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pedroscurls · 4 days ago

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touch starved (one-shot)

summary: logan agreed to go out with wade, having been promised a low-key night, but he should've known than to trust wade for his word. he didn't agree to spend his night at a strip club and he's just about ready to leave until he sees you. pairing: worst!wolverine x fem!reader content warnings: explicit smut (18+, mdni), porn without plot, lap dance, grinding / humping, striptease, one night stand (you take logan back to your apartment), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), cowgirl, reader takes charge (and logan's more than happy to let you take the lead), oral - m receiving, swallowing logan's release. basically this story is all about catering to logan and his needs 🙂‍↕️, reader description (only clothes and hair), no use of y/n. word count: 3k a/n: coming at ya with yet another one-shot of logan filth lol. my own headcanon is that logan / worst!wolverine is touch starved (just as much as he craves to be part of something bigger than himself). anyway, hope y'all enjoy - it's a spicy one 🤭 song: closer by nine inch nails

“You promised a quiet night out, Wade,” Logan snarls at the other man, hand gripping his glass of whiskey. It’s too loud in here, the music blaring from the speakers, the flashing dark red lights illuminating mainly the stage where women are performing. There are plenty of men surrounding the stage, alcohol in one hand and dollar bills in the other.

“I promised no such thing,” Wade grins. “I said let’s go out and you agreed.”

Logan’s jaw tightens and he looks at Wade with narrowed eyes. “You’re a fuckin’ liar.”

Wade laughs. “Come on, peanut! Have some fun. Let loose. Just sit back and relax–”

“I’m leavin’,” Logan interrupts, downing his entire glass before slamming it on the table. He stands up and gets ready to turn on his heel when he catches a glimpse of you at the corner of his eye. He turns slightly and watches the way your smile meets your eyes. You don’t look like you belong in a place like this, the other women wearing too much make up and revealing so much that it leaves little to the imagination. But you… You look absolutely breathtaking and Logan feels like he can’t move, can’t tear his eyes away from you.

Your hair cascades past your shoulders, your make up remaining light and natural. You’re dressed in an all black sheer robe with a lace cuff and satin waist belt. The robe is loosely wrapped around your frame, giving Logan a glimpse of your sheer mesh bra, the top of your bra trimmed with lace and when you undo the belt of your robe to reveal your lower half, he feels his breath catch in his throat. Your panties – or rather, your thong – matches the same style of your bra.

It’s so innocent in comparison to the other women in the strip club, and yet, Logan can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. It’s only when he hears Wade’s voice that he finally looks away, even though he’s yearning to just look at you again.

“Oh, someone’s caught your eye,” Wade grins, swaying in his seat. “Want a private dance, Mr. Wolverine?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan says. “Like I said, I was leavin’–”

“So soon?” you interrupt and glance between both men. You flash a smile in Wade’s direction who looks like he’s about ready to combust with excitement. He’s sipping his drink with a straw, grinning in your direction. Then, you glance over at Logan whose eyes stare directly into your own.

“Actually,” Wade says. “How much for a private dance…” he trails, staring up at you as he waits for you to say your name.

“Kitty,” you finish for him. “You can call me Kitty.”

“Very fitting,” Wade winks. “Well, Kitty, it’s my friend’s first night out in a very long time and I figured I can treat him to a private dance.”

“That’s very nice of you,” you respond, but your eyes never leave Logan’s. You can see his eyes flit over your frame, lingering on your exposed skin.

“Listen, you ain’t have to and–”

“How about the first one’s on me?” you interject.

“Sweetheart,” Logan mumbles.

You bite your lower lip and gently reach up to rest a hand on his arm. You can feel the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt, can feel him flex it underneath your fingertips. Logan inhales sharply as he looks down at your hand, clearing his throat at your soft touch.

“His name’s Logan, by the way,” Wade chimes in, cutting through the tension with a quiet giggle.

“But only if you want to, Logan,” you whisper, moving your hand down his arm and to his forearm. You bat your eyelashes up at him, trying to ignore the obvious attraction you feel towards him. Truthfully, you’d rather spend the rest of your night with him rather than give dances to other men in the club – men who didn’t look like Logan.

Logan feels his resolve diminishing, but when he hears his name leave your lips, he nods slowly. “Y– Yeah, sure.”

“Great, come with me.” You smile and gently take his hand in yours. He looks down at it, taking notice of the way his large hand encompasses yours and he allows you to lead him towards the back of the club and into a much more private room.

Once inside, Logan hears the door shut and he turns to face you, his eyes lingering on your frame. He watches you walk towards him, hips swaying to the muffled sound of the music until he feels your hands rest firmly on his chest.

“You’re a shy one,” you point out, tongue darting out to lick your lower lip.

“Not shy,” Logan mumbles. “Just bein’ respectful, sweetheart.”

“Sexy and a gentleman?” you smile. “Mind if I keep you for the rest of the night?” you tease.

Logan feels a blush rise in his cheeks and lets out a quiet grunt when he feels you push him back against the large sofa. He stares up at you, eyes obviously now trailing your frame. He keeps his hands on his lap, though he yearns to reach out to touch you.

“Logan,” you whisper, moving your hands to rest on the backs of the couch as you lean in until your lips are mere inches from one another. You’re slightly bent over to be at eye level with him and you smile, catching the way he clears his throat. “If you don’t want to do this, all you have to do is say so, okay?”

“Okay,” he responds quietly.

You smile and gently press a soft kiss on his cheek, slowly pulling away to see that his eyes had fallen shut. You turn on your heel and walk over to the speaker to put on a couple of songs that you normally play when you give a private dance. Pressing play on the first song, you then turn around to face him once more. He looks so large in this room – his legs spread open on the sofa, broad shoulders and chiseled muscle beneath the fabric of the flannel he’s wearing. This was only ever a job to you, never finding anyone all that interesting or attractive, but Logan – well, you’d risk your entire job if it meant you can have him for one night.

As the first song plays and filters the room, your eyes meet Logan’s who is staring at you with an anticipated look on his face. His eyes move along your legs, up to your midsection and then up to your breasts and back down. Slowly, you remove your robe and let it pool around your ankles as you strut towards him. Your hips sway with each forward step and Logan lets out a shaky breath.

Once you’re standing in front of him, between his legs, you lean down and gently brush your lips against the corner of his lips. His facial hair tickles your lips and you pull back enough to stare into his eyes, lips slowly grazing his own. “You can touch me,” you whisper and move your hands onto his strong shoulders, slowly straddling his hips. “To be honest, I’d let you do anything you’d want to me,” you say quietly into his ear.

Logan’s large hands immediately move to your hips, gripping it tightly as you sit firmly on his lap. He’s so hard and he feels so embarrassed, but the look on your face when you feel him alleviates some of the uncertainty he’s feeling.

This isn’t the first time you’ve felt a man’s erection while giving them a lap dance, but it is the first time that you actually let out a quiet moan as you slowly roll your hips against his own, to the beat of the song. The tension between you thickens in the air and you stare deeply into his eyes as you try to remember the routine that you normally do for this song.

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

Logan’s hands slowly move from your hips to your thighs, his fingertips digging into the meat of your flesh as your hips roll against his. He clears his throat and watches as your eyes flutter with each movement. He has to wonder if this is all part of your act, that maybe you’re just acting like you’re enjoying this.

“Logan,” you whisper, moving to slightly lean back in his lap. You move one hand from his shoulder to reach behind you and rest on his knee as you lift your hips before coming back down on his lap. Logan groans quietly, almost inaudibly, as he moves a hand to splay on your abdomen, slowly moving it upwards towards your breasts.

I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to God

When his thumb brushes against your nipple, feeling it peak beneath the sheer fabric of your bra, he has to wonder if maybe he crossed a line. Logan moves his hand away from you but you grab his wrist and move it back over your breasts. He smirks and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he leans forward.

You let out a quiet moan and feel a wetness settle between your legs that you have to lift your hips off of him, not wanting to stain his dark jeans with your arousal. Slowly, you stand back up and hear him let out a quiet, disapproving groan. You stand between his legs, moving one hand in your hair as you use the other to run along your body, grazing your own breasts and down between the valley of your thighs as your hips sway to each beat of the song.

You tear down my reason

(Help me) it's your sex I can smell

(Help me) you make me perfect

Help me become somebody else

Logan can smell your arousal, can smell just how excited you are and the uncertainty he felt earlier is now completely gone. His hands move up your legs, fingertips hooking into the thin waistband of your thong, but he feels your hands move to rest over his.

“Logan,” you say quietly. Even through the music, he can hear your voice, can hear the desire and yearning in your tone.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want to take you home,” you admit, moving to sit back on his lap. “I know it’s very unprofessional, but–”

Logan grins. “Then take me home.”

—

Logan had told Wade what happened, the other man all too excited for him. He hadn’t expected this night to turn the way it did and there’s some part of him that doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but when he sees you step out of the club with that same sweet smile that meets your eyes, he pushes those feelings out of his mind. Because all he can think about is what’s going to happen next.

The drive to your apartment was short and the moment you step out of the car, Logan’s quick to follow you. He steps inside of the apartment with you and you shut the door behind him before you’re on him almost instantly. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and Logan’s hands move to rest on your hips. You stare up at him before you lean up to press your lips firmly against his.

Logan groans instantly against your lips, eyes falling shut as he follows your lead. You move one hand down his chest to his abdomen until it reaches the waistband of his jeans. He feels your tongue slide past his lips and he whimpers against you – he fucking whimpers. Logan’s used to being the one in charge that it takes him by surprise when you’re more than willing to take control.

When you undo the button and zipper of his jeans, you pull away. Your gaze darkens at the sight of him and you bring him further into your apartment, once more pushing him against your couch as he sits down with a grunt. Standing in front of him, you pull down your shorts and panties in one motion, grabbing the ends of your shirt to lift over your head. You stand in front of him, completely bare and exposed for him that Logan doesn’t know where to look first.

You’re so fucking breathtaking that he feels his manhood strain against the fabric of his jeans. Logan slowly pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs, catching the way your eyes widen at the sight of his erected length. He smirks to himself and undoes the buttons of his flannel, pushing it off his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you whisper under your breath. “You’re so fucking hot, Logan.”

Logan bites his lower lip. He doesn’t have time to respond, to tell you that you’re the one who’s so fucking hot because you straddle his hips and take hold of length. He groans at the feel of your hand wrapped around him, lining him up to your opening. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to last – it had been such a long time since anyone’s wanted him like this, since anyone looked at him the way you did.

In his universe, everyone hated him.

But in this one – Logan has a second chance at living life the way he should have in the first place.

When you slide down his length, Logan’s hands move to your hips. He groans loudly, your walls surrounding his length – so warm, so wet, so tight. Your walls slide down every inch of his length until you’re seated fully on his lap. He looks up at you, sees the way your eyes flutter.

“God, you’re so deep,” you point out with a quiet moan, moving your hands to his shoulders. Holding onto him, you slowly begin to lift yourself before you slide back down. You can feel every inch of his throbbing manhood within your depths and he fills you so fully in a way that you’ve never felt before.

He shifts to lie on his back on your couch, staring up at you. Your hands move to rest on his chest, rolling your hips forward and backward. You can feel the hair at his base brush against your bundle of nerves with each movement, quiet moans escaping your lips.

Logan moans in surprise when you reach for his hands, lacing your fingers together as you press them above his head. He knows that he’s so much stronger than you, but he finds that he likes being at your mercy. You’re gripping his hands so tightly, pressing your joined hands further into your couch as you begin to bounce along his length. You lift yourself until his tip is the only part of him that’s within your depths before you slide back down, your tight walls sliding down each inch of him.

“Sweetheart, fuck,” Logan groans, squirming slightly against your grip. He feels your walls begin to tremble around him, can feel you tightening even further around his manhood.

“Lo– Logan!” you exclaim, moaning loudly as you slam down onto him. You shut your eyes tightly, slowly moving your hips forward and backward to ride out your high. You release his hands to brace yourself on his chest, the feeling of his hair at his base providing just the right amount of friction.

Logan feels a tightness building in the pit of his stomach and he gently lifts you off of him. You gasp, whimpering at the sudden loss of him before you realize that he’s close. You move down the couch and settle yourself between his legs as you take hold of his length, stroking him with a firm grip as your lips wrap around his tip.

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting you to fucking suck him off. Logan moves a hand in your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks as he guides you along his length. Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t and when you hollow your cheeks to apply more pressure around him, Logan tosses his head back against the couch.

It’s sloppy, spit trickling down your chin as you keep your eyes focused on him. You move along his length, flattening your tongue on the underside of him as you feel each throbbing vein against you. Logan’s grip around your hair tightens and he lifts his hips slightly off the couch to push himself further into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you gag around him.

Slowly, you pull away from him and smile. “Come for me, Logan.” Then, you wrap your mouth around him once more and bob your head rapidly, stroking his base. Logan shuts his eyes tightly, the tightness building once more as he lets out a loud moan. He gently pushes your hand away as he grips himself, using his free hand to pull you back from your hair as he releases into your mouth. He opens his eyes to look down at you, his seed filling your mouth and you eagerly swallow.

Logan groans, stroking himself to release every last drop of his spend into your mouth. You smile against him – you fucking smile with his cock in your mouth – and it’s an image that Logan will never forget. When you pull away and lick your lips, swallowing every last drop, you lean up on your knees and stare at him.

“Yum,” you grin.

Logan’s breathing heavily, moving one hand to rest behind his head as he looks at you with a small smile. “Didn’t expect this to happen tonight,” he admits. “But I’m glad it did.”

“Stay the night?” you ask.

Logan nods and sits up, gently pushing you onto your back as he settles himself between your legs. “Oh, sweetheart, I ain’t even done with you yet.”

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elexuscal · 4 months ago

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So just over a year ago, I made a resolution to myself to get better at Fitness, since I was getting older and i knew if i didn't, the Consequences would begin to manifest. One problem? Historically i have always hated working out.

i knew there were two main reasons why: 1. lingering trauma from the usual Fat/Neurodivergent Kid Mistreated In PE Class Experience 2. oh my god it's so so so boring i would rather do anything more entertaining.

So. I'm not an expert, and i'm definitely not a professional fitness instructor, BUT i have genuinely come to not just tolerate but actually enjoy exercise this past year. So if these are any problems you personally have contended with, these strategies May Help.

One: Remove Barriers

a lot of flavours of neurodivergence struggle with switching between tasks and executive function generally, especially towards something you don't find fun. So first you gotta identify any barriers keeping you from exercising, and removing or mitigating them.

For me, a hurdle i recognised is that if I could not easily access the equipment, I was unlikely to use it. honestly if i couldn't see it i would probably forget it was there. So my first order of business was making a Work Out Zone. I unrolled my yoga mat and gave it a near-permanent place in my room. my weights came out of the closet and placed on a low shelf where i could easily access them, as did my resistance band. now they were always Right there.

I also realised something I detested was the general feeling of sweaty clothes, and in particular, having to change out of them. So Gross. so i started scheduling my work outs for in the the morning after breakfast or right before my nightly showers, aka: when I am changing in and out of my PJs. I'll do my routine (mostly) naked and not have to contend with the extra steps and laundry that sweaty clothes bring.

two: secondary entertainment

like i said: i found exercise very boring. and while i've gotten better over the past year, and can find it meditative, i still prefer having something else to catch my attention.

i used to like to put on video essays. but then i realised i was so often pausing my work outs because the particular video ended, or the pace got slow, or the topic turned to something dark and depressing out of nowhere and killed the vibe, so then i had to stop to find something else--

No. You need something that will keep you in the zone, and won't knock you out of it. I didn't used to listen to music much, but this year i took advantage of a Spotify subscription my sister gifted me (😔) and started just putting on upbeat rock, hip-hop, and pop mixes. it doesn't need to be my favouirte music ever it just needs to Keep Going.

i do find the loud, rhythmic music is really good for keeping my pace up, but if music doesn't do it for you, you might find audiobooks or autoplaying favourite old tv shows/sitcoms might scratch that itch.

Three: Find Other Motivators

Or, "if you can't make your own motivation, store bought is fine"

Gameification is really good here. You might be someone who'll benefit from a pedometer or step-counter app. I have a friend who swears by the Switch Ring-Fit, and I've also heard of folks who use games like Just Dance, Zombies, Run! and Beat Saber to rely on the sweet sweet endorphins generated by hitting a high score.

(BUT: do beware the dark side of gameification, which is the risk of demotivation if you don't hit your goals. For example, after doing GREAT on exceeding my step goal for a month, I got hit with COVID. For about a week and a half I was barely moving beyond the kitchen and back. My step counts plummeted, there was no way to edit the record out, and that made it harder to get back into the groove. Be mindful relying too much on gameification!)

Even outside of literal games, there are ways to scratch this itch. I used secondary objectives as a way to encourage me to keep up with my daily walks. Walking my roommate's dog when he was working long days is an obvious one, but we don't always have a furry friend at our disposal. Then I would rely on mini-challenges like, "pick up 10 cool rocks to paint", "fill this bag with wood for the fireplace", "take 10 pretty pictures", or "get to the corner store to get more milk".

And of course, consider team sports! Many folks I've talked to feel having set training/play times with a team that relies on them crucial to keep them on track!

Four: Don't Measure Success By Weight Loss

I know. I know. Easier said than done. It does not help that like 80% of workout resources online are going to mention this. but above all else, you must resist the beast. (and while not as dicey, measuring success by visible muscle gain can fall into a similar trap).

