#i'm glad i was able to come up with enough ideas to not just be copying classes from the games

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

#yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #yoongi one shot #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

#negan fic #negan x reader #negan twd #negan smut #negan smith #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan #negan smith smut

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  how could you do that? i thought we were friends!  ❜ ❛  the world would be a better place without you in it.  ❜ ❛  don't even think about trying to beg for forgiveness.  ❜ ❛  do you have any idea how much harm you've caused?  ❜ ❛  i don't ever want to see your face again!  ❜ ❛  i promise you i'm going to make your life a living hell.  ❜ ❛  the others may be able to ignore the past, but i surely won't.  ❜ ❛  if you ever hurt them, i swear, i won't hesitate to punch you.  ❜ ❛  don't even try and act friendly with me.  ❜ ❛  that's not a threat. it's a promise.  ❜ ❛  i'm not the same helpless little girl i used to be. now i can finally defend myself against you.  ❜ ❛  you lay one hand on me and it'll be the last thing you ever do.  ❜ ❛  it's about time you finally get what's been coming to you for years.  ❜ ❛  actually, you're not as bad as people say. you are so much worse.  ❜ ❛  tell me one good reason why i should believe anything you say.  ❜ ❛  oh look, it's the useless one again.  ❜ ❛  i'm glad to see you're not letting your education get in the way of your ignorance.  ❜ ❛  how anyone can stand being in the same room as you is beyond me.  ❜ ❛  that's a low blow. even for you.  ❜ ❛  unless you want to end up with my fist in your face, i'd rather shut my mouth.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could be there when you finally get what's coming to you.  ❜ ❛  i wish you'd never been born!  ❜ ❛  fuck you! this is all your fault!  ❜ ❛  have you lost your mind?!  ❜ ❛  you betrayed us and still you think you can think you can just waltz back in here like nothing ever happened?  ❜ ❛  no! i've had enough with you. go to hell!  ❜ ❛  i want you to go and never come back. and if you do, i promise you'll regret it.  ❜ ❛  do you have another clever idea to get us killed?  ❜ ❛  name one good reason why i shouldn't hurt you right now.  ❜ ❛  next time we see each other i won't be so nice.  ❜ ❛  is this supposed to scare me?  ❜ ❛  i can't believe i ever trusted you ...  ❜ ❛  you should have killed me when you had the chance.  ❜ ❛  come any closer and you'll regret it.  ❜ ❛  you may win this time ... but i will get my revenge sooner or later.  ❜ ❛  are you threatening me?  ❜ ❛  and you can go to hell for all i care.  ❜ ❛  lay one hand on them and i'll make sure you won't ever be able to lay a hand on anyone ever again.  ❜ ❛  i'm not your friend! i never was, i never will be.  ❜ ❛  i'll make you regret the day you were born.  ❜

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay meme #sentence starters #angst starters #rph #type: meme

[non-stop-imagines]

Conversations While Braiding

From this request 💖

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which we get a look into what's discussed by Lewis and the Reader while she braids his hair

Word Count: ~1.6k words

Warning: Truly nothing bad, it gets a little angsty (?) but it's brief, mentions of food related topics, some cursing, Lewis and the Reader watching Love Island

A/N: This shouldn't have taken as long as it did 🫥...but it's done! 🥳 I would love to write more for Lewis (I think I have an idea somewhere), but it is also highly intimidating because writers on here that write for Lewis and on a completely different level. Still, I'm glad I was able to finish this up finally! That you to the anon who requested! Hope you all like it. Love you all!💖💛💖💛

Masterlist

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"He just fully lied to her face." Lewis practically gasps at the TV, his head leaning against your inner thigh (it made it easier for him to hold the angle that you had his head at), and arm hooked around your thigh, hand running along the outside. His hand has been in that spot since you guys first sat down to start his hair hours ago, not including the moments he got up to get you both something to drink and bring the DoorDash inside.

"That's Love Island for you. It's frustrating and addicting. Tilt your head forward a bit for me, baby." You lightly press his head and he completes the action, checking to make sure he moved enough for you then placing his attention back on the screen.

"And this Casa Amor thing, why the fuck would they do that?" You finish the braid you were on then reach to your side to take another small piece of braiding hair from the rack to your left.

"To 'Shake things up in the Villa'. It's stupid, but I have to admit it makes things interesting and it does give people who aren't already coupled up a chance to find somebody." You gel the root of another sectioned off square of hair and begin braiding. The act was second nature to you, but Lewis couldn't get enough of the feeling of your hands in his hair.

"That makes sense." He whispered the realization basically to himself then flips his head up so he could look at your face, interrupting your braiding. "And you were way too good at that impression, love. I think you've been watching this too much." He giggles wildly as you push his head back down again, finishing the braid and completely unable to stifle the grin straining against your lips.

"No one asked you, Hamilton." You begin to giggle too, the harmonic noise tapering off and ending with a light kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. He has done this same gesture multiple times throughout the night, the first time as a thank you for taking the time to do his hair and the times after that it was as though he felt the previous kiss disappearing and had to replenish it.

Silence surrounded you two as the episode continued, disapproving grunts and scoffs coming from you and your boyfriend as you complete another group of braids. Lewis' hand continued caressing your thigh, not even stopping when he reached with his other hand for the water that sat next to him.

"Mmm, before we go to the next episode, let's get tomorrow's schedule situated." You finish another braid and take a look at how much of his head you had left. Not much, maybe 12 or so braids.

"Oh, yes. Um, I think we have the morning situated, getting to the track by 9 for briefing and everything." He grabbed the remote to pause the show and then adjusted his arms so each arm draped across the top of their respective legs, hands still moving back and forth to caress your thighs.

"I'm actually gonna head to the track a little later. I need to finish my hair. So I'll probably be there around lunch time, noon or so." As if almost on cue, you felt a section of curls that seemed to have been missed when you initially gathered your hair this morning fall onto your shoulder.

"Oh, what style are you gonna do?" Lewis made sure that he didn't feel your hands in his hair before turning around to look at you, you were reaching to the side to grab more braiding hair, so you didn't see his eyes scanning your face before landing on your hair, waiting to imagine whatever amazing style you're planning to do

"I think I've landed on doing just a few stich braids, like 4 or 6, and feed them into two ponytails. And I got a pack of lavender hair so, I'm just gonna have a few streaks of purple for you, my dear. In celebration of your home race." You lean forward and kiss his forehead, just above his eyebrows, before having to strain a bit to give a short kiss to his lips.

"Wait, you said you think. So you might do something different last minute?" You had tipped his head back down and turned it forward with you hand as you prepare to do another braid.

"I'll just say, if you don't see me by, like, 2pm tomorrow, I'm probably on the bathroom floor crying because nothing is coming out right." The amount of nonchalantness in your voice, and the fact that the described situation has happened before, mildly concerned Lewis.

"I'll keep my ringer on, then." He picked up his phone to see a text from Susie. "Oh, yeah. So, um..." You could feel him fidgeting, looking down to see him spinning the lilac covered phone in his hand.

"You're nervous, all of a sudden. What?" Your fingers, quickly and skillfully, finish the braid you were on and then reach over to grab another bunch of braiding hair.

"Well, um, if your up to it, and if you don't end up crying on the bathroom floor, uh, Susie is inviting us to dinner once everything is done tomorrow..." He had stopped fidgeting with his phone, but he still stared at the text on his phone, you now realizing that it was more than likely from Susie.

"You know she's gonna ask me to join her with F1 Academy next year. She tried at the beginning of the year, but I was still trying desperately to avoid burning out." This moment was a testament to how automatic an action braiding was for you, because as you talked and thought and worried, your hands continued to pristinely gel off another square of hair to begin braiding, as if your hands were wired to a different, less occupied, brain.

"I mean, you were/are the greatest thing to happen to Mercedes. Probably the best Head Strategist we have ever had, along with improving every department you dipped your toe in. I can see why she wants you." He applied two kisses to your leg this time, realizing it's been too long since the previous kiss so a new kiss had to replace it with the second one being supplemental. "I still don't know why you're dodging her on this. You love the idea."

"I do. I love it to death. Which is why I want to stay away from it. Because I'll be lucky enough to be the one to come in and accidentally ruin everything." Your hands start to shake ever so slightly along with your voice and you take a deep breath as you try and calm yourself. When that ultimately doesn't work, you cease braiding and drape your arms over Lewis' shoulders, gently placing your chin on top of his head as to not agitate the fresh braids.

"You know I would never discount what you're feeling, but that is bullshit." Lewis keeps his head still while your chin perched on top, staring at the faint reflection in the TV screen overlaying the paused show.

"Uh, okay. Why, my love, is it bullshit?" You playfully wrap your arms a little tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him out over the blunt response, then releasing just as quick, draping your arms over his shoulders again.

"First of all, kudos to you for protecting your energy initially. I remember when you decided to take a break, you could physically see that your light had gone completely out. But you are so much better now, at least from what I can tell. And you would be starting everything next season. And there's an entire team behind F1 Academy, so for you to be the soul person to ruin it would be basically impossible."

You were silent for a moment, head still rested on top of his, and then, still silent, you lifted your head and reach over for more braiding hair. The silence was unnerving to Lewis, as he glanced between his phone and what he could see of your reflection. You had gotten half way down the braid when you finally spoke again. "Fine, let her know we'll be there." Lewis allows you to finish the braid you were on, typing out the acceptance of Susie's dinner invitation, then once he feels you complete the braid he reaches back and gently pulls you forward by your wrist, kissing you once you were in his sightline.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" He gave you a genial smile, calming your nerves and actually working to boost your confidence in the situation.

"Laying it on thick, huh, Hamilton?" Lewis just giggles and gives you another long kiss. "You suck a little bit, but I still love you."

"Love you too." He lets you go so you could go back to finishing the few braids left on his hair, complying when you manually twist his head to where you need it.

"Alright, alright. Play the show." You lean over again to grab another bunch of hair while Lewis presses play on the remote, and it's not long until its nearly 11:00pm, Lewis' hair was done, and you both were getting ready for bed.

The next day went perfectly. Media day went off without a hitch. You made it to the track on time, and didn't end up crying on the bathroom floor. And by the end of dinner, you and Susie had verbally agreed to being co-Managing Directors for F1 Academy.

#formula 1 #black reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #request #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis Hamilton x black!reader

[moon-rivr]

el arreglo part 2

pairing: arranged marriage miguel x fem reader

warnings: miguel being less of an ass than last part (still an ass), implied fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of angst 🧍🏻

author’s note: sorry it took me so long to get it out but i hope you all enjoy <33

word count: 4052

el arreglo pt 1 

The next couple days had been spent in awkward silence and tension, until Miguel approached you while you were watching a episode of your favorite series. His hair was disheveled and he was wearing his workplace attire, making your heart skip just the tiniest bit. However, that all stopped as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'm sorry that i've been treating you so coldly. The day that i slept with you was a mistake, you were just another warm body to me," he started off but was interrupted by your bitter laughter. "Just another warm body? This apology's really going places," you muttered, placing the tv on pause as you turned to look at him. "The day that we slept together was because I saw my ex wife that day. She was out with some guy at a restaurant, a restaurant that i showed her. And I guess I just needed someone to help me forget," he added, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You felt yourself growing angrier at this apology, if you could even call it that.

"So the first time you decided to sleep with your 'wife', it was solely because you needed something to forget? You're a real asshole, Miguel. I thought you were starting to like me or at the very least tolerate me," you responded, trying to keep your anger in check just so he wouldn't see how much it affected you. He was about to say something else but you decided to cut him off before he made you angrier, telling him, "I'm leaving. Give you some time to re-evaluate this marriage and find out if your business is truly worth all this. And please, by all means, invite as many warm bodies as you want." You got up from the couch after speaking and grabbed your suitcase from the closet.

You knew it probably wasn't the best idea to run away from Miguel the way you did, but you knew that if you stayed in the house, it wouldn't make much of a difference. As you brought your suitcase into your old apartment, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of disappointment and relief. You were glad that you'd been smart enough to keep your old apartment in case of an emergency like this one, but you felt disappointed at the fact that you even had to resort to this. You felt your mind clouded with thoughts about getting a divorce, but you quickly pushed them away as you unpacked your clothes from your suitcase. You wanted some kind of validation from your father, found yourself craving it to the point where you'd stick in this godawful marriage at least a little while longer.

The next couple days were spent and solitude and burying yourself in work, hoping that it would get your mind off how hopeless your marriage felt. One morning while you were getting ready for work, you realized that you'd left your favorite necklace back at the house so you decided to head back, knowing that Miguel was probably off at work already and you'd be able to avoid any awkward conversation. Despite that, you still found yourself sneaking into your room like a teenager, hoping that none of his staff would find you in the house.

You opened up your bedside drawer, grabbing the necklace and clasping it on, letting out a small sigh of relief at how well it seemed to be going so far. You jumped a bit when you heard some snoring coming behind you, grabbing the tv remote as a form to defend yourself before turning around to see a lump on your bed. You had gotten so caught up in getting the necklace and leaving as soon as possible that you hadn't realized Miguel was sleeping on your side of the bed, clutching one of your shirts tightly. You had recently worn that shirt, about a week ago, so your scent was still fresh. You felt some sort of hope blooming deep inside before pushing it down, suppressing the need to turn this into something more important than it was. However, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek before leaving his house.

