. dont worry nothing bad has happened to y/n btw

Carlos pov:

Ay, I cant believe mama dragged me into going to the bakery with her this time. Something about “going out” and “see people”, whatever that means. Honestly, why would I? There is no one here that I care about except for y/n.

“You know Carlos, you really need to get out into town more. Without causing mischief” she added.

“I’m perfectly fine without doing so”

“Ay Carlos”

With that we enter the bakery. The smell of fresh pan entered my nose. I smell pretty good actually, I may just come next time. As long as I get to smell this heaven while ma’ deals with the people part of coming here. 

*ding*

I hear the front bell ring but could honestly care less. Wait, are they cutting the line? Of hell no. who in the world would have the nerve- y/n?

“Hello Mx. l/n! Here is your order”

“Thank you” they said. Something's off. Wait…they didn’t smile for once. That’s weird, they usually always smile at others. Anddd they’re gone. 

“Carlos!” she snapped in my face. “Come on, it’s time to go!”

Did I really zone out? Damn it.

We started walking back to Casita, which was our last stop. Why can't I stop thinking of them? I wish you would've smiled in the bakery. Or sat on a tatty settee at least. All they did was just pick up their order and leave!

It’s been a week since then and now I'm At some mutual friend's gathering.  Technically it is one of mine and Milo's childhood friend, but i’m not as good a friend with him as Camilo. Almost everyone around our age is here. Can’t believe I got dragged here. The only reason I agreed to come is to see them. 

Camilo is busy talking to others, maybe now is my chance to slip away to look. Maybe they are-nope. Where could they possibly be? I thought he told me they would be here. And the more I keep on looking, the more it's hard to take the thought that maybe they didn’t show up. Maybe Love, we're in stalemate. Perhaps To never meet is surely where we're bound to be forever. I mean, There's one in every town. They are Just there to grind you down. Make you feel like love is hopeless and everything. Why us tho?

“Carlos!!! Ven aquí!!” papi yells out to me from downstairs. 

Now I have to get out of my room, stop what I was doing and see what he wants.

“que pasa?”

“You're coming to the post office with me. Now come on” 

“Did mama tell you to do this?”

“Haha, no. I thought we could go out together, that’s all”

“Okay then…”

We started walking there. He started talking a lot. Telling me a bunch of things. Wait. he never told me why we are going?

“Why do we need to go in the first place?” I interrupted him.

“ oh! Your abuela had some letters she needed to be posted out to someone. She was busy today, and you know how she is. She isn’t exactly young. To far for her”

“I see”

“Speaking of the post office, we made it. I have to go and wait in line to hand this in. You can either stay with me, or go look around”

“I think i’ll just go look around”

I start walking away, maybe I can go look at those postcards over there. I’ve heard they are really beautiful.  

I started looking at the cards. They weren’t that bad I thought to myself, whoever did them clearly had a talent. That’s when I heard the front door bell ring, but I paid no attention to it though.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the Madrigal himself” I heard an all to stupid voice from behind me.

“ No sabía que dejaban entrar animales aquí” I quickly rebutted

“¿Tú eres el que habla?” 

“ Listen here you little-” all the sudden I was cut off with my name being called.

I saw mi papa start walking over to me and quickly grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of there. He didn’t say anything to me, because technically I hadn’t done anything wrong yet. Instead, we just kept walking to our next stops. But man I wish I would've seen you in the post office. Well maybe I did and I missed it. Afterall, too busy with the mind on clever lines. Great! Alone with my thoughts again, the most wonderful thing.

Well today is Sunday now. Time for Luisa’s weekly rounder's pitch game. Usually I get to sleep in and stay home, but I had other plans. Today was the day of the big match in the town, surely they had to be here?

Throughout  the whole game I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering round and round in search for that familiar face. But nothing. I guess I was so out of it that I missed Luisa’s team won.

“ Let us go to la señora’s new canteen place to celebrate this wonderful victory.” abuela announced to the family. 

Everyone was excited, we’ve heard good things about there, but never had the chance to go.

…

Everyone was eating, faces lighting up with joy (although I believe it was cause they were so hungry). But once again, I kept searching the window in hopes to see a glance of them.

…

It had been a few days since then. I had nothing to do, so I layed in my bed, faced the ceiling, and thought to myself. My mind was blank for a while, until I started realizing all the places I hadn’t seen them. Why not the rounder's pitch or the canteen this weekend? Surely they’re always out on the weekend. You're slacking love, where have you been? I haven't seen you for a while after all. Maybe I Just had to go and wait until tonight. Camilo had invited a bunch of kids to go to the arcade. Luckily it was a friday night so they sure had to be there, AND it was half price day! How could they say no?

Me and Milo arrived a bit late, something about “making his hair look presentable” whatever that means. But then again, it did look like a bird’s nest this morning. 

Everyone kinda split a bit off and went to go and play games with each other. I played a few skill games, but I kept losing right at the end. I swear it’s rigged!!

“Hey Carlos! Wanna go grab some lemonade with me?” Camilo came up to me, after I just lost another game.

“Why? To scared to go alone”

“NO!!! If anything, you looked like the lonely one!!”

“I do better working alone thank you” rolling my eyes at him.

“Just come on” he said as he started walking off, leaving me no choice but to drag myself behind him.

“Two lemonade señor” he said while leaning against the counter.

“Coming right up” the dude said as turned around and poured some into the cups.

“Soooo how’s it been so far?” ‘milo pipped up.

“Not the worst,” I hesitantly replied.

“ Is something wrong? If there is I can fix it and-” 

“Camilo!” I interrupted him. “Nothings wrong, okay? Just getting tired of losing, that’s all”

“Are you sureee? Oh!” his face lighting up with joy “is it a certain someone then?” he said with the widest ass grin on his face.

“Cálmate!”

“Geez okay” he said while throwing his hands up in the air. “ I'll let you be! Clearly someone gets a bit touch after loosing”

That’s it! I’ve never wanted to punch his stupid face more until now-

“Well I challenged armando to a game of hoops, you can watch if you want” he stated while picking up his lemonade in one hand and using the other to point backwards. 

I just stood there. Watching the other. I wish I would've seen you down in the arcade. Maybe sipping on a lemonade In the paper cup they served it in, and chewing on the straw. A habit I noticed they had.

But once again, the world was unfair to him…

New day, new task. Today I was given the simple task of going to the bakery for some sweets. I only agreed though because I was told if I did I would get to choose whatever I want (obvi not something huge). And I wish I'd seen you in the bakery this time. 

But if I'd seen you in the bakery by chance, knowing my luck You probably wouldn't have seen me…

[wildechildwrites]

Out For Blood

Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: torture, interrogation, violence, choking (not the sexy kind), death (not of anyone important), Ghost threatening Soap even tho he’s just a baby :(, shitty pov switching

No use of y/n

Summary: You get taken when a mission goes wrong, and Ghost goes berserk and violently kills anyone who gets in the way of saving you.

A/N: yeah he’s babygirl but he’s also a violent man with no identity I think he could be attached to people but I don’t think he’d be normal about it

AO3 link: Out For Blood

     All Ghost knew was the ache in his skull and the ring in his ears. When he moved, he was violently aware of every bone in his body and the way they grinded against one another. He could smell the smoke from the blast, could feel the burn on his hands. He rolled over. A weaker man would have whimpered at the feeling.      Getting to his feet, he quickly surveyed the area. Where the fuck had you gone? You had been standing right next to him when the explosion knocked you both to the floor. If it had knocked him out there was no way you were conscious. Besides, you would’ve waited even if you were. He grabbed his radio.

     “Ghost to 141. Sound off.”

     The radio crackled, everyone sounding off but you. Christ.

     Your body responded to being touched before you fully came to consciousness, flinching away from the foreign feeling of rough fingers on your skin. You came too in a dark room. Your arms and legs were tightly bound, and you hissed at the painful tightness, blinking in the dim light. Your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton and your head ached. You looked around. You were in a small, dusty room. Probably a safehouse. Standing in front of you was a tall man. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a hard stare.

     “Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said. His voice was gravelly, and you wondered what type of cigarettes he smoked.

     “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.” He leaned in. “We’ll start with the simplest first. Who are you?”

     You looked up at him and leaned as close as you could get in your bonds.

     Then you spat in his face.

     The sound of him slapping you echoed violently off the walls.

     Ghost was pacing like a caged animal. The rest of the team was working as quickly as they could, trying to figure out where you could’ve been taken to.

     “It just doesn’ make sense,” Soap muttered. “This was suppose’ ta be a simple extraction. How did they know we were comin’?”

     “Never mind all that,” Ghost growled. “Where the fuck is she?”

     The longer it took to find you, the angrier Ghost felt. You were his responsibility. He was your lieutenant for God’s sake. He should’ve been protecting you. He wanted to rip off the heads of anyone who tried to hurt you. It didn’t matter if you were harmed or unharmed when they found you, he would make sure that whoever took you paid in blood.

     He thought about you, less than a week ago, laughing at a joke he had made. It hadn’t been funny, but you had laughed all the same, your gleaming eyes on him. His hands curled tightly into fists.

     You pride yourself on your ability to take a punch. As the smallest member of the 141, it had taken you a long time to prove yourself just as capable as the gargantuan men you worked with. You were a quick fighter, graceful and light on your feet, with the advantage of being a significantly smaller target for a sniper.

     That being said, being punched still fucking hurt. You were almost certain that your nose was broken, thanks to a solid slug that had made you see stars. You tried to focus on how impressive your interrogator's form was, distracting yourself from the pain. You’d been in pain before. You just need to breathe through it.

     You thought about Ghost and your chest ached. You hoped he was alive. You hoped he was alright.

     Soap had tried to calm Ghost down, to no avail. He wasn’t supposed to get attached. Hell, he hadn’t actually realized he was until the moment you were taken from him. It was like a part of him had been caged inside his chest, and now that it was out, he felt his control slipping. He’d never let you out of his sight again when they found you.