The biggest benefits to exercise are invisible. it improves cardiovascular health, brain function, tissue regeneration, immune system function, lung capacity, energy levels, literally our whole body. no matter what external changes your body does or doesn't go through, you're still going to be benefitting from exercise, and you do not want to get demotivated chasing unrealistic/irrelevant goals.

Instead, to track your progress, focus on questions like these:

How is exercise impacting my mood? Do I feel less stressed or anxious?

Am I sleeping better?

Is my balance improving?

Is my stamina increasing?

Am I becoming more flexible?

Can I lift/carry heavier weights?

Is my breath control improving?

Over the last year, I've seen marked improvements in all of these. My joints don't hurt as much; it's easier for me to to get up and move; I don't get winded as easily; I generally feel more relaxed and cheerful. Those are all amazing outcomes, and I hope that everyone on their own fitness journey can find the same joy there as I have.

#fitness #exercise #fatphobia #there are definitely other tips i could give #but these i think are the ones that helped *me* the most

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lxkeee · 6 months ago

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HEAVEN AND BACK!

—CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor's Mom! Angel! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Romance, love at first sight.

Warnings: none.

Notes: sorry it took awhile, I got lazy lmfao. Also, I listened to caramelldansen when writing this.

CH. ONE | CH. TWO | CH. FOUR | NAV.

It has been a few days since Alastor's mother decided to stay at the hotel, the woman fits right in perfectly with the sinners in the hotel.

Almost.

The angelic woman couldn't get a chance to get to know better hell's very own King, Lucifer.

As Alastor always tries to come in between her and the man.

Is this what Adam called "Cock blocking?" She heard the man say that before and before Adam could explain it to her, Emily explained that it's something where 'You try to talk to someone but somehow there's something or someone stopping you from doing so?' that's what the girl said but did also tell her to not use that term.

How strange.

She sighs, running a hand through her [h/c] locks, careful not to accidentally scratch her own deer antlers. The woman is currently in her 'demon' form, large deer like antlers that are on top of her head, she made sure not to wear bright colors and instead chose to wear something on the darker shades of red, her wings are hidden while her halo was transformed into a golden necklace that hung around her neck.

She rests a leg on top of her other leg as she sits on one of the many cushioned chairs of the hotel, she looks down from the second floor balcony, getting a good view of the hotel's lobby.

“Pray tell, what really brings you here in hell oh dear mother of mine?” Alastor asked beside her, standing beside the seat she sat on, his hand holding his cane-like microphone, he looked at his mother with a grin, though, a confused look in his eyes. He knows his mother, he got his personality from her after all.

Like mother, like son.

[Y/n] giggled, “Overseeing this hotel's progress, isn't that an enough reason to be here?” she answers, eyes closed with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes opened to see her son's disbelief smile.

Alastor tilted his head slightly, grin widening, “I doubt that is the reason, I was so sure that the celestial realm denied Charlie's plans so,” he says, pausing a bit as he hummed to himself as if he was thinking, “—I was rather surprised that heaven decided to change their minds.” he says with a smirk.

He knows she's hiding something.

[Y/n] can't help but let the sides of her lips twitch upwards to a slight smirk. Clever boy. She thought to herself.

With a defeated sigh, she chuckled after, “There is a reason but heaven cannot disclose that yet. That is the only thing I can tell you.” she explained before raising an eyebrow at him, “Is that an enough reason?”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, his smile widened, humming as he thought to himself, “Hmm... I supposed that is an enough reason and I should stop bothering my mother about it.” he says with a smirk.

[Y/n] playfully rolls her eyes at her son, eyes fixated down below to the lobby of the hotel, [e/c] eyes focused on a certain blond fallen angel who's currently drinking a glass of wine at the bar area.

“Enough of that, I would like to ask you why do you keep on trying to stop me from interacting with him?” She asked, head turning away from the scene below and once more looked at Alastor whose smile had slightly lowered in annoyance, a small scoff leaving past his lips.

“Do I really need to give you a reason, dear mother of mine?” Alastor asked, tilting his head, his voice sounding almost a grimace thinking about the shorter man making moves on her.

[Y/n] just raises her eyebrow at him, a small hum escaping her lips, “Please do.”

Alastor hums, dark red eyes looking down on the folks currently in the lobby, “He's a man, mother. In fact, he's the king of hell. I don't trust him.” he grumbles, the smile on his face is gone and is now replaced with a small frown.

[Y/n]'s face softened, she knows her son's disapproval in men, especially if said men have an interest in her. Her last marriage was a failure and filled with pain and Alastor was by her side through it all.

She can understand why he hesitates, why he tries to put distance between her and the men that come to her life.

"Alastor, sweetheart. Don't worry about me,” She says softly, a small gentle smile on her face. Her eyes closing and opening as she glanced at the people down below, her smile widened as she saw sinners mingled with one another.

She's glad. She's glad that there are souls who are willing to try and earn redemption.

And she's here to guide them.

Alastor looked at his mother, his usual grin now back on his face.

“Besides, the man seems nice. It must be lonely being the first fallen angel.” she says softly, she can't imagine the pain Lucifer must've dealt with. She read about him when she was in heaven, she was curious about the first fallen angel and the heavenly libraries were filled with eons and eons of information and she read everything she can about him. Sera even warned her in case she turns to heresy and Sera made sure to remind her to keep her loyalty to heaven and avoid getting influenced by him.

Alastor hums, “I suppose,” he says with a small nod before giving his mother a side eye, “Though, I don't think I'll be comfortable with the possibility of calling him...” he paused and gave a small gag, “—father.” he says with disgust.

[Y/n] chuckles, “Me? Marrying the king of hell? What an ambitious dream would that be.” she says with a small laugh, flicking her hand sassily.

“I just want to be his friend, the man seems like he hasn't formed any meaningful relationships during his life.” she says with a small giggle and Alastor had to fight back from laughing, “Indeed, he has not.” he agrees with a small chuckle.

“Don't be mean, I didn't raise you like that.” [Y/n] chuckles, elbowing her son on his side which made Alastor let a small grunt before pouting at her, “Apologies.” he says, tone clearly not genuine which [Y/n] can clearly tell.

She sighs exasperatedly.

Alastor chuckles his eyes closing before opening once more to look at his beloved mother, “Oh and another thing,” he spoke, [Y/n] looked at him a quirked eyebrow, a small hum escaping her lips, “Hmm?”

“I would like to express my gratitude in what you have down to the hotel's garden, you've brought life to this godforsaken place. I am sure these sinners haven't seen any kind of greenery ever since they have died.” Alastor grins, his eyes darkened from amusement over the misery of these loathsome sinners.

[Y/n] chuckles, though, questioning where she went wrong in raising him.

“It was nothing, I thought the hotel needed a little green that's all! All of these reds are hurting my eyes.” she says glancing at Alastor with a judgemental look in her eyes.

Alastor just rolls his eyes at her which earned him another harsh elbow to the sides.

Lucifer was admiring the lush garden of the hotel's backyard, he has never seen such greenery before—he did but it was eons ago when he was still divine, but it was eons ago and has already forgotten what it looked like—a large willow tree at the side just by the door to the hotel, the once dried up fountain at the center is now back and running, multiple plants surrounded the area and grass, good heavens, he doesn't remember when was the last time he touched grass.

He doesn't know when was the last time you touched grass, dear reader. Go out sometimes, it'll be good for you.

What was he thinking again? Ah, grass.

‘I broke the fourth wall? You're just seeing things, sweetheart.’ he thought in amusement, eyes staring off somewhere as if looking at something... Or someone.

He just chuckled in amusement before walking towards one of the bushes of roses, the heels of his shoes clicked against the pebbled pathway and he stopped in front of a bush of white roses, the fragrance of the flower immediately filling his nose.

It's been so long. He forgot what roses smell like.

Lucifer's eyes sparkled in awe, his wine red like eyes filled with wonder, his right gloved hand gently caressing the petal of a white rose, feeling its softness—just one of the few species of flowers that bloomed in hell for the first time.

“Do you like it?” a feminine voice spoke out—a voice familiar to Lucifer, a voice belonging to a certain radio demon's mother, the silkiness of her voice—it made Lucifer shudder, “I thought the garden looked bare, I thought some greenery would fix it.” [Y/n] chuckles softly.

Lucifer turns around and sees [Y/n] standing behind him, her hands behind her back. The red knee length dress hugged her curves perfectly—it stole Lucifer's breath away, she's gorgeous.

He chuckles, placing his right hand back to his cane, “Indeed, it has been quite long since I've seen such beautiful flowers.” he says, his voice filled with longing and a hint of sadness that [Y/n] didn't fail to notice but decided not to point it out, “They are lovely, I am grateful for being presented with another opportunity to see such beautiful flowers.” he spoke softly, irises glancing at the flowers briefly before looking back at the taller woman.

[Y/n] chuckles softly, “It's a pleasure,” she says with a small smile, taking slow steps as she walked by his side.

“It was fun growing them and an honor to give the princess of hell her own garden of flowers.” she says with a slight chuckle.

“And with that, I am forever grateful.” Lucifer says with a small smile, eyes shining briefly and for once, it's not dull.

[Y/n] was glad to see the shine on his beautiful eyes, and also seeing a genuine smile on the man's face.

After all, you're never fully dressed without a smile.

“You are most absolutely welcome, sweetheart.” she says with a grin, amusement dancing in her eyes as the rosy spots on the man's cheeks seem to redden even more.

“Ex-excuse m-me?!” he stammers, the endearment catching him off guard, it has been quite some time since someone called him something so... Affectionate.

[Y/n] tilted her head slightly, a feigned confusion on her face. Who knew the king of hell is quite easy to tease?

“Hmm? Is something the matter?” she asked softly, a hint of playfulness in her voice, “Is the nickname not to your liking? Would you prefer darling instead?” she asked teasingly.

Lucifer has never been more flustered in his entire existence.

“Are you normally this mischievous?” he asked, his hand covering his face while his other hand gripped into his cane.

“Usually I'm more.” she answered honestly with mischief on her lips.

“Of course, you're the mother of a certain radio demon.” he said with an exaggerated sigh making [Y/n] chuckle.

“Speaking of him, where is he? He usually stays by your side.” he deadpans, his hand that was covering his face lowered back to hold his cane, he's been wanting to interact with this woman properly ever since he met her but that damn radio demon kept her away.

[Y/n] hums, “I am not entirely sure, I'm sure he is somewhere around the hotel.” she says with a hum in her voice, glancing at the side to see a certain demonic shadow quickly leaving.

This damn brat, she'll teach him a lesson later.

Lucifer just hums, thank Satan. He can't stand that demon and his annoying grin.

Finally recomposing himself, he grins at her.

“Well then, I hope everyone in the hotel is treating you well? I haven't gotten the chance to ask you as a certain someone kept getting in the way.” he says with a small smile but his voice strained a little when he mentioned a certain someone.

[Y/n] hums softly, leaning down slightly to reach the rose bush, her hand gently caressing the petal of a white rose, “Everyone has been nice so far, I'm glad you asked.” she says cheerfully.

“I'm glad.” he says with grin.

“I am glad too.” she said softly with a grin.

Maybe, hell isn't too bad.

Both of them thought at the same time.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @punching-pentagrams @moonlovers34 @h3110kitty0 @bethleeham @hcneyiced @ashleygryffindor @ghostdoodlen @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @cupidsgift @shilladodo

#lxkeee updates #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #“HEAVEN AND BACK”#lxkeee writes #lucifer morningstar x reader fluff #lucifer x you #Lucifer x you fluff #love at first sight

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darylssunshine · 5 months ago

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Ride a Cowboy

genre: almost smut but like technically not

non-apocalypse au

can be imagined as any era!

word count: 1.4k

summary: Daryl has fun with you on a bar date.

Glasses clinking and joyous conversation filled the air of the club while you eyed Daryl down his fourth shot of vodka, barely grimacing as it went down his throat.

“How can you do that? I've only had two shots and my mouth tastes literally disgusting right now.” You chuckled at the tolerance of your boyfriend, sipping your sweet tea to get the taste out of your mouth.

“Years of practice, sweetheart.” He retorted, leaning his elbows on the bar in front of him and flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes.

Daryl had been wanting to take you on a date for a while, and it was his choice for the location this time. So, of course, you and him had ended up at a southern style club a couple miles into town. It was very old-fashioned, with all wooden furniture and brick walls, adorned with framed photos of the owners, along with iconic landmarks of the surrounding area. The lights, however, were colorful and energetic, flashing along with the beat of the music at times. The bar area took up half of the building, while the other half housed a mechanical bull that was currently inactive.

With your attire being black skinny jeans, a band tank, and a black cowboy hat you stole from Daryl, the regulars could tell that this wasn't your scene. Juxtaposed with Daryl's rugged dark red flannel that fit his biceps just right thrown over a v-neck and blue jeans, you two were a sight to see.

You were broken out of your thoughts by a man over by the bull with a microphone, his voice loud enough to be heard over Low blaring over the speakers. You snapped your head over to his direction, your boyfriend's head moving slightly slower than yours.

“Alright, y'all! Bessie over here is finally up ‘n runnin’ and ready for a ridin'! Any of you folks wanna give ‘er a ride? Show ‘er a good time?” The man in the beige cowboy hat gave a wink and a few women sitting at surrounding tables shouted and whistled.

“Oh my God, Dar, can we? Please??” You gasped, eyes gradually lighting up as you shook his bicep, signaling your excitement.

He chuckled in response. “(Y/N). Really? Ya wanna ride the bull?”

“Yeah it'll be fun!!”

A raised eyebrow was all you got in response.

“If you do it with me, I'll pay for your tab.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled lightly. He then suddenly downed his fifth shot and placed it down on the bar harshly. “Aight. Fuck it. Le’s go.”

You immediately beamed and jumped off your barstool and basically pulled Daryl off of his, stumbling slightly from inebriation and the sudden incoordination. Daryl could only kind of keep up with the pace of your speed walking.

“Us! Us! We will!” You shouted, dodging a few groups of casually dancing club goers.

“Oh, we've got some volunteers!” A few patrons that were paying attention whooped and applauded your bravery. “Step right up!” He announced, motioning to an opening in the inflatable, cushiony material that surrounded the bull to avoid injury. “You better hold on, little lady.” the announcer said quietly to you, followed by a wink. You smiled and rolled your eyes while walking across the inflatable floor to the bull.

The bull was slightly elevated, so you were having trouble mounting it, and Daryl could tell. He let you try and struggle for a few moments before lifting you by the waist and placing you on the bull, the sudden gesture causing you to giggle and grip one of the bulls ears for balance. You felt the bull jostle and then settle, signaling that Daryl had hopped on behind you. You blushed at the feeling of his hands holding your hips.

“Y’all ready?!” The announcer shouted, talking to you and Daryl, but also everyone else in the bar, including the small crowd that surrounded the bull. You grinned and gave a thumbs up in the announcer's direction. “Alright! Hold on, you two!”

The bull then whirred to life and rose a couple inches higher than it already was. You kept both hands secured to it’s ears in front of you, thanking whatever deity that was listening that Daryl had agreed to go on with you.

Then, it began to move.

Startled, you gasped and moved your hands to the handle in front of you for more balance. You slowly got used to the up and down diagonal movement, even taking one of your hands off the handle to raise it above your head, only to return it a couple seconds on a particularly deep downward slope. Meanwhile, Daryl was calm, barely reacting to the movement at all, instead choosing to keep his hands firmly planted on your waist to ensure your security. He softly chuckled in your ear at your inexperience.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure ya don’t fall off.”

You felt your blush grow impossibly bigger. What does that mean?

He started by stealing back his hat, placing it on his head and returning his hand to your shoulder and squeezing it. His hand then snaked to your throat, engulfing it with his large fingers and making your head lean back. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Dar we’re… we’re in public.”

He bit your ear lobe in retaliation. “Ya think I care?” Your airflow was then slightly restricted, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Yeah. Ya like it, ya dirty little slut.”

He then took a hold of your hair and pulled, continuing to leave your neck exposed, and cockily put the other hand in the air. Your eyes had closed and your hands had migrated to his knees.

The patrons surrounding the bull cheered and whooped at Daryl’s action, a few women squealing.

“Everyone's gonna know who ya belong to.”

Your head was then tugged to the side and his lips were hungrily latched to your neck, sucking hard and adding a good amount of teeth so that when he pulled away, there was a decent sized purple mark left in its wake, growing deeper by the minute. You let a small moan escape your lips and Daryl huffed.

He then had an idea.

The brunette let you and the crowd calm down a bit, riding the bucking bronco how it was intended. He waited until the bull moved diagonally downward, then he strategically flung himself to the front of the bull and moved his legs on top of yours, earning another cheer from the crowd. You, on the other hand, were absolutely stunned, staring at him with your mouth agape. Your heart was going a million miles a minute, and he could tell. He loved it.

“Wha’d I say, darlin’? Years of practice.”

The sporadic thrusts of the bull now had a new intensity to them, Daryl’s bulge clearly being felt through your thin jeans. You steadied yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders and looking at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. Daryl smirked, leaned down to your ear, and grumbled, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Thought ya was worried ‘bout bein’ in public.” He bit your cartilage for extra measure and continued to smirk down at you, proud of the needy little fuck doll his actions have created.

Daryl’s lustful gaze along with the thrusts of the bull and the cheers of the bull were all too much to handle, so you shamelessly latched your lips with his with intensity, something that he gladly returned. Both of you barely even registered the roar of the crowd while your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands firmly held your torso.