Even though you'd found Miguel in that vulnerable position, neither you or him made any effort into making amends or reaching out. That was, until Friday night when you got a call from him at midnight. You were waking up from your slumber, rubbing your eyes as you answered the phone, immediately hearing music blaring in the background. "Hello?" You mumbled groggily, slightly annoyed that he'd woken you up. "Heyyy! So Miguel got really drunk and he kept babbling about how much he missed you," a man spoke into the phone, slightly slurring his words. You recognized the voice as Peter Parker, one of Miguel’s best friends, (even if he'd never admit that) and the man your husband would rather talk to at galas instead of you. "I think you have the wrong number," you replied, feeling pretty sure that Miguel didn't like you enough to actually miss your presence. "No, no! You're his wife right? Anyways, I wanted to ask if you could come pick him up," Peter replied before hanging up abruptly, leaving you to think about what to do.

As you drove to the bar, you couldn't help but question why you were really doing this and why you were willing to help Miguel out despite all that he said. A part of you felt some hope after seeing him in your room and what Peter had said, but you still couldn't help but doubt his intentions given what he said after you two were intimate. You went inside the bar, shaking your head as you looked over to see Miguel singing karaoke with Peter. You felt like you were given an opportunity to see another part of Miguel, another intimate part, since you'd never seen him act this freely so you decided to sit down while he sang.

Miguel glanced over at you, a bright smile on his face as he walked over, like he didn't recall any of the horrible things he'd said. He placed his hands on either sides of the counter, holding up the string of your nightdress with one finger as a scowl formed on his face. "Why'd you come to the bar dressed like this?" He asked, keeping his tone even despite the look on his face. You rolled your eyes, feeling stupid for even having to explain yourself. "Peter woke me up and I didn't have time to change," you replied, watching as he covered you up with his body. "Nobody's supposed to see you like this except for me, mi dulce esposa," he whispered in your ear, his words slurring as he stumbled forward. "Okay, let's go home." (my sweet wife)

The drive home was mostly silent, apart from some remarks from Miguel about how slow you were driving. He cleared his throat, his cheeks wet with some tears as he turned to look at you. "I'm sorry for pushing you away. You deserve more of a man than me," he spoke, rubbing your thigh with his hand. You let out an exasperated sigh, tired of hearing men use that as an excuse for their shitty behavior. (whoops) "Look Miguel, I never asked for someone better. I just wanted you to be better," you replied, pushing his hand away as you kept your gaze on the road. Miguel’s stare on you lingered for a while before looking out the window as he let out a small sigh. "Y'know, the house feels so empty without you listening to Selena at ungodly hours in the shower or your laughter filling the atmosphere," he said, looking at you with so much longing in his eyes. You decided not to say anything, knowing Miguel would probably go back to being an asshole by the time the alcohol wore off.

"We're here," you spoke up again once you pulled up to the front of his house, looking over to see him sleeping facing you. So that's what you needed to do for him to sleep with you. You pushed the thoughts aside and turned off the engine, opening up the passenger door. You gently shook his shoulder, watching as his eyes flickered from you to his house. "I was hoping there was more traffic," he mumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. "You need help getting back to the house?" You asked, holding onto his arm to offer him some stability. "I'd like that," he mumbled, walking next to you as he fiddled with the keys to the front door. You two walked up the stairs in silence and you helped take Miguel’s shoes off when he laid down. You were about to leave when you heard Miguel clear his throat, only turning around out of curiosity. "Stay," he whispered before he fell asleep.

As much as you wanted to, you didn't trust that Miguel wouldn't go back to acting shitty in the morning so you decided to leave. As you drove back home, you couldn't help but think about Miguel’s words and if he was being genuine. Even if they were a drunken man's words, you still wished with your being that it would be true. As you lay in bed alone, your thoughts kept lingering back to Miguel and if your marriage could be saved.

A knock on your door woke you up the next morning and you rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you opened the door. "Sorry for waking you up, tesoro. I wanted to bring you these flowers as a thank you for taking me home," Miguel said, extending the bouquet out to you with a smile on his face. "Sunflowers?" you asked, opening the door a bit so he'd come in as you went to put them in some flowers. "Yeah, I read somewhere that they're like a little sun panel so it kinda reminded me of you. I’ve been reaching for things that remind me of you because I miss you," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. After he noticed that you were silent, he decided to speak once more. "I'm sorry chiquita. I don't know how many times i need to say that but I am. I'm sorry that so fundamentally screwed up that I couldn't maintain our marriage." (treasure/little one)

You turned to look at him, a scowl similar to the one he wore on his face constantly showing on yours. "Look Miguel, all you've been doing is giving me excuses for your shitty behavior. And yes, you're screwed up but I don't see why I should be impacted by it. You haven't given me one apology," you spat out, rubbing your temples in annoyance. "And yes, you've been telling me how sorry you are but I don't trust you. I don't trust you not to wake up in the morning and not act cold towards me," you added, opening the door as you looked at him. "Chiquita, I'm sorry," he murmured, holding your hands in his. "There's only so much a sorry can do, Miguel. Just get out of my apartment and give me some time to think about it."

Truth was, you'd gotten tired of justifying Miguel’s shitty behavior after a while. Sure, you could admit that it would take him some time to trust again after he lost his ex wife and daughter around the same time, but he wasn't even trying. You could see it in his eyes, from yesterday at the bar and today, that he did long to have your presence again but you didn't feel capable of trusting him with your heart again.

After a while, you got an email announcing that you were invited to one of those extravagant galas. Despite the fact that didn't feel up for making small talk with entitled men, you still found a thrill in getting ready and feeling like a princess whenever you attended those galas. You found yourself quickly clicking the accept button and making plans to get a dress after your day at work, feeling excited about going out to one of those events despite the fact that people would talk about your failing marriage. You settled on a green dress that complimented your curves to perfection along with some gold heels and emerald jewelry.

You had fun getting ready for the party but your social energy quickly drained after a talk with one of your father's business associates, who kept rambling about the ship he was planning on taking out to the Bahamas. You sat down, taking a sip from your champagne glass before looking up to see Miguel sitting across from you. "What are you doing here all alone?" He asked, the scene mimicking that of your first encounter. "My father's too busy to acknowledge the fact he has a daughter and my husband's a huge dick," you replied, swirling the glass of champagne in your hand as you looked at him. "Sounds like he doesn't know how to appreciate you enough, hermosa." (beautiful)

Even if you were still pissed off at Miguel, it was still entertaining to play along with his story and pretend like you two weren't angry at each other at least for one evening. You two headed out the balcony, using the music as an excuse to head out alone. "So, did you manage to close the deal with the corporation in Italy?" You asked, leaning against the balcony as you looked over at Miguel. His eyes flickered with surprise as he leaned against the balcony, looking over at you too. "I didn't think you'd remember that. But yeah, I did. He's found that my company can give him the kind of attention that he needs," he replied, sipping on his champagne. "I'm glad you can give them the proper attention," you mumbled, taking a sip of your own glass. "You were right, hermosa. I’ve been self-critiquing but I haven't made any effort to change. I'm sorry that I treated you like shit and I'm sorry that i didn't give us too much of an effort," he said with a small sigh as he placed his cup down, stopping you before you started to speak. "I know I haven't been the best partner to you but I promise I'm going to do everything in my power to change that. And if you don't believe me, I’ll just prove it to you, chiquita," he added, holding your hands up to his face as he kissed them.

"Forget that you hate me just for an hour and dance with me, hm?" He asked, extending his hand out as he bowed his head slightly. "Always dancing with no music on," you teased, grabbing his hand as he started to sway you two on the balcony. You rested your head on the crook of his neck, letting yourself enjoy the proximity before you had to go back to the cold reality of being in your apartment alone tomorrow. "¿Qué piensas en esa cabecita hermosa?" He asked, his hand on the small of your back as he continued to dance with you. "Just how nice it is to pretend that we're not separated for once," you replied, your hands now wrapping around his neck as you looked at him. "Then let's stop pretending and let me show you, tesoro," he replied, looking at you with a serious expression on his face. (what are you thinking in that pretty little head?)

As you waited for the valet to bring Miguel’s car around, you couldn't help but feel a surge of hope swirling through you. "Why haven't you filed for divorce? We've been living apart for almost a month now," You asked, breaking the silence to get an answer for the question you so desperately had. You wanted to hear him say that he wanted to have you around, something that would've made the pain worth having. "I've grown to like your company, a lot. Which is rare for me, since I'm kind of an ass. And when I think about my life without you anymore, it feels incomplete. Like all the sunlight's gone from my life," he responded, holding your hand with his. "Very self-aware assessment," you responded, feeling your heart beating faster at the admission that he liked spending time with you.

Once you and Miguel settled into the car, the silence was no longer unbearable between the two of you, rather comforting instead. His fingertips gently stroked your thigh, his touch warming you up through the fabric of the dress. "Miguel, I don't know if I'm ready to sleep with you again," you spoke after a couple seconds of him touching your thigh so delicately, watching his expression for any signs of change. His face remained even as he spoke, his brows softening just the tiniest bit, "I know you're not ready. You're barely ready to start trusting me again. But I want to show you how much you mean to me, tesoro. I want this to be about you and not me." you felt your inner thighs growing wet with his admission, your slick coating your lace panties. "Then why don't you get a head start?" You asked, spreading your legs for him as you watched his eyes darken the slightest bit, the hand that was on your thigh now making way towards your pussy.

You arrived to Miguel’s place with flushed cheeks fifteen minutes later, looking over to see Miguel licking his fingers with no shame. "What a slut," you teased, letting out a small laugh as you saw a bit of drool coming from the side of his mouth. "It's not my fault you're so tasty, mi corazón," he replied, rolling his eyes playfully at the remark. He opened the car door for you, extending his hand out as you started to get out. You took it gratefully, letting him lead you into the place you once called home as well. You let go of his hand as you walked over to the living room, sitting down on one of his arm chairs with your legs spread open, the wet patch from earlier coating the front of your panties. (my love/heart)

"Get on your knees," you spoke after a couple moments, the power dynamic in the room completely changing after he did so. You weren't much of a dominant in the bedroom but something about bringing a 6'9 man to his knees for you made your pussy even wetter. "Now, crawl to me," you ordered, looking down at Miguel as he crawled over to where you were sitting. You placed a foot out, watching Miguel struggle a bit with how little the clasp was on your heels. He quickly slid them off, placing them down on the floor as he waited for your next order. "Show me just how much you've missed my presence."

Miguel began to kiss up your calves, the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent as he leaned in to really take you in. His tongue glided over the smooth skin perfectly, only stopping when he reached his thighs. He moved your dress up, exposing your lace panties to him. He settled in between your thighs, gently biting on the skin, Like he wanted to mark you up once more. "Just in case you get any ideas about leaving this house again," he mumbled, his fangs grazing the skin as he nibbled. His hands massaged on your thighs, rubbing small circles on them as his mouth focused on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping them. You felt yourself growing impatient at Miguel’s teasing, thrusting your pelvis towards his face as you let out a small whine. "I thought I said show me how much you missed me, huh?"

He let out a low chuckle but leaned in, pressing a kiss over your panties. His tongue darted out as he felt your scent completely overpower his brain, only working on autopilot to provide you with the pleasure he knew you desperately needed. Your hands tangled in his hair as he ate you out through your panties, letting out a soft mewl as he flicked his tongue over your clit. He only pulled away to remove your panties, his fingers hooking over the waistband as he pulled them down. He started to kiss up your legs again, but didn't linger on your thighs like he'd done so, instead his mouth instantly attached itself to your pussy. His eyes closed as he tugged on your folds gently, sucking on them to get the juices that leaked out from his past teasing. Your back arched as you felt his tongue go inside of you, your fingers tightly wound on his hair as you tugged. "That's it, take what you need," he whispered, letting out soft moans in your pussy as he felt you grind against his face. He had no objections to it, in fact, he loved being the one providing you with such intense pleasure right now.