     His mind kept running over stolen moments, watching you joke with the team at a pub, listening to you hum to yourself while you cleaned your gun, watching you sleep while on watch. It had been there the whole time, he realized, his stomach dropping.

     It was your voice he listened for first on the radio, you who he’d immediately shield during a crisis. He was the one who insisted you two move together on this extraction mission. You had always been his responsibility, because you had always been his.

     Beneath the anger, Ghost began to strategize. He couldn’t act like he pleased with the Captain around. To be able to exercise the appropriate amount of force, he needed to lose the team. He knew he wouldn’t ever be able to shake off Soap, too intune with the other man to be able to slip between his fingers, but he reasoned that he could get enough of a head start on the others to properly finish the job. He wanted it to be messy, and he would ensure that it was.

     The hole that they had dragged you to was barely a blip on the map. Ghost could feel rage simmering under his skin. He wanted to kill someone. He needed to feel bones snap beneath his fingers and the warmth of blood. There had been a sharp, sudden shift inside him. He wasn’t really worried about you anymore, just furious that you had been taken so easily from him, that anyone had dared. He wanted to be ashamed of his selfishness but could not find any sincerity inside him. There was only rage. How dare they touch you, how dare they even think of you? Possessiveness curled inside him like a vice. He thought of the carnage to come and felt only sadistic pleasure.

     “You must be tired,” the man standing over you said.

     You didn’t bother to raise your head to look at him, instead focusing on the blood oozing out of your nose. You mentally promised to laugh at all of Johnny’s jokes if he would just come through those doors. Hell, you’d drain your bank account for the best bottle of bourbon money could buy if Price would show up and save you. It was a pathetic, childish inclination and you hated yourself for how badly you wanted to be saved, for your company to come to your aid. You thought of Ghost, stoic and reassuring and possibly injured, and felt your throat get tighter.

     “If you tell me your name and who your little comrades were, we can take a break.” The man said.

     You were tired and just wanted the pain to end. You thought of your team and shook your head. They would never betray you. They would resist. They were strong. The man sighed.

     "We'll try another method then.”

     You heard the distinct sound of a blade being unsheathed and raised your head weakly. The man held a knife, glinting in the low light.

     "My team is coming for me," your words were slurred, but your voice didn't shake, "and when they find us, there won't be a hole you can hide in where they won't hunt you down."      You smiled at him despite the pain and knew the blood staining your teeth unnerved him.

     Ghost told Soap to do a perimeter sweep with no intention of waiting for him to report back. Turning off his radio, Ghost waited for Soap to round the corner before zeroing in on one of the windows. He could see movement inside. He crept closer, quietly breaking the lock and sliding the window open before hopping through.

     In the hallway he had emerged into, a man was standing near a door, holding a gun. Ghost silently unsheathed his knife and grabbed the guard, bringing his knife down so hard through the man’s neck he buried it in one of his vertebrae.

     Ghost shoved through the door and found the next guard. He grabbed the man’s gun and shoved him to the ground, his knees coming down hard on the man’s chest. Bringing the gun down, he bashed the butt into the man’s nose, smashing it in before raising the weapon to do it again. He felt the warm blood splatter through his mask and a savage feeling of enjoyment crawled up his throat like bile. Again and again, he brought the butt of the gun on the man’s face, until he was nothing but a pulverized mess of brain matter and gore. Ghost got up, breathing heavily. His fingers were tingling.

     He heard you scream and sprinted towards the sound.

     The men you worked with had always teased you for your uncanny ability to sniff Ghost out. They called it your “sixth sense”, the way you knew intuitively where Ghost was without him making a sound. He had a presence, a way of filling the room just by simply being there. It was pure instinct, the way you can feel eyes on you even when your back is turned. Having Ghost at your six felt the same as being locked in a cage with a wolf, all senses alert and humming at the danger of being close to a predator. When the skin of your neck prickled as the man slid his blade against your cheekbone, you knew it was not out of fear of the knife.      There was a shark in the water, and he was swimming close by. With all your strength, you let out a piercing scream.

     The man had a knife against your pretty face, his back turned to the doorway. Without hesitation, Ghost barreled into him, ripping the knife from his hands and shoving him to the ground. Ghost looked at the knife, the one that had drawn your precious blood, and tossed it away as if it had burned him before turning on your captor.

     He heard your whimper from the chair and disregarded it in favor of creeping closer to the man desperately trying to scramble to his feet. Ghost cocked his shoulder back, his fist connecting hard with your captor's head, sending him backwards. He stood to his full height, looking down at the man before bringing one heavy boot down onto his right leg. The crunch of bone echoed, and the man started screaming.

     Ghost wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The blood was pounding in his ears like a song, and he stepped hard onto the man’s chest, shoving until he heard the sickening crackle of breaking ribs. The man writhed in agony, and Ghost stared hard into his face.

     He kneeled down next to your captor, grabbing him by the neck. The man gasped for air, and Ghost impulsively reached for his mask and ripped it off. The man looked up into Simon’s face, and it was Simon who wrapped his strong fingers around his neck, crushing the man’s larynx. He could feel the delicate bones of the vertebrae, could feel the hard beating of the man’s pulse. He squeezed until the beating stopped, until horrific bruises formed beneath his fingertips. He dropped the man’s limp body and grabbed his mask, putting it on before turning on you.

     You looked up at him, eyes hazy. Your face was swollen, deep purple rings forming under your eyes, your nose bloody. He stepped towards you and fear crawled up your spine. If you hadn’t known that it was Ghost, hadn’t recognized the strong hands and caught his familiar smokey scent, you would have thought that you were staring at a complete stranger. The Ghost you knew was simply not there, like someone had turned out a light switch behind those light blue eyes.      He crept closer, his large body hovering above yours, pupils blown wide, and for one hysterical moment you wondered if, like a child in a fairy tale, he sought to devour you whole. Instead, he kneeled down before you, retrieving a knife from his boot and gently cutting through the ropes on your ankles. He slipped behind your back to free your wrists, and you slumped forward. Your body ached. Ghost stepped in front of you and reached for you.      You flinched away, but he pressed on, his blue eyes wild. He shoved his mask back up past his mouth, leaning in and kissing you with a bruising force. The pressure against your broken nose made you dizzy with agony, and you cried out against him, tears sliding down your face.

     Ghost’s blood was still singing. You tasted like pain, and he couldn’t stop himself. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room and he couldn’t think straight.

     Ghost recognized Soap’s approaching footsteps from behind him and heard the Scot let out a string of curse words, hurrying towards the two of you. He pulled back from the kiss and reached for his gun. Without turning to face him, Ghost leveled his pistol at Soap's head.

     "Don't come any closer," he said softly. Soap took a step back, his hands raised.

     “Call for a pickup,” Ghost ordered, holstering his gun, “Don’t try to take her from me.”

     He leaned down and scooped you gently into his arms. You rested your head against his chest, too tired to fight him.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

'tis the damn season

2018 31 Days of Ficmas, day 23 - love

@doctorroseprompts

31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

Summary: Coming home for Christmas is supposed to be all joy and happiness - until it returns you to the boy next door, whose heart is still bleeding a decade later.

Chasing dreams sometimes requires sacrifices. The question is - can the lost ever be found?

Inspired by the TS song of the same name, but not a songfic

Rated M - sexual themes & language

AO3

---

Pulling into the drive Rose put the car into park but didn’t shut off the engine, still undecided on if she’d stay, even after two soul-crushing hours on the highways fighting her way out of London into the countryside.

She had plenty of reasons to stay, of course – her family waited inside the nicely decorated house, surely full of warmth and good cheer and happiness at her presence.  She needed a break from life in the city, the relentless grind of struggling to make rent and stay true to her dream, time away from the hustle and bustle of tourists and shoppers clogging every street.

All of that, against a single reason to stay away.

An involuntary glance at the next cottage over showed it was decorated the same way as every other year over the past two decades, with a hauntingly familiar figure standing in the drive, rubbish bag in hand, staring at her with a disbelieving frown, as if wondering why she was here- how she could dare to be here.

“Fuck this,” she said aloud, shivering from the ice in his gaze, which had once been so warm and loving, and put the car into reverse just as the door to her house opened and a blur flew out, shrieking her name and announcing her presence to the entire village. “Bloody hell.”

Can’t leave now.  It was almost as an apology to the house next door, but he was already gone if he’d been there at all, or only a figment of her guilty conscience.

“Rosie!”  Her brother was at her car door now, tapping on the window and positively beaming.  “Rosie!  Hi Rosie!”

Forcing a smile she waved back, before holding up one finger and shooing him back slightly.  He obeyed, bouncing on his toes and nearly tripping over his own feet in delight.  At least someone wants me to be here.  Shaking her head at his antics, smile real now, she grabbed her purse and turned off the engine, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

“Tony!  Happy Christmas, baby.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” he said, nearly tackling her, and her heart fractured a bit as his arms went clear around her waist; he hadn’t been able to do that when they’d last hugged goodbye two months earlier after his birthday.  He’s getting so big, and I’m missing it.

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving so soon,” Jackie called from the door, equal parts teasing and dead serious.  “Come in, won’t you?  It’s freezing.”

The window of opportunity gone for good Rose just sighed, getting her weekender from the boot as Tony chatted away about the plans for the holiday.

Hesitating at the threshold, she cast one last glance at the house next door.  But the view was innocuous, a typical village cottage decorated for Christmas, giving no hint as to the pain and longing and what-if it’s four walls held for her.

“Ro-ose!”

Pasting on a grin, she stepped inside.  “I’m home!  Let the holidays begin!”

‘tis the season.