Right after Daryl had drunkenly and fervently introduced tongue into the mix and was already winning the battle of dominance, an especially quick jolt of the bull had you falling off the side. You tried to stabilize yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders again, but that just caused him to fall as well, ironically, right on top of you.

You both gazed at each other longingly for a few moments before finally registering your surroundings. He stood up first and held out a hand to help you stand as well. The crowd was wild, some of them waving their cowboy hats in the air in excitement. Daryl snicked. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders and used his other hand to take his hat off and return it to your head. Almost like he was showing off a shiny gold trophy that he had just won for his performance.

The announcer beamed. “Holy shit! We haven’t seen that level of ridin’ in a while, literally.”

Daryl looked over at you and winked.

You and him will definitely be returning soon.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #drunk daryl dixon #im keeping the small and helpless trope alive im SORRY #he's the reason i now find cowboys attractive #this was solely inspired by a tiktok i saw

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year ago

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disobedient - miguel o’hara x fem!reader (spidersona)

do you get off on disobeying me?

a/n: I regret fuck all folks. part 1 of 2 (no clue when part 2 will happen but it will). special shouts to @psychedelic-ink, @inklore, and @splendiferous-bitch for feeding my miguel obsession and being the best ❤️‍🔥

word count: 6.5k

warnings: oh mama. sex pollen, unprotected p-in-v, rough sex, desperate miguel, multiple orgasms, in a shocking twist a whole lotta exposition cuz I gotta make the fucking make sense, y’know?

✨@friskito-library for new works✨

You’re not supposed to do this.

You’re not supposed to be here, period, but the notion hasn’t stopped you thus far. It’s just gonna make him more pissed off than he normally is, but pissing Miguel O’Hara off has quickly climbed to the top of your list of talents, and you’re content to continue doing as you please.

Especially if it means he’ll keep glowering at you with those eyes of his.

It threw you off initially — him, in general. Unfairly large, all rippling muscle and too-tiny waist, the hip-to-shoulder ratio of a Dorito chip and retractable claws you’ve seen more than once now. Not to mention an ass that looks like it was sculpted by a god. But it was the eyes that caught your attention, when you caught him glowering at you from a shadowy corner, like a predator hunting its prey.

“You gonna keep gawking,” you’d asked, “or come say hello like a normal person?”

Neither of you fit that category — normal people, boring — and he’d ignored your quip, actually growling at you as he stalked out of the shadows and brushed past you, bumping your shoulder in the process, and your brow had lifted at the way his suit seemed to ripple with the impact, forming and reforming against his skin. You saw it all, thanks to your spider-tacular vision, and your next thought after I want to sink my teeth into that ass, was I need to get my hands on that fabric.

Six months later, and no dice. You’ve been bouncing between Earth 928 and whatever dimension suits your fancy since Miguel first brought you here. How you convinced him to hand over one of his fancy bracelets, you’ll never truly know, but you have a distinct feeling the nature of your first meeting was what prompted him to give you access to the multi-verse — along with a slew of rules you more often than not turned your nose up at.

It also probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t leave Nueva York for the first month. You holed up in the room he provided, ate the food he left by the door, and slept your days away, ignoring the too-bright world outside the windows, content to waste away to nothing. You couldn’t go home, what did it matter anyway?

Enter Miguel O’Hara and his incredibly bite-able ass.

When he first found you on the rooftop, cornered you near the fire escape, you’d gone snarky, despite the rumble in your bones, the betrayal that had cut you to the core, the looming fact that shit had just hit the fan and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

And then Mister Grumpy steps through a fucking portal and tells you he can save you. He can’t fix what happened, but he can take you somewhere they won’t find you again, a haven of sorts. For a moment, you reeled — how could you know for sure that you could trust him? You almost asked him as much, but then the blanket of realization swept over you: there was nothing left for you on Earth 374. The spider on his chest was clue enough that you were on the right track. Sure, his was bright red on dark blue, whereas your own was navy against slate grey, but the similarities were close enough, namely the giant fucking spider.

The door to the rooftop had jiggled and Miguel swept a hand out, shooting webbing at the handle, keeping it shut. “Clock’s ticking, princesa,” he told you, the nickname said almost tauntingly. “Offer’s about to expire.”

You knew there had to be other spider-people out there in the universe, you just hadn’t imagined them to be so…large.

Or demanding, you’d learn later. Or asshole-ish. Sigh.

“Get me the fuck outta here,” you answered, and that was that. You were standing in his lab in Nueva York a moment later, and the jolt of multi-dimensional travel had you puking your guts all over the glossy floor. Faintly, you’d heard Miguel’s grunt of disdain.

“Lyla, get someone to clean this up,” he said, and his hand curled around your arm a moment later, hauling you to your feet like a rag doll. “You’ll get used to it,” he told you. “The jumping. I did the same thing after my first time.”

You were too out of it to know if he was actually being nice, or if the subtle lift to the corner of his mouth was just amusement at your expense.

“Yeah, well, warn a girl next time, would you?”

But you did get used to it. Once you managed to get your ass out of bed and back into your suit, you were soon away from the Spider Society more than you were there. For the first couple weeks, Miguel hadn’t said a word, apparently content to let you go where you pleased, barely questioning you when you deigned to return. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he was up your ass — and not in a fun, sexy way. He wanted reports on each of your jumps, timelines and activity breakdowns. He wanted lists of targets, reasons behind them, background checks. All things you knew he could easily get himself, but you also didn’t have the guts to tell him that since he’d saved you from Earth 374, you hadn’t actually…helped…anyone.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Your first solo jump you’d managed to find a few bank robberies and a mugging happening within a few blocks of each other. Clearly, you’d picked a gem of a universe, and while you’d managed to web up the bandits in the vault, something in you had frozen when you tried to track down the mugger. The scene unfolded on the street below and you just…shut down.

The rest of your trips were spent just exploring. You swung your way through cities, camped out on rooftops, just watching the normal people go about their lives down below. You noted the differences between that universe and your own, tried to remember where all the puzzle pieces fit, even though you were looking at a different picture.

And it’s that curiosity, that quiet desperation to know more, that has you padding out of your room in the Spider Society tower, overriding the elevator that’ll take you up to Miguel’s lab. His currently empty lab. The man himself has been away on a scouting mission for nearly forty-eight hours, and you’re not expecting him back for another twenty-four, which gives you more than enough time to satisfy that annoying voice in the back of your head that wants to know how they’re doing.

It’s late. The world outside the tower is dark, the sky an inky black, streaked with light shades, dotted with stars. You’d be a fool not to find Earth 928 and Nueva York beautiful in their own strange, overly modern ways, but even six months in, it’s hard to think of it as home.

But you know why. It’s because it’s not.

You’d lasted a few days before you started glitching, and being cooped up in your room, you assumed you’d be able to hide it from Miguel. Part of you feared that if he knew something was wrong with you, he’d send you back to 374, and then what would happen to you?

You went to sleep worrying it over in your mind, and woke up to a complicated-looking watch sitting on the nightstand beside your bed. A hastily scrawled note stuck to it.

Put it on. It’ll help.

As soon as you did, the device beeped to life, a holographic screen jumping up, telling you the date and time and a myriad of other pieces of information. And then—

“Hiya, toots! I’m Lyla.”

You were confused as hell by the AI at first, but you quickly realized how useful she was, even more knowledgeable than Miguel, not that she’d ever admit it. And, in all honesty, you were a fan of the gab sessions. When Miguel wasn’t working her overtime, she’d beep her way through your watch for a good chat, perch herself on your pillow in the days you were still a shut-in, and when you started to make your way through the multi-verse, she was quick to point out the must-sees wherever you were.

She ran out quickly when she realized you were visiting the same place, just a different universe.

The doors to Miguel’s lab whoosh open at your approach, bare feet padding along the glass floor, and as you pause, getting yourself a cup of coffee from the forever-full carafe he keeps far away from the supercomputer, your watch pings to life, and the AI herself glitters into existence.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

You ignore her at first, fixing your coffee the way you like it, flicking the stir stick into the trash before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s not until you start toward the computer and the large platform that houses it, that you answer her.

“Nothin’.”

She groans. “That’s a load of shit and we both know it.”

“He’s not here,” you say, shrugging a shoulder as you step onto the platform. The screens hum to life as you drag one hand across the infrared keyboard and when you glance over your shoulder, Lyla’s staring at you over the top of her heart-shaped glasses. “What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And you really think doing exactly what he told you not to do is the best idea?”

You sigh, sipping your coffee as you sink into the chair, rolling yourself close to the computers. Miguel rarely uses the chair, apparently content to just stand and stare all broodingly at the screens. You only watched him — caught him — do this once, but when you caught on to what was happening, you filed the information away. He’d given you hell for snooping around, though you teased that he was just pissed you’d managed to sneak up on him, and according to Lyla, nobody does that.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you pause. He did tell you, rather specifically, not to do what you’re about to do. He didn’t tell you why, wouldn’t give an inch when you pressed him, but he was firm.

No good will come of it.

Earth 473. Not an identical twin to your home universe, but a very close sibling. The differences were so small, so scarce, that you truly thought you’d stumbled back to 374 accidentally, and you’d nearly jumped back to Nueva York, heart in your throat. But then something caught your eye, and you froze.

Across the way, teetering at the edge of the rooftop, was Spider-Man.

His suit was the opposite of yours, the spider grey and the suit navy. You could feel him staring right back at you, even at the distance, and as you stared back, he lifted his hand. For a moment you thought he might wave, your own fingers twitching to return the gesture, but then it continued up, gripping the back of his mask and yanking it from his bed.

You saw his mouth form the words, heard them like a whisper in the air.

“You’re alive.”

Your frozen heart dropped into your toes.

It was Peter. Your Peter, the one you’d left behind on Earth 374, your best friend, the one who…who…

You didn’t have it in you to finish the thought. It was all the evidence you needed to know that this universe was not yours. You were the only Spider-Person on 374, and your Peter wasn’t…he couldn’t…

You’d stumbled backward, blindly grabbing for your watch, suddenly desperate to be back in the SS tower. But then you paused, your fingers twitching on the dials and digits.

And you almost went exactly where you weren’t supposed to. Like a reflex. Shaking yourself, you punched in 928, everything in you twisting and turning as you stepped through the portal.

Miguel was waiting. He’d been watching you, paying close attention to that particular jump, and had used the link through your watch to see what you saw. The opposite-but-mirror image on the rooftop.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low, that deep timbre that still managed to catch you off guard. “The multi-verse doesn’t work that way.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you spat back, shrugging off his hand when he tried to grab your arm. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”

His face had gone feral. Those carmine eyes flaring, staring down his nose at you while you just stared right back, defiant. You went to step past him, and he caught you again, this time his longer fingers wrapping around your forearm, the tell-tale prick of his talons biting through your suit.

“I know a fuck load more than you seem to think,” he snarled, dragging you close to he was in your face. “In case you forgot, I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you have, and what you saw out there, what it means to you, I know exactly where your mind went. And I am telling you: the multi-verse does not work like that.”

“What am I thinking?” you spat back, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shot through your arm as you got even closer, leaning up on your toes. “If you’re so fucking knowledgeable, tell me.”

He released you, then. The pain in your arm dissipated as quickly as it had come, and his eyes went…soft. Thoughtful.

Sympathetic.

“You’re thinking,” he started, inhaling deeply, rubbing two fingers between his brows as he spoke, “that you could go back there, to 473, and make a life for yourself. The same family, the same friends, the same life. They lost their version of you, so why not fill her shoes? Find some semi-logical explanation, hide your powers, live your life. Am I close?”

You almost stumbled backward, the truth of his words sending you reeling. You bumped into his desk instead, knocking a cup of coffee over, and neither of you said a word as the dark liquid spread across the desktop, dripping off the edge and onto the floor.

Miguel took a half-step toward you, then turned slightly, looking over the curve of his shoulder at you. Something in you longed to press your forehead against his frame, search for some kind of support, but you stayed stuck still.

“I know,” he continued, turning his head, staring straight ahead, “because I did exactly the same thing. And I lost everything.”

His words echo through your mind now, the deep tone you’ve gotten very familiar with, and you shake your head, clearing away the cobwebs he’s left in your head. “This is different,” you say aloud, partially to Lyla, partially to yourself. “I’m not going there, I’m just…checking in.”

The AI rolls her eyes at you and snaps her gum. “I said it once and I’ll say it again: load of shit.”

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in the codes to find what you’re looking for. You haven’t been back to 473 since that jump; Miguel had forbade it after your spat, and even went so far as to block your watch from taking you there. You thought he was being unreasonable, and he reiterated that he was actually trying to keep you safe.

No good will come of it.

You hit the final key, and the images start to fade in. You can just barely make out the shape of her — of you — when the screens go black. Your breath catches in your throat as a large hand comes down on your shoulder, gripping tightly, though you don’t feel the pricks of his talons.

“Do you get off on disobeying me?”

The words are almost a purr, the opposite of the tone you’re expecting, and from the corner of your eye, you see Lyla blip from existence. It makes goosebumps rise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as he leans in, hot breath on your ear.

“If I make you cum, will that make you more obedient? Hm?”

“What the fu—” you start, trying to whirl around, but his grip on you is solid, warm palm following the curve of your shoulder until his fingers are wrapping themselves around your throat. It’s a welcome weight, sparks of electricity shooting down your limbs, your thighs rubbing together to relieve the instant pressure. “Mmm.”

His thumb presses down on your racing pulse, and you’re suddenly aware of how warm he is. He’s…too warm. But you have to admit, the way he’s holding you…it’s nice. Really nice.

“Miguel,” you start, trying to turn again, but he fits his face into the bare side of your neck, lips grazing the thin skin. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“Mission went south,” he mumbles against you, his tongue darting past his lips and dragging along your skin. It makes your eyes roll back, but…

Where is this coming from?

He should be furious with you. He caught you red-handed, no questions about it. You weren’t expecting him to find you in the first place, but now that he has, you’re expecting a screaming match, toddler-level foot-stomping and possibly being thrown over his ridiculously large shoulder and being tossed into your room like a rag doll. Locked up like Rapunzel until you start listening to his brand of reasoning. You’re expecting a blowout.

You’re not expecting this.

He huffs in your ear as his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath it, his words spoken into the shell, tongue catching on your earring. “You smell delicious, cariño.”

The pet name makes you shiver. “Mig,” you say again, your hand covering his as his other arm wraps around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. “What are you doing?”

His heart is racing, so hard that you can feel the heavy thump of it against your spine. It’s too fast, even for him, you know that much. His fingers curl against your stomach, talons poking out and shredding your shirt to strips. You gasp as the fabric falls away.

“Miguel.” You make your voice as stern as possible. It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you like this, it just seems so sudden, so out of character, and you—

He wrenches himself away from you, the heady warmth of him suddenly gone, and you whirl, hand flying up to grip your neck as the sound of him crashing into the wall reaches your ears. His fingers are leaving indents in the metal, talons scratching deep, and you gulp as you realize you’re lucky he didn’t just accidentally slit your throat.

Whatever’s happening, he’s not himself.

“Mig,” you call, wiping your bloody hand on your sweats, crossing the distance he’s put between you. “Would you just talk t—”

“NO!” he roars, throwing a hand out in front of himself. You can see his large frame shake as he sinks down against the wall, long tears in the metal forming in his wake. “Keep your distance.”

Your brow lifts. “Says the man who was literally crawling up my ass three seconds ago.” You ignore him, taking another step, ignoring the way his words ring through your head. Do you get off on disobeying me?

Yeah…maybe you do. Just a little bit.

You crouch down low, getting on his level. “Mig, tell me what happened.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spits, staring you down for a moment before forcing his head to the side, an action that looks like it takes a lot of effort. “Just…go to your room, leave me be.”

“You telling me not to call you that just makes me wanna call you that more.” You shift onto your knees, inching a little closer. “I can’t leave you be, not when you just put a bunch of holes in the wall,” you lift your hand to your throat, where the scratches he left are already almost gone, “and almost in me. Tell me what happened.”

He tilts his head back against the wall, still turned away from you, one crimson eye looking your way. “Mierda, you’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes. “Like you didn’t know that already. Talk.”

“Earth 1365-7,” he starts, eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are unfair, you think to yourself, the way they fan out across his even more unfair cheekbones. “I ended up in their version of OSCORP, some testing centre. Different serums and gases and…they were trying to weaponize a kind of paralytic that’s found in certain spider venom.”

His tongue pokes out after he says the word venom, tracing the tips of his fangs, and you swallow hard.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

You shake your head, silencing the thought.

“And you stopped them?” you prompt, when he doesn’t go further, instead inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I did,” he tells you, but there’s no trace of triumph in his voice or on his face. “But I stumbled into one of the other labs, and as soon as I did…” He trails off, body shifting against the floor, and it’s impossible to miss the ripple in his skin-tight suit, the way he props one knee up, blocking your view of his crotch. “It was some sort of plant that they’d been researching. The pollen, it raises a person’s heart rate, skyrockets it, and muddles their senses. If left untreated, it can kill them.”

You stare at him hard. “What’s the treatment, Miguel?”

“The side effects,” he continues, ignoring your question. “Heightened blood pressure, extremely sensitive skin, lowered inhibitions, and…”

“Mig, would you just tell me?”