Two of his fingers slipped inside you, moving in a scissoring motion as he tried to ease his way in. "Tan bueno que me apretas," he mumbled, his mouth closing around your clit, the vibrations going straight to your core as he spoke. Your mouth was parted in an 'o' shape, letting out broken pleas and mewls of his name as his fingers pushed deep inside of you. You gripped his hair tightly, letting out a moan at the groan he let out as you started to grind on his fingers, moving your hips up and down. His fingers curled as he found the spongy spot inside of you that had your toes curling and back arching. "Too much!" You moaned out, your legs twitching as you felt the familiar coil building up inside of you from the stimulation to your g-spot and your clit. You came with a loud moan of Miguel’s name, slumping against the couch as you watched him retract his fingers, licking them clean. He leaned in, starting to lick your release off and you started to grow overstimulated. "What are you doing?" You mumbled, coming down from your high. "Who said we're stopping here? I have a lot of making up to do." (you squeeze me so good)

You lost track of the amount of orgasms Miguel had given you just with his tongue or the concept of time when it ended as your legs shook. You tried to get up from the arm chair but Miguel quickly scooped you up in his arms, pushing your hair back from your face. "You did so good for me," he whispered, dipping his head down as he kissed your forehead. You watched as he walked up the stairs, showing no signs of struggle as he headed into his bedroom. He set you down on the bed, grabbing a spare set of clothes for you and himself. You looked at him change out of his formal attire, a frown forming on your face as you laid down on the bed. "Talk to me, what's wrong?" He asked once he looked over at you, sitting down next to you. "I'm just nervous to fall asleep is all. I’m scared that I'm gonna wake up and you're not gonna be there," you replied, remembering the sting you felt when he'd promised he would stay. He gently stroked your shoulder, placing a kiss on your cheek as his expression softened up just the tiniest bit. Something you quickly learned he reserved just for you. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You felt a sense of relief when you rolled over on the bed, seeing Miguel still asleep on the bed with one hand splayed on your stomach. You leaned in, placing a small kiss on his cheek as you let yourself enjoy the moment just for a little while. You looked at him as he opened his eyes, a lazy smile forming on his face. "Good morning," you whispered, feeling his hand forming small circles on your stomach. "I feel like you should know you will always be my favorite business arrangement."

@chshiresins @cheerrioeoz @buggaboorenegade @undertale-anomaly20 @bouquetoflove @nekojovichuu @francesca-the-1st

#moon-rivr #miguel spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara is hot #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel atsv #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman atsv #spiderman #spiderman smut

[doobea]

IN A CASE OF EMERGENCY - SAE ITOSHI

synopsis: Sae forgets to change one small detail in his hospital record, but it ends up for the better.

content: gn!reader, exs to lovers, sfw, minor injuries, second chances, fluff, slight angst but overall just comforting, sae being a bad communicator as always word count: 1.1K a/n: something short and sweet to crave my sae brain rot

"Hey," You shut the door softly behind you and make your way over to where he lay. You stand with arms firmly crossed and the tight expression you send him makes Sae want to hide underneath the covers. "You didn't change your emergency contact?"

He manages to keep his usual stoic look and carelessly shrugs, although it's a bit difficult with the amount of tubes stuck to his arms, "I doubt Rin would even show."

You heave out a deep sigh and sit down on the edge of the bed, looking everywhere but his face, "You guys still haven't made up after all this time?"

"It's complicated, you know that." He watches your shoulders tense at the last part but you let them fall before he gets a chance to comment.

"Well, I hope you know that getting a call from the hospital at one in the morning wasn't on my weekend's to-do list." You attempt to joke but he knows that you're particular about your sleep schedule.

"I know." He wants to apologize but holds it off. Sae turns his head towards the opposite side of the room and awaits your berating.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?"

"I haven't."

Sae doesn't bother to hide it. Ever since separating from you, he's been distracting himself with more and more games. Trying to keep both mind and body busy from having to even think about you. Too bad it all eventually caught up. He feels like he's stuck in a space between sorrow and bliss.

"Well, you need to." You state the obvious, although it's most likely because he knows there wasn't much to say.

It's been a full year since he last spoke to you. He should feel lucky that you even bothered showing up after how bitter the breakup was. And he does.

"Hey," You say again, but this time it's softer and has a hint of hesitation. Just enough for Sae to pick up on it.

He props himself up on the hospital bed, leans forward, and faces you, "Yeah?"

You turn too, just inches apart from him. Close enough that he can hear your breathing over the monitoring machines. The room is dark but there's a faint glow from the street lamp outside. Sae can make out the shine in your eyes, the familiar shape of your lips, and the way your hair falls down your face. You look better than the last time he saw you.

"This is old but," You laugh dryly and avert your gaze, Sae is almost positive that you're blushing, "do you remember the stupid promise we made a while back?"

Of course, he remembers. It had been his idea after all. Looking back at it, it was an impulsive decision that he made up on a whim. Promising that he would propose after beating his brother's team. That idea soon fell apart as quickly as he had come up with it. Sae isolated himself for a while after losing and it drove you away from how stubborn and absolutely stupid everything turned out to be.

"I remember." Sae finally answers after a long moment.

"My mom still talks about it—talks about you and talks about us."

As cruel as it may sound, he's glad that he's still very much a present in your life. Sae tries to hold back the smile that threatens to spill on his face, a twitch on his lips so small that only you would be able to recognize.

"Not funny."

There it is, that pout that he would always make fun of. Sae holds back the urge to call you cute and instead decides to have the long-awaited overdue conversation.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you." He carefully watches your facial expression change ever so slightly as he continues. "I didn't mean to place our relationship on a selfish bet. I should've just waited for the right moment to do it."

There's silence. You almost start stuttering as soon as he meets your glossy eyes. The way he spoke came out more casually than he intended and he's pretty sure that his current expression is even more casual. Sae reminds himself that he needs to get rid of the stoic act, especially when it comes to you.

"How would you have done it?" Your voice staggers in what he assumes to be a mixture of anxiety and yearning. Still, it's not a question that he had expected to fly out of you.

Sae feels his mouth go dry but he carries on, ignoring the warm rush to both his cheeks and stomach, "By the pier where I first asked you to be mine. Exactly a month after your birthday because I know you don't like it when people combine holidays and anniversaries close together."

"Because it's—"

"Lazy." Sae finishes and finds the strength to chuckle when you shoot him another one of your cute pouts. He presses on, "Would you have said yes?"

Another wave of silence and he wonders if you're rejecting the idea. If that's the case, Sae hopes you forget about this conversation tomorrow morning, even though you had brought it up first. It'll be a little weird for him to get rejected again by his former partner but he tells himself that he's been through worse. The silence grows heavier and Sae is about to play it off as some awful joke, tell you to leave for the night, but then—

"I would've." You said breathlessly. And when he doesn't respond because he's speechless, you repeat yourself again.

"That's good to know." He can't help but to laugh out a little because, of course, this happens to him. Sae studies your body language for a while before speaking, feeling brash and frankly overly confident. He might just blame it on the medication if you were to ask him about it later. "By the way, I still need a ride back tomorrow."

You stifle back your own laugh but it's filled with tenderness that he was once familiar with, "Is this your way of asking me to get back with you?"

"No," He's swift to respond, "I'll do that after I invite you inside."

"Do you think I'll say yes?"

"Knowing you, most likely."

Sae leans forward, closing the space between the two of you. His lips are a hair width apart from yours and he's sure that you could hear his heart pounding against his ribcage. He watches you close your eyes and soften your face but, as much as he wants to shut the distance, Sae bumps his forehead against yours.

You wince and yelp at the impact, "What was that for?"

"To let me know that I'm not dreaming."

He doesn't care about the half-glare you give him or the fact that his heart rate monitor is giving away how nervous he actually is. What he does care about is having the privilege to be next to you again, and in this little moment, you are the center of his universe.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #blue lock fluff #i crave for soft sae #no one #not even my own boyfriend #can stop me #i wanna devour him like how i devour mangos #RAAAHHH

[imshymorph]

Here’s soft!price, i’m sure you missed him or at least i did. Of course as soon as i say i’ll write and post about ghost i get ideas for everyone and their mother and write those instead.

I believe that sometimes, when John is away for a mission and struggles to fall asleep, he thinks back to moments in your relationship.

Like now, it had been at least an hour since he had left the rec room where the rest of the task force had been chatting after supper. He had gotten ready for bed and finally found a comfortable position. And yet here he was, still awake despite how tired he really felt.

And just like any other time he had the chance to, he let himself think of you. First he was thinking about how you'd probably be knocked out by now, for sure falling asleep while the two of you watched a movie on the couch and cuddled.

- - - - -

How he'd pause it so you wouldn't miss anything, pick you up carefully to not wake you and carry you to bed. Hold you close and pull the covers around you both before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a soft "i love you".

A little amused smile appeared on his lips when those three little words made him jump onto a different memory. One that you referred to as "the unofficial first i love you".

It had started when John received a call from the hospital, not giving the nurse the chance to say more than your name and at what desk he should ask to see you before he was fleeing base and coming to you (even if at that time you hadn’t been together for that long).

To this day you defend how overly dramatic he was, sure you had been in the ER, but it had been "just" because of a minor concussion. You had wanted to snack on some chocolate covered almonds while watching your show, but when you went to get them you had realised the little container had been pushed to the farthest part of the cupboard. Even in your tiptoes, your fingers only grazed the container, not getting enough of a grip to pull it forward.

Determined to have your snack you had gotten a step stool (which John had been happy to hear because he had worked really hard on getting rid of your dumb habit of climbing on the counter). What you hadn’t noticed was that the damned kitchen faucet had been leaking again. So when you got on it and leaned forward, the stool slid back, the movement making you bend forward and smack your head on the cupboard’s edge. After feeling dizzy you had called for a cab and gotten to the ER. And there you were, waiting for him to pick you up.

He had gotten leave for the first few days and kept to deskwork for a couple weeks after to make sure he was available were anything else to happen. He was glad he had done so, as the first week had mainly been you on bedrest with a killer headache, feeling dizzy nearly every time you sat up, almost nauseated whenever you had to walk to the bathroom.

He now was able to admit to himself without guilt that, despite how much he hated the circumstances (the faucet didn’t have the chance to be leaky again from then until you moved in together to the house you now share. And your step stools have grippy stickers on the feet) he loved the perfect excuse it gave him to baby you and hold you all day. Which had led to the memory that made him smile every time.

“John, I'm bored… Talk to me about something.” You murmured, your head resting on the crook of his neck to shield your eyes from the light that managed to filter through the curtains. “Anything, really.”

“Hmm, let me think.” He murmured, his gruff and low voice surprisingly being of help with your headache, giving you something to focus on instead of the pain. “I actually thought about this last week… You haven’t been to France, have you? Maybe when you recover we could plan a weekend trip to Paris.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you chuckle, although it withered a bit when a small pained whimper followed, the pair flaring at the effort. “I’m okay.” You reassured almost instantly, “I just hadn’t expected the topic to be France.”

A low chuckle left him as well, “well, you said I could talk about anything, love.” He justified it with a small self-pleased smile before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Need me to bring anything to help with the pain?”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured softly, adjusting a bit in his arms. “Don’t change topics now, you were promising to take me on a trip.” you say lightheartedly, earning a small laugh from him. “I’m making a big effort here to recover, I better get something good after.”

He chuckled again, one hand moving to rub your back, making you smile against his neck. “Making the effort for me or for the trip, doll?” He teased, but he froze when your answer came, his heart beating faster than he could admit and the warmth on his cheeks luckily hidden by his beard.

“For you, of course.” It had been so simple, and yet he had to stare at the ceiling for a full minute to recover from it, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest at any moment. And before he could realise, he had gently held your chin and pulled back a bit to look you in the eye.

“I hope you don’t tease me for the rest of our lives for saying this now, but… I love you, I love you so much.” His words had left in a soft murmur, his eyes matching your widening ones as you both processed the moment.

A small shaky breath left you and despite your prominent headache you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his in what he still considered one of the best kisses he had ever received (the list was pretty long but all of them classified after the one on your wedding). “I love you too.” you had said softly as you pulled back, just to immediately slap his shoulder. “But why tell me now, you twat. I’m stuck in bed, we can’t do anything cute like a date night.”

It had caused him to chuckle then and it did now as he adjusted his pillow and pulled the covers a little higher. The official version according to you was a month later, when you both had snuck away for a weekend to the Paris trip he had promised. You had planned an incredibly cliché day out but pretty much none of it had worked out when a storm had drenched the whole city. Somehow you had found yourself taking cover in a quaint and cosy jazz club where you had spent all night chatting away in a small booth.

He could still remember the adoring look in your eyes when he had turned back to you after ordering new drinks for you both. And when you had leaned in and said those three little words, he had known he had been right to say it a month before. His heart soaring and his whole body thrumming in delight when he whispered it back before kissing you.