-

Half-heartedly washing the dishes, Rose’s focus was out the kitchen window, straight across to the house next door and through an identical kitchen window to where he was.  He hadn’t seen her, or was maybe ignoring her –he was washing dishes same as her but smiling and laughing, engaging with whoever else was in the kitchen with him.  The mature part of her hoped it was someone who cared about him, who made him happy.

The jealous, bitter, regretful part of her hoped he didn’t.  Well, Rose, you know what they say about people who make their bed…

“They’ll be here tomorrow.”

She started at her stepfather’s murmur, head snapping towards where he stood, drying the dishes for her.  “What?”

“They’ll be over for dinner tomorrow,” Alan repeated, with a sympathetic, knowing look.  “Your mother wanted to surprise you, but I thought you ought to know.  This conversation never happened.”

“I…”  The thought both terrified and thrilled her – he wouldn’t be able to avoid her in the tiny cottage.  I can’t avoid him either, though.  “Thanks.”

He smiled, patting her shoulder in a fatherly way.  “His last relationship ended recently, so… be kind.  To him, and yourself.  I hate to watch you hurt – either of you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but they didn’t fall.  “Thanks, Alan.  I’m really glad she found you.”

“Me too,” he said easily.  “The key was to not let her pretend there’s anything more important in life than being happy – because if you don’t have that, you have nothing, even if you’ve got everything.”

His words were heavy with meaning, and she didn’t even know how to begin to respond, but was saved by her mother.

“Well, that’s the rugrat down,” Jackie announced her presence, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.  “Finally, I can have five minutes with my firstborn without him monopolizing you.”  She wrapped her arms tightly around Rose, and Rose rested her head against her mother’s shoulder as they swayed to the soft music playing from the other room.  “How’re you?”

Rose forced a smile, focusing on their reflection in the window instead of the distant view.  Future, not past, she reminded herself – it had become her mantra, particularly after a career setback, of which there’d been many.  The family that is, not what could have been.  “I’m good.  Been busy – it’ll be nice to relax.  What’s new here?”

Jackie freed her to go for wine glasses with Alan watching her, the look of a man totally besotted with his wife.

Somehow, she felt even lonelier than she had before she’d left London, here surrounded by the people she loved most in the world.

Well, most of them.

-

Finally finding a parking spot after three trips up and down the main road, Rose pulled in next to the church, grabbing her purse and list before getting out.

The weather seemed to know it was almost Christmas; the air was properly cold, with the occasional flake falling.  Little chance of a white Christmas, but just the hint of snow set the seasonal mood – at least for those inclined towards it.  Today, that wasn’t Rose, and the low temperature merely added to her certainty that coming here had been a mistake.

There’s a reason I don’t come home for the holidays, she thought sourly, getting one of the last carts on her way into Tesco’s and flinching at the mob of people – the store was loud, with chatter and business and jaunty carols blaring from the speaker system.

Bad enough she’d been woken at seven by her brother jumping on her and screaming Tomorrow is Christmas!  Santa comes tonight! directly in her ear.  When she shuffled out in search of a cuppa, she’d been presented with a mug – and a list of errands to run.

It’s Christmas.  I’m here to celebrate with Tony.  I’m doing this for my family.

Despite recognizing most of the people in the Tesco she thankfully didn’t get stopped for more than a few seconds in any particular conversation – everyone was hustling about, preparing for their own celebrations, and she was grateful for the reprieve.  One positive to coming at Christmas, I suppose – everyone’s so busy.

The song changed to Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas for the third time in twenty minutes just as she came around a corner too fast and hit a cart with her own.  “Oh, fuck!  Sorry, I-”

She stopped dead, staring at him.

“Hello,” he said evenly, almost coldly; polite, as though they were, perhaps, passing acquaintances at best; as if he didn’t know every inch of her, as if she hadn’t mapped every freckle on his body, as if there hadn’t been a torrential love affair, complete with the devastating, messy ending.

She opened her mouth, not knowing what might come out – hello, or how are you, or fancy meeting you here or why didn’t you come with me or want to shag in the loo – and was not prepared for the tender tone when “Hi, James,” escaped.

His expression flickered, like the very sound of her voice caused him pain – she knew because she felt the same, like it cut to the quick of her like a knife through soft butter.  “I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah- yes.  Apparently.”  Rose lifted the list.  “Should be quite the shindig.”

James nodded, and oh, her hands ached to ruffle his carefully styled hair, to tease it wild, to grasp it as his teasing made her wild, and fuck she knew she should’ve brought her vibrator with her.

“I should…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely, and she nodded.

“No, yeah, me too.”

They lingered for another moment, before Rose’s heart couldn’t take it any more.  “Well, see you,” she said, pushing carefully past him.

And if their bodies brushed against each other for only a moment, making her shudder, well, no one was the wiser.

-

Making it through the checkout without seeing him again had Rose thinking she’d successfully avoided him, only to spot him a few paces ahead of her on the sidewalk towards where she was parked.

Slowing down, she trailed after him, hopes falling when he stopped at the truck next to her car – she’d have to walk past him.

Fuck.

He noticed her, then, as she tried to sidle past.  “Hey.”

“Hi.”  Giving up on her pathetic attempt at sneaking around, she faced him head on.  “How’re you?”

“Oh, you know.”  Hands in his pockets, he rocked side to side.  “Listen, we’re adults, right?”

“Yeah?”

James shrugged one shoulder in a would-be-carefree way.  “D’you want to get a cuppa?  Catch up a bit?”

She glanced towards the only café in town, which was decked out for the holidays and full of people.  The idea of any conversation being overheard – or worse, turned into village gossip – made her flinch.  “We could just ride around for a bit instead?”

A cheeky grin flashed across his face before settling into a more passive smile.  “Sounds good.”

He waited patiently as she put the groceries in her car; nothing was refrigerated, and it was cold enough anyway that it would all keep until they returned.  Nervous as hell, but knowing she owed it to him and would take whatever he was willing to offer, she got into his truck and was instantly transported back to being a teenager.  Maybe this was a mistake flashed across her mind, but he’d already pulled out of the spot and was heading out of town.

“How’s London?” he started, turning the heat on and relaxing into his seat, glancing at her.  “Everything you dreamed of?”

Of course not, knob, you’re not there.  “Pretty much!”  She put as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, in a see life’s great without you way.  “I love so much about it – the hustle and bustle, the places to go and things to do, how there are actual places open after six!”

James laughed at that.  “Well, I’ll give you that the last part sounds half-appealing.  New things to try are always good.  I keep meaning to go in, but haven’t managed it yet.”

“Well, let me know if you do,” she offered impulsively.  “I’ve got a couch.”

The smile slid from his face, eyes intense as he held her gaze, sending butterflies sparking in her belly.  He would never come in, she knew in her heart, but if he did, he wouldn’t be on her couch.

I miss you.

“We’ll see.”  His noncommittal tone ended the conversation, and Rose focused instead out the windscreen at the bare trees and familiar country roads.

And then he abruptly pulled into a layby, put the truck into park, and turned to face her.  “Are you really happy there?  Was it worth everything?"

No.  Rose closed her eyes and turned her face away, hating how well he knew her but still had to try.  “Yep!”

“Rose.”  His hand on her cheek was more gentle than it had any right to be, turning her to face him.  Blinking her eyes open, she found his brown eyes so warm and patient.  Loving.

She just smiled at him, knowing he could see the sadness there, that he was the only one who knew when she was faking them.  “I made my choice,” she said softly.  “And I still want to be a singer.”

His thumb caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, holding his gaze.  There was an ache there she felt in her own bones, a shared longing for what could have been.  In that moment, she would have given him anything he asked for – everything he asked for.  If he begged her to come home, or just kissed her, she would cling to him like a life preserver.

But he didn’t.

He just removed his hand, and restarted the truck, heading back into town and leaving their hearts in pieces on the cold ground.

Just as she had, a decade earlier.

-

She found the crushed red velvet dress buried in the back of her closet, and still lost in thoughts of the road not taken, she couldn’t help but pull it on.  It still fit, and she wondered what he would think when he saw it, or if it was even appropriate to wear, given its history with their relationship.

The picture was still tucked into the side of her mirror, of them together on that night at fifteen when they first shared I love yous, his suit matching her dress entirely by accident, or kismet, or serendipity.

She’d also worn it that Christmas Eve when she first told him of her dream of moving to London to pursue music.

Why are there so many ghosts at Christmas?

“Rose, come help, would you?” her mother called, and she lost the chance to change.  Stepping into her heels she hurried out to help, grateful when Jackie didn’t comment on her outfit and only put her to work.

She’d almost forgotten about it until the door opened and there he was, in black jeans and a bright Christmasy jumper, complete with Santa hat.

“Hi.”

He didn’t respond, eyes merely raking over her as his mother and grandfather greeted her, joining the other guests already gathered.  He trailed after them, walking backwards to keep her in his sight, and she wondered what he was thinking.

Maybe this was a mistake.  She hated how often the thought had come to her from the moment they tearily kissed goodbye.

-

Two hours and twenty conversations later (well, the same conversation with twenty different people), Rose grabbed an unopened bottle of wine and slipped away to her bedroom, settling on the floor beside her bed and unscrewing the cap to take a few large gulps.

The door opened then shut a moment later and she was utterly unsurprised when James settled next to her, merely passed him the bottle.

“This is shit,” he said conversationally, coughing on the first sip.  “Who brought this?”

“Your mother.”

“That explains it.”

They shared a grin, which faded as they locked eyes.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She nodded, taking the bottle back.

“I know you’re happy in London, no regrets, whatever, but… do you ever think about what could have been?  Road not taken, and all of that?”

Rose leaned her head back against the mattress, eyes searching his expression.  “Do you?” she challenged him.  “You were the one who didn’t want to find a way to make it work.”

“I refused to hold you back,” he corrected, grabbing the wine.  “You decided your dreams were more important than us.”

“So I should have given up on my dream to what, be your wife?  Have your babies?  Never be anything more than that?”