“Arousal,” he finishes, and you freeze. “Intense arousal. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, I just…The only way to treat it is to…”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the implication is clear, along with the intense reminder of how he was pressed against you.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging a shoulder, trying like hell to look non-committal, like your skin isn’t still tingling in all the places he touched you. “Lowered inhibitions, like you said.”

He doesn’t say anything so much as hum in response, his head lolling to the side again. His eyes are fire when they open again, landing on you and pinning you in place. It makes your breath hitch again, palms lowering to rest on your thighs.

“You need to get out of here, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, fingers tapping against his bent knee. “I need to deal with this.”

You’ve inched a bit closer to him, you realize, your traitorous body giving you away.

“How are you gonna deal with it?” you ask, barely above a whisper. Every inch of you is tingling now, not just the places he touched, and the way he tilts his head back again and groans is not helping matters. “Maybe I should…help.”

His eyes flash to you, pools of red, pupils blown big as dinner plates. “You want to…help.”

“You said this could kill you,” you continue, leaning forward until your palms hit the floor. “Someone should…keep an eye on you, y’know. Make sure you…y’know, don’t.”

“How articulate of you.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders shake even after the laughter has stopped. His breathing is shaky too, you can hear it from where you’re crouched. Worry threads through the lust that’s seemingly replaced your blood, and you slide even closer to him, until there’s maybe two feet between you.

“I don’t want you to die.” The words hang heavy in the air and the truth of them twists your guts. Stubborn ass he may be, but he’s done nothing but protect you since he found you back on Earth 374. You…care. You care a lot.

“Lyla can keep an eye on me,” he spits, but you just get closer.

“So she can wipe her hard drive and clean her eyes with soap afterward?” you joke. “I can’t leave you like this, Mig. Can AIs even use soap?”

“Don’t call me that,” he says again.

“Let me help you,” you say, the words coming easier, firmer. “You know that I can.”

You close the distance completely, your knees bumping the side of his thigh and your hand covering his on the floor. The fabric of his suit recedes, revealing his hands, and your fingers brush over his knuckles. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels, lifting your other hand to pull his bent knee straight. “You need help, and I’m offering it.”

He groans again.

“I’ve owed you, this whole time,” you continue, resting your hand on his shin as his leg rests on the floor. It takes everything in you not to let your eyes wander up to the space between his hips, but you manage. “You saved my life; let me save yours.”

The spider made you strong, made you fast, but Miguel…He’s so large, so imposing, and the moment his hands land on your body, you know he’s been holding back from you.

He maneuvers you into his lap, your knees resting against his hips. In an instant you can feel him, the hard prod of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your pants and the rippling material of his suit. Miguel groans as he fits his face into your neck, talons pressing into your hips as the suit melts away, every inch of his golden skin suddenly on display. It’s overwhelming and your blood heats, unable to bite back the moan that slips free when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure between you exactly what you need it to be.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he grits out, his hips lifting off the floor as he chases your body, as you chase each other. “This is just…”

“I’m helping,” you breathe out, your hands curling around his shoulders as you settle into his lap. Well, not so much as settle as twitch, the fabric of your shirt riding up as his hands move up your sides, curling around your ribs. “This is only about keeping you alive.”

“Alive,” he repeats, and you bite your lip, feeling his fingers curl into your shirt. “You have no fucking idea how…”

“God, shut up,” you groan, gripping his face in your hands, claiming his mouth for your own. The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears as your lips meet his and he growls at you, shredding your shirt and tossing the fabric away, leaving you bare from the waist up. His hands drop to your ass then, tugging at your pants and you bite his bottom lip. “You could just ask nicely, you know.”

He just grunts in response, effectively splitting the elastic band and pulling the rest of your clothes away. You’re completely naked now, perched in his lap, and your skin heats in every spot you’re pressed to him. Which is basically everywhere. “I’ll get you new ones,” he grits, and you roll your eyes, biting at his lip again.

There’s little ceremony to it. Miguel drags you along him a few times, the feel of him prodding between your legs lighting a fire in you. You can feel how big he is, but you busy yourself with his mouth, your knees pressing against his hips. One of his hands skims down your back, curving around your hip and sliding two fingers through your folds. It makes you keen, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses those fingers into you.

“Wet,” he grunts against your mouth, his breath stuttering as you clench around his digits. You rock your hips into his hand, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging until his head tips back.

“Take what you need,” you say, and for once, he listens to you.

The feeling of his fingers pulling out leaves you aching, but you’re not left waiting for long. He presses against the small of your back, tilting your hips, and then he’s inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. The sheer fullness that sweeps through you is almost too overwhelming, and your breath whooshes out of you as your chest slams into his. You can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid thump beneath his sternum nearly vibrating against your own.

This doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, circling your hips as he plants his feet, bends his knees. He holds you up slightly, giving just enough space between you for him to thrust up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. This is just…helping. I’m just being helpful.

You’re just…quickly reaching the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a hot second.

He keeps hammering into that same spot, the lab filling with the sound of his skin on yours, your panting breaths, and Miguel’s grunts. It’s fucking euphoric, your head falling back between your shoulders. “Mig, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, and suddenly you’re being lifted, the heavy weight of him still pressed inside you. Your grip on each other is firm, and Miguel moves quickly, sweeping you out of the lab and through the door that leads to his room. You barely get a breath in before your back hits his mattress and he’s towering over you, his big hands curled around your thighs, kneeling so he can prop your ass up. The angle lets him drive deeper and you throw your arms over your head, curling your fingers in his bedsheets, trying to find some leverage.

One of his hands moves over you, palm grazing your stomach before moving down. He thumbs at your clit, dragging another moan out of you, his brow going hard. You have a better look at his face now, his expression pinched, eyes trained on where he’s pounding into you. His skin is damp with sweat, a sheen on his forehead, his mouth hanging open. You swear you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Want you to cum, princesa,” he nearly begs, and the hitch in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over your body. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust and everything in you goes impossibly tighter.

“This is about you,” you pant out, clawing at his sheets. “I don’t need—”

But you do. You really fucking do, but something about admitting that to him right here and now feels…wrong. It twists your gut in a not-so-fun way.

“I don’t care, I need you to cum,” he growls, releasing his grip on your thigh to grab at your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “Now.”

Suddenly, your body is not your own. It responds instantly to his command, a string threading your muscles drawing tight as a bow before snapping entirely. Your back arches against the mattress, so hard it just brings you closer to him and Miguel drops his head, dragging his nose up the middle of your chest. It courses through your entire body, your hips lifting entirely off the bed to chase him, to keep him buried within you.

He groans as you cum, the sound the only thing you’re aware of besides the pleasure setting your body on fire. There’s a ringing in your ears, your muscles going lax as you start to come down, but he doesn’t stop. One of your hands floats to his hair, tangling the sweat-damp strands around your knuckles and you can feel his growl shake your ribs.

“More,” he grits, raking his hands down your sides, gripping your hips again. You inhale sharply as his head turns, skirting across your chest to take your nipple between his lips. The pace is relentless, your body growing tight again with his movements. He’s playing you like a fucking fiddle, and you’re the first to admit you’re loving every second of it.

You manage to open your eyes, the pleasure receding just enough for you to regain some of your faculties.

He’s staring right back.

It makes you flinch, jolting in his grasp as his lips draw back, revealing one pointed fang. You shiver as he drags the tip of it around your nipple.

“Again.”

And again, your body obeys. This time it sneaks up on you more than barrels through you, making you throw your head back against the mattress. “Fuck, Miguel.” Your nails dig against his scalp, tugging at his hair, revelling in the noise it pulls out of him. You want to record it, put it on repeat, set it as your fucking ringtone. How the fuck is he doing this? This was supposed to be about him.

Not that you’re not enjoying yourself. Quite the opposite.

He’s still staring at you, peering up at you from where he’s bent against your chest. There’s something in those ridiculous eyes, something you have no name for, and you force your eyes away, moving them down his body, to where you can see him still driving into your cunt, the length of him slick with you. The sight alone makes you clench, and when you do, he curses under his breath.

“Where…?” he grits, the hoarseness in his voice drawing your eyes back up to his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. Your heart twists in your chest at the sight, reaching up to swipe your hand across his sweaty forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“I need…” He trails off, leaning into your touch, turning his head and nipping at your wrist, at your pulse. “Where can I…?”

“Wherever you want,” you pant, gasping as he drives as deep as inhumanly possible, moving you further up the bed. “Whatever you need to—”

You’re cut off by the roar that echoes through the room. He buries his face in your neck as it happens, most of his weight dropping onto you, hips pinning yours to the bed, chest pressed to yours. He pulls out at the last second, cock sliding through the hinge of your thigh, cum spurting hot against your stomach. He doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s making of you both, his entire body covering yours as he shudders his way through it.

It feels like it lasts forever. His limbs go taut and then loose, his breath quickening and then slowing against the shell of your ear. You don’t know what else to do except hold him through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one hand finding his hair once more. It’s like his release is chasing the pollen from his system, his superhuman body returning to his brand of normal. He babbles through some of it, grunts and moans and something that sounds almost like your name murmured in your ear.

You just hold him.

Eventually, he seems to come back to himself. You’re loathe to admit you’re revelling in the feel of him against you, the way his hands are tangled in your hair against his pillows. The weight of him is…it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

It’s too nice.

You wait a few minutes, wait for him to find his bearings, to peel himself away from you, but it never comes. He’s a solid weight on top of you, and while you’ve been listening to his erratic breathing, waiting for it to even out, you realize that it’s gone…slow. He’s asleep.

“Mig,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, tugging softly at his hair. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. He’s dead to the world, his slow breaths turning to quiet snores in your ear. Carefully, inch by inch, you slide your way out from under him. You freeze when he rolls onto his side, his breath hitching for a moment, but it evens out again and you slip off the edge of his bed.

Your clothes are toast, the shreds of fabric scattered on the floor of the lab, so you slip into his closet, finding a t-shirt that’s way too big for you. You definitely don’t inhale the scent that clings to it as you slip it over your head.

Your steps are quiet as you pad back into his bedroom, leaned up on your toes as you peer at him. Still asleep, hasn’t so much as moved from the spot you left him. You draw closer, your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t move an inch as you reach for his wrist, easily slipping the watch off his wrist and replacing it with your own. The too-big band of his adjusts to your size as you close the latch around your wrist, turn on your heel, and scurry from the room, through the lab, shooting a web up at the ceiling and launching yourself up to the next floor, the level your room is on.

You don’t make a sound as you pack your bag, reluctantly shrugging out of Miguel’s t-shirt to put your suit on, stuffing it into your bag with handfuls of clothes, whatever random shit your muddled mind has decided you need to take with you.

It felt too nice.

You know what would happen, you’ve decided, if you stay. You’d drift off, there in his bed, enveloped by his broad frame, half-drunk off the scent of him. You’d get the best sleep of your life, and when you woke the next morning, he’d be there, staring down his nose at you, the desperate man that had pulled pleasure from your body like it was his damn day job replaced with the grumpy fuck that plucked your last nerve like a guitar string.

The problem was that you knew exactly what he’d say to you:

This doesn’t mean anything.

The problem is that you’ve grown to care too much for him, grumpy, desperate, and all things in between.

Lyla makes an appearance as you sling your bag over your shoulder, keying in the universe you want to jump to, Miguel’s watch not locked out the same way yours is. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You lift a brow as she cocks her digital hip at you. “You want me to answer that? So you can tell me I’m full of shit?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Can AIs make promises?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Technically speaking.”

“Don’t tell him where I am,” you ask, pleading. “Please?”

“He’ll find out anyway,” she tells you, shaking her head, heart-shaped glasses slipping down her nose. Her eyes are big as she stares at you over the rims. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for. I know he’s a grumpy asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but he—”

“Lyla, please.”

She sighs, sliding the glasses back up. “He won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you.”

The portal crackles to life, that familiar tug in your stomach as you step toward it. Lyla fades from view as you take another step, and you ignore the echo of Miguel’s voice calling your name, and step through completely.

#my fics #disobedient #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel

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armpirate · 10 months ago

Text

Wander through my body || San

Boyfriend exp.

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4k

Warnings: Smut, vanilla sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), unprotected sex (not you, wrap it up, folks). If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: Your boyfriend has been having a hard time, after he was forced to cancel a trip you were excited about. Even if you have told him everything is okay, he's still stuck on the idea that you're mad about it, so you come up with the idea of showing him how you're okay through actions rather than words.

Aprox. time of reading: 17 minutes

MASTERLIST

The huge teddy bear rested over the right side of your couch, after you placed it there. You weren't convinced of leaving it there, but it wasn't like you had many other free spots to leave something that was as big as you. Your boyfriend did mean it when he said he'd try to make it up to you, although you didn't expect that would mean seeing your small studio filled with heart-shaped balloons, cuddly teddy bears, and giant tulip buckets.

Earlier that day, he had called you to brag about all the gifts he prepared, including your favorite flower in different bright colors -that, surprisingly, fitted with the aesthetic of your apartment perfectly.

You couldn't say you were widely surprised though. Since you two started dating, San had always been the perfect boyfriend. He loved romance as much as he loved you, and showing his affection by using it was one of his best skills.

A walk next to the Han River in the night while holding hands, or sitting next to your window to see the snow falling down in front of you as you were cuddled next to each other, covered with a soft blanket... Those were the type of things he made you used to. And you loved it each time, because you treasured the efforts he made to see you, although his schedule was too tight.

His idol life was crazy, and you knew it before you started dating each other, when you met at Kangdae's, one of your friends in common, birthday party. San caught your eye immediately. Not only was he dangerously attractive, but his personality trapped you in the moment -and you were afraid you would never escape it. And he felt the same way, although -unlike you- he tried to tear down the walls that you kept building up, until you were completely defenseless to his charm.

One year later, you couldn't be more glad of avoiding everything that could've kept you away from him.

It was difficult at times, but you always managed to make it work.

Barely having time to see each other, the sometimes forced long-distance relationship, having to date in the dark, last-minute canceled dates because rehearsal took longer than he expected... And that week it was the cancellation of a week-long trip you both had been talking about for weeks, their tour would be finished and also neither of your coworkers asked for days off during that period of time -which allowed you to have that freedom to choose.

You already made sure to have that week off from work, when San assured you there would be no problem since there was nothing scheduled for those dates. Although thankfully you didn't buy the tickets nor booked the hotel. Just when you called him for it, the tone of his voice warned you that the next thing that would come out of his lips was something you wouldn't like.

It upsetted you, because you were already acting as if that trip was happening without a problem. But the guilty tone in your boyfriend's voice hurted you more. It was something out of his control. It wasn't like he had any type of control over his team, and the way they dealt with contracts for the group. He was already seeing himself packing his bags in a few months to go with you to Bali after you confirmed you were allowed to have that week off, until he stepped inside his company with the news that Ateez was going to be participating in a festival in Japan that same weekend -which meant he'd be required to rehearse for it. Ever since that happened, he had always been looking after you, calling you several times a day -even if he was using those tiny breaks to eat, even if that meant he stayed up at night -because he was on the other side of the world-, and sending several gifts to your place -where you didn't have any space left for more.

He didn't need to make up for anything, yet he made sure he did.

The emotional responsibility he showed, every single time he thought you were disappointed, was something you hadn't seen in any of your exes before -not even in most of your friends. It was definitely one of the things that you treasured with dear life, and that encouraged you to treat him better every day.

That week you barely had time to text back, or see him whenever he invited you over to the dorm when Mingi and Seonghwa weren't around, and the day he opted to show up at your place, he found the door closing up in his nose, with your eyes widening in surprise when you saw him.

San had never seen you reacting that way when he showed up, and that added to how distant you seemed that week, made him worry. His knocks on the door were gentle, yet insistent, while his voice called your name with an inquiring tone that made you struggle with the way your living room looked.

Ever since he came back from tour, everything seemed fine. You both went back to those late night dates, filled with cuddles that made him never want to leave your side, your random visits to the company... He didn't exaggerate when he thought that he saw you just as much as he saw the members -and he spent almost all day with them. But everything went off a few days back. All of a sudden, you stopped visiting him and seemed conflicted if he showed up to pick you up at work instead. It seemed like he was still on tour by the way you restricted your relationship to texts and calls.

At first, San thought that maybe work was busier than usual that week. But the worst side of his brain couldn't stop wondering whether you could've met someone else or not, or whether you started needing some space after dating for so long. Or if he did something to make you act that way. And it was then when he realized: you were supposed to be on that trip for two days already, yet there you were at home.

Meanwhile, you were inside, trying to choose whether to let him ruin your surprise or knowingly hurt him and give him a hard time to protect it. Work had been a mess, but trying to prepare the way your living room looked, along with all the small details you had to pay attention to, barely gave you time to breathe. If you finished your shift at six, at one past six you were going from one shop to the other to get everything you needed before he left for Japan. And you spent the whole previous day building the "stage" in your free corner of your living room, just to make sure it'd look fine before the day of the surprise came.

"Give me one minute" you screamed.

You weren't going to ruin your surprise. You were just going to give it to him earlier than planned.

Double checking the comfort space, you sighed and walked to the door. That wasn't the way you imagined that day, although you still didn't know if that was for good or bad.

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed at the top of his nose, and his eyes seemed bigger by the way confusion invaded them, by the way he was unable to read the expression on your face.

"What are you doing here?" you first asked, moving to the side so he'd be able to step inside.

"We've barely seen each other this week, and I missed you" San admitted, taking off his shoes before he turned back to you. "I know you're still mad, but...".