With a soft smile and a quiet murmur of I love you, John passed his thumb over the wedding band that hung around his neck along with his dog tags before finally falling asleep.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #captain price cod #captain john price #cod mw2 #captain price mw2 #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soft!price

[rosehxnt]

bonjour >:) requests are open, and thus i am requesting leona, vil (aster is converting me how dare) and idia (again, i am being converted) with a s/o who drags them out to buy matching outfits and accidentally revealing their secret relationship?

it’s just an outfit

ft. leona kingscholar, vil schoenheit, idia shroud summary: even with the attempt to hide their identity, your boyfriend is noticed in public shopping with you warnings: invasion of privacy via paparazzi, use of they/them pronouns for reader (idia)

leona kingscholar  He seemed so nonchalant about it, only opting to wear a hat and insisting no one would care what a second-born prince was doing buying matching outfits with another person.  He seemed to be correct on that matter until five minutes after you got back to his dorm to lay down.  After changing into your couple’s black and yellow loungewear, messages began to flood your phone from your friends. Links to dozens of articles claiming to have the scoop on Leona Kingscholar's new relationship.  "‘Sunset Savanna Royalty Seen Shopping with Mystery Person. Could This Be a Budding New Romance?’” Leona read one of the titles over your shoulder, throwing in sarcastically shocked tone.  You glared at him as you turned to face him before your face fell in worry. "What if this…changes things between us? Since everyone practically knows now."  "I don’t think this changes anything between us. Not to me, anyway. We just don't have to sneak around anymore." He paused to rest a hand on your cheek. "You’re still okay being mine, right?"  You nodded. "Of course I am."  "That’s all that matters to me, love." Leona threw his arm over your shoulders to bring you closer to his chest, not missing the chance to leave a kiss on your forehead before continuing your impromptu nap.

vil schoenheit  It was his idea to both wear masks to reduce the possibility of being recognized. He was even smart enough to style his hair differently than usual. ��Needless to say, Vil had a lot of experience trying to avoid paparazzi as one of the most famous teenagers in twisted wonderland.  You had insisted on going out and getting matching outfits despite your relationship not being public yet, he agreed but not without a warning of how overwhelming it could become if someone recognized him in public.  "It's no big deal, I can handle it," you told him.  "As long as you're confident, my dear."   The trip was going fairly well, you had picked out matching peacoats that would help keep you warm in the cold temperatures. It was when you were looking at sweaters that a fan of his recognized him and noticed your close proximity to each other.  Before you knew it, pictures were being taken as Vil took your hand to lead you away, tsking at the misplaced enthusiasm the public had for him. Once you were sure you were alone he turned to hold you.  "I apologize for the scene, I hope it wasn't too much for you."  "I'm sorry for dragging you out here." You glanced the ground. "People will probably start harassing you about being in a relationship now."  "I knew the risks before entering a relationship with you." He tilted your head up to look at you properly. "I don't mind at all, because now I'm able to be open about the fondness I hold for you."

idia shroud  It’s not like you were actively keeping your relationship a secret, it just hadn’t come up in conversation yet. Most of the time you and Idia spent together was either on voice call or playing games in his room.  You had asked him a few times if he’d be willing to go with you to get matching outfits. It never mattered what it was, just as long as you matched with him. One weekend he finally found the courage to go to the mall with you, as long as he could keep his hood up and face down the entire time.  You were almost jumping with joy at the prospect of getting your introvert boyfriend to do something he would've never done before meeting you. Yes he had stipulations, but you were just glad to have this bonding opportunity with him.  Idia quickly steered you towards the back section of a store that he claimed had "everything an otaku would ever want." You passed walls of shirts for every anime, video game, and vocaloid you'd ever heard of, and then some.  That's exactly when he spotted two students he shared occasional classes with. Said students noticed him back, saw how he looked at you with panic, and quickly connected the dots.  "Well if they're standing that close to Idia Shroud..."  "Exactly what I was thinking, they've got to be special to him for that kind of privilege."  You didn't get to hear the rest of the conversation as Idia dragged you out of said "otaku heaven," mumbling something about finding merch online instead.

a/n: sorry that leona's is a bit shorter, i tried to mix up each scenario the best i could m.list & rules

© rosehxnt

#ediewrite #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst x reader #leona kingscholar imagines #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit imagines #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud imagines #idia shroud x reader

[m0nsterqzzz]

(If you're not accepting requests, I apologize) I NEED you to write a part 2 of "happy wife happy life" where years pass and Clarisse proposes to Reader fr 😭😭

Happy Wife Happy Life (part two)

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem reader

summary: many years after your childhood best friend became your girlfriend and a few after you moved with her to Arizona for college, she seems to becoming more distant. Your determined to find out why.

a/n: this is literally such a cute idea first of all. thank you so much for requesting!! i hope it lives up to the expectations and I'm so glad you like the first one anon!! <3333

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Alone can mean a lot of things.

It can mean being by yourself, no one else in the room, or lonely, as in feeling like you're all by yourself in a world full of people.

The thing about you and Clarisse, is she never lets you feel alone. 

Obviously, if you need space, she’ll give it. But she always makes sure you’re not lonely.

Until now that is.

About five years ago, you and your girlfriend left the safe place called Camp Half Blood to go to college together in Arizona, and it was soon after that you had an apartment together. You guys didn’t have a lot of money, and you didn’t have the nicest things, but you had each other. That was enough.

At least, you thought it was.

Recently, Clarisse has been distant. You blamed it on her job at first-she loves being a construction worker, but it’s tiring. When she started taking hours to come home after the time she was supposed to be off, you blamed it on how much she loves going to the gym or out for runs and probably loses track of times like she used to when she would do sword training when you guys were younger. After that, you blamed it on her being stressed from work, and Clarisse sometimes likes to go have a drink with her coworkers after work. But the thing about it was, she never came home sweaty. That ruled out the gym. She also never came home drunk or even smelling of alcohol, so the thought of her going to the bar after work was also out of the picture.

Which is why you find yourself here, curled up onto the couch as your eyes stay glued to the digital clock on the shelf near the tv- Clarisse has never been able to read a normal clock- as the seconds, minutes, and hours pass by. Your girlfriend got off work five hours ago, which makes it now exactly 10:30 pm. It may not seem too late, and you're quite scared that staying up to wait for Clarisse after making her dinner that now rests in tupperware in the fridge as it got cold while you were waiting for her at the table will make you seem paranoid. You push it to the back of your mind though. Clarisse, the girl who punches anyone who looks at her wrong, has always told you that communication is clear in your relationship. It’s the main reason that you have decided to confront her about her distance. Why isn’t she just communicating? 

Your eyes finally peel away from the clock when you hear a key quietly slotting into the front door before it slowly creeks open. She’s always been sure to be quiet when coming home late, and whether it’s because she doesn’t want to wake you up from a peaceful slumber or so she doesn’t have to talk to you, you just don’t know.

“Hey.” You mumble, but it’s silent enough in the room that she hears you and freezes in the entryway. It’s a small apartment as you guys didn’t have a lot of money during college, so you can see her standing in front of the door, slowly taking off her shoes as she avoids looking at you.

“Hey angel. What are you doing up? Don’t you have work tomorrow?” One of the first things she said to you in weeks, and she doesn’t even seem excited to be around you.

With a sigh, you reveal, “I took the day off tomorrow. We need to talk.” If possible, the girl seems to tense even more. “What’s wrong?” She questions, sitting on the opposite end of the couch you're on with her sock covered feet under her legs. A month ago, she would’ve been laying on you, cuddled up so close to you that one would think she actually wants to merge into your skin. Not now though. Now, it seems like she can’t get far enough from you.

“I don’t know.” You start. “You tell me what’s wrong.” Clarisse seems taken aback, but she doesn’t say anything as she stares at the worn out pillow on your lap. “N-Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

You scoff quietly, picking at the skin around your finger nails. Clarisse hates when you do that. She says she doesn’t want you to cause any pain to yourself. She doesn’t make a move to stop you now. “Okay then. Maybe nothings wrong with you, but is there something wrong with us?”

She seems to take notice of the desperation in your tone as her fingers twitch before they hesitantly reach over to hold your hand. "I....nothings wrong with us. Promise."

You sigh heavily, looking up to the ceiling to stop the forming tears from falling. "Then tell me why you're so distant Clarisse. Please." You're practically begging at this point, and her frown only deepens.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is small, a stark contrast to her usual booming tone. "I can't tell you. Not yet at least. But I promise. I will."

You sit in silence for a minute, eyes not meeting before you stand up from the couch and start making your way to the hallway that leads to your guys bedroom. "Stop promising things Clar." You mutter, lingering for a second before you turn off the lights and leave.

That night, you barely slept. Clarisse doesn't come to bed, probably asleep on the couch the way she always does when she thinks she's bothering you. This can't be the end of your relationship. She's been yours since you guys were kids. And you were hers. What changed?

The next morning, you're awakened by the sound of a loud beeping coming from what sounds like every place in the apartment. Your head hurts from crying last night as you stand up, and you make sure to wipe the dried tears off your face before you make your way out of the bedroom in sweats and one of your girlfriends shirts.

There is a calm but warm breeze coming in from the open balcony doors, but that thought is put on a back burner when you walk into the kitchen to see Clarisse sprinting to the sink with a smoking pan i. hand. She's muttering Greek curse words under her breath as she puts water on what looks like burnt eggs. Once that is calmed down, she opens the oven to reveal a cloud of heat and very crispy biscuits. You can't help but let out a silent laugh at the sight of her angrily swatting a hand towel at the smoke alarm to make it stop beeping.

"What's going on here?" You question, and she quickly tries to get you out of the room of chaos. "Hey honey. Did I wake you?" Clarisse rushes out as she leads you to sit down on the couch. "I'm making you breakfast."

You giggle, the sound causing a small smile to grace your girlfriend's face. "It seems like it's going well."

She nods, sighing as she places a chaste kiss on your head before rushing back to the kitchen to throw out her soaked scrambled eggs. For a second, it feels like the past month never happened. The warmth from the kitchen and open doors can't compare to the warmth in your chest as you watch your girlfriend be the person you know and love for the first time in way too long. 

She comes back a few minutes later, pancake mix on her cheek as she takes off your apron and sits down next to you on the couch. Unlike last night, she sits as close as possible without actually touching you- probably afraid you’ll reject her touch. “I’m sorry.” She speaks, nervously rubbing her hands together. “I’m really sorry.”

The daughter of Ares slowly leans in a bit, resting her head on your shoulder when you don’t move away. 

“If you’re really sorry, talk to me. Tell me what's happening.” You whisper, and she hears it as she takes a deep breath before nodding and standing up. You stare at her questioningly for a moment as she holds her hand out so she can help you up. Nonetheless, you take it, letting her warm hand hold yours as she leads you somewhere.

The balcony.

You didn’t notice it at first glance as you were busy laughing at Clarisse’s terrible cooking attempt, but it's decorated. Usually, two chairs and a small little table would be on it, but those are now gone, probably somewhere in the house. They’re replaced by a slightly bigger table, clearly the foldable one you guys use when your friends come to visit and they need more room at the three person table in your living room; but she’s put a thin gray table cloth on it that's being held down by a pot of flowers and two glasses of orange juice.

With the background of the far away mountains and plants outside, the place looks beautiful.

“Clar….”

“So? What do you think?” It’s complete deja vu to the day she became your girlfriend. The way she nervously shifts from foot to foot as she scans your face for any sign that you hate it.

“I…I love it.” You mutter, turning to her with a grin. Whether it's an apology for the way she's treated you for the past month or something else, you can’t deny that this is a dream. 

She lets out a breath of relief, nodding as she runs back inside to grab two plates before coming back and setting them down. “Why though?” You ask, and she sighs.

“Because I’ve been a bad girlfriend. And all though it’s no excuse, and I should’ve at least told you why.” You nod with a small smile.

The curly haired girl takes a big deep breath, clearly nervous, before she pulls out a dark red ring box and kneels down on one knee in front of you. “The reason I’ve been gone so often, is because I’ve been out trying to find a ring that’s almost as perfect as you. I made Chiron and my brother help, and I’m sure they’re happy I’m finally done looking. It took forever, because I didn’t think any ring out there was worthy of you. But…then I talked to my dad.”

It’s clear she’s struggling to tell this part, so you force down your excitement to comfort her by caressing her cheek. She leans into your touch, taking a moment before she continues. “He said he’s proud. That he’s happy for me and that I found a good one.” You smile. She’s never had the best relationship with Ares, but it’s clear she’s okay with that now. “Then he gave me this ring.” She opens the box, revealing a beautiful, shiny ring with a silver band and red gem. “He told me he saw it in a store once, loved it, but had no one to give it too. Said he’d be honored if I could use it.”

“So, I hope you love the ring as much as I think you will.” She chuckles, hands slightly shaking as she holds up the ring. “Angel, I know we've had our ups and downs in the past, but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you when we were kids, and I still want to. I know that we have grown and changed in many ways, but I still believe in our love the way I did when I was twelve. Will you do me the honor of being my wife? For real this time."

Finally, a sob escapes your throat, and she’d be scared you’re gonna say no if not for the big grin on your face. “Of course I will! Gods! Yes. I will marry you!” She nods, one of the largest smiles you’ve ever seen growing on her face as she slips the ring onto your left ring finger, the same way she did when you guys were kids. The girl stands up, casually picking you up for a hug like you weigh nothing.

“My wife.” She mumbles into your neck, leaning back to give you a kiss though it's hard with the way you both can’t stop smiling. “You’re finally going to be my real wife.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After many shed tears and gentle kisses, you’re sitting down at the decorated table on your balcony, waiting for your fiance to bring you your breakfast she made.

She comes back with a pan that smells absolutely disgusting, scooping up what is in it before plopping it onto your plate. It’s dark brown mush, and you stare at it for a few seconds before looking up at her with an amused smile. The girl seems to already know what you’re going to say, because she sighs and grabs her phone from her jeans pockets as you giggle. “I’ll order from that café down the road.”

Happy wife, happy life.