James gave her an impatient look.  “You might dye your hair blonde now, but you’re not stupid.  You know very well that wasn’t what I meant.  You weren’t willing to compromise.”

“I was dying here!” she burst out.  “I was, and you know it.  I was suffocating.  I had to go.  I had to.  And you knew that, but you were perfectly happy to stay!”

“The fuck I was!  Rose, if you were suffocating, how am I supposed to believe anything but that I was what was suffocating you?  If I went with you to London, how were you supposed to breathe?  How would that make anything better?  You made it very clear you wanted away from me, you didn’t want us, or what we could have been.  I’m not an idiot either, I know every time you said Gallifrey you meant James.  ‘Gallifrey is too small, too stuck in the past, too unwilling to change’.  I know you meant me.  Why would I follow you somewhere I don’t want to go, when you didn’t want me to go with you and we both knew it?”

His words were a stab to the heart, and she spluttered out nonsense, coming up on her knees and turning to face him.  His eyes were shining, and terribly sad.  Reaching out, she cupped his cheek, stroking it with her thumb as he had in the truck earlier.

“You’re the stupidest fucking person on the whole fucking planet.”

James’ mouth opened in outrage but she surged forward, pressing her mouth to his.  He tasted sweet, from the wine and nibbles, and only hesitated a moment before returning the kiss.

“You were the only reason to stay,” she whispered against his lips.  “Of course I wanted you with me, and my complaints about Gallifrey were just that – about here.  This town with no privacy and no future – except for you.  I didn’t want to leave you, I wanted to leave with you.  I said it a thousand times!”

“I didn’t believe you,” he replied softly.  “I didn’t want you to go, but I would have gone with you if I thought you wanted that.  But you didn’t.  It was so, so clear to me that you wanted freedom.”

“Freedom for us.  Away from our mothers, and all the people who’ve known us our whole lives, who were already planning our wedding and naming our babies.  I wanted us to go somewhere we could just… be.  Where we didn’t have to sneak around, or have a potential landlord remember when we were inseparable three year olds.”  She leaned back, lip trembling.  “It wasn’t that I didn’t want all of the things you wanted, I just didn’t want them here.”  She searched his eyes.  “Have you spent all this time thinking I didn’t want you?  That I don’t miss you every day?”

His tone was sullen.  “You’ve certainly hidden it well.”

Rose pulled back further, heart thumping painfully, pulse pounding.  This is it, she realized.  If not now, never.  “I love you.  I love you more than I did when I left you, and I loved you so damn much then.  I want to spend my life with you.  I’m more sure of that with every day that has passed since I left – since you watched me leave.  And if you want to stay here, we can work something out – I’m willing to try if you are.”

James’ expression was inscrutable, his eyes deep with emotion.  “I don’t want to hold you back,” he said softly.  “I don’t want to keep you from your dream.”

She didn’t know what to say, what words would convince him of her feelings, of what she wanted.  But sometimes, words weren’t enough anyway.

Swinging her leg across his she settled in his lap, moving slow as she leaned down to kiss him, heart dropping when his hands caught her biceps and kept her from closing the gap.

“There’s no going back,” he said firmly.  “I won’t have you part time, and I won’t be an afterthought.  I fully support you and your dream, but I won’t just be yours on the weekends.”

“I can’t move back here.  Not permanently.  I love you, I want you, but I can’t.”

“That’s okay.”  He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.  “I know someone in London with a couch.”  His lips twitched upwards, giving her hope.

She pursed her lips, pretending to consider that.  “I hope you don’t mean me, because you’re not sleeping on my couch.”

“No?”  His hands slid down her body to her bum, shifting her until she was against a familiar, growing bulge.  “Not even if I’m being naughty?”

Lips curling, Rose leaned in until their chests were touching, mouth directly against her ear.  “Why would you be anywhere but the bed if you’re being naughty?”

“I’m thinking about being naughty beside a bed.  Does that count?”

Pulling back she considered him, crossing her arms.  “For real, though.  Are you offering to move to London?”

James swallowed.  “Not immediately, but within… the next six months?  I do have a life here, and a job.  I haven’t spent the last ten years doodling in my journal waiting for you to come back and get me.  We may have changed over that time too, and need to get to know each other again.  But yes, assuming things go well, I’d be willing.”

“Good enough for me.”  Grabbing her dress at the sides she pulled it up over her head, leaving her in an unsexy but relatively matching set of knickers.  “Prove it.”

Surging forward he laid her out on her back, and it was as if no time had passed at all; a decade apart and other lovers fell away as they frantically reunited on the thematically appropriate shag rug, not bothering to properly undress first.

“For the record,” she whispered, as they shuddered and moved together, “this is where the road not taken always leads to.  Here.  With you.”

He tangled their fingers together, grasping her hand tightly.  “I’ve been right here, waiting for you.”

His other hand found her between them, and her back arched, panting.  “I’m here, I’m here- ah!”

-

After, as they snuggled on the rug and caught their breath, he said, “It seems appropriate to reunite on Christmas Eve.  Having the conversation we should have had this night a decade ago.”

“Mhmm.”  Rose stroked her nails along his back, loving when he shivered and twitched against her.  “Well, you know what they say.”

“What?”

“’Tis the season!”

[lustastarte]

♤ drop that | caejose ♤

genre: fluff/angst (some sexual themes)

joseph meets his soulmate in the club, caesar believes he's just another friend with benefits

published: 2023

modern au

Blinding neon lights, incoherent chatter, deafeningly loud dance music, scent of sweat and sex, taste of alcohol in the air. Mindless bodies moving with and against each other, slurred 'I love you's and scattered kisses, liquor-stained breath meets lust-tainted flesh. The uncontrollable primal instinct to hold someone close and dance as one, separate and together at the same time. Joseph can no longer tell if he loves the club for these qualities or hates it. Yet, he finds himself there every single weekend, 10 p.m. to 3 a.m., getting drunk out of his mind and dancing with whoever will dance with him. He's not normally picky, but tonight wasn't normal. His eyes were trained on the man that had just walked in. Out of all the attractive people in the room, he was standing out to Joseph. He didn’t know if it were his voluminous blonde hair, his body-complimenting outfit, or the strange marks on his cheeks, but he had Joseph’s full attention from the moment he walked in.

"Do you know who that is?"

"Yeah, he's a regular," the bartender, Lisa, said.

"I mean, does he have a name? Do you know him?"

"Oh! His name is Caesar, and I think he's coming over to you right now," she finished, wiggling her eyebrows and walking off to make another patron’s drink with a simple, "Have fun, use a condom."

The other regular made his way to the bar, nodding at Joseph.

"I've seen you here a lot," Caesar yells over the music. "You dance well."

"Yeah, I'm here every weekend. Why don't you let me show you some moves?"

"Only if you'll buy drinks."

"Deal."

One drink became three. Three became five, and Caesar decided he was finally ready to dance. Joseph grabbed his hand and led him gently to the dance floor. The once reserved Italian was freed by the alcohol, allowing his lust for the British-American man to shine through. Their bodies moved to the beat, working together to attract one another. Soon, their lips moved in sync, crashing into one another in an attempt to gain dominance. Caesar grinded on Joseph, urging him to do the same. Joseph had had more than enough. Caesar was teasing him relentlessly, and now he wants to take him home. Who wouldn’t? It wasn’t like Joseph got a chance to be with someone this attractive often. So, like any normal person would do, he grabbed Caesar’s hand, led him out of the club as quickly as possible, and hailed a taxi.

The backseat of the cab was overflowing with sexual tension. And not long after the men stepped inside the front door, Caesar was pinned down on his bed, with Joseph preparing to make that night something neither of them could forget. He would be damned if this strange man ever forgot about him.

There was something comforting about Joseph. Caesar felt safe talking to him at the bar, dancing with him on the dance floor, and lying under him while being showered with wet kisses and pillow talk. He even felt safe enough after their rendezvous that he could fall asleep, which was uncommon for him. He actually slept. And if you asked him, he'd tell you it was the best goddamn night of sleep he's ever gotten.

Joseph squinted, groaning. The sun was shining directly into his eyes, and his head hurt like hell. He turned over, hoping to get a small nap in, feeling his phone buzz under him. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize he was not in his own bed, and there wasn’t just a couple of pillows next to him, but a half-naked, grown man beside him, sleeping peacefully. Last night was a blur for him. All he remembered was drinking and dancing. Nothing more. He did, however, faintly remember the man's name. Caesar. Though he didn’t agree to it, his job was calling him away from the bed. But, hoping to meet him again, he left Caesar a note.

Dear Caesar,Sorry I had to leave, I had to go to work. If you want to talk sometime, here's my number.xxx-xxx-xxxxThanks for last night :)Hopefully I'll see you soon,Joseph Joestar.

At work, he couldn't focus. He couldn't even get a simple black coffee with cream right. He forgot the fucking coffee. Joseph could only think of the beautiful man he woke up next to. He could only imagine the things that drunk him got to see and do, because god knows he can’t remember it. His mind wandered all day.

"I'll bet his lips taste like strawberries, and his skin tastes like cake. I wonder if his hips are wide enough to keep him balanced on my face. I'll bet my hand fits perfectly in the small of his back, and that one day, that gloriously large ass will be mine," Joseph would think from time to time, accidentally arousing himself with obscene thoughts and images running through his head.

He could just imagine Caesar sprawled out on the bed, begging to be touched. He could just imagine watching him unravel under him. He could just imagine him riding him into oblivion. He could just imagine the beautiful noises that he would make. He could just imagine him screaming his name as he drills into him relentlessly. He could just imagine teasing and playing with him, watching him whimper and shake. He could just imagine being his nightly routine. He could just imagine holding him in his arms. He could just imagine kissing him goodnight. He could just imagine his head buried in his chest. He could just imagine running his fingers through his hair and drawing on his back, lulling him to sleep. He could just imagine him lightly kissing him awake. He could just imagine being his daily routine. He could just imagine calling Caesar his.