You were the one frowning as soon as he started speaking "Mad? About what?".

"I know it's not easy, and I know you were looking forward to that trip, but I promise I'll make it up to you".

Your hands rested on your hips as you heard what got him so worried to go to your apartment that late, out of nowhere. While you completely moved on from that topic days after it happened, he was still stuck there and the disappointment he thought it made you feel after months. If you were doubting on giving him his surprise in a few days, that was the sign that he needed to see why you were actually distant for that week.

Just clicking your tongue, and quickly twisting your neck, you took a step in his direction, reaching for his wrist to drag him inside your studio.

He was confused by the way you pulled him deeper in your house, walking behind you. As he followed you, there was a sound of waves that kept sounding louder with every step you two took, but he didn't pay much attention to it, it was the least of his worries at that moment. It all seemed like always when you two reached the entrance to your living room, except for the few plushies that he sent, that were decorating the shelves. Until his eyes fell over the corner in the living room that was empty. There was a huge beach poster, and the sand at the bottom of it was followed by a wide carpet with a print in a similar tone. Over it, a tiny table that had nothing on it, except for two empty glasses with two pink small paper parasols.

"Crafts were never my thing, so I'll say it for you: it looks a bit lame. But it's still unfinished., I didn't even prepare the drinks to make it spot on" you tried to justify yourself. "I know how bad you felt, and still feel, about that trip. And I tried to make this to make you feel better about it, but the only conclusion you could reach with this is never leaving me in charge of building anything".

The warm hug San trapped you in contrasted with your light jokes about the build up of your surprise. His face was hidden on the curve of your neck, feeling his nose and his lips pressed against your oversized t-shirt, while his arms surrounded your body, one hand cupping your head against his chest while the other pulled you in tighter by your waist.

"No, princess. It's perfect" he assured, with his face sinking deeper on your body -as if that were possible.

Finally smiling, your arms changed places. You wrapped his neck, standing on your tiptoes to be able to land a sweet kiss on his neck, while his arms hugged you tight from your waist.

"You don't need to make up for anything, babe" your fingers tangled on his locks, caressing the back of his head. "You never had to".

You squeezed his cheeks, lightly moving back to be able to look into his eyes during your embrace. His smile was so wide, despite not showing his teeth, that his eyes looked completely squinted.

"At first I thought you were planning on breaking up with me" he mentioned with a pout.

"Oh, you aren't getting rid of me so easily" you joked, pulling in for a peck on his lips.

The shape of his mouth slowly changed, going from the pout to fully adapt to the way your lips moved on his. His fingers pressed on a particular spot, between the curve of your waist and your spine that made you gasp, hugging tighter onto him as you smiled during the kiss. The tip of his tongue peeked through his lips as he smirked, guiding yours lips to his with the hand on your nape.

You had been dating for so long, but everytime his tongue rubbed against yours had the same effect on you. A wave of electricity ran through your body, feeling something waking up every time he flicked it against yours. Your knees went momentarily weak, forcing you to close your fist tight on the fabric of his black t-shirt.

San broke the kiss first, rubbing his nose on yours, before he said "I didn't bring a swimsuit".

That comment made you giggle, moving your face away to look back on him. You tried to seem serious, but you couldn't hold back the smile on your face when you were aware of the way his eyebrow kept rising.

"Lucky you, you don't need that on this beach".

You both mirrored each other's expression, mocking the way your eyebrows raised in a flirty way, while you two were dying to burst out laughing before you kissed again. San guided your steps until you were stepping on the carpet, breaking the kiss again to take his socks off and leave a short kiss on your belly before he was back on kissing you, joining you over the fake sand.

Being first to take off his clothes, he threw his t-shirt away, gluing your body to his while his hands moved down your oversized t-shirt to lift it up slowly. At the same time his hands moved up over the curve of your back, his lips traced a trail of open mouthed kisses that went from your chin to the line of your jaw, that he followed as if it was a path until he reached your earlobe. Once he sucked on that sensitive spot, you knew it was over for you. A heavy gasp fell from your lips, followed by your head tilting to the side, while you were only able to move your fingertips across his collarbones to reach his shoulders.

His skin was burning under your touch, making you the only one to blame for the way he was feeling.

Soon after, your t-shirt was flying across the room, having San's chest sinking and his growing bulge twitching when he saw you had no bra on. He pulled you close again, trapping your hips in his hands and catching one of your hard nipples in his lips. The moves of his tongue and mouth were slow on you, twirling and sucking on the hard button carefully, showing his devotion the best way he could while you cupped his head in your hands. With the change of one nipple to the other, a small one escaped your lips, along with your hips moving forward to his, rubbing your lower belly against his dick.

San moved down on you, keeping a route of wet kisses through your belly, until he stopped on the edge of your shorts. With his eyes closed, and still kissing the invisible line that separated your naked skin from your clothes, he got rid of the last pieces of fabric left on your body. He went lower, ghosting his lips over the place where your slit started, making your clit throb at the feeling of his warmth breathing over you.

"Lift your leg, princess" he asked, opening his hand in front of you.

Supporting yourself on his shoulder, you raised your leg, resting the back of your knee on his palm, which he moved higher to your thigh to raise your leg a bit more. The air seemed to get thicker with every small move of his tongue on you, making you eager to feel his tongue doing more than just soft kitten licks over your clit and teasing your entrance. His other hand was secured around your forearm, assuring you he had you even if you lost balance. It was something that was bound to happen when his lips enclosed around your bundle of nerves, pulling from it while his tongue drew small circles on it.

San kept testing you, changing his moves, changing the speed -going from fast to slow in a way that caused a short circuit in your brain-, going from your clit to your entrance to ignore both and shower with kids your inner thigh. And when he heard the first moan, it was over for you. Once that sound joined the sound of waves coming out of your small speaker, San sank his face deeper in your core, flicking his tongue a few more times until he moved back to look up at you.

Standing up, he was again towering over you, linking your lips on a messier kiss, that made you aware of the mix of his spit and your own taste on his tongue. He saw your intentions when you broke the kiss again, letting go of his lips with a loud sound before you sank to your knees. Although he stopped before you were able to. Reaching to the first thing to his reach, he handed you one of the plushies he had gifted you.

"Put it under your knees. It won't hurt you like that" he excused himself.

His gesture made you smile through all the lust mist in the air, reminding you that man was always looking after you, even if his brain wasn't completely conscious.

You undid his belt and unzipped his pants, eager to pull them down and see him completely naked. You both have had sex several times, but it always felt like the first time. There was always that nervousness to seeing him naked for the first time -even if it vanished quite fast.

His hand cupped your cheek when the tip of your tongue flicked around his tip, rubbing his thumb on your skin. The way his finger moved sometimes stopped, because he was way too focused on how warm your tongue and lips felt as you licked and teased his shaft, until he was aware and he went back to caressing you to let you know everything was fine.

Spitting a bit on his tip, you moved your hand softly, spreading the wetness all over his dick before you finally wrapped your lips around his tip. A soft groan was heart over you, a hint of what you were provoking on his body with just a few moves, and that went straight to your core. You kept moving down, taking him slowly, inch by inch, until you reached that point where you'd almost gag and that'd make you move back up slowly. You bobbed your head over his cock, with a steady yet slow pace, joining your hands to the way your lips were taking him in so good it felt like heaven for him.

His eyes were always closed when you looked up at him, with his head thrown back, while his lips were parted, sometimes mumbling praises, but other times just gasping and moaning with every move you made. And it was like that that day. He reassured you through the touch of his fingertips on your cheek, feeling how you sucked in every time you moved back to the tip and feeling it get thicker under his palm every time you took him in.

You were indeed heaven for him.

"Babe, stop" he stopped you, gulping thick when you reached his tip again. "Let me make love to you".

You cleaned the corners of your mouth and threw the teddy bear away, before he kneeled with you. His kisses were soft and sweet, but something on them that day made them feel way more tender. As if he was indeed treasuring that moment to the depths of his heart because he didn't want to forget it, sucking onto your lips so deeply every time your heads rolled that you thought you'd end up dizzy from it.

Through kisses and hidden touches, he helped you lay on your back at the same time he lied on top of you, molding himself to the spot in between your legs. Your hips instantly lifted to his touch, feeling that throbbing sensation again when he rubbed your clit a few times, moving lower through your folds until he reached your entrance. The moan you let out when two of his fingers slipped in you broke the kiss, but he just stayed there, admiring every millimeter of your face, knowing he was the only one you reached that way for. You wrapped around him tight, making him groan when he felt your walls enclosing around his digits as perfectly as he remembered.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, rubbing his nose on yours.

"Yes" you moaned, rocking your hips subtly against his hand.

A few seconds later, you were feeling empty again, when he pulled his fingers out to rub the tip of his dick through your folds to lube himself with your arousal, ghosting over your entrance every time he moved down. With one last annoyed gasp from you, San smirked, finally lining his length to thrust inside of you slowly.

Once he made sure it was fully in, he showered your neck and face with kisses, thrusting his hips back and forth slowly, feeling your walls taking him in like he belonged there.

San always worshiped your body through sex, moving his hands over your curves, letting his fingers wander through your body as if it was his most desired destination. He always gave the best balance between love and sex, rolling his hips for the best angle, while he whispered sweet things into your ear or spread soft kisses over your shoulder.

Sex between you two was always a full on representation of intimacy on all the possible levels. It wasn't only how you became one whenever he pounded into you, but also the nakedness of looking into each other's eyes, the romance of every little touch to encourage the other, and the passion of being vocal through moans and some mumbled words that made no sense.

He rested his forehead on yours, moving one hand to your hip while the other played with your hair. Your hips lifted after the first friction of his pelvis on your clit, looking for that same friction with every thrust he made. And San was aware, rolling his hips in a way that made that friction hold onto his arms and wrap your legs tighter around his hips.

"You feel so good, love" you moaned against his lips, moving your mouth down to bite his chin and kiss his skin.

"Does it feel good, hmm?" he asked with a raspy voice. "You wrap around me so well".

"Go a bit faster, babe" that whine went along a tight clench around his dick, that made him aware of how you were feeling almost instantly.

His thrusts were a bit faster, and deeper, just like you asked for it, making you hold onto his forearm and shoulder before he sunk his head on the curve of your neck. Your skin clapped with every thrust, just adding that intensity you both needed to push you closer to the edge. You felt the way his muscles contracted against your body with every move of his hips, while his gaps kept turning to high-pitched moans in your ear as he ran after his release. The synergy of all those sounds only worked as the last drop before everything overflowed.

Your back arched as you hugged him tight throughout your prolonged moan that announced your orgasm smacking into your system, while San sank his nails on your flesh and bit on your shoulder to drown his moan on your skin as he spilled inside of you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, helping each other to calm down through touches and gentle kisses on the other's skin, thinking of getting some oxygen back before you looked into each other again.

"You liked the surprise?" your breathing was shaky as you spoke.

With a smirk, San nodded "You make me feel so lucky to have you".

You pouted to his words, tilting your head a bit, before you pulled him in for another kiss.

Maybe you'd keep that corner for a few more days until he left for Japan...

#ff #smut #one shot #reader insert #san #choi san #san smut #ateez #choisanxreader #sanxreader #armpirate #ateez smut #choi san smut #sanxreader scenarios #ateez scenarios #choi san scenarios #soft #idol!au #idol!san

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

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Lilia please impart some sage wisdom to Fellow like how Uncle Iroh gave advice to the one guy that tried to mug him in Ba Sing Se. He fr needs some guidance counseling

I wrote this one while running on like 4 hours of sleep so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense 🤡

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Fellow nearly leapt out of his own skin at the figure that descended, upside down, from a tree. They were short, with choppy bangs streaked with magenta, his irises the same bright color, his vest a neon green. But youthful as the student seemed, his voice was as ancient and as deep as a starry night sky.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Lilia drawled. “If it isn’t Fellow and young Gidel. It has been quite some time. How goes it? I certainly hope you boys have been behaving yourselves.”

"W-We've been just fine and dandy, I assure you!" Fellow instinctively took a step in front of Gidel. He provided the broadest smile he could muster in that moment. "And you've been in good spirits as well, I presume?"

"Oh, I'm fit as a fiddle, as you can see." The fae swung, righting himself and expertly landed beside Fellow. Gidel clapped, as if applauding a acrobatic performance, but stopped when Fellow shot him a withering look. "Now then, what brings you to our side of the island, hmm? Surely you're not simple tourists."

"Call it temporary residence."

"Temporary residence!" Lilia echoed, his eyes set glimmering like jewels. "My, that takes me back. I was a globe trotter back in my day too, you know. Lived the nomadic life, going wherever the wind took me."

Fellow stared at him as though he had just sprouted a third eye on his forehead. This guy's got a baby face, but he's talkin' like an old geezer... (If Lilia noticed, he wasn't bothered and continued, unfettered.)

"It's wonderful to meet new people and to experience new cultures," he said dreamily. "You learn so much, even from the humblest and most simple of folk. And such interesting stories they shared, kufufu. I’d like to depart on another trip, but I’m afraid school’s got me preoccupied.”

Fellow found himself frowning. He scanned Lilia up and down—the smart uniform, his high-waisted pants, shoes polished. Neat and sweet, likely another privileged kid vacationing on daddy’s dime.

When you’re poor, they call it trashy. When you’re rich, they call it ‘taking time off to discover yourself’.

“Must’ve been real nice for ya,” Fellow muttered under his breath. The brim of his top hat fell down, eclipsing his grimace. “You can choose to stay put or leave for a new place whenever you want. It’s not really an option for us.”

“Ah, but it’s not about the frequency of travel but what you gain from it.” Lilia lifted an index finger. “For example, did you know that sleeping with an uncovered mirror directly at you is bad feng shui in the Land of Crimson Long? They also have an awe-inspiring tale about a woman that took her father’s place in the military and saved the whole country.”

Gidel listened to him intently, ears perking up.

Lilia noticed, his mouth quirked. “Oh? I trust you’ve yet to visit. You should sometime, it’s a lovely place.”

“Maybe one day, though we never stay for too long. The locals, as you can probably imagine, always come to realize they aren’t fans of us.”

“If you opened your hearts to them, then surely…”

“We don’t have that luxury,” Fellow replied, a bit of ice to his words, “unlike you. The world isn’t that kind to us.”

Lilia quieted. His expression shifted, turning several shades more serious. “… Oh dear. I knew a man like you once. He was lost too. Angry, confused, despairing—and lashing out at the world and the people he believed had wronged him, denied him happiness.

“One day, while wandering in the darkness, he came upon a patch of moonlight. It lit the way and led him out of the thicket he had been trapped in for so long.”

That man was…

Lilia smiled softly.

“We cannot turn back time, but we can make the most of what we have left. If I may ask just one thing of you… live on. Look for that moonbeam in the night, that what brings you happiness. Protect it, treasure it, nurture it—so that it may, someday, see the sun.”

Lilia gave a gentle nudge to Gidel, causing the boy to stumble. He caught Fellow’s arm to balance himself.

“And if you can do that for one person, then it’s possible for you to do that for everyone. This world needs more love… not war.”

Fellow shook his head indignantly, but he supported Gidel by the back all the same. “I don’t get a lick of that. Love, war… whatever it is, it’s not my problem. We just gotta get by.”

“Someday, you’ll understand,” Lilia said with a terse laugh. “For now, I think you’re doing absolutely fine as you are. You’re the dynamic duo, never one without the other.”

Fellow smirked, his canines proudly protruding. “Hmph. You’re damn right we are.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Lilia Vanrouge #Gidel #Fellow Honest #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #a fellow in need is a friend indeed #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #Gino #Ernesto Foulworth

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superectojazzmage · 5 months ago

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I really dig Qimir's characterization. He's a Sith and a lot of the brutality of Sith culture is on full display, but he doesn't really come off as necessarily evil or even especially malicious, at the very least no the in the typical way Sith villains are portrayed.

Mae's hunting of the Brendok Jedi seems to have been more of a personal thing for her that he reluctantly went along with as part of her training, and Qimir himself is evidently more concerned with keeping his culture alive than perpetuating old grudges. He hates Jedi because of all the bad blood between them and Sith and the ideological differences and has no issue with killing them, but also mostly just wants to be left alone to practice his faith, use his powers, and rear his own students/children as he sees fit rather than being forced to follow the laws of the nation that destroyed his own.

He bears no delusions about the Sith's current predicament as a tiny husk of it's former self hiding in the cracks of a society dominated by ancestral enemies, like many of the Baneite Sith do. He isn't interested in fantasies of revenge and conquest. As he says to Sol, the only reason he kills the hunting party is because Mae has caused them all to discover the Sith, and if the Jedi Council and Republic learn about Sith still existing they'll default to slaughtering or depowering them all for being "tainted by darkness", the exact same way they've done after every prior conflict with the Sith.

And while he disagrees with the Jedi Code, he also despises when Jedi fail to follow their own stated principles and gladly points out when they're being hypocrites (like how he mocks Sol for being upset over Jecki's death because she's "a child", as if he didn't personally lead said child into lethal combat after rearing her as a warrior and as if the Jedi in general don't use their padawans as child soldiers as a rule). His obvious disdain Sol and the Brendok Jedi specifically over even the other Jedi seems less motivated by the Jedi-Sith feud and more by him knowing about the very bad thing they almost assuredly did on Brendok and being livid about them continuing to act like they have the moral high ground despite it.