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#clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #pjo x reader

[yourmidnightlover]

good vibrations

pairing: xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: you love been pent up for weeks now and just needed a quick release when you get interrupted by your best friend…

warnings: !not proofread! vibrators used (hahaha get it? the title), kinda simpy/puppy-esc xavier, unprotected piv, kinda bossy reader?

a/n: this is kind of a shortie, but it was in my head. i might revisit the idea and rewrite it much better, but we shall see. double post tonight… isn’t it wild??? anyways, enjoy, my loves <3

you knew xavier would be coming by soon to go with you to jericho for a late night outing. you just couldn’t help yourself.

you hadn’t been able to get yourself off for three weeks due to exams and everything going on. it didn’t help that your best friend, who you loved, always wanted to hang out. and you loved hanging out with him too! just not when you were horny as hell and absolutely had to get yourself off soon or you would explode.

at this point nothing would stop you from pulling out your vibrator and turning it on the lowest setting to get yourself worked up. god, the way it feels against your clit is perfect, even more so as you turn it up a level... again, and again until it's at its highest setting.

but it was still extremely hard to explain as he barged into your dorm, "you ready to go..." his eyes were trained on your vibrator positioned right between your legs, focused on that sensitive little nub that's been aching for days. you really weren't sure how he hadn't heard the vibrator from outside, it was on the highest setting. "yet?" his voice rose nearly three octaves as he spoke.

"i..." you had already switched the vibrator off before you froze for a second. you noticed him swiftly turning around, mumbling apologies as you covered yourself with your blanket, throwing your head back with a groan. "gahhh!" you practically growled. "I JUST WANT TO CUM, XAVIER!"

"ohhh my god," he swiftly switched back to reality as he began to walk towards the door.

"wait..." you told him as his hand was on the doorknob. "look, i'm sorry. i've just been a bit... frustrated and pent up the past few weeks. I figured i would take care of it before we went out because i really thought i was going to explode... anyway, i'm sorry."

"you-you don't have any reason to be," he shook his head as he turned towards you. "i mean it's natural for that to... y'know, yea. i mean i do it too, so i definitely know the feeling of needing that... release."

"exactly!" you sighed, glad that he wasn't repulsed by your actions... some people were weird about female masturbation. "do..." your mind began to wander. "do you feel that need right now?"

"y/n, i..." he ran his hand through his hir before taking a seat at your desk. "you don't know what you're even saying."

"then let me rephrase," you tossed your sheets off of your body, exposing your bare chest and body to him once more, "you can sit at the desk and watch me finish and then we'll go to jericho, or, we could help each other out with our frustrations?" you glanced down at his crotch, primarily the impressive bulge that only continued to grow.

"i-uh," you could see his chest beating harder as he eyed your pussy. "would-would that even be aright? like.. would that be alright with you?"

"do you know how long i've wanted this?" you sat up on the bed, your legs bent and wide open. "do you know what i was thinking about?" he shook his head 'no.' "i was thinking about your long fingers. about how long they are, how deep they would get inside me. god, i thought about you underneath me. how bad i want to sit on your hard dick and hear your moans."

"y/n," his breathing became audible as you now rose to your knees, reaching out to him as he approached you. you grasped his shirt's collar. "i really want you."

"thank fuck," you sighed as you let one hand cup the side of his neck, keeping eye contact as you leaned in until his lips finally touched yours.

his hands immediately went to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks. he seemed hungry, starving even, for your touch. he began to roll his hips into yours before you used your own to roll him over on the bed, you hovering atop him.

"i think i'm gonna explode," his voice came out as a whimper, a beg for you to do something. "you're so perfect. always been perfect to me," your lips were attacking his neck, your hands working at his pants. "god, this must be a dream," his hands were roaming in your hair. "if it is a dream then i don't wanna wake up. not ever."

"xavier?"

"mhmm," your eyes finally met his with a kind but eager smile.

"help me get your pants off," you urged him, not even realizing that you had began to grind down on his legs. "now."

"mhmm-yea... yes," he lifted his hips for you so you could pull the elastic band down easier.

when you saw his dick spring up against his stomach the only word that came to your mind were: "holy fuck."

"wh-what is it?" he was now wearing a worried expression as if something had gone wrong, or he was disappointing in any way.

you grabbed his cock that was already leaking precum and began to lazily stroke it, "it's perfect, xay," you pressed one more kiss to his mouth before lining him up with your center. "so fucking perfect," you dragged your pussy up and down his dick as you asked, "condom? i'm clean and on birth control and i just… i just really need this."

"no, just... just do it," he nodded eagerly as his hands wandered over your body, grabbing at your breasts and hips. "please, y/n?"

you waited no longer, letting your pussy glide over his shaft, encompassing it in your own warmth. his mouth opened wide, small whimpers leaving his mouth before he clamped it shut, now biting down on his lip.

"god, it's so good," you let the thought that's been in your mind the past ten minutes of making out, the tension getting to you. "so good for me, xay," one hand was raking through his hair, gently tugging at the strands as the other was on his chest, used to keep yourself propped up.

"this really is heaven," he sighed as he threw his head back. "please don't stop," his hand went to the side of the bed, grabbing your vibrator before connecting it to your clit.

"holy fuck, that's so amazing, xavier," your body began to get out of rhythm, your hips staggering with every move you made.

"i've had dreams of this," he began to let his hips thrust up and down to meet your own. "god, i can feel the vibrating through your pussy. i've dreamed of this every way possible," he held onto you as your upper body collapsed on his chest, now letting his hips to all the work.

"i'm gonna-fuck," your arms were only tightening their hold around his neck. "i'm cumming, oh fuck-i'm cumming! don't stop, xavier, oh god!" you turned your face into his neck as your moans persisted.

"you feel so good, holy shit," his hips began to stutter as he fucked you through your high, bringing him to his own release. "where-fuck-where do you want it?"

"inside," you grasped tighly onto his hair, gently tugging on the roots. "need it inside."

"fuck," his hips stuttered once more as he filled your insides with his cum, letting a few more strokes fuck it all inside you.

you had a dazed smile plastered on your face when you muttered, “we’ve gotta do that more.”

#xavier thorpe fic #wednesday #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x reader smut #xavier thorpe fanfiction #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday xavier thorpe #netflix #netflix wednesday #wednesday netflix

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.2

Chapter Summary: Events from Tommy and Maria's engagement party force you to confront your feelings with Joel about the future.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, smut (MDNI 18+), p in v unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, fear of commitment, talk of pregnancy

WC: 7.7K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You couldn't have picked a hotter day to host the engagement party. Sweat trickled down your neck as you finished cleaning up your kitchen, cursing yourself the whole time for coming up with the idea in the first place. You straightened up and looked around the first floor, deciding you were finally satisfied with the result before sliding on your sneakers to go find your friend and co-worker, Carrie, outside.

Jogging down the porch steps, you spun your head in either direction before spotting her across the street talking to Julia, one of Jackson's elementary school teachers, and balancing a large box on her hip. They both turned and gave a wave when they saw you approach.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, your skin feeling instantly flush when the sun's rays hit you. "House is all clean, ready to start setting up?"

"Yeah! Julia was just telling me what a fun time her kids had making the decorations, that was such a good idea," Carrie said, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and fanning the back of her neck.

"It was a great distraction from the heat this week," Julia said with a smile. "I'm glad we could help out. You girls give me a call if you need any help over there, I'll come right over."

"Seth's supposed to come by later and borrow your oven," you reminded her, and she nodded.

You both thanked her and headed back across the street. The original plan had been to have everyone in your backyard, but the amount of people on the guest list grew so large that you decided to just set up tents and tables right in the middle of the street, with your house as the home base for all the food. People would be able to easily filter in and out as they needed throughout the night. All you had to do was hang up the decorations inside and on your porch, as well as set up various tables inside to hold all the food. Seth was providing the majority, but everyone in town wanted to pitch in and help so by the end, it turned out to be a potluck.

Carrie was helping you pin up a huge banner across your porch railing congratulating the happy couple when a few of the men in town arrived to set up the tents, tables and chairs in the street. All of your neighbors supplied whatever they could to the cause: folding tables, patio furniture, camping chairs. It was a bunch of mismatched furniture under tents and umbrellas, but as long as there were enough places for people to sit, that was all that mattered.

"C'mon, let's go sit in front of the fan inside, I'm dying," Carrie told you once you had finished decorating the porch. You agreed, following her inside to grab some water and rest.

"Where's Joel?" she asked you, flopping down on the couch and throwing her leg over the arm while she took a long drink of water.

"He's helping Seth bring all the meat over," you explained, sitting down across from her to catch your breath. "They'll be here in a bit." You had planned the start of the party for dinnertime, hoping the sun would be lower by that point and possibly cooler.

"He's got to be so happy for Tommy," she said.

"Oh, yeah, of course. He probably thought Tommy would never settle down, the way he used to get around at work," you said with a giggle.

"I always forget you three knew each other before the outbreak," Carrie replied. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

"Tell me about it," you said with a sigh. "I think I've lived three lives since then."

Carrie eyed you for a moment, her eyes shining with a playful glint you knew usually accompanied some type of gossip.

"Sooo..." she began, swinging her leg back and forth over the arm of the couch with a smirk. "You think you and Joel are next?"

You sputtered on your water, somehow not expecting her to steer the conversation in that direction.

"What?" you managed to squeak out, your pulse quickening.

"Well, you two have been together for years. Longer than Tommy and Maria. I figured them getting engaged would have gotten you guys thinking about it, too," she said with a shrug.

"No. No, I don't think so," you said, shaking your head.

"Have you guys talked about it?"

"Well... no. But I don't think - um, he's never..." you struggled to finish your sentence, not sure how to verbalize the jumbled mess in your head.

"What? You think he's never thought about it?" Carrie asked, furrowing her brows.

"He was engaged a long time ago and it ended badly, I don't think that's something he's interested in doing again," you finally said, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. You wiped your palms on your shorts, suddenly feeling clammy.

"Well, that doesn't mean anything. He's crazy about you, why wouldn't he want to marry you?"

Your mouth felt dry as you considered her words. With a shaky hand, you grabbed your water and took a long sip. Carrie eyed you carefully, finally noticing your nerves.

"Do you want to marry him?" she asked softly. You looked over at her with wide eyes.

"I... I'm not sure," you finally admitted. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You can't repeat this to anyone, Carrie, I'm serious." She nodded and crossed her heart, sitting upright so she could give you her full attention.

"I love him. More than anything. And I don't want to be with anyone else," you began as she nodded along. "But the thought of marrying him scares the shit out of me."

"Why?" she asked incredulously. You shrugged.

"I can't be sure. I've been thinking about it for weeks and I can't come up with just one answer. I just hope I figure it out before -"

Just then, the screen door swung open and you heard Seth and Joel's voices carrying down the hall. You widened your eyes at Carrie and made a cross over your heart, which she returned with a resolute nod and put on her game face.

"Ladies," Seth said in greeting with a nod as he headed over to your oven, twisting the nobs to preheat it and began to shove covered trays of food inside. You both stood up and entered the kitchen, ready to help. Joel followed down the hall shortly after, placing his armful of food on the counter before turning to you both.

"Looks great out there," he said with a quick kiss to the top of your head. You inhaled deeply, taking in his intoxicating scent: a mix of his sweat and the soap he used that morning. What was wrong with you for not wanting to marry this man?

"I'm gonna take the rest of these across the street," Seth said as he scooped up the remaining trays and slipped his boots back on.

"Thanks, Seth," you called after him as he pushed open the door with a quick wave over his shoulder.

"I was going to head home and get ready, unless you need anything else?" Carrie asked, and you shook your head, thanking her as well. She gave Joel a quick smile as she made her way to the front door. Once she was sure his back was to her, she gave you a look and mouthed we'll talk later before she headed back out into the blistering heat.

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me, right?" Joel asked, a pained expression on his face when you came down the stairs and he saw the dress you had put on for the party.

"What?" you replied, genuinely perplexed as you met him in the kitchen. It was a simple sundress: pale blue with small flowers that fell just above your knee. You adjusted one of the spaghetti straps, feeling self-conscious. It wasn't racy by any means, but the way he was staring made you feel like you were wearing a corset and stockings.

"How am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you're wearin' this?" he murmured, closing the gap between you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"It's nothing special, Joel," you said with a laugh. "All the women will be wearing dresses, it's hot as hell out."

"It's special if it's on you," he said right before slotting his lips against yours, taking your breath away. He supposed you were right. It was a relatively modest dress, but he couldn't help his reaction. You used to wear dresses or skirts almost every day at the office before the outbreak, but it was a rarity now. One he didn't want to waste.

"Jesus, you're insatiable lately," you teased, giving his chest a gentle shove so you could create some space, knowing full well people would be arriving any minute to set up their dish to share.

"Well, can you blame me?" he shot right back, about to descend upon your neck when the screen door slammed open and shut. He groaned when he heard Carrie and her boyfriend, Jake, call out from the hallway.

"In here!" you replied, giving Joel's hand a quick squeeze before letting it go to greet the first of your guests.