Wait. What the hell is he talking about? It was just a one night stand. That's it. He probably won't ever see Caesar again. He should just forget it. Yeah. Just forget it.

Joseph’s entire work day went like this. Simple orders, even regulars he saw every single day were screwed up. He couldn't even write a name on a cup. Just forget it, Joseph. Pull yourself together. But he can't. You can do this, forget him. Joseph can't get him out of his head. Caesar who? You don’t know him. Doesn’t ring a bell.

Joseph just can't forget.

He sighed as he took off his apron and name tag. He really hated working at a coffee shop. The orders were outrageous, the people were rude, and worst of all, the lovers flocked to the building. They were all so sickeningly sweet to one another and it made him want to puke and cry at the same time. He waved to his coworkers and walked quickly out of the building, hurriedly driving home. After opening the door, his face lit up. Finally, he could check his phone! He whipped out the small device and grinned when he saw the notification he had waited for all day.

xxx-xxx-xxxx 1hr agohey joseph, it's caesar

xxx-xxx-xxxx 1hr agodo you wanna meet up sometime? maybe when we aren’t drunk?

xxx-xxx-xxxx 1hr agoi'd be more than happy to, just not today. i can't even walk :/ limping around my house as we speak

Joseph smiled. He didn't know whether it was because Caesar wanted to try to take it further, or because he couldn't walk and he knew it was his fault.

Joseph:

hey, i'm glad you texted i really want to be something more with you| i really want to be something more wi i really want to be someth| i really wan| i re| do you mean meeting up as a date?| do you mean meeting up| do you mean me| do you m| i really hope you mean more than friends| i really hope you mean mo| i really hope you| i rea| i think i like you| i think| i'd love to meet up :D i hope you feel better btw, i'm sorry if i was too rough with you

Caesar:

okay, how about this saturday at 7:30? we could do whatever you want to do also please don't apologize, it was amazing. in my book, it's only good sex if you can't walk afterward ;)

Joseph:

i'll make sure to remember that ;)) and saturday sounds great! you don't have to dress up, just be ready for me to come get you

Caesar:

sounds like a plan :) also i have a question is this a date date or just a friendly date?

Joseph:

whichever you want it to be

Caesar:

then it's a friendly date : ) 

Joseph:

oh, i was kinda hoping it'd be a date date| oh, i was kinda hoping it| oh, i was kin| oh okay

Caesar:

are you upset?

Joseph:

very| yes, i really like you| yes, i rea| yes,| i really fucking like you and you're friendzoning me yes i'm upset why the fuck wouldn't i be| i really fucking like you and you're  friendzoning me yes i'm upset| i really fucking like you and you're friendzoning| i really fucking like you| i really| nah, i'm good anyway, i'll see you saturday i gotta sleep, i have a really early shift tomorrow night caesar

Caesar:

oh okay good, i thought i had upset you goodnight joseph

Joseph put his phone on his nightstand and sat down on his bed, placing his head in his hands.

"Maybe it was just a one night stand. Maybe I'm in over my head. He doesn't like me," he thought, changing out of his clothes and into sweatpants. He fell onto his bed, frowning.

When he woke up, he shot him a quick text.

Joseph:be ready at 7:30

And then he began his dull, lifeless work routine.

Caesar was nervous. But why? It's just a friendly meet-up.

He was so nervous, in fact, that he had called his friends and fellow teachers, asking them to come over.

"I just don't know why I feel like this!"

"You might have a little crush," one of them suggested. "I felt like that when I first met up with my husband."

"How? You had only talked through instagram before you met."

"Yeah, but I fell for his personality, and I knew he was hot. But I mean, 7 years of keeping up a long distance relationship was worth it. Look at us no-!"

"We get it," another interjected. "You guys are now happily married and have two sons. Quit rubbing it in our faces."

"I'm not, I'm just-"

"Rubbing it in our faces," the third said with a blank face.

"But I-"

"It's like talking about having a great wife in a room full of newly divorced people."

The first friend sighed violently.

Caesar furrowed his brows, leaning forward. "But how is that supposed to help me? You and your husband were already dating when he got off the plane. Joseph and I aren't!"

"Well, sucks to be you, I guess?"

"Try staying casual with him. Don't try too hard," the second friend said quietly. "Be calm."

Caesar nodded, listening intently as the others gave their input. Not long after they had all left, the time was approaching 7:30, and the teacher was nervously sitting in his living room.

Honk! Honk!

The man jumped up as fast as possible, grabbing his phone and keys, and walked out the door. At the restaurant, the two talked about everything from jobs to friends, and Caesar’s fears slowly disintegrated. They had a real connection.

Joseph couldn't breathe. Caesar looked so damn beautiful in his outfit. He wasn't even wearing anything fancy, but he looked like a prince. The younger man could just feel himself falling in love. Every time Caesar smiled, his heart flipped. Every time Caesar laughed, he wanted to tell him every joke he's ever heard just to hear him laugh again. Every time he spoke, Joseph could only hear him. With every heartbeat, he fell harder and harder for Caesar.

Caesar was stunned. Joseph was cute when he smiled, funny when he didn't intend to be. Joseph was kind when he was not required to be, quiet when others were talking. He was a good guy when it was almost impossible to be. And Caesar? He was falling at the speed of light. But Joseph doesn't feel the same about him. He knows this, and sadly, has come to terms with the fact. Maybe if he stopped focusing on him altogether- Look at how he smiles when he takes a bite of his food... Stop it!

However, when Caesar was dropped off later at his place, the only thing running through his mind was him. Caesar just can't clear his head.

"Let me see you drop that like you did the night we met," Joseph whispered deeply, running his hand over Caesar’s ass.

"Only if you're willing to pull an all-nighter," the blonde said with a wink, suggestively trailing his fingers down Joseph’s chest.

"Deal."

The two men were spending tonight at the club. Joseph wanted to see if Caesar really liked him or not; Caesar wanted to have fun and get drunk.

The brunette felt the blood rush to his pelvis as Caesar danced. The way he moved should be illegal. The way he looked at Joseph drove the latter insane. The way he felt him up, innocently brushing his fingers over the younger's growing bulge 'by accident.' The way his lips moved perfectly against his should be impossible. Caesar made Joseph want to fuck him on the spot.

Caesar’s lips trailed down Joseph's neck, the latter groaning softly and tightening his grip on Caesar. Joseph's hands slid down Caesar's back, stopping at his ass. The blonde boy began sucking on his date’s neck, making sure he left a mark. Joseph brought one arm up to Caesar's hair, running his fingers through it before using it to pull his head up. The hand traced his jawline, tilting his head up so he and Joseph were eye to eye.

He froze as he saw the almost animalistic look in Joseph's eyes.

"We're going home. Now."

Caesar wasted no time hailing a cab for them and no time dragging Joseph into his room.

When Caesar opened his eyes, he heard his door open and close.

"Caesar?"

The older man pretended to sleep as Joseph walked into the room. "Caesar? Oh," the younger whispered. "He's still asleep."

Joseph walked over to Caesar, kissing him on the forehead. "God, you're so beautiful. I don't think there's a moment in each day that you aren't. You were exceptionally beautiful last night," the brunette said with a smirk. "I'll be back in a second."

And with another forehead kiss, he was gone.

"he only whispers i love you

as he slips his hands

down the waistband

of your pants

this is where you must

understand the difference

between want and need

you may want that boy

but you certainly

don't need him"

-rupi kaur, " milk and honey"

Caesar sat up, wiping his eyes.

"Am I just here for him to have sex with? He's taken me on one date, and it wasn't even a real date... Was that just to make me think he actually likes me? Just to make it seem like I'm not another one of his late-night booty calls? Maybe I am just that. A drunk, late-night booty call. He only does this when we're drunk. All I am to him is drunk sex. A friend with benefits," Caesar thought to himself, trying not to cry. He had started to fall for Joseph, but he didn't know if he could handle just being someone's sex ticket.

When Joseph opened the door, Caesar was sitting on the couch.

"Hey! You're awake," Joseph said, grinning. "I got breakfast."

The younger man went to kiss the older's forehead, but was pushed away softly.

"Caesar?"

"Joseph, I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Be just friends one day, and then fuck each other the next. You only want me when I'm drunk and horny."

"No, it's not like that," Joseph's eyes widened as he spoke. "I wasn't drunk last night, and I don’t just want you for sex."

"But I was. What if I wanted to get to know you better before we had sex again?"

"I- But you were the one grinding up on me!"

"I was drunk!"

"You're honest when you're drunk! You said so yourself!"

Caesar sighed, tears beginning to collect in his eyes. "Am I just sex to you? Is that all you want me for? Someone to fuck whenever you please?"

"Caesar, it's not like tha-!"

"I don't want to hear it. All you want me for is sex. You only text me when you want to go clubbing or something that always ends up with us fucking. I'm sick of it! I mean nothing to you, I'm just another sex toy," the older said in a croaky whimper before bursting into tears. "Please leave."

"Caesar, please let me explain," Joseph begged.

"I think you've done enough explaining. Please leave. Take your goddamn food with you."

Joseph grabbed the bag he had brought in, opening the door. Right before he stepped back, he whispered to the older man. "Caesar, please."

"Leave."

As Joseph closed the door, he broke down. He tried so hard to stay strong in there, but he couldn't keep holding it in. The boy he adores thinks he only wants him for his body. But he's wrong. Joseph loves Caesar's personality, his voice, his smile, his eyes, and everything in between. Joseph has fallen hard for Caesar, and to hear him say that Joseph doesn't want him for anything but sex drove him crazy. The brunette hailed a cab and hopped in the back, tears streaming down his face.

"Just t-take me wherever you want," Joseph said in between sobs.