In a lot of ways, he's in the same position as the Brendok Coven, someone who wants to be free to live their own way and not be bashed into line by the Jedi and Republic, which would certainly explain why he and Mae gravitated to working together. They see each other as kindred spirits, both people left alone and in hiding by the imperialism of the Republic and the Jedi's refusal to let anyone who challenges their view of the Force exist in the long term, if at all. And that also adds to his anger with Mae when she turns on him; she was trying to throw him under the bus so she can ingratiate herself with the people who killed both her and his people. Even in a culture that values cunning and deceit, that sort of betrayal would probably be seen as unimaginable, the kind of dishonor that can never be atoned for.

All in all, the show is such a nice throwback to the more morally nuanced and even-handed works you used to see more of during the Legends EU days, showing the flaws and issues with all the involved groups while not coming down too hard and deeming any one pure evil, as well as treating the individual characters within those groups as varied in nature but usually sympathetic or at least understandable. The Jedi as an institution and a part of the governmental system are deeply flawed at even the best of times, but most of the Jedi come off as decent folk who are genuinely just trying to do the right thing. The Brendok Witches had their issues, but also justified reasons for everything they did and at the end of the day they just wanted to be allowed to live their lives without fear of outsiders storming in to take their children away and forbid them from passing their ways on. And now, with Qimir, yeah, the Sith culture is shown to be very harsh, ruthless, or even downright savage by the standards of the Jedi (and our own real world values), but they're still people at the end of the day.

#the acolyte #star wars acolyte #star wars the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #star wars #jedi #jedi order #sith #the force #qimir #osha aniseya #mae aniseya #jedi master sol #jecki lon #yord horde #longpost #long post #long

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ask-the-royal-absol · 4 months ago

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King Flint: Stan, could you get a few rock types to help shift the walls around to let her into Elantra’s room? Could you also get a couple of attendants to help find rooms for the rest of these fine folks?

*The hitmonlee walked towards one of the side doors, taking the map tube that was carefully placed down with him. Soon afterwards, five rock types (a graveler, a sudowoodo, a nosepass, a solrock and a boldore) came in, asking the King how he would like the stone walls of the castle to be moved. He directed them with a point to the right wall close to the two thrones that stood at the back of the room and the five of them placed hand, or hand equivalents, on the rocky ground down below them. A bright brown glow shone from their eyes as the ground started to quake, the solid stone wall glowing with this same colour.

A few seconds later, an opening slowly began to form, growing larger and larger with each passing moment. The door that once stood there shattered from the movement, splinters of wood breaking off in all directions. Crumbling noises echoed around the room. Sweat dripped from the rock types and a few small grunts could be heard from them. The strain was immense. A structure shift that large was a lot for five Pokémon to move. The castle wall's opening just kept expanding upwards and outwards, the edges of it quite neatly formed with barely a crack to be seen.

An enormous archway took shape, large enough for Pikavee to comfortably move through. The rock types took a moment to catch their breaths. They were rarely asked to move castle walls by the king. It certainly took a lot out of them. With a wipe of their brows, they looked towards the towering Pokémon eagerly awaiting their next instructions.*

King Flint: These fine Pokémon will show you the way to Elantra's room. It may not fit you the best; she was never as big as you. But, it should at least be a bit more comfortable than having to sleep on the floor. Sorry we don't have anything larger for you.

*King Flint turned to the rest of the group.*

King Flint: We should have some attendants come for you lot soon enough.

*An echo of footprints sounded behind the kindly king, followed by Stan, a Lycanroc, a Mienshao and a centiskorch. Each bowed before their king. Flint gestured for Stan's attention and whispered something into his ear whilst looking towards Mouse and Gizmo. With a small nod, Stan gave a small and subtle look towards the other attendants in the room to which they all nodded in understanding.*

King Flint: These four here shall take you all to some of the spare rooms we have. If you need anything at all, please feel free to ask one of those four. They'll be located near your rooms. They're all incredibly good at their jobs so please don't hesitate to ask. We will be having a breakfast feast in the morning. I'll have some of the attendants let you know when that is.

King Flint: I'd suggest for the dark and poison types here you stick within the castle walls for now until we can figure out some sort of plan for how to allow you to move around the city without arousing too much suspicion. I know Destino said they had some sort of trick or something but I don't know if any of you can do the same thing. If you need Destino, they'll be situated on the floor above you down the corridor. If you need me for something, though I highly doubt you would, I'll be located on the same floor as Destino. My room door is painted orange and is the only one like it on that floor so it should be easy to find. Hope you all have a good night! Again, any assistance needed, ask the attendants. It's guaranteed one of them will be around.

*King Flint waited patiently for everyone to head out of the large room they were situated in. Only him and Hope remained.

Hope gave a small stretch and a slight yawn before starting to walk away from her father. It had been an incredibly long day and she was exhausted. She was usually incredibly tired after her busy days but this felt even more tiresome.*

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon oc #pokemon askblog #ask blog #ask the royal absol #destino the absol #pokeask #ask #pokeask community #king flint #hope the blaziken #felix the gengar #magmar #absol #gengar #Blaziken #excadrill #story tag

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 29 days ago

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Sacrifices/BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 1: let’s hear it for the dog.. let’s give the dog a hand..

April 14th, 2025, 12:21 PM

Rhea smiled as she opened gifts from her coworkers, the room buzzing with excitement and joy. The company had thrown her a baby shower to celebrate the recent announcement: she was having a boy. At 21 weeks pregnant, she was both thrilled and overwhelmed.

Bruce Prichard, her boss, approached her with a bright smile, presenting his gift with a flourish. As Rhea unwrapped it, her eyes lit up at the sight of a boxed sleek black crib. “This is perfect!” she exclaimed, running her fingers along the box. Bruce leaned down and kissed the top of her head, chuckling. “It fits your persona, Rhea. A little dark and stylish.”

“I can’t thank everyone enough,” she said, her heart swelling with gratitude.

“All right, everyone,” Bruce clapped his hands, regaining everyone’s attention. “Now, let’s get back to work! We still have two finishers to finalize for WrestleMania weekend! Let’s do it, folks!”

Rhea watched as the gifts were escorted to her car, her spirits lifted, but she couldn’t shake the weariness in her bones. At 21 weeks, the pregnancy had begun to take its toll; her once toned body was transforming, and she was experiencing the usual discomforts, including swollen feet that seemed to throb with every step. Bruce noticed her struggle as she attempted to get up from her chair.

“Need a hand?” he offered, concern etched on his face.

She shook her head and added, “No, I’ll manage. Just give me a moment.”

“Okay, I’ll forward you the flight and hotel info for WrestleMania in a bit,” Bruce said as he stepped away.

Rhea managed to get up and make her way to her office, she opened the door and stepped into her workspace, adorned with memorabilia from every era of her career, including photos and portraits of Jey in his eras that brought a smile to her face. She sank into her ergonomic chair, the comfort almost lulling her into relaxation. With a sigh, she opened her binder and flipped through pages of notes and ideas for her future brother-in-law Jonathan’s storyline, eager to brainstorm for the upcoming Friday.

Just as she was getting lost in her thoughts, the phone rang. Rhea pressed the speaker button, her voice steady as she answered, “Demi Bennett speaking. How may I help you?”

“Ms. Bennett, this is the principal for The Mead School calling in regards to your stepson, Jeyce Fatu.”

Rhea’s heart sank, a knot forming in her stomach. “Put him through,” she said, bracing herself for what was to come.

The principal’s voice came through the line, sounding professional yet concerned. “I’ve tried reaching Jeyce’s mother, Ms. Takecia Travis, and his father, Mr. Joshua Fatu, but there’s been no answer. Is it okay to proceed with discussing the matter?”

“Go ahead,” Rhea replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders.

“Jeyce got into another fight at school,” the principal said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Rhea closed her eyes, suppressing a sigh. “How many days is he suspended for this time?”

“Four days,” the principal replied, his voice matter-of-fact.

“Okay,” Rhea said, resigned. “And as usual he’ll stay for detention until 5 PM today?”

“Yes, that’s correct. I’ll ensure he’s supervised.”

“Thank you,” Rhea said, her heart heavy. As the call ended, she felt the familiar frustration bubbling within her. Jeyce had been struggling lately, and despite her efforts, it seemed things were only getting worse.

Without hesitation, Rhea dialed Jey’s number, the phone ringing in her ear. She could only hope he would pick up and be ready to discuss their son’s troubles together. As she waited for him to answer, she couldn’t help but think about how much their family dynamic had shifted since she found out she was pregnant. Balancing her work life and their family had always been a challenge, but now it felt like an uphill battle.

“Come on, Jey,” she murmured, hoping he would answer soon.

“Hey, babe! How’s my favorite pregnant porcupine doing?” Jey’s voice came through, teasing yet warm.

Rhea couldn’t help but laugh at his playful nickname. “Bad news for Jeyce,” she replied, her tone shifting as she braced for the inevitable reaction.

There was a long sigh from Jey. “How long this time?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Four days,” Rhea said, her voice tinged with frustration.

“Guess he isn’t going to WrestleMania,” Jey remarked, his disappointment palpable.

“Babe, really?” Rhea shot back. “He could still go..”

“Ah, there you go, babying the boy,” Jey teased, but Rhea could hear the hint of seriousness in his voice.

“He is my mini me,” she countered, defending her stepson.

“Sure, but I don’t think headbutting people whenever they say something bad to him is good character development,” Jey replied, a chuckle escaping him.

Rhea couldn’t help but laugh again. “True, but he’s just reacting to what he feels. The school tried calling Takecia, but she isn’t answering.”

“Remember, babe? Takecia is with her mom,” Jey reminded her gently.

“Fuck, I'm stupid..” Rhea said, feeling a mix of guilt and annoyance. It was hard to keep track of everything, especially with all the changes happening around them. Takecia had been with her mom in San Francisco the past week and Rhea had still forgotten, with Rhea finally healing from her overdose back in October, her brain was getting stronger but now her pregnancy brain was in effect.

“Don’t stress,” Jey reassured her. “Jaciyah will pick up Jeyce after his shift at Pizza Hut.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at home,” Rhea said, relieved to know they had a plan in place.

As she hung up, Rhea reflected on how much had changed since they moved to Stamford. Just a few weeks after Rhea and Jey settled into their new home, Takecia and the boys made the move too, just twenty minutes away. It felt like a whirlwind, yet it brought a sense of family closeness that Rhea had longed for.

Jaciyah, in particular, had surprised them all. The seventeen-year-old had acquired some hyper-independence, taking a job at Pizza Hut to save for his own car, even though Rhea, Takecia and Jey had more than enough money to buy him one outright. He wanted to earn it himself, and Rhea admired that about him.

Rhea leaned back in her chair, thinking about the dynamics of their blended family. Jeyce was still adjusting to the changes, and with Jaciyah’s new responsibilities, Rhea felt the weight of being a stepparent growing heavier. But she wouldn’t trade it for anything. The challenges were just part of their journey together.

She took a deep breath, ready to tackle the rest of the day. Balancing work, family, and the impending arrival of her baby boy wouldn’t be easy, but she knew they could face anything as long as they stood together.

—

5:09 PM

Rhea gathered her things, stuffing the freshly printed itinerary for Vegas into her backpack. With a deep breath, she rose from her chair, turned off the lights in her office, and made her way out of WWE Headquarters. The office buzzed around her as she moved through the corridors, but her mind was already drifting to the comfort of home.

As she stepped into the crisp evening air, Rhea’s eyes fell on her brand-new plum-colored 2025 Chevrolet Tahoe Z71, gleaming under the lights. It was Jey’s thoughtful gift after her old Jeep’s sugar mishap. A sign of his love and support during this life chapter. Climbing into the driver’s seat, she took a moment to appreciate how much their lives had evolved.

The thirty-minute drive home was peaceful, a welcome break from the chaos of work and the nonstop demands of her blended family. Soon, she reached her gated property, the house standing tall and inviting as she entered the security code. The gates swung open, and Rhea drove up the pathway to the garage, pulling in beside Jey's car—his ole' reliable Mercedes. She parked, then carefully climbed out, trying to ease the pressure on her swollen feet.

Once inside, Rhea armed the security system and placed her backpack on the counter. “Jey?” she called, her voice soft but carrying through the house. She barely had time to set her keys down before Jey appeared, his warm smile easing away the fatigue from her day. He walked over and gave her a gentle kiss, his arms briefly wrapping around her as if shielding her from the day’s stresses.

“How was work?” he asked, his gaze filled with concern as he led her toward the kitchen bar.

“It was fine,” Rhea replied, sinking onto one of the breakfast stools. She stretched her legs, letting out a small sigh of relief as she did.

Jey immediately noticed her Vans, slipping them off gently to reveal her swollen feet. His expression softened even further as he knelt down. “You need a massage?” he asked, already running a careful thumb along her arch.

Rhea gave a small, grateful smile. “Not now. Maybe once I lay down so I can finally get some sleep.”

Jey nodded, his hand lingering on her ankle as he looked up at her. “You don’t have to do it all, you know. We’re in this together. And that means giving those feet a break every now and then.”

Rhea chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just hard to slow down. You know me.”

Jey rose, pulling her gently into his arms. “Well, tonight, we’re slowing down,” he promised, leading her to the living room. He helped her settle into their plush sofa, propping her feet up with a couple of pillows.

As she leaned back, letting out a sigh of relief, Jey disappeared for a moment, only to return with a glass of water and her favorite blanket. Draping it over her, he took a seat beside her, his hand instinctively resting on her growing belly.

Rhea placed her hand over his, a contented smile on her lips. The hustle, the stress, the chaos—it all melted away in moments like these. She looked at Jey, her partner, her rock, and she knew that despite everything, they were exactly where they needed to be.

Jey had his arms crossed with a playful grin as he asked, “So, what’s the craving tonight?”

Rhea smirked, her hand resting on her belly. “The baby wants fried Cajun chicken bites again,” she replied, feigning innocence.

Jey laughed, shaking his head. “Good thing I took out some chicken to defrost. Anything else?”

Rhea’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Fried pickles… and mac and cheese.”

Jey raised an eyebrow but chuckled, reaching over to kiss her forehead. “Alright, let me get to work then, chef’s orders,” he said, making his way to the kitchen with a smile.

As Rhea settled back into the couch, she grabbed the remote and scrolled through the movie options before settling on a horror classic, Scary Movie. She’d barely gotten comfortable when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Jaciyah appeared, flashing a warm smile as he walked over and gave his stepmom a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Rhea,” he greeted, plopping down beside her. “Almost there with my savings. My next paycheck should do it.”

Rhea beamed, proud of his determination. “That’s great, Jaciyah! Have you found any cars you’re interested in?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I found this truck I like. Just need a co-signer.”

Rhea tilted her head thoughtfully, her smile unwavering. “Well, ask your dad first. If he says no, then I’ll co-sign for you. You deserve it.”

Jaciyah’s face brightened. “Thanks, Rhea. That means a lot.”

As they started watching the movie, Rhea took a quick glance at Jaciyah. “Have you talked to Jeyce today?”

Jaciyah nodded, his face falling slightly. “Yeah… they keep teasing him at school about you and Dad. You know, the usual stuff.”

Rhea sighed, rolling her eyes. “I love my mini-me, but I wish his temper wasn’t so much like Jey’s. He’s always ready to fight back.”

Jaciyah gave a small laugh. “Yeah, I get it. But I’ve got my mom’s temper. I can keep it cool… most of the time.”

Rhea chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That you do, Jaciyah. And you balance him out. I’m glad you’re around to look out for him, even if he doesn’t say it.”

Jaciyah’s face softened, his respect for Rhea clear in his expression. “I got him. And I got you, too. I also got my diploma in the mail.”

“Proud of you son..” Rhea said as she hugged her stepson once more, in order for Jaciyah to work he had talked to Jey and Takecia about enrolling in online school, to which they agreed.

The two continued watching the movie, laughing together at the silly scenes. In the background, the comforting sounds of Jey prepping dinner filled the house. Rhea couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace, surrounded by the people she loved, creating small moments that felt like treasures. It was a rare kind of happiness, one she knew was worth holding onto.

As soon as Jey called everyone for dinner, the almost-thirteen-year-old Jeyce came down from his room, looking less than thrilled. The four of them—Jey, Rhea, Jaciyah, and Jeyce—gathered at the dinner table, quickly saying a prayer before digging in. Rhea noticed Jeyce playing with his food, pushing the fried Cajun chicken bites around his plate without really eating.

In an attempt to lift the mood, Rhea smiled and said, “Guess what, babe? Bruce gifted us a black crib today. Said it matches my ‘persona.’” She chuckled, hoping to get a laugh out of the table.

Jey looked over at her, a slight grin crossing his face. “That’s great, babe. It’ll fit right in with the rest of the setup.”

Jey’s gaze then shifted to his younger son, Jeyce, who was still listlessly moving his food around. With a gentle but firm tone, Jey asked, “So, little man, what’d you do at school today?”

Jeyce barely looked up, muttering, “You already know what I did, Dad,” his voice laced with frustration.

Jey raised an eyebrow, his tone tightening slightly. “Don’t be snippy, Jeyce.”

Jeyce rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath. Rhea, sensing the tension, decided to jump in, her tone lighthearted as she said, “What happened to my little man who used to jump into my arms every time he saw me?”

Jeyce looked up at her, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. “I’m a big boy now, Rhea.”

Jey shot his son a warning look. “Keep up that attitude, and you’re going straight up to your room.”