Fortunately, once the sun set, the temperature did seem to drop a few degrees. You and Joel sat at a table with Tommy and Maria, getting small pockets of conversation in between all the well-wishers stopping by to chat and examine her ring. You probably heard the story of how Tommy proposed about twenty times by the time you started your third drink, feeling pleasantly relaxed and pleased at how well the party came together after all the hard work everyone put into it. You leaned back onto Joel's shoulder with a sigh as you listened to Maria tell an older couple how Tommy spilled red wine on the carpet because his hands were shaking so badly.

"You did good, sweetheart," Joel murmured in your ear. "This was real nice."

"Thanks," you said, turning your face upwards to give him a sweet smile. Fuck, he was so handsome. "Everyone pitched in, though. Wasn't just me."

"Yeah, but you organized it all, and that's a lot of work. You made 'em very happy," he said, nodding in the direction of his brother and his bride to be.

You smiled again and took another sip of your drink. He put his own glass down on the table in favor of putting his hand on your knee and giving you a gentle squeeze. You cocked an eyebrow at him and leaned in closer as his eyes briefly drifted down, trying to get a peek at your cleavage.

"What are you up to, Mr. Miller?" you asked quietly, your gaze flicking to his hand on your knee, which was sneakily making its way further up your leg. He shrugged and gave you a sly smirk.

"Just enjoyin' the view," he replied.

The couple Maria was talking to finally walked away, and she directed her attention back to you.

"Now that I think we finally have more than five minutes, we wanted to ask you both something," Maria said, her eyes sparkling as she looked over at Tommy.

"Will you be our best man and maid of honor?" Tommy asked with a warm smile.

"Oh my god, of course!" you exclaimed, jumping up from Joel's grasp to give Maria a tight hug.

"We'd love to," Joel confirmed, standing and giving his brother a firm handshake before you shoved him out of the way to give Tommy a hug. Joel gave Maria a kiss on the cheek and you settled back in your chair, scooting closer to Maria to hear the plans she had already come up with for the ceremony.

Joel clinked his glass of whiskey against Tommy's with a nod before they each took a sip and sat back to watch you and Maria talking animatedly about how she wants her hair to look for the big day.

"So," Tommy began with a knowing look on his face. Joel curtly shook his head to stop Tommy, but he knew you weren't listening.

"I don't know yet," was all Joel said, without Tommy having to finish his thought. "Didn't want to steal your thunder, and all that."

"Bullshit, you're just nervous," Tommy said with a chuckle.

"Ain't no rush. When it's right, I'll ask," he replied with a shrug.

"Well, you know her better than anyone," Tommy conceded.

"Who?" you asked, turning your attention towards the brothers.

"Velvet, the mare Joel's been usin' on patrol lately. She's got a stubborn streak," Tommy said, the lie rolling off his tongue with ease.

"Hm. I can see why they get along so well, then," you said with a wink, pulling a laugh from Tommy and Maria. Joel rolled his eyes at your joke, giving you half a smirk. He not-so-secretly loved it when you teased him.

"You should talk," he said, pinching your arm.

"Hey, Joel. Before I forget. I gotta ask you to come out with me in a few weeks. It's about that new settlement we made contact with a month ago, they wanna meet up and see about trades," Tommy said. "Should only take few days."

You hated when Joel had to leave overnight. You tried to keep your disappointment hidden, but Joel knew you too well. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into him and fiddling with the strap of your dress as he spoke to Tommy.

"You got it," Joel replied with a nod. "Someone's gotta make sure you live long enough to make it down the aisle."

Yet another group of people came over to chat with Tommy and Maria, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carrie and a few other women cleaning up, so you got up with a sigh to join them. As you were about to walk away, Joel stood up and snagged your hand, turning you around to face him.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like it when I'm gone too long," he said softly, running his knuckle down your cheek.

"It's okay. I'll just have to entertain myself for a few days," you said dramatically. "But I have no idea what I'll do in that big bed all by myself," you added quietly with a pout. You ran your palms up his chest and reached up to adjust the collar on his button down before looking up to meet his darkened gaze. "Do you have any ideas, Joel?" you asked innocently, batting your lashes.

The grip he had on you tightened and he opened his mouth to reply when Julia interrupted, calling your name from a few tables away.

"Do you have any extra Tupperware?" she had asked, and you wiggled out of Joel's grasp before replying.

"Sure do, I'll meet you guys inside and help pack up all the food," you said, walking over to pick up any empty plates you could manage before following her into your kitchen, his eyes glued to the way you floated around the party until he lost sight of you.

As the night wore on, many of the older couples and families with young children filtered home, leaving about thirty or so people behind closer to midnight. You wondered how the town was going to function tomorrow, collectively hungover, as you gratefully accepted another glass of wine from Carrie and plopped on your couch. The men all ended up congregating outside on the porch or backyard, whereas the women all elected to stay inside.

You were listening to one of the girls drone on about a terrible date she had with one of the newer guys in town when the screen door whipped open loudly, followed by boisterous laughter from what sounded like the rest of the men, likely bored with being outside alone.

"Ladies!" Tommy called out drunkenly, arms spread wide with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His hip nudged one of your kitchen chairs, the legs scraping on the floor as he made his way over to Maria.

"Oh, great," Maria said, rolling her eyes, but you could see the corners of her mouth turning up into a smirk as Tommy leaned over behind the couch to wrap his arms around her.

Everyone else followed him inside, and suddenly your quiet little sanctuary was filled with loud laughter and shouting as a few men in your kitchen had a very lively argument over sports teams that no longer existed, while others wandered around the living room to try their luck with some of the women.

You stood from the couch, the conversation you all were having earlier effectively over, as you pushed through the bodies of people suddenly filling your home. As you made your way to the bathroom, your eyes darted around, trying to find Joel, but you couldn't see or hear him anywhere.

With a sigh, you snuck into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, enjoying the quiet for a moment. You checked your reflection in the mirror when you were done using the bathroom, smoothing down your hair but the humidity from the day made it difficult, before unlocking the door.

You stumbled back when the door pushed open from the other side, the yelling, and now, music, filling the small room briefly before the door quickly closed again.

Joel's lips were on yours before you could blink, the heady taste of whiskey on his tongue as he sloppily licked into your mouth. His hands greedily reached down to squeeze your ass, bunching your dress up a bit in the process.

"Joel!" you managed to gasp before his mouth devoured yours again, pushing you back against the sink while your fingers gripped his shirt for balance.

"Fuck, need ya so bad 'n all these people won't fuckin' leave," he slurred, his lips nipping at your jaw. Heat bloomed between your legs at the hungry way he grabbed and kissed you, like he couldn't stop himself.

"You're drunk," you said breathily, tipping your head back.

"So are you," he mumbled, and you couldn't stop the lazy smirk that spread across your face. He had you there.

His hands slid down to lift up the back of your dress, his palms caressing the exposed skin of your ass and your lacy underwear before he squeezed, making you squeak.

"We have guests, Joel," you said as his lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving soft licks as he went. He pulled you close, pressing his hips against you so you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your stomach.

"D'ya want me to stop?" he asked, pulling his face back a moment to search your eyes. You stared up at him, panting slightly as you thought about it. His eyes were dark with lust, lips and cheeks flush and hair tousled as he waited for your answer. You shook your head.

"We need to be fast," you whispered, and he pounced on you immediately. His fingers wrapped around your jaw, holding your mouth open so he could plunge his tongue inside, swirling and flicking around yours with a groan.

"Turn 'round," he ordered gruffly while also spinning your body around to face the mirror. You watched his reflection with bated breath as he hiked your dress up and hooked your panties to the side. His ankle nudged yours so you would spread your legs wider, and you could feel the dampness at your core from the excitement. He dipped a finger along your folds while his other hand worked on his belt and jeans, inhaling sharply when he realized how wet you were already. His eyes flicked up to find yours in the mirror and he grinned, stroking his cock.

"Are you going to tease me or fuck me?" you asked, pushing your hips back against him.

"Think you did enough teasin' tonight for the two of us," he said, lining himself up before grabbing your hip. "Walkin' 'round in this dress, with these legs 'n this ass," he let his hand slide from your hip to squeeze your ass again as if to emphasize his point. "Guess that just leaves one thing."

He slammed into you hard with a grunt, knocking the air from your lungs as he buried himself inside you with one quick thrust. You bit down on your lower lip to keep from crying out, only a small whimper escaping while you focused on the delicious sting as you adjusted around him.

"Fuck, that's good," he gasped, looking down where you were connected so he could watch his cock as he shallowly thrusted in and out, giving you a few minutes to acclimate. Your head fell forward between your shoulders with a soft moan, gripping the edge of the sink as he pushed inside you over and over, the room filling with small gasps and groans from you both.

"Right there," you mumbled when he readjusted and found the angle that made you see stars. "Fuck, Joel, don't stop," you said with a whine, squeezing your eyes shut as the top of your head began to bump against the mirror with each snap of his hips.

His hand left your hip and came up to wrap around your hair. He gave it a firm tug and tipped your head back, your eyes flying open in surprise as you met his gaze in the mirror.

"Watch," he ordered, his jaw clenched as he continued to slam into you. "Watch how good you take me, want you to see what I get to see every time I fuck this perfect pussy," he muttered in your ear. You groaned, the filth pouring from his mouth driving you wild, the muscles in your stomach tensing as your orgasm built up.

He nibbled at your earlobe as he stared at you in the mirror, his thrusts coming so fast that your hip bones felt bruised already, but you pushed through it, relishing the idea of having a physical reminder of this moment for the next few days.

"See how lucky I am?" he continued while his other hand traveled down to rub messy circles over your clit, making your jaw fall open. "Look at you, look how wrecked you get from this cock." He wasn't wrong. Your eyes were glassy, either from the alcohol or unshed tears, you weren't sure. Your cheeks were flushed and lips swollen, hair an absolute mess now that Joel's fingers were tangled in it.

"Joel," you whimpered as you felt yourself clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

"I'm right here, I got you, c'mon, give it to me," he said with a grunt, his own climax quickly approaching. You slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle your low, drawn out moan as you came, your arousal soaking his cock and your head falling back on his shoulder.

"That's it, I got you," he whispered in your ear, your orgasm still rippling through you. "Fuck, so pretty when you come," he panted, his hips stuttering before he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his chest. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he came with a loud groan, your body hardly doing anything to muffle the sound.

With the back of your head still resting on his shoulder, your eyes slid shut, enjoying the afterglow for a few moments while his body shuddered behind you and his grip loosened.

Joel kept his hands on your arms to steady you as he pulled out, a curse leaving his lips in the process. He tucked himself back into his jeans with one hand, then met your eyes in the mirror.

"Can ya stand?" he asked you softly. You nodded and took a deep breath, unrolling some toilet paper to clean up the mess between your legs before fixing your underwear and dress.

You straightened up and looked at him leaning against the bathroom wall, watching you with a smug look on his face.

"You're an animal, you know that?" you said, pressing yourself against him with your chin resting on his chest and your arms around his waist.

"You love it," he replied before cupping your face in his hands and giving you a firm kiss.

The sound of a glass bottle breaking and a collective roar of taunts erupted from your kitchen, pulling you both out of your daze.

"Goddamnit, Tommy," Joel muttered, pushing himself off the wall to open the door. You heard him jokingly berating his brother as you quickly ran your fingers through your hair, making yourself look less fucked before rejoining the festivities.

The sun beamed through your curtains, brightness flashing across your eyelids, contributing more to the pounding already in your head. You buried your face into your pillow, willing the sun or the pain to cease before you were forced to get up for the day. Joel had already left early that morning for patrol, something you thought was cruel considering he was about to leave for the trip Tommy mentioned a few weeks ago during the party the very next day.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, squinting to minimize the impact from the sun as you stumbled into the bathroom in search of something to numb the pain. Popping two white pills into your mouth, you leaned over the sink to drink from the faucet, swallowing the medicine before splashing your face with cold water, desperate to do anything that might help.

It was your day off from work, but you had promised Maria you would help her with inventory before the men made their trip, so you shoved on your jeans and a clean shirt and made your way downstairs, elated to find Joel had left the coffee machine on for you. You poured the remaining liquid into a thermos so you could take it on the go, hoping the caffeine combined with the Tylenol would diminish the throbbing between your eyes.

By the time you made it to the warehouse, your head seemed to be slightly better, although the ache was still persistent. You must not have been hiding your pain very well because when Maria saw you, she frowned.

"What happened to you?"

"No idea, I woke up with the worst migraine," you said with a groan and flopped down on a nearby chair.

"You trying to get out of helping me?" she teased, and you smirked.

"Me? Never," you replied, and took a tentative sip of coffee, your stomach immediately churning. With a grimace, you set down your drink and leaned forward to rub your temples.

"Did you drink last night?" Maria asked, setting down her clipboard. You shook your head.

"No. Maybe I'm coming down with something," you said with a sigh. "It'll pass. I just need a distraction. Where should I start?"

"How about toiletries? I already did medicine yesterday, and I'm working on dry goods right now," she said, nodding to the other side of the aisle. You stood and picked up the clipboard and pen she left for you and got to work counting shampoo bottles and tubes of toothpaste.

"So, what are you thinking for a dress?" you asked her over your shoulder. "There's that strip mall a few miles out, last I heard it was all clear. There was a little boutique there."