"Rough day?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"You can talk to me if you want," the driver said softly, turning the radio down. "I'm here for you."

Joseph half-smiled. "Thank you. Where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever you feel comfortable starting."

"Okay... So I met this guy at a club last weekend, who I ended up having a one night stand with. The next morning, I had to go to work, so I left him my number and name. He texted me later that day and we agreed to meet up, but he wanted to meet up as friends, which kinda hurt me since I already had a little bit of a crush on him."

"Alright, what happened after the meet up?"

"We decided to go clubbing together, and he got drunk. He started dancing on me, and of course I got aroused. He kept teasing me, and then we went back to his house and did it again."

The driver nodded and hummed to let Joseph know he was still listening.

"And then I left to get food for us. When I came back, he was awake, and he started pelting me with questions. He thinks I only keep him around for sex and I don't," Joseph said, his eyes watering up again. "I- I've only known him for a week, but I think I need him in my life. I think he belongs with me. And when he told me to leave I-... I broke..."

"I'm so sorry... I know how you feel, my ex broke up with me because she thought I only wanted sex... I really miss her."

"Hey, I never caught your name," Joseph said quietly.

The taxi driver smiled. "I'm Suzi. You are?"

"Joseph. And I think you should try to talk to your ex. Explain it to her."

"Thanks, I think I will."

The cab went silent before Joseph spoke again. "Can I have your number? You seem nice and I want to be friends with you."

"Yeah! I was about to ask you the same question, I want to make sure you're doing okay every once in a while. My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."

"Thanks man," Joseph said, wiping the tears from his eyes and smiling.

"Now where to? I've been driving you around aimlessly for 30 minutes," Suzi said with a laugh.

"xxxx Magnolia St., XX xxxxx."

"Home, I'm guessing?"

"Yep. I don’t really have anywhere else to go…"

Soon, Suzi was dropping her new friend off, and telling him the expense of his ride.

"It's $xx.xx, but I'm not making you pay for the aimless part of the ride."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You call me if you need me, and text me later, okay?"

Joseph nodded and Suzi grabbed his hand gently before getting back into the taxi.

“Be safe now, okay?”

“Yes ma’am, I will,” he assured.

Once inside, Joseph was left to think. He quickly lost any happiness gained from his friend, tears forming once more. His thumb hovered over Caesar's contact, but he never clicked it.

Joseph really likes Caesar, and he can't forget him. Suzi visited him often, as did his co-workers, but they couldn't fill the hole in his heart. Each time he thought of the blonde, it felt like some invisible force was sat on his stomach, ripping his chest open, and pouring concrete in to dry. The weight made him feel as though he were breathing in corn syrup. Why did it hurt him so much? He had only known the guy for a week, yet the misunderstanding hit Joseph like a hurricane. It flooded his heart and leveled his mental state. Nothing was left but a pile of everything that could have been between the two of them, now rotting and molded in the stagnant water.

Joseph was absolutely empty.

"Joseph, I think you should try to talk to Caesar," Suzi said while she attempted to shove food down the man's throat. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to eat for a few days.

"I'm not hungry right now, and I couldn’t if I wanted to anymore. He won't answer any of my calls or texts..."

"Then try a different way," she suggested, closing the plate of takeout. "He's a teacher, right?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Send him flowers. Tell him to meet you somewhere on the note."

"He won't if I put my name though."

"Then don’t put your name," Suzi concluded. "Just get flowers and have them sent to the school for Caesar. I could get one of the other teachers to ask what his favorite flower is, I drive a few of them to and from school."

"Please," Joseph sighed. “I don’t have any other ideas.”

Later that day, a couple hours after she had left, Suzi returned.

"Carnations. Light pink, to be exact."

"Thank you Suzi, you’re the best," Joseph said, smiling. "Will you stay here while I write the note?"

"Why are you writing it now?"

"I'm bringing it to the flower shop today, they said they could deliver the flowers tomorrow."

Suzi nodded. “Let me go switch my taxi out for my car, I’ll be back.”

Not long after that, she was honking her horn outside Joseph's house. Once inside the car, they made their way to the flower shop, placed the order, and prayed that it would work.

Caesar sighed as he walked into his classroom, flipping the lightswitch. He froze, however, upon seeing a vase on his desk. The large glass container was filled with several large, baby pink carnations, and in the very middle was a small, sealed blue envelope. Carefully, he opened the envelope and pulled out a small note.

Please meet me at the cafe next to the school at 4:00 p.m.-your secret admirer

4 o'clock had never come so fast.

Caesar rushed out of his classroom after finishing the stack of work on his desk. He drove the short distance to the cafe and walked in, his hands shaking.

Who could it possibly be?

The teacher looked around the room, trying to find the stranger.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"Yeah, they-"

"Over there, the booth in the corner."

"Thanks."

Caesar made his way over to the booth cautiously and sat down quickly. When the person sitting across from him moved the menu in front of his face, Caesar got up to leave.

"Wait!" Joseph cried, grabbing Caesar's wrist. The entire cafe was deafeningly silent, the customers watching the couple like hawks.

"What do you want?"

“I want to talk to you. Please…”

“No! What the fuck dude? I told you to fuck off and you stalked me instead? Do you know how fucked that is?!”

"You wouldn’t answer my texts or calls and I’m fucking desperate, okay? I wasn’t even sure if this would work, but I have to talk to you! I don’t even care if you believe me or not, I just need to know that I tried. Please, just stay for a second and let me explain," the younger begged. "Please..."

"You have one minute, and that's it," Caesar said coldly, arms crossed as he sat back down.

Joseph took a deep breath. "Listen. I know you think that I only want you around for fun and games, but what you don't know is that every night that we're apart, I dream of being yours. I wish on every shooting star I see that one day I'll be able to hold your hand in public and say, 'This is my boyfriend.' I pray to every deity I've ever heard of in an attempt to make you see that I'm not here for fun and games. I belong with you, Caesar. My soul is literally chained to yours. You’re meant to be with me. I don't care about having sex with you. I want to love you. I remember when I first met you, my heart quit beating. Time stopped, and all I could see was you. All I could hear was your voice. I want to love you with every inch of my being, and if that isn't enough to show you that I don't just want your body, then I'll leave you alone. I'll quit trying to win you over. I'll delete your number. I'll disappear so that you can forget."

The younger boy slammed a $20 bill on the table and continued, a steady stream flowing from his eyes. "Use that to pay for both of us. I feel like I'm making you uncomfortable, so I'm gonna leave... Sorry..."

Caesar couldn't move for a second, stuck in shock. Suddenly, he jumped up out of the chair and ran to the younger boy. He grabbed his shoulders tightly, spinning him around before grabbing his face and pressing their lips together. Every customer in the building looked on as the boys kissed. Caesar ran his thumbs over Joseph's cheeks, wiping away the tears as he pulled back from the kiss and connected their foreheads.

" I belong with you too, Joseph. "

Joseph laughed, kissing Caesar again. "Let me do this right. Caesar, will you be my boyfriend?"

Caesar could only nod frantically as he pulled Joseph in for a hug, holding him as if his life depended on it. Joseph's world was finally right again.

He has successfully taken Caesar on many dates over the two years they had been dating, but this one was special. Yes, they were only going to the park for a picnic and to watch the fireworks, but there was something special about it. After picking his boyfriend up and driving to the park, Joseph grabbed the blanket and basket from his trunk. Caesar helped him lay the blanket out and unpack the small basket. The two ate quickly, getting up to play tag together. Joseph disappeared from Caesar's sight at one point, but was found when he gave the older's ass a swift pop and yelled, "You're it!" before running away.

"Ah! Joseph, get back here!"

Within an hour, both men were back at their blanket, laying down and panting. The two sat there for hours, talking about everything you could imagine, when the park founder announced that the firework show would start in a few minutes.

The blonde took the time that he had left and grabbed Joseph's hand. "I'm sorry if I annoy you or make you want someone else sometimes..."

Joseph grabbed the older boy's other hand and smiled, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Caesar, you'll never annoy me. I'll want you every day, no matter what has happened between us. I want you even when you're mad at me. I want you even when I piss you off. I want you. I want your happy days and your 'I don't wanna be alive days.' I want you in the middle of the night and I want you in the morning. I want to kiss you and I want to be in your arms. I want to stay up all night talking and I want to hold you."

Joseph took a breath, tears threatening to fall from both his and Caesar's eyes.

"I want to be the reason you smile and the reason you're laughing every day. Even if you have a bad day, I want to be the one to make you happy, if only for a second. That's why I'm about to say this," the brunette said, fishing a little black box out of his pocket.

Caesar held his breath, not knowing what was happening. The park was completely silent, any background noise blocked from his ears. Joseph pulled Caesar up, holding his hand. Now that both of them were standing, Joseph dropped to one knee, still holding one of the teacher's hands.

"Marry me. We can spend our weeknights eating cereal on the floor, even though there's a table right behind us. We can go to the movies and sit in the back row, just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. Marry me. We'll paint the rooms of our house, but end up with more paint on us than the walls. We can hold hands and go to parties we'll end up ditching to drink wine straight from the bottle in the bathtub together," Joseph spoke, both men in tears at this point.

"Marry me. Slow dance with me in our bedroom, candles lit on our nightstand and an unmade bed next to us. Let me love you forever. Marry me, Caesar."

There was now a crowd of nosy people around them, waiting with baited breath for the older man's response, mumbling and murmuring in suspense. No one in the small crowd cared about the firework show any longer, they wanted to see this. ‘Aww’s and gasps filled the air as he finished, the crowd’s hearts rejoicing at how Joseph looked at the man in front of him.

Caesar was crying. His throat had closed, preventing him from speech, so he began nodding. Just as Joseph had slipped the ring on his finger, the older man tackled the brunette, kissing him as if it was the last time they'd ever see one another. The crowd lost it, most of them cheering and congratulating the couple, and some videoing them.