But Jeyce, seemingly unbothered, pushed his chair back and stood up on his own, heading toward the stairs without a word.

“Jeyce!” Jey called after him, frustration evident in his tone.

Rhea gently placed her hand on Jey’s arm, stopping him from going any further. “Let him go, babe,” she said softly, her voice filled with understanding. “He’s got a lot on his mind. Maybe he just needs some space.”

Jey let out a heavy sigh, his hand still gripping his fork tightly as he watched his son disappear up the stairs. He glanced back at Rhea, his eyes softening at her calming presence.

“It’s tough, you know?” he said, his voice low. “I don’t want him to feel like he has to handle everything alone, but he’s shutting me out.”

Rhea nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “He’s at that age. It’s confusing, with everything going on in his life and at school. Just give him a little time. He knows you’re here for him, and he knows I am too.”

Jey looked back at his plate, nodding slowly. “Yeah… you’re right. He’ll come around.”

Jaciyah, quietly observing the entire exchange, finally spoke up. “He just needs to cool off, Dad. I’ll check on him later.”

Rhea smiled at Jaciyah, grateful for his understanding nature. “Thank you, Jaciyah. You’re a great big brother.”

They continued their dinner in a quieter, more reflective atmosphere, each lost in their thoughts, yet finding comfort in each other’s presence.

—

After dinner, Jey assigned dish duty to Jaciyah, then gently helped Rhea up the stairs, her swollen feet making each step a bit more challenging. As they reached their bedroom, Rhea sighed and mentioned, “All the gifts from the baby shower are still in the Tahoe. Think you and Jaciyah could bring them in later?”

Jey gave her a comforting smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let’s get you settled first, baby. Gifts can wait.”

Rhea let out a grateful sigh as she finally sat down on the edge of their bed, taking a moment to catch her breath. Meanwhile, Jey opened their dresser, pulling out one of his oversized WWE shirts. Since she’d started showing, he’d ordered all his shirts in extra-large sizes, knowing they’d bring her comfort. They had become her go-to for sleep, helping her find a rare moment of relief during restless nights.

He passed her the soft, worn shirt, and she managed a small smile, memories of the countless times she’d snuggled into it, finding comfort in his scent. “Thanks, love,” she murmured.

Jey turned on the shower, testing the water until it was just the right temperature. Then he helped her undress, his touch gentle and caring. Rhea leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage with you gone for a week,” she admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

Jey rubbed her back reassuringly. “You’ll be alright, babe. You’ll see me at WrestleMania, and then I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rhea nodded, though the thought of him being away tugged at her heart. “Yeah, but WrestleMania’s just a moment. Then it’s RAW, SmackDown, and you’re off again…”

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can. And once I’m back in the ring, it’s not just about me anymore. This run? It’s for us… and for our boy.”

Hearing the resolve in his voice, Rhea felt a wave of pride and support. Jey was finally about to get his long-awaited championship run, and she knew just how much this comeback meant to him. His shoulder was stronger than ever, his spirit renewed; he was ready to make his mark as a solo competitor, reaching heights they’d both dreamed about.

They stepped into the warm stream of the shower, their hands naturally finding each other as they let the water cascade over them. Showering together was their small ritual—a shared moment of peace in their busy lives, especially now, in this new chapter of their relationship. As he gently massaged her shoulders and caressed her growing belly, they shared soft smiles, silent assurances, and a deeper connection than words could capture.

After the shower, Jey helped Rhea into his oversized shirt, which draped comfortably over her, instantly making her feel cocooned in warmth. She climbed onto their California king bed, sighing as her head hit the pregnancy pillow, her body finally surrendering to the need for rest.

From the vanity across the room, Storm, their loyal cat, watched them with a quiet intensity, his green eyes reflecting his protective nature. The dogs, meanwhile, were out enjoying the vast expanse of their backyard, likely chasing fireflies or sniffing around under the moonlight.

Jey brushed his fingers through Rhea’s damp hair as she nestled into the pillow, her eyelids already growing heavy. “Get some rest, baby,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll bring up the gifts with Jaciyah, and I’ll be back in no time.”

Rhea picked up the remote, flipping through streaming options until she landed on a movie she’d been meaning to watch, St. Elmo’s Fire. As the familiar sounds of the opening credits filled the room, she nestled further into the pillow, feeling a rare sense of calm.

—

As they lay sprawled across their bed, surrounded by piles of baby clothes in every shade of blue, gray, and white, Rhea and Jey organized each tiny onesie and pair of socks with careful hands. The abundance of gifts from their friends and family was overwhelming in the best way, and it filled their room with a sense of warmth and excitement for their little one’s arrival.

Jey broke the comfortable silence between them. “I finally got the papers from Julian. The divorce is finalized.”

Rhea looked up, her face softening with relief. “That’s good,” she replied, a gentle smile touching her lips. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “As soon as this baby’s out of me, everything we’ve been dreaming about can start.”

Jey’s eyes softened as he gazed at her, the woman he’d fought so hard to be with. “You confirmed the dates for Samoa in October, right?”

Rhea nodded, glancing down at her growing belly with a fond smile. “I did. October in Samoa, just one wedding, one celebration. I think it’ll be perfect.” They had agreed on a single ceremony close to Jey’s roots, keeping it intimate and meaningful so they wouldn’t be away from their newborn for too long. It felt right—grounded in family and culture, just as they wanted their life to be.

Jey’s hand drifted over her belly, his thumb tracing gentle circles. “Our little guy will get to see his parents tie the knot in one of the most beautiful places in the world.”

Rhea chuckled, leaning into his touch. “And he’ll probably sleep through the whole thing.”

“That’s okay,” Jey murmured, his eyes shining. “He’ll know he’s surrounded by love. That’s all that matters.”

They sat in contented silence for a moment, surrounded by the soft fabric of their baby’s clothes and the quiet joy of their plans. In that simple moment, with dreams of family and a life they’d fought for within reach, everything felt complete.

As Jey settled into the bed beside Rhea after putting the clothes up in the baby’s room, he turned to admire his very pregnant almost wife, her beauty radiating in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He gently placed a hand on her round belly, and Rhea grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The baby is kicking!” she exclaimed, moving Jey’s hand to the right spot just in time for him to feel a firm little kick.

“Wow, that kick is like a superkick!” Jey laughed, his heart swelling with joy at the sensation. “This kid has some serious energy. Are you sure he’s not training for the ring already?”

Rhea chuckled, her expression playful yet exhausted. “This damn Samoan kid won’t stop! I swear he’s going to be a little fighter.”

Jey smiled, feeling a mix of pride and love. He took a moment to soak in the reality of it all—their journey, the baby, and their future together. “Oh, and I forgot to mention, Trinity and Jon will be in next Friday to sign the papers for their house,” he added casually.

Rhea’s eyes lit up. “That’s great! I miss them.” It was true; ever since moving to Stamford, Rhea and Jey hadn’t had much time to catch up with Jon and Trinity. “Trinity told me they wouldn’t move until April, but I’ve been seeing her pictures. She’s absolutely glowing with those twins.”

Jey nodded, recalling the images of Trinity’s growing belly and the radiant smile she always wore. “Yeah, it’s hard to believe they’re going to have two little ones running around soon. It’ll be great to have them nearby again.”

“Absolutely,” Rhea agreed, her tone laced with anticipation. “It’ll be nice to have family close by, especially with everything happening.” She shifted, wincing slightly as another kick jolted her belly. “This little guy sure knows how to make his presence known.”

Jey laughed, leaning closer to press a kiss to her forehead. “He’s just getting us ready for what’s to come. We’re going to be a wild and crazy family.”

“Wild and crazy, indeed,” Rhea replied, her heart filled with warmth as she intertwined her fingers with his. Together, they lay back against the pillows, dreaming of their future as parents and the adventures that awaited them.

—

April 15th, 2025 7:00 AM

It was 7:00 AM when Rhea rolled out of bed, the sound of her alarm echoing in the quiet morning. After a refreshing shower, she began dressing in her black cami dress, layering a pink “Yeet” crop top over it. The combination felt comfortable yet stylish, perfect for a day at work. However, she struggled to put on her socks, bending down with a slight huff before finally managing to get them on.

Slipping on her Vans, she leaned down to give Jey a soft kiss on the lips. He stirred slightly, responding with a sleepy smile. “Have a good day at work, baby,” he murmured, still half-asleep.

“Get up and set up the crib baby..” Rhea teased, a playful smile spreading across her face.

Jey nodded, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and Rhea leaned down for another kiss before heading downstairs. She grabbed her backpack from the kitchen counter, glancing around the house that was beginning to feel like home. As she made her way to the garage, she could already feel the heaviness of her growing belly. By the time she climbed into her car, she was out of breath but determined to start her day.

Rhea opened the garage door, the cool morning air filling the space, and she navigated her way out of the driveway. The drive to WWE Headquarters was familiar now, and as she parked her car in the covered parking lot, she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

She walked towards her office, the usual hustle and bustle of the building surrounding her. The excitement of a new day at work filled her with energy, but a part of her couldn’t shake off the anticipation of what lay ahead—both at work and at home.

Once she reached her office, Rhea took a deep breath, ready to dive into her work. She flipped on the lights and settled into her chair, excited to tackle the projects lined up for the day while cherishing the vision of her family growing.

—

January 6th, 2025 11:39 AM

Jey leaned over the mechanic’s workbench, arms crossed as he listened to the man explain the unfortunate state of his Jeep. “What do you mean the Jeep is no good?” Jey asked, disbelief etched across his face.

The mechanic, wiping his hands on a rag, sighed and pointed to the engine. “Putting sugar in the gas tank messed everything up. It’s not worth the cost to repair it.”

Jey felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “My fiancée is not going to be happy,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

The mechanic offered a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to sell it to us for parts? I can give you a good deal.”

Jey considered the offer, then nodded. “I’ll have to get with my fiancée first,” he replied before heading to his Mercedes, the weight of the conversation lingering in his mind as he drove back home.

As he approached the house, Jey spotted Rhea perched on a ladder, carefully taking down the Christmas lights. “Really, babe, let me do that,” he called out as he parked.

Rhea looked down, a determined expression on her face. “We have to get this done before the movers come and get everything,” she insisted, tugging at a stubborn strand of lights.

Jey shook his head, stepping closer. “The movers aren’t coming until the 21st babe, We have time.”

Rhea paused, her brow furrowing. “But we still have to get Jeyce enrolled in school, and I have to do a web meet and greet with my new OBGYN, you need to settle on a physical thera-”

Jey cut her off, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I would really appreciate it if you could stress out in front of me and not on a ladder, babe.”

Rhea groaned, climbing down from her precarious position. “I know, I know, but we have to do everything before the move,” she replied, exasperated.

“Not everything has to happen at once,” Jey reassured her, placing a hand on her waist. “You’re making yourself crazy. What happened to tackling one thing at a time?”

Rhea sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she met his gaze. “You’re right, but it just feels like there’s so much to do.”

“Take a breath,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll get through this together. One step at a time.”

Rhea nodded, a small smile breaking through her stress. “Okay, but you’re helping with the lights, too.”

Jey chuckled, the tension between them easing. “Deal. Just promise me you’ll try to take it easy. I don’t want you up on that ladder worrying about everything.”

“I promise,” she said, leaning in for a quick kiss. As they stood there, surrounded by half-untangled lights and the scent of winter air, Jey couldn’t help but feel a rush of love and excitement for the future they were building together, even amidst the chaos.

Jey held Rhea close, their moment interrupted by a sudden loud yelp that sent a chill down their spines. Both of them exchanged worried glances before bolting inside the house, calling for their dogs. “Barry! Bella! Luna!” Rhea shouted, her heart racing as she scanned the living room for any signs of the dogs.

Rhea’s eyes landed on the back door, ajar and swaying slightly in the breeze. Panic set in. “Jey, the door is open!” she exclaimed, rushing toward it.

“Babe wait!” Jey pleaded, but Rhea was already sprinting outside.

As she reached the porch, her worst fears materialized. Barry lay on the ground, foaming at the mouth, his body trembling uncontrollably. “Oh my God, Barry!” Rhea cried, her voice thick with fear.

Without hesitation, Jey scooped Barry into his arms. “We need to get him to the vet—now!” he said, his tone urgent as they raced toward his Mercedes. Rhea held Barry close, her heart pounding in her chest as Jey slid into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life, and Jey sped down the road, weaving through traffic as he tried to keep his composure. “Just hang in there, buddy,” Rhea murmured to Barry, gently stroking his head. She could feel his little body shaking and fought back tears.

“Rhea do you know if he ate something?” Jey urged, his eyes focused on the road.

“I don’t know! They were just inside..” Rhea replied, panicking.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jey reassured her, his voice steady despite the fear in his own heart. “Just stay calm.”

They pulled into the emergency vet clinic, tires screeching as Jey hopped out and rushed to the back of the car. Rhea followed, clutching Barry tightly. “Please, he needs help!” she cried, her voice rising with desperation as they rushed inside.

A Vet Tech approached them, concern etched across her face. “What happened?”

Jey quickly explained, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “He was fine a minute ago, and then he yelped and started foaming at the mouth. We think he might have eaten something he shouldn’t have!”

The tech nodded, her expression serious as she took Barry from Rhea’s trembling hands. “We’ll take him back right away. Please fill out this form,” she instructed, leading Barry into the back as Rhea’s heart sank.

Rhea quickly filled out the paperwork, her hands shaking as she tried to keep her composure. Jey stood beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “He’s going to be okay,” he whispered, though he didn’t quite believe it himself.

“I just can’t lose him, Jey,” Rhea admitted, her voice cracking. “He’s my baby.”

“I know, babe. I know,” Jey said, pulling her closer. “We’ll do everything we can for him.”

As they waited, the weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air, and all Rhea could do was hope and pray that Barry would be okay.

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from-the-clouds · 2 years ago

Text

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption. a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?”

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough.

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says.

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her.

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways.

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet.

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?”

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out.

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face.

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.”

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.”

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?”

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?”

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?”

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?”

“I’m your only niece.”

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.”

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns.

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap.

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah.

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough?

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe.

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries.

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over, biding your time until your date arrives.

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad.

And then there’s Joel.

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real.

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone.

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you.

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are.

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down.

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender.

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic.

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks.

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears.

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.”

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.”

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons.

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive.

But at a cost.

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced.

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around.

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside.

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks.

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling.

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…”

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.”

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.”

“Yeah?”

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air.

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind.

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall.

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there.

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you.

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm.

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious.

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter.

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core.

“Joel-”

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic.

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back.

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you.

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you.

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-”

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard.

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move.

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response.

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth.

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask.

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers.

“I was right about you,” you manage.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating.

“You’re trouble.”

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.”

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…”

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?”

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel. “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt.

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice.

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.”

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low.

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed.

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him.

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over.

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.”

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust.

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.”

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone.

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible.

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–”

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile.

It hits you like a freight train.

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw.

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before?

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-”

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?”

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises.

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep.

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly.

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs.

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.”

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite.

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“This was nice. I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay.”

part vi

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow

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trenchcoatimpala · 4 months ago

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Cobblestone Love

Hello, everyone! I have just dropped my new fic Cobblestone Love on ao3! Updates will be every Tuesday!

Castiel Novak was raised with only one purpose: to be King. With an arranged marriage between himself and Princess Megan Masters of a neighboring kingdom approaching, he finds himself wanting to spend a night in town, enjoying his freedom before his royal duties catch up to him. Dean Winchester works his farm by day and Ellen's tavern by night trying to make ends meet so he can put his brother, Sam, through medical school. When a mysterious stranger with dark hair and blue eyes, claiming to be a knight for the King, sits down at the bar, Dean's life is forever altered.

You can read a teaser below:

A man plopped down beside Castiel with a nasty leer on his face. “So you’re rich, pretty boy?”

Castiel met the man's gaze, he saw nothing but dishonesty there. “My wealth is of no concern to you.”

“It is when you come parading in here with gold coins fit for the King. I reckon you could spare a few more coins for some poor folk like me.”

Castiel let his expression harden. “And I reckon you think you can take it from me if I don’t give it willingly.”

The man grinned at him, revealing a few missing teeth. “You reckon right.”

A moment later a pair of hands was on the lapels of his shirt and he was being pulled to his feet.

“You stop that this instant!” the barkeep woman shouted. “Put him down!”

“If he can spare you some change then he’s got to have more where that came from. I’m just going to shake him down, see how much more coin he’s got.” Castiel found that amusing, especially since the man threatening him was a great deal shorter than Castiel himself.

“That would be a horrible mistake on your part,” Castiel said.

Castiel had been trained to fight by highly respected knights, he could hold his own in a battle and he was very good with a sword. It was a pity he didn’t bring his sword with him, but he’d opted not to as it would have been a dead give away that he was from royal descent. He would have to win the fight by his own fists instead.

As he was gearing up to get free of the man's grip and send him to the ground, the man was suddenly being ripped away from him. A whiskey rough voice spoke in anger and mockery as Castiel tried to get his wits about him again.

“You really don’t want to do that, Marv. How many times do I have to kick you out of this bar!”