"I haven't even thought about it yet, but that's a good idea. Maybe we can sneak away while the boys are gone and check it out," she said with a grin.

"What's the deal with this new settlement, anyway? Joel said they have some weird name, I can't remember what he called them," you said, cursing under your breath when you saw the amount of toothbrushes you had to count.

"Fireflies," Maria responded. "Yeah, weird name. The way Tommy described them sounded like they were kind of intense, but they have a settlement in an old hospital a few cities away and they supposedly have tons of medicine we could use. Bill's running way too low on antibiotics."

"What was intense about them?" you asked, giving her your full attention now. You didn't like the idea of Joel walking into a potentially hostile situation.

"I guess they are trying to lead some revolution against FEDRA in the QZs. They're looking for weapons and stuff like that to trade," she explained.

"Well, hopefully they need toothbrushes because we have more than enough," you muttered, turning back to your task. "Is it safe?"

"Is anything safe anymore?" Maria replied with a shrug. "He wouldn't risk it if he thought they would get jumped, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, I guess so," you said, getting back to work. As the morning wore on, you listened to Maria talk about the council she was trying to form to lead the town. She had been the leader of Jackson since you joined, and her intention was always to share the duties with others. The town grew so fast and she had a hard enough time keeping up with everything that needed to be done, so the formation of a town council took a backseat the past few years.

"Wanna take a break and eat something?" Maria asked after a few hours. You nodded. Your head was finally beginning to feel better and the thought of food perked you up a bit.

"Did you want to go to the mess hall or just grab something off the shelf here?" she asked, picking up a box of granola bars and examining the label before putting it back on the shelf.

"Let's just stay here, we're on a roll," you told her, putting your clipboard on the shelf to join her at the dry goods section, examining your choices. You decided on a protein bar and some dried fruit, but the moment you bit into the bar, you felt your stomach roll. You paused mid chew, trying to push through the nausea and swallow, but you couldn't do it. Glancing around the room quickly, you spotted a garbage can in the corner and raced over, spitting out your food with a dry heave as you clutched the basket, bracing yourself for another wave of nausea.

"Whoa!" Maria exclaimed, hurrying over to you. You hovered over the garbage, your breath coming in shaky gasps and tears pricking your eyes as you dry heaved again. Maria rubbed comforting circles on your back and scooped your hair out of the way as you caught your breath, the nausea fading to the point where you felt confident enough to sit back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut.

"You alright?" Maria asked you after a minute, and you weakly nodded your head. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, I must be getting sick," you said, opening your eyes to accept the bottle of water she handed you. "I've been feeling really run down lately, I probably got the flu."

"In the middle of summer?" she asked you with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged and took a small sip of water.

"Maybe I should go home, I don't want to get you sick," you said, pushing yourself up the wall to stand.

"Sure, go get some rest," Maria said, straightening up. "You just better not be pregnant before me," she added teasingly.

"I'm not pregnant, I just had my period," you said with a shake of your head.

"When?"

You paused for a moment as you thought about it, then your eyes went wide. Maria noticed, her eyes widening, too.

"Oh, my god," you whispered, slumping back down against the wall. "I think I'm late."

"How late?" Maria asked, joining you back on the floor.

"Maybe a week? That's not that bad, though, right?"

"No, it's not that late..." she agreed, trailing off. "Is that normal for you?"

"Not really," you said. "But maybe it's from stress. I've been worried about Joel going on this trip... oh shit, what am I going to tell Joel?" You pushed the heels of your hands roughly into your eyes with a groan.

"Why don't we find you a test first before you worry about that," Maria said, looking around at the shelves. "Did you find any pregnancy tests in the toiletries?"

"No, I think Kate used the last of them, and it's not like it's a high priority item for the guys on patrol," you said, jumping up to nervously pace around the room. "Oh fuck, what am I going to do?!"

Your breathing was getting shallower the more your anxiety flared up. A baby was not something you were sure you ever wanted, let alone right now. Coupled with the insecurities you had been feeling ever since Maria and Tommy got engaged, the timing couldn't have been worse. It wasn't too long ago you were barely able to keep yourself alive and safe, how could you possibly expect to care for a helpless infant? You were fortunate to have found Jackson and the security that brought with it, but if the wrong people found your town, who knows what would happen.

"Why don't I walk you home," Maria said, feeling useless. "You should rest... either way."

The walk home was quick. Luckily, no one had stopped either of you to chat. Maria ushered you inside, sitting you down on the couch before bringing you a glass of water and some crackers from your pantry.

"Let me talk to Tommy when he gets home. I'll see if he can get some tests-" she held her hands up when you whipped your head around to look at her, eyes widened in fear. "I'll say it's for me, I won't mention you, I promise. I'll say I want them on hand for when we start trying, or something."

"If I don't have my period by the time they get back from their trip, I think I'll have my answer, anyway," you said sullenly, burying your face in your hands.

Maria chewed her lip and nodded, knowing you were probably right. She resumed rubbing circles on your back as you leaned forward with your head between your knees, your head clouded with fear.

"I have to tell Joel," you whispered, a tear trickling down your cheek. "He'll know something's wrong, I-I can't keep this from him."

"Tommy can do the trip without Joel, this is more important," said Maria.

"Yeah," you mumbled, leaning back and staring at your hands twisted together in your lap. How could you be so stupid?

"Do you think you'll be okay, or do you want me to stay?" she asked you, worry written all over her face. You shook your head and offered her a weak smile.

"I'll be fine, I know you have a lot to do and I just bailed on you," you said, patting her arm. She stood up, looking down at you, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaving.

"You know, you really went too far to get out of work this time," she joked, earning a huff of laughter from you. "But listen. It'll be okay, no matter what happens. We will all help you guys out, if... you know. You won't be in this alone." She gave you a reassuring squeeze, and you smiled, putting your hand warmly over the top of hers.

"Thanks, Maria," you whispered. She nodded before dropping her hand, and you watched her walk out the front door, leaving you all alone, wondering how exactly you were going to tell Joel.

You remained frozen to the couch the rest of the afternoon, nibbling on crackers and your mind going a mile a minute, dreading the moment Joel would walk through the front door. Maybe it's a false alarm. Maybe you miscounted the days. You wondered if you should even tell him until you were sure, but you knew he would see right through you the second he got home.

Your heart jumped in your throat when you finally heard the front door swing open, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on your breathing as you heard him take off his boots and say your name.

"In here," you called out, forcing your eyes open and plastering a weak smile on your face as you stood to greet him.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said when he saw you, pulling you into his arms and planting a kiss on the top of your head.

"How was patrol?" you asked, stepping away and averting your gaze out the window.

"Long. I could kill Tommy for puttin' me on the schedule before this trip," he said, reaching down to the coffee table to grab your sleeve of abandoned crackers and tossing one in his mouth. "You and Maria wrap up early?" he asked with his mouth full. He turned to head towards the kitchen for a glass, filling it up at the sink as you remained planted in the living room, your fingers nervously fidgeting at your sides.

"Yeah," you said quietly. "Maria finished up without me."

He glanced over at you as he drank his water in one gulp, then wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand before sauntering back over.

"Good. Was thinkin' we can stay in tonight," he said as he wrapped his arms around you. "Gonna miss you," he added suggestively, his lips brushing against your temple before craning his neck lower to latch his mouth onto yours. He paused, sensing your tension for the first time, and drew back to examine you closer.

"What's wrong?" he asked, holding you at an arms length by your shoulders. You brought your hands up to cover his and took a shaky breath.

"I think you should sit down," you began. All the air rushed out of his lungs, panic squeezing his throat as his grip on your shoulders tightened.

"Why?" he asked as he fell back onto the sofa. His eyes never left yours as he waited, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. You sat down next to him and stared down at your hands, thinking about how to say it before deciding on just blurting it out.

"I'm late," you said, still avoiding his stare. There was a long pause before he replied.

"Late for what?" he asked, sounding confused. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a breath.

"My period, Joel," you said softly. You felt his body tense next to you, but you kept your eyes shut. "I... I don't know for sure, I couldn't find a test at the warehouse, but I thought you should know."

You could hear him breathing deeply next to you as he absorbed your words, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him as you continued to explain.

"I haven't been feeling very well lately, I thought I was getting sick but then I realized... I don't know, it might be nothing," you rambled, your voice jumping up an octave as tears filled your closed eyes. "But it might be something, too, and I feel so fucking stupid and scared-"

"Hey," he said softly, finally finding his voice as he put a hand on your knee. "C'mon, look at me," he urged, hooking a finger under your chin and turning your face towards him.

You opened your eyes, two tears falling in the process as you reluctantly looked at him. His gaze softened as he stared at you, wiping away your tears.

"We've always been careful, I don't..." he trailed off as he thought about it before the realization dawned on him. "The party," he said, his voice heavy as his hands dropped from your face and he hung his head. "Fuck."

"Yeah," you said softly, letting your eyes fall back to your lap. You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees so you could bury your face in your hands. "I don't know what to do, Joel. I can't do this," you mumbled, trying to fight back the tears.

He sighed and leaned back into the couch, scratching his beard thoughtfully for a second.

"Well, it's a little ahead of schedule, but if you are, we'll handle it like we do everythin' else," he replied. Now that the shock was wearing off, he was starting to come around to the idea, flashes of piggyback rides and first steps playing in his mind.

"'Ahead of schedule'?" you repeated sharply, dropping your hands to frown at him.

"Yeah. I mean, I figured one day after we got married-"

"Wait, what?" you asked, your voice rising as you stood up from the couch. "We never discussed any of this, Joel."

His brow furrowed, standing up as well and looking at you with confusion.

"Then let's discuss it now," he said, watching as you paced around the room.

You stopped pacing and stood across from him, eyeing him carefully as you crossed your arms.

"Do you really think it's responsible to bring a child into this world?" you asked him, your voice barely a whisper. He stared at you, his jaw ticking to the side as he thought about his answer.

"Probably not. But I don't think it's right to keep ourselves from bein' happy, either," he said with a shrug. "Gotta keep livin' our lives."

You searched his eyes for a moment as the weight of his words hit you. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself for your next question.

"So, what you're saying is getting married and having kids would make you happy?"

"'Course it would," he replied easily without a second thought. He frowned when he noticed the anguish flit across your face, and suddenly he realized there was a bigger problem. He swallowed roughly. "But it sounds like it wouldn't make you happy."

Tears welled up in your eyes. You tore your gaze away, unable to handle the hurt that was so clearly evident on his face.

"I'm happy the way things are," you said, your voice small. "I don't think I'm ready for... all that."

He nodded, clenching his jaw as he tried to keep the emotion from his voice.

"But one day?" he managed to ask, his throat suddenly feeling tight, worried about the answer.

"I-," you began to respond, then faltered, trying to find the right words. "I don't know, Joel," you finally said, your eyes glued to the floor as shame flooded your body.

He sniffed and put his hands on his hips, turning away from you to try to hide his pain, but it was palpable. The room was filled with tension and unspoken words. You couldn't believe you were breaking his heart like this. Closing your eyes, you wished more than anything you felt normal, that you wanted what he wanted, but you couldn't force it. You took a shaky breath before speaking again.

"I'm sorry, Joel. You don't deserve this, I'm fucked up," you whispered. "If those are things that would make you happy, you shouldn't have to sacrifice-"

"Don't you dare finish that fuckin' sentence," he said, and although his back was to you, you could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke. You clamped your mouth shut, tears silently spilling down your cheeks.

"Joel-" you tried again, but he cut you off, whipping around to face you, his eyes glassy and his brow furrowed.

"You might be pregnant with my kid and this is how you tell me how you really feel?" he spat, his harshness making you recoil.

"I love you," you sobbed, wrapping your arms around yourself, tears flowing freely now.

"Not enough to wanna marry me, though," he said, and you weren't sure what hurt more: the words or the sadness that laced his voice.

"That's not fair," you whispered, tucking your chin into your chest.

"You're right. None of this is fair," he said, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you asked, taking a few steps forward so you could watch him walk down the hall.

"Out," he said curtly, and you winced. He paused with his hand on the door and dropped his head forward with a sigh. "I gotta think," he added softly without turning to look at you, then disappeared through the door, leaving you to collapse on the ground all alone in a hell of your own making.

You curled up on the couch that night waiting for him to come home, but fell asleep and didn't hear the door open or his feet on the stairs. You didn't wake until you heard the shower early the next morning. Sitting up from the couch, you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes when you felt the familiar, telltale cramping in your stomach. After going to the bathroom, you confirmed your suspicions.

You sat at the kitchen table until Joel came down the stairs, trying to be quiet until he realized you were already awake and waiting for him. He paused when he saw you at the table, but quickly averted his gaze to the cupboard to find his thermos.

"I'm not pregnant," you said quietly. His shoulders tensed for a moment, then lifted the coffee pot, pouring it into the tumbler before turning around to face you.

"You must be relieved," he said coldly. Your lower lip trembled and you stood up from the table to go to him, but he stepped away, creating more distance.

"I'll be back in a few days," he said, casting you a somber glance before turning towards the door.

You stood there, your hands tangling together in front of you, unsure what to do or say to fix this pain you caused. He stopped in front of the door, about to leave, but turned back one more time to look at you.