Just as Caesar slammed his lips onto his fiancé's, the fireworks went off.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Caesar pulled back from the kiss, giddy from the fairytale proposal.

"Did you plan this?"

"Maybe," Joseph laughed before kissing the older again. "I love you so much."

"I love you more. Thank you for this," Caesar whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Anything for you, beautiful."

Caesar laid his head on Joseph's chest as they watched the fireworks illuminate the sky. And even though the sight and sound of the fireworks were beautiful, Joseph's heartbeat was all Caesar cared to hear. Caesar was in love and Joseph didn't want to forget anymore.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The first bell of the year rang as Caesar prepared for his new class. Last year, he was known as Mr. Zeppeli, and that's what the kids in his homeroom know him as. Once they had all sat down, the teacher cleared his throat.

"Good morning," Caesar began.

"Morning Mr. Zeppeli."

"Actually, I got married last month. I'm Mr. Joestar now," the man explained, writing his new surname on the whiteboard. "Keep in mind, it's Joe star, not Joe star ."

The mention of a wedding sparked the children's interest, so instead of teaching, Caesar answered their questions the entire class period. With each class, he had different questions thrown at him, but for the most part, there was one frequent question.

How do you decide which man will change his name?

"Well, we looked at who would sound better with the other's surname," Caesar would say with a laugh. "Joseph Zeppeli sounded weird, but Caesar Joestar was beautiful."

When Caesar got home, his husband pulled him in for a kiss. "How was work?"

"The kids wanted to know every detail of our marriage," Caesar giggled. "One of them even asked me if I was gonna get pregnant."

"Well, they're second-graders, they don't know any better. What did you tell them?"

"That I personally am not able to get pregnant, but some men can."

Joseph smiled, kissing Caesar again. "I got home about a minute before you did so I haven't cooked anything, sorry."

"Cereal it is, then."

So the two sat in their floor, wrapped tightly in a blanket, watching Aladdin , and eating cereal from one bowl. This was a normal occurrence for the men, and neither of them would want it any different. After the movie ended, the two washed up and climbed into bed. Joseph wrapped his arms around Caesar, peppering his face with kisses.

"Good night, beautiful. I love you."

"Good night, handsome. I love you too," Caesar said, kissing his husband's nose lightly.

[ardenssolis]

@hembralfa said (inbox):

bodies began to drop left and right, like flies met with bug repellent. a game of human dominos. "... ramses...!" she spots him off in a corner and breaks out into a sprint. "what happened to you? who did this to you?" fingers curl around him as she pulls him close, but she pauses halfway through. a noise draws her attention and suddenly everything becomes deathly quiet. she feels nothing, thinks nothing. all she knows is that whoever this is wishes to harm them and she wasn't about to allow anything else to happen to ozymandias.

propping him up she brushes her hand against his cheek and stands to block him. her face was still visible partially from the side as she was angled. "you..." she whispers. "you did this to him."

the man, or... what she assumed was once a man, laughs. the sound grows in volume, louder and louder and louder... droning on in her ears, making her jaw grind together over and over and over... "shut the fuck up and cut your tongue out. no one wants to hear that shit." he freezes at her words and, as if in a trance, slowly pulls out his sword. loni watches on in a mix of horror and fascination as he does exactly as she says. "... slice the tendons in your ankles next." once again he complies.

eyes light up. she has no idea what's happening, but she feels high. body vibrates with a source of unknown power as she slowly backs away and kneels down to grab ramses once again. still, her eyes never leave the other. "now cut your heart out. no one touches him. no one hurts him. i hope you rot in whatever hell you crawled out of, and when the day comes I can finally join you... I'll show you what true hell is."

     ASSASSIN CLASSED SERVANTS WERE the worst to deal with sometimes. They could hide their presence, keeping themselves from being sensed until the very last moment when it was potentially too late to counter them. His staff had long since been unsummoned, the effort it took to keep it within his grasp had become too much even for him. Ozymandias felt as if gravity was pressing down all around him, as if the very air itself wished to flatten him straight into the ground. ❝T-Tch...how shameful...❞ He would have set this whole forest ablaze before he allowed this Assassin to think they could claim his life as if they were worthy of it. The only ones who had fallen into that categoy had been Arash and Arthur, both of whom fought tooth and nail to reach him, and then even harder to take him down. His thoughts became a jumbled mess, Loni just barely felt and heard as she spoke to him, calling his name in what sounded like an echo chamber.

     Moved with ease, his dizziness subsided just a little in this new position, golden eyes attempting to focus on her image. ❝Loni...?❞ When had she rushed over here? Last time he checked, she had been distracted, which was why the Assassin hiding in the trees had thought it best to attack him. After all, both had been distracted with their own fair share of enemies. What better time to strike then at that moment? Trying to snap out of the intense nausea he felt, he looked up, eyes lingering upon Loni's form as she spoke. There was an odd authority there that he couldn't explain, but it reminded him of a spell that a mage might cast. There were some that held the ability to ensnare and force others into obedience, but on a Servant, what would have another no different from a trained hound would do next to nothing. But Loni was a Servant. That made things different.

     Not only that, but she was a supernatural being too. Nowhere near the levels of dangerous like True Ancestors, exceedingly rare and ancient vampires that were so powerful that they could crush a Servant as easily as they could crush a human's skull, but dangerous enough. Whatever the Servant was, he could hear their guttural laughter even through his haze, Loni's tone shifting, the air around them suddenly changing. Huh...this felt...new. What was this? With each command that left her lips, he could hear the sounds that followed -- the blood, the noise that came from the tearing of flesh so familiar to him. Eyes widened a little, the effects of that Assassin's abilities now gone as if they had never pressed upon him at all. If that Servant wasn't dead, they were surely dying.

     ❝What did you do?❞

     Did she even know?

[geeky-politics-46]

Giirrrlll I just had the FILTHIEST brain rot and I'm about to throw it in your inbox so you can write it :p (jk no pressure if you dont want to, you can just squeal about it with me)

Dr Strange has a crush on you. He is laying in bed one night and, wondering if he has any chance with you, he decides to look into alternate futures. He doesnt... quite know how, but he ends up watching you two make love on your wedding night in an alternate universe. He knows it's wrong, but he can't bring himself to stop. Even as he feels his hips thrusting up against nothing; mimicking his alternate self's rutting into your pussy... God and he cant stop moaning as he wishes so desperately those sweet words falling from your lips were meant for HIM. Even if it was him in a sense. He has it so much worse for you then he thought.

So Close, Yet So Far

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Facing another night alone thinking about you, Stephen decides to snoop in alternate relationships with you, only to find one that makes him want you even more.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - male masturbation, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pet names, language/swearing, creampie, porn with minimal plot

Holy god this ask did things to me. Whoever you are who suggested this, I love you. Also I know I use this gif a lot, but can you blame me?

He had been tossing and turning for hours. He couldn't tell if he had made the best decision of his life or the worst one ever by asking you to go to that party with him tonight. He couldn't stop thinking about you. He couldn't stop thinking about how you had looked in that dress. How you felt on his arm. The one dance he shared with you. The soft fabric of your dress and the curve of your hip under his fingertips. Of course he had to put his hand over the spot where the thin string of your panties sat. Even by his standards for insomnia and frustration this was absurd. He had been half hard since he first saw the peaks of your nipples through that silk. 

He knew he had a crush on you, but it was getting ridiculous how much he wanted you. He had no idea if you liked him back that way. He had asked you to go with him tonight in the hopes that getting to pretend you were his for a night would satisfy his curiosity. It had only worked to make it ten times worse. 

Now he was laying in his bed desperately trying to ignore the hard on he still had, and you were in your bed across the Sanctum with no idea. He wondered if you were awake and thinking about him too. Maybe you were thinking about what it would be like to be unbuttoning his shirt. To have him slide down the straps of your dress to let it pool around your waist, perky breasts exposed. Maybe you were thinking about what it would have been like to hike up your dress and crawl into his lap. To kiss him and grind your hips down against him. 

Maybe you were wet and touching yourself thinking about him fucking you stupid. Your fingers sliding through your wet pussy lips. Gathering your arousal and stroking your clit pretending your fingers were his. Stretching your tight warm pussy thinking about his cock. Would you use two or three fingers to fuck yourself? 

Oh why the hell did he just do that to himself?! Why did he let himself think about that? Now his cock was so hard it ached. Maybe if he knew you were meant to be just friends he could jerk off to you one last time then put the idea out of his mind. He knew what he was about to do would break pretty much every rule of the time stone and multiverse, but at this point there wasn't enough blood left in his brain to care. 

So he let his brain start moving and sifting through different images. Different outcomes. Different universes. Some in which you were friends, some you didn't even know each other, and even a couple where you were enemies. Then one universe in particular caught his attention. He let the image encompass his consciousness. What he saw made his breath catch in his chest.

The two of you were in a large elegant room with an absurdly large fluffy bed. Rose petals were scattered on the floor and candles were lit all around the room. There was champagne and strawberries. It didn't take much to figure out exactly what was happening here. Especially with you in a gorgeous white gown and the matching rings the two of you wore as you slowly danced in the middle of the room. You were married. You were Mrs. Stephen Strange, and this was your wedding night. 

He watched through his own eyes as you leaned in to kiss him. Your arms looping around his neck and your body pressing firmly against his. Your tongue danced across his lower lip and he eagerly opened his mouth to let you in. Deepening the kiss. He heard your soft sensual sigh as Stephen let his fingers trail up and down your spine. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin in that universe too. 

He was hypnotized by the softness of your lips. He would only stay just another minute. Just to get this out of his system, then he would come back to his own body. He was vaguely aware that his hands had started rubbing at his cock over the blankets and sheets. Pretending it was your body pressing against him. The feeling of you there and not there at the same time.