Castiel watched as Marv was shoved roughly through the door by a tall man with light brown hair and an impressive set of bow legs. When he turned around again, Castiel felt his breath steal itself away from him. The man was gorgeous, there was no other word for it. His face was dotted with a fair few freckles and his jawline was sharp and decorated with the thinnest layer of scruff. He was dressed in high riding boots with a tan tunic that was tucked into his brown leather pants. He wore a matching leather vest over his tunic and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. This man clearly worked with his hands a lot and by the muscles in his arms and back he looked like he was good at it.

“I’m so sorry about him,” the man said, and there was that perfect voice again.

“It’s no trouble,” Castiel found himself replying, it was a wonder he’d been able to recover his voice.

The man extended his hand. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel took it. Calluses brushed against his skin as his palm slid into Dean’s. It was a warm handshake, he found himself rather enjoying the touch. “I’m-” he paused, he shouldn’t say his name. The purpose of his trip outside of castle walls was to go unrecognized and mingle with the common folk to experience their way of living, so that once he took the throne he’d know how best to help them. No, it was best he didn’t reveal who he was, besides, he was never fond of how once anybody learned his identity they felt the need to drop to their knees and genuflect in the name of the crown. It was rather unsettling and it made Castiel uncomfortable to be the receiver of such respect. “James,” he decided to say. It was his middle name and a common enough name to get him through this moment. “But everyone calls me Jimmy.”

“Well, Jimmy,” Dean said with a smile, “I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of your evening. If Ellen or I can get you anything just say the word.”

Ellen, Castiel took it, was the woman behind the bar. “Thank you very much, Dean.”

Dean’s cheeks pinked slightly in the lantern light. “Don’t mention it.”

Up close, Castiel could see that Dean’s eyes were the most emerald of green, and he could almost picture himself getting lost in those eyes and never having to worry about leading a kingdom or marrying a girl he was not in love with, nor could he ever be. Alas, his daydreams were for naught, and after tonight he was to return to the castle and take his rightful place as King.

He sipped slowly at his mead and let himself slip away into the hum of people around him. He wasn’t eavesdropping, per se, but he couldn’t help but hear what people were saying. A young family to his left, with a weary looking mother and an exasperated father, tended to two young children, a boy and a girl. The children were pretending to fight with sticks they must have picked up from the ground outside. Their parents were trying to stop them from running about, but the children bore no mind.

Head on over to ao3 for the rest :)

tag list, ask to be added or removed

@undeadcas @tearsofgrace @hellerstiel @casgetoutofmyass0907 @wantstoflyafraidtofall @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @thepixelagora@thelahatiel @im-sam-fucking-winchester@piebook67 @bestiarum@theedeangirl@november5th@bixlasagna@ancient-fangirl@famouspsychicpizzabandit@you-cant-spell-subtext-without@bumbledumble1@cascigarette@addicted2demons @our-stars-graveside @fivefeetfangirl

#trenchcoatimpala writes #my writing #cobblestone love #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #king!castiel #tavern worker!Dean #dean also owns a farm #supernatural #spn #royal au #fanfic #spn fanfic

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honorarysimp · 6 months ago

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5: The Bodies in the Water

series masterlist

Hours later, the sun long set and darkness having settled in, you walk into a small, dimly lit bar located on the outskirts of town.

The place was fairly quiet and mostly deserted, with only a few patrons scattered throughout the room. The scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, and an old blues tune played softly on the jukebox in the corner.

You take a moment to survey the surroundings, your eyes adjusting to the low light. There was a single, long oak bar against one wall, a few stools lined up at the counter. Two pool tables sat near the back of the room, and a row of booths along the far wall provided a bit of privacy for those wanting a quieter conversation.

You approach the long oak bar and settle onto one of the stools, the leather creaking under your weight. The bartender, a beefy, rugged man with a perpetual scowl on his face, gives you a cursory glance before asking, "What’ll it be stranger?"

"I'll take a glass of water," you reply succinctly, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

You feel a flare of irritation as the bartender's snort as if he were judging you for your request, though you keep your tone even as you ask, "What's the punchline here?"

The bartender chuckled, his expression derisive. "Just amused by your water order, Detective," he replied. "You’re not from around here”

This makes your eyebrow raise as he implies he knows exactly who you are, which means he probably knows why you’re here, “what’s that got to do with asking for a water?”

The bartender's expression shifted slightly, his eyes darkening as he regards you. "We don’t drink the water around here," he mutters, his tone lowering.

You lean forward slightly, noticing the bartender's unease. "What’s wrong with the water?" You ask, sensing that there was something more to the bartender's answer than simple superstition.

The bartender hesitated for a moment before leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "It's tainted," he whispered, his eyes darting around the bar as if expecting someone to overhear.

You feel a chill run down your spine at the bartender's words, the seriousness in his tone sending a jolt of unease through you. You’d expected some sort of local superstition or folk tale, but the bartender's reaction was different. It felt more like a warning.

"What do you mean, ‘tainted’?" You press, eyes fixed on the bartender.

The bartender glanced around the room again, as if to ensure no one was listening in. When he spoke again, his voice was even quieter, almost a whisper.

"The bodies," he repeated, his eyes flickering with a haunted expression. "The bodies in the water... they've contaminated it. Poisoned it. Made it not fit for human consumption."

"Bodies in the water?" You repeated, tone incredulous. "Another local ghost story? What, did some kids drown a few decades back or something.”

The bartender shook his head, his expression solemn as he completely disregards your sarcastic response. "No, this ain't no local superstition," he replied, his voice grave. "The water's genuinely tainted. It's why most folk around here won't touch the stuff unless they have to."

You try to process this information, your mind struggling to reconcile the bartender's words with the logical part of your brain.

"But... how?" You ask, voice tinged with disbelief. "How could bodies in the water contaminate an entire supply? And for so long?”

The bartender's sudden shift in demeanor takes you by surprise, how he squares his shoulders and slips on a more casual expression. You watch as he pulls a beer from one of the coolers and placed it in front of you, the glass bottle cold and already collecting condensation against the counter.

"Here," the bartender said, his tone almost dismissive. "Have a beer, on the house. And maybe stop asking questions that'll bring unnecessary attention. Trust me, it's best you don't dig too deep around here."

With those parting words, the bartender walks off to assist another patron, leaving you to ponder his advice.

You’re about half way through your beer, mulling over everything and fiddling with your tape recorder when the door to the bar opens, people have been coming and going the last hour or so. But for some reason your attention pulls, maybe it’s the becomingly familiar sound of light footsteps across the floor.

“You came” you say as your eyes catch sight of her, no longer in her work uniform as she raises an amused eyebrow at you.

“I didn’t come for you” she says as she approaches the bar, waving off over your shoulder at the group of patrons that have been playing pool since you first arrived, “you just conveniently happen to be here when my friends are.”

You hum and sip your beer, it’s warm now and bitter on your tongue. But you don’t mind it so much.

“What a shame” you say as the bartender approaches, barely glancing at you as he offers Tara a more friendly smile paired with a questioning nod of his head.

“Hey Cotton, the usual please” Tara says with a friendly smile, he nods and turns to dig into the beer cooler, she takes the moment to look at you again.

“You can join us if you want, unless a flock of small townies scares you” she says as the bartender, Cotton, returns and sets a beer in front of her.

“I was hoping we could talk” you say with a half smile, watching her as she walks around you to head towards her friends.

“Aren’t we?” Tara retorts, almost smiling around the rim of her beer bottle before fully turning away from you.

Taking a deep breath, you down the rest of your beer and wince slightly, tossing the glass into the nearby trashcan and standing to head after her.

“Everyone, this is Detective. Detective, everyone” Tara says smoothly with a dismissive wave of her hand, you offer a tight lipped smile to the group as they all eye you warily.

“My mom mentioned you, says you’ve been hanging around the station a lot, nuisance” says the guy with frosted tips.

“Ease off Wes, Jesus” says the other guy, who hits his arm in response.

“Fuck you Chad, you’d think everyone would be a little more cautious about bringing strangers over when Liv and Amber are missing” Wes snaps, shouldering past you hard as he makes to leave.

Luckily it’s your good shoulder that he shoves with his own, but the impact still jars your wound.

You stand there awkwardly, fiddling with the tape recorder in your hand as the remaining others share a look.

“Sorry about him” says a girl that looks a lot like Chad, who’s now going off after his friend, calling out his name “he’s a little… sensitive with- well you know.”

“Mindy” Tara hisses under her breath, a slight shake of her head indicating that her friend leave the subject alone.

All you can do is offer a nod, clearing your throat, as you instinctively reach for your pack of cigarettes in your pocket “I just wanna help however I can.”

Again, Tara brings a halt to it, swiping the cigarette pack from your hand and tossing it on a table nearby. You try not to get irritated but the half smile she gives you instantly kills that spark.

“You can help by buying the next round, how about that Detective?” Tara says smoothly in an attempt to change the subject, sipping her own beer as she circles around the pool table to grab one of the cues previously discarded from the last game.

You smile and reach under the pool table to grab the triangle, setting it atop and beginning to rewrack for a new game.

“How about this, you win I buy the next round and piss off, I win and you spare me five minutes of your undivided attention.”

Tara scoffs, giving you that same look when you’d asked to buy her drinks, you pretend not to notice the way she glances to Mindy for help. Mindy, whose jaw is slack and is fanning herself.

You raise an eyebrow as you keep your attention on Tara, waiting patiently. After a few seconds she sighs and moves to the opposite end of the table from you, she’s heavily contemplating.

“Come on, I’m a cripple right now, I got shanked in the shoulder. You’re at the advantage here” you try to sway her, offering what you hope is a charming smile. It must work, because some of the tension in her shoulders melts as she finally replies.

“Fine. But I’m breaking.”

Another smile graces your face as you smoothly remove the triangle from the table top, leaving all the pool balls perfectly set for her, “fair enough.”

You play three games, and she wipes the floor with you. You can’t even be upset, more in awe with her than ever.

The two guys from earlier never come back, which leaves you third wheeling Tara and Mindy, you can tell they’ve grown up together with the way they interact. Hell they all must have, if you think about it, small town folk that have known nothing else.

It makes you wonder what it’d be like to have watched them all together, maybe to have grown up here with them, to have known them, be present during those conversations with their missing friends. But that’s the Investigator in you, as your frustration on the case making no progress grows the longer you’re here.

You get a bit lost in thought as you start going over everything you know once more, only to be snapped out of it by feeling the end of a pool stick gently jabbing your side. A surprised grunt escapes you, frowning as you glance down to see the small blue chalk mark now on your shirt.

“You owe a round” Tara reminds you, smiling ear to ear in a smug way that you can’t help but find endearing.

“Yeah yeah, gladly, I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before” you laugh as you set your pool stick back down into its rack, swiping your cigarette pack off the table and head for the bar.

Tara follows. Probably for insurance on their drinks.

“What’ll it be?” You ask as you lay your forearms on the oak bartop, clicking your tongue against the top of your mouth as you add “definitely not the water though, right?”

That makes her look at you funny, “so you’ve heard of the superstition?”

You nod your head to Cotton, who’s currently trying to wake a patron asleep and slumped over at the end of the bar, which makes you check the time. Damn, midnight already?

“What? Got somewhere to be?” Tara says as she takes in account your small action, your eyes go from your phone screen back to her.

“Wherever you are” you say smoothly, only for your face to flush at your unfiltered words.

To your surprise, her cheeks tint a nice light shade of pink before she scoffs and rolls her eyes, you speak before she can shut you down with a snarky comment yet again.

“Where is the body of water? That these “bodies” are in” you say, which makes her smile falter, and for a second you wish she’d just insult you for hitting on her.

“It’s the lake, from here it’s actually only a mile or so” she says, something in her eyes you can’t place, but it’s directed at you and makes you a bit uneasy. Glancing away, Cotton is still with the other patron, Mindy is over by the pool table trying make a call only to pick up an additional phone that had been abandoned on a table top nearby her.

“Have you been to it yet?”

You glance back to Tara, who’s still got that look, you find your interest suddenly piqued. She’s talking to you for one, and asking if you’d gone to the source of a local folktale for two.

“I haven’t, do you think you could show it to me?”

____________________________________________

You’re not sure what you did to make Tara suddenly switch up, maybe letting her shatter your ego she spoke of into pieces when she kicked your ass in pool has her feeling bad for you.

But as you walk together side by side in the dark, both phone lights illuminating the path, you talk.

It’s different from the sarcasm and attitude you’re use to, hell maybe you’re growing on her, but you really like her smile. It’s easy to forget why you’re here in the first place, you wonder if maybe that’s where she’s at too.

It’s small talk, sure, but you’re getting somewhere. That’s a win in your book.

You do learn she’s grown up in Woodsboro, figures, and how Sam has been her one constant in her life. She never once mentions her parents, but you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to put that together.

Tara doesn’t say anything about the disappearances, the strangeness that comes with the town, how it’s gone on for decades.

What she does do, is take your tape recorder and proceed to interrogate you, you make a mental note of her growing habit for taking your things from you.

“So Detective, what made you choose your line of work” she says as she examines the tape recorder, slightly tilting it your direction with a curious look.

“I wanna help people” you say, when she raises an eyebrow, you elaborate “and… there’s something about solving the impossible that gives me a head high.”

“So why not work as a police officer?” Tara asks carefully, you catch the indication and smile.

“Working as a Private Investigator means we have the freedom to work outside the rules and laws that keep other enforcement officers in line” you explain, shoving your hands into your pockets.

You feel your cigarette pack, again instinctively pulling it out. Only you pause when you notice Tara eyeing it, “why are you so against me smoking?”

“It’s bad for you” she says immediately, but you know better, raising an eyebrow just as she had.

Tara clicks off the tape recorder and hums, “I have asthma, any time that shit is close to me it triggers it and I hate being reminded of it when I have to use my inhaler.”

You’re surprised at her sudden honesty, wondering where it came from after she’s been so reserved all this time.

The answer to that question, comes with her next question as she clicks back on your tape recorder “so Detective, who hired you and sent you here?”

Your heart sinks a little as you look forward on the path, tucking your cigarette pack back into your pocket.

“So that’s why the sudden interest” you mutter, Tara’s expression falters for a moment as she opens her mouth to speak.

But no words come out, as the faintest, faintest sound of someone’s muffled scream can be heard far off.

You both instantly stop walking, eyes scanning the surrounding darkness.

The shift in tone was instant; the comfortable atmosphere giving way to an unsettling tension. You both stood frozen in the midst of the woods, the scream for help lingering in the air like a specter.

It’s this moment when you realize maybe walking out into the woods probably wasn’t the smart move, you should know better goddamn it.

“Was that-“

You are cut off by another yell, this one more clear, a man’s voice.

Tara’s eyes widened in recognition as the scream echoed through the trees a third time. Without hesitation, she took off running, panic driving her forward.

You are startled by her sudden movement, quickly recovering and following after her, calling her name as the branches and undergrowth swatting at you as you ran. Through the darkness, you barely make out Tara’s figure ahead of you, darting through the woods with a frenzied urgency.

As you and Tara pushed deeper into the woods, the scream for help grew louder and more urgent, its chilling echo reverberating through the trees.

With each step, the trees seemed to close in around you, their gnarled branches like skeletal fingers grasping at the sky. The moon cast shifting shadows across the path, the darkness seemingly alive and breathing in the night.

The panic and tension between the both of you is palpable, each frantic step bringing you closer to the source of the scream and the malevolent force behind it.

The clearing came into view suddenly, the edge of the lake a stark contrast against the surrounding forest. The water lapped against the shoreline in an eerily calm manner, its black surface reflecting the moonlight in ripples.

Standing on the shoreline was a man, his face etched with desperation as he shouted at another man waist deep in the lake. The first man’s voice echoed across the water, words becoming more intelligible the closer you get.

The tableau was unsettling, a twisted mockery of normalcy in the midst of the dark forest.

“WES! WES PLEASE” you hear the man on the shore yells as Tara runs to him, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. As she reaches the other man, she called out in a ragged voice, "Chad! What's going on? Why the fuck is he out there?!"

It takes only a second for your brain to process. Chad. Wes. The guys from the bar, Tara’s friends. How long had they been out here for? What are they doing out here?

You reach her and Chad at the shoreline, his face pale and sweat-slick, turns to her, his eyes wild with fear. "It's him," he stuttered, pointing towards the figure in the lake. "We-we left the bar and I lost him in the woods, found him here. He's... he's different."

Tara looks out to where Wes is still in the water, she’s panicked “the fucking rip current is going to take him under- WES! WES!”

She and Chad both start shouting his name, but he doesn’t budge. Almost as if he can’t hear them at all.

Without thinking, you kick off your shoes and shed all electronics and items from your pockets, and hurry for the waterline.

But a hand instantly grasps your wrist, making your head snap back, your eyes finding those wide dark brown ones.

“Don’t. Don’t play hero, what the fuck do you think you’re gonna do?! Let the rip current suck you under too?-“

“I have to do something!” You exclaim, pulling out of her grasp before she can stop you.

Only, you don’t even get ankle deep before you realize something…

Wes had vanished.

No scream. No splashing sound. No unusual ripples in the water.

“What… the… fuck?” You murmur, the rising muffled panic from Tara and Chad now background noise to you.

Your eyes scan the black murky water for any sign of movement, any indicator, but there’s just… nothing.

The other two stand on the shoreline just behind you, refusing to get in touching distance of the water. While your mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

The desperation of Tara screaming Wes’s name echoes across the lake, the word seeming to hang in the air for a moment before being swallowed by the night.

The soft sound of the water lapping against the shoreline is far too gentle in comparison.

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#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you

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