You pulled your lips a couple inches away from his. He shuddered at the loss of contact in both universes. A smirk crossing your flushed kiss swollen lips at how worked up you had him. Of course you had no idea you had two of him worked up. You took his hands in yours & started leading him to the bed. Turning him so his back was to it before snaking your arms around his waist and kissing his neck and jawline. 

"Seems like you're a little eager to get your new wife into bed Doctor Strange."

You voice was dripping with sex. You started removing his jacket and tie as you spoke. Moving to the top few buttons of his shirt after his top layers were gone. He couldn't help himself; he needed to tell you how much he wanted you. He's actually not sure which of him answered, or if they both did.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to get you into bed, Mrs. Strange. Get you out of this dress. God you get me so hard when you are all dressed up." 

You pushed him down by his shoulders. Sitting him down on the edge of the bed and bringing yourself to stand between his legs. He let his hands move to your hips, just where he had held you earlier that night. He felt the same tiny string of your panties under his fingertips. The feeling making him moan loudly as he lay alone in his bed. A breathy "fuck" escaping his lips. 

"Well why don't you finish getting undressed while I change into something a little more see through. I had to get a little surprise for my new husband on our wedding night."

All he could do was nod. He let you free from his arms and watched you sashay toward the large bathroom. He should stop. He should leave this universe. It would be wrong to watch this. It would be like he was using you. Even if this was really happening in an alternate universe, it wasn't his universe. In his universe he was alone palming his own leaking cock being a voyeur. 

He was about to separate his mind and leave his other self to enjoy what he could only dream of. He was really just about to stop, but then you came out of the bathroom and any honorable thought was forgotten. He had never moved faster to get his clothes off. 

You were wearing a short white flowy babydoll nightie, the bottom completely sheer. The cups on the baby doll were non-existent, with a satin bow tied across your chest hiding your nipples. The panties you wore underneath had matching bows tied at each side. You were literally a present waiting for him to unwrap. Somehow you managed to look both angelic and pornographic at the same time. 

You walked over to him as he sat there naked, eyeing him up and down licking your lips as he couldn't help but start stroking himself. His actions in his reality mimicked those of his newlywed self. His long thick cock standing proud. He didn't think he had ever been this hard before. The feeling of his hand finally wrapping tightly around his shaft making his cock head start to leak more in relief.

Once you had walked back over to him and to the bed you let your hands run through his hair. In particular you ran your hands through the gray streaks at his temples. He smiled as he kept stroking himself. He knew even in his reality that you had a soft spot for his gray streaks. One of his favorite things to do was tease you by joking that he was going to dye them, you would always tell him you would kill him if he did. Feeling your fingers finally run through them made his entire body tingle.

You trailed your hands down his bare chest and pulled his hand free from his cock. Pulling it up to your mouth to lick off the pre-cum that had dripped onto his fingers. Moaning at his taste on your tongue. His own cock dripping even more over his fist at the thought of your lips covered in him. You placed his hand at the center of your ribcage, just underneath the tails of the satin bow concealing your plush breasts. He let his index finger tease at the underside of one breast, the exposed flesh warm under his touch. 

"What do you want to unwrap first Stephen? Top or bottom?" 

Instead of untying anything he pulled you forward to lay you on the bed and rolled so you were underneath him. His eyes boring into your form, trying to memorize every mark and curve. Pressing his hand into your pubic mound and dragging it all the way up your body to your throat. Bringing his lips down to devour yours. His kiss frenzied with passion making you moan against his lips. 

"So sexy sweetheart, I should warn you I'm not feeling very patient tonight. I want you so badly."

Your back started to arch when he started kissing and nipping down your neck. Stopping to suck a dark bruise on your clavicle. A deep rumble in his chest as he felt your soft small hand wrap around his cock. His hips starting to rut into your fist. 

"Baby I'm not gonna last long right now. I need to be inside you. Need to fuck my little wife." 

You smiled up at him sweetly, your eyes full of love for him. Just that look eliciting a needy groan from him back in his reality. He rolled over in his empty bed and positioned a couple pillows so he could pretend you were really laying underneath him. Whispering into one of them how bad he needed to be inside you. Completely gone in the visions of his alternate self starting to untie your lingerie. His hips fighting the urge to thrust against the pillows. He wanted to hold himself back until he was fucking you in the other reality. He wanted to pretend any friction he got was your sweet pussy.  

He watched as his scarred fingers untied the bow over your breasts. Your nipples were perfect and already peaked for him. His fingers toying with one as he licked at the other. Sucking on it and swirling his tongue on it before repeating his actions with your other nipple. He knew your breasts would be perfect. He had spent a good chunk of the evening thinking about doing this exact thing. He lightly bit one of them making you groan out his name and he had to fight the urge to cum right there. 

He moved on to your panties before long, he was just too excited to actually have his hands on you. Well, he didn't have his hands on you exactly, but one of him did. 

Pulling slowly at the bow on one hip, letting the satin slip against itself in an easy effortless way. Making sure not to disturb the position your panties were in before moving to the other side and repeating the same quick motion. The fabric now lay just draped across your sex. Even the slightest movement would leave you bare and exposed to him.

Before he moved the fabric he took a single finger and stroked your slit over your panties. Feeling your arousal for him. Smiling in satisfaction at the dampness he felt there. 

"You feel awfully wet, Mrs. Strange. Is this all for your new husband? Is this all for me?" 

"All for you Stephen. My incredibly sexy husband who I want to fuck me all night long."

You cradled his face in your hand. Bringing his lips down to yours for a passionate kiss before he pulled away to watch as he pulled the fabric of your untied panties away. He swore your body was more perfect with every inch he saw. There was so much he wanted to do to you, but he knew he was running on borrowed time before he would be forced out of this reality and back to his own.

He got up on his knees and positioned himself between your legs. Staring down at your most intimate parts being offered up to him. He let himself stroke your glistening pussy long enough to gather enough of your wetness to slick himself up. Lowering himself to his forearms to slide his hard shaft through your wet lips. Both of you groaning in pleasure at the feel of each other. 

Back in his bed he let his own hips start thrusting forward just enough to tease himself. His eyes squeezed shut as he pictured you below him. Picturing your eyes begging him to slide inside you. As he angled his cock to actually slip inside your dripping heat a confession of love spilling from his lips in both universes. His hips pressing forward to push him past your entrance to stretch and fill you perfectly.

You felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. He felt both rapture and torture as his real self fucked into the pillow below him that he so wished was you. He could just almost feel you. Your cunt trying to hold him inside you as his hips undulated pushing him in and out of you. He knew he looked truly desperate. Moaning, swearing, & sweating laying in his empty bed humping a pillow. In his mind though, he was in a universe where he was buried inside you. Making love to his new wife. Pulling the most incredible moans and sounds from you.

Every time his name slipped past your lips he fucked you just a little bit harder. Trying desperately to imprint the feeling of you in his mind. He couldn't help from crying out your name. He knew he should try to be quieter, that you might hear & know exactly what he was doing. He didn't care though. He needed to cum, & he needed to make you cum. He felt like his life, his sanity, depended on making you cum on his cock.

He started grinding his hips more than thrusting them. Trying to get as much friction against your clit as he could. You pulled your legs up to wrap around his waist letting him get even deeper inside you. His forehead was pressed to yours as he swallowed your whimpers with his kissses. Starting to move faster and faster as your voice got higher.

His face was smashed into one pillow. Clinging to it tight against his chest with one arm. His other hand was gripping his cock tight as hips frantically slammed into another pillow. The pre-cum dribbling from his tip soaking both the pillow and his hand. The slap of his balls against his hand creating a wet sound he pretended was coming from your pussy.

"Oh god Stephen, yes! I'm so close, baby. Don't stop fucking me, don't stop." 

He loved hearing you say his name like this. He loved hearing you saying all of these things. He wanted to lavish you in filthy praise. Your cunt was starting to spasm around him and he could tell just how close to cumming you were. You felt so good and he was about ready to beg you to cum.

"Cum for me sweetheart. Cum on my cock. Fucking soak me baby."

You threw your head back and wailed his name. He could tell your toes were curling by the way all the muscles of your lower body contracted. Your cunt was squeezing his aching cock so tight he was amazed he could even move. The only thing letting him keep thrusting in and out was the arousal that drenched you both.

The headboard of his bed was now banging against the wall from the force of his hips. He was trying to squeeze his hand around his cock in time with the way your pussy was fluttering. Even though he knew it felt nowhere near as good as you would, it felt good enough that only a couple more thrusts had him emptying himself onto the sheets. Rope after rope of warm thick cum drenching the pillow and the sheets below him. He came more than he ever had in his life. Immediately jealous of himself. Of the version of himself that got to cum in your perfect pussy.

His orgasm disrupted his thinking and concentration enough to pull him free of the alternate universe. His entire consciousness slammed back into his body. The cold of the room hitting his sweaty skin and the emptiness of the bed around him only making him colder. He rolled off and away from the soiled pillow covered in a puddle of his cum, but he pulled the pillow that he held in his arms with him. He kept holding that pillow close, thinking about how it would feel to hold you in post-coital bliss. How it would be to fall asleep with you and wake up next to you.

Then he realized he had to pretend that he had never seen what he did. How was he going to face you now? Now that he had seen you, heard you, & felt you all around him. Moaning for him. He wouldn't be able to look at you without thinking about you asking him to fuck you. Without seeing you wearing his ring. 

He wanted you so much more now. Now that he had a taste of what being with you was like he knew he wouldn't be able to live without getting more. He had to tell you he liked you. He could only hope that his version of you would return his feelings.

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @rindulacre @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @possessedjoker @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @mando-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @lucimorningst4r @the-royal-petals @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @folklore-mcu @mydearestalmira

Let me know if you want to be tagged in stories for everything or for a specific charector. It's currently a lot of Strange & his variants ❤