"Just tell me right now if you don't want me," he said, the expression on his face breaking your heart.

"I want you," you said immediately, and you swore you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes at how fast you responded. "I love you, Joel. So much. And I'm so sorry."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching your puffy, tear stained face before giving you a firm nod, then turned to leave, closing the door softly behind him.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk - lmk if I missed anyone or if you want to be removed

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #look what we've become joel miller fic

[marcusakito]

Counting Cats

Lyney x Overworked!gn!reader

Lyney visits your home after you miss his show, thinking something was amiss. He finds you still awake, busy with work, looking like you havent slept in days. And so, he helps you catch some sleep. I got this idea from Lyney's good night voiceline in the teapot. It's a little strange I couldn't find that like anywhere online?

CW: None, just pure wholesome fluff.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

"Lyney, you're overreacting." Lynette spoke, following her brother who was headed to your house. They had just finished a show at Opera Epiclese, and Lyney was looking forward to seeing you there. You always came to his shows, yet this night was different. It was the first time he had seen your seat empty.

"I'm not overreacting, Lynette!" Lyney explained. "[Name] never misses my shows, maybe they fell sick or maybe there's an emergency."

"Or maybe they're busy. Like a normal person." Lynette sighed, knowing that her brother wouldn't listen to reason. Not when it came to you, anyway. "I'll be heading home."

"Ah, yes. Go get some sleep, Lynette. I'll head home after making sure [Name] is alright."

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Finally making it to your house, Lyney knocked on the door. He hummed to himself as he waited for you. It was taking quite a while, perhaps you were already asleep? No, it wasn't that late yet, maybe you were getting ready?

"Just a minute!" He heard you call from inside. Not long after, you opened the door and found your boyfriend with his signature charming smile. You blinked a few times, trying to clear your vision. "... Lyney?"

"It's lovely to see you, ma chérie!" He beamed, pulling a rainbow rose out of thin air and pinning it onto your shirt. "You missed my show, I was a little worried."

"Your show?" You reiterated, confused at first until it hit you. "Archons, that was tonight! I'm so sorry, Lyney, I didn't mean to miss it-" a finger was placed upon your lips, shushing you. You looked at the blonde, he had a sympathetic look on his face.

"I'm not upset, I'm just glad nothing serious happened to you, that's all." He leaned in, placing a soft kiss upon your cheek. You felt your shoulders loosen as you let out a content sigh. This man truly had a way with you, able to make stress go away with just a kiss. "But more importantly, you look exhausted, mon amour. Are you alright?"

"I'm alright, I just... Didn't get enough sleep the past few days. Work's been too much lately, I can't sleep well because of it."

"Well that simply won't do!" Lyney took your hand in his, bringing you back inside and into your bedroom. The desk and floor of your room was littered with all kinds of work related powers, and the sheets of your bed were just haphazardly thrown to the side. You hadn't noticed how messy had things had gotten till now.

"Let me clean up, then we can-"

"Tut-tut-tut! No objections." He quickly placed a finger to your lips. With a playful smirk, he headed over to your bed, fluffing up the pillows and tidying the sheets before sitting down upon it. Humming contently to himself, he patted the spot on the bed next to him. "Come to bed, dear, you won't regret it. It's comfy, warm, and best of all, I'm here!"

You playfully rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's antics. You indulged him, not like you had much choice— you know he would've dragged you to bed anyway. As soon as you sat down, Lyney took you in his arms, embracing you tight around the waist and climbing onto the bed. With his back against a pillow and the bed's headboard, he pulled you close. Your head rested against his chest, as you felt the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the soft beats of his heart. 'It beats only for you.' He'd often remind you. And you believe him, of course. How could you not? From the gifts to his kisses, and the charming words that leave you hanging on every single one, you had no doubt his love for you was true.

"[Name]? Are you alright? You've been spacing out for a while now." You snapped out of your thoughts upon hearing Lyney's voice.

"I'm fine, Lyney." You smiled reassuringly, snuggling closer to him. "I really appreciate that you want to help me sleep, but I don't think that's going to be easy."

"Well, I always do love a challenge. But this is beyond that." Lyney brushed his fingers through your hair, untangling some of the knots in your hair but took care not to tug too hard. "Not getting enough sleep is bad for your health. I don't want you falling asleep at my shows, too."

"Oh? So that's your true motive?" You couldn't help but laugh, with Lyney laughing along with you. "What's your plan on helping me fall asleep, hm?"

"It's simple, we'll count cats. Now close your eyes, and let your imagination take hold of you." You follow his instruction, shutting your eyes and focusing on his voice. "There we are. Now imagine... The bed is a fluffy cloud, cozy and warm. And on that cloud are floating grin-malkin cats, ready to jump over a ring, like at a circus show, mon amour. Oh, there's a grin-malkin cat, ready to jump. That's one grin-malkin, two grin-malkin, three grin- malkin..."

Lyney continued to count and by the 20th cat, he glanced down at your sleeping figure, seeing you finally sound asleep. He smiled softly, getting under the covers to cuddle with you, resting your head on his chest. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he closed his eyes to join you in slumber.

"Sweet dreams, [Name]."

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you guys enjoyed reading this, to be honest, I was a little scared to post more but seeing as a lot of people liked my first Lyney x reader, I got the confidence to write more. I have an idea for a Kabukimono x reader, it'll be up hopefully before the end of the week!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #lyney #lyney x reader #genshin impact lyney

[irishmammonagenda]

hiiii ! ^_^ I love your writing sm

I was listening to music just relax, and randomly I thought of MC with "You're loosing me" AND I HAD TO SHARE IT WITH SOMEONE. Especially from minute 3:00 to the end 😭😭😭😭 imagine a fic inspired in that song with a traumatized mc after their death 🥲

hiya!! i'm so glad 🫶🫶🫶🫶 tbh i dont really listen to taylor so i had to look up this one, but oml it kinda does fit MC sm???!!!

honestly tysm for the ask, i don't normally write seriousish fics so this was a fun change grma <3

ALSO IM SO SORRY THE TITLES SO CRINGE I COULDNT THINK OF A GOOD ONE

Surface Tension- Obey Me x Reader

Summary: MC died 😱 and reincarnated as a demon, only their death affected them more than they thought. Word Count: 2.8k+ Warnings: Mentions of Death, leans more into Lucifer x Reader, especially at the end. (i am so sorry abt that I had no idea where this fic was going myself tbh) Descriptions of drowning. Hurt/Comfort? I have no idea how to write trauma I am so sorry, (this isn't apart of my 'Death is a Debatable thing Au) dividers are a mixmatch of ones by @plum98 @isisjupiter and @cafekitsune bc im indecisive

The thing you missed most were your pact marks. Intricate designs etched into your skin, that shone the colours of the people you loved, a reminder you were someone. You had something. A security blanket of sorts. Now they were gone, clear glass sin, almost poreless, uncanny replaced the lines and marks and humans´ perfect imperfection that provided a canvas for the hues that you were sure had painted your heart.

It hurt.

You fiddle with your hands, trying to contain the urge to just...pop. The horns and the tail had been disorienting to get used to. You still preferred your 'human' form, the only issue was controlling it. It would come with time, or so everyone had told you.

They told you a lot of things would come with time. You weren't so hopeful.

"I....it's just-" you flick your gaze around the room, looking anywhere but the demon in there with you. "...the dying part..."

"The dyin' part..." Mammon sits by your side, ever your first man, his eyes gaze at you, so loving, so adoring, it hurts your heart. "I don't understand the dyin' MC....I couldn't never understand the dyin'...." He brings a hand to rest on yours hesitantly, his false bravado nowhere to be found.

"I know you don't Mams..." You meet his gaze, his eyes as blue as the sky on a summer's day, warmer than the sun, and softer than silk when he looks into yours.

"It doesn' mean I won't try te....understand...I mean." He clears is throat awkwardly. "There's nothin' I wouldn't do for ye...not now not ever."

Your heart feels heavy.

Rushing water beats against porcelain. Steam slowly rose in swirls as the bathtub filled up. You fold your towels and set them by the sink beside the clothes you had set out. Pulling the satin robe that was a gift from a certain Asmodeus, you placed it on one of the hooks on the door, before twisting the taps to a stop. You submerged yourself into the warm water, your tense muscles relaxing as you leaned backwards in the tub from where you were sitting, legs touching the bottom of the porcelain. 

It had been so long. 

So long since you were able to just relax like this. You loved the brothers and the others, but sometimes you needed the solitude of your own thoughts. That wasn’t to say Asmo’s self care nights weren’t relaxing. 

You sighed. 

The water enveloped you, you had leaned back enough to where your head had begun to submerge. All was well. The water was warm, your muscles slowly relaxed, along with the rest of your body. Your eyes slowly blinked closed. 

All was fine. Your relaxed muscles let your head fall back. All was well. Your ears were now submerged. All was fine. 

Except it wasn’t. A switch had flicked. Your eyes shot wide open. You could no longer feel the bottom of the porcelain bathtub, panic and dread tugged at your arteries, squeezing your jugular. You flailed and thrashed your limbs, your head dipped under for a millisecond. 

Clear water turned murky. 

Your arms burnt after another weak attempt, head breaking the stormy surface of the lough for a moment; only a moment. Hardly long enough to draw a breath. Your eyes stung. Your throat ached, desperation choked at your airways. 

You found yourself submerged again. The currents slammed into rocks. Your hair rose upwards, strands sticking to your face like some sort of seaweed, hindering your vision as the waves flung you against hard rock. Your hands clawed at the stone, too slippery to catch a grip. The stormy water slammed you against another rock. You broke the horrid surface of the water, gasping and spluttering. Your throat burned like sinners in the 7th circle of hell. You just barely gasped in a morsel of oxygen before being dragged under by the force of the waves. 

You were slammed mercilessly into another hard wall of stone, your attempts at clawing for a grip so desperate you drew blood at your fingertips. 

You had survived demons, witches, angels. You had survived hell. Yet earth would be the one to take you out, so it seemed. You couldn’t hold your breath any longer, your mouth opened. You inhaled desperately, lungs aching for air. Water filled them instead. 

You gasped and spluttered. The surface of the water too rough to do a dead man’s float without risking your life further. The waves smacked you against hard rock once more, eroding at your hopes for survival. 

This was it. 

You were going to die. You’re drowning. You’ve drowned. 

The last thing you felt before you succumbed to the wild waves was the dull glow of your pact marks. With the last of your strength, you let out a silent scream, submerged by the water. 

You screamed. Frenzied hands pull your sobbing form out of the clear water of the bath pulling your soaked, sobbing form to their chest. You gasp for air, lungs burning. 

“MC! Y-you’re fine! Don’t worry…you’re okay…you’re okay…!” An uncharacteristically frenzied Beel holds you to his chest, massive arms enveloping you, he cards a gentle hand through your hair as you sob and upheave, your chest tight and your breath running from you. “You’re okay MC….follow my breathing…”

Hardly hearing him, you comply either way. Matching the breaths of the sixth born, your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing begins to even. Eventually, you sit wrapped in the arms of the Avatar of Gluttony, breathing deeply and slowly, your heart rate slowed, your sobs quitened to the occasional sniffle, the tightness in your chest remains. 

You chuckle humourlessly. “I’m sorry Beel….got your clothes all wet.” 

Beel shakes his head seriously, eyes on yours. “It’s never a problem. Not if it’s you MC.” He stands up with you still in his arms. Carefully, the redhead sets you down on your two feet. Strong hands on either side of you, a stabliser. “C’mon…let’s get you dressed MC…can you stand?”

Slowly you nod.

That night you found yourself in the living room, Belphie asleep, head on your shoulder. Mammon splayed across your lap, Asmo’s arm around your waist, Beel was on the other side of his twin, but held your hand, rubbing soothing circles subconsciously into your palm. Levi sat on the ground, switch in hand, cheek leaning against your thigh.  Satan and Lucifer sat on the nearest armchairs though they sat facing opposite each other, Lucifer half reading official documents, half watching the show his brothers and little human demon were watching, Satan doing the exact same, except his reading material was a book. 

You weren't sure how or if they knew what had happened an hour prior, but you were sure they knew this would cheer you up in some capacity.

You squeezed Beel’s hand, the knot in your chest coming undone just enough you feel light.

The transition from Human to Demon was a hard one to get used to, one thing that hadn't changed however; were the balls hosted by Lord Diavolo. The only difference being that now you sported curved horns on the top of your head. You quickly found that Asmo liked to decorate them with little trinkets.

Which he had done today, as well as helping you pick out your outfit for the ball. You gave a twirl in one of his full length mirrors.

"Thanks Asmo I love it." You smile, messing with an ornament on your horn. Those are taking a while to get used to.

Asmodeus laughs gleefully, waving his hand. "It was nothing darling. I'd love to do it again! Oh...~ You look so gorgeous...." He says dreamily before he turns back to his makeup, carefully lining his lips in a dark pink.

You blush at the praise before leaving the room, not wanting to risk being (fashionably) late.

"MC!" Lord Diavolo greets cheerfully, pulling you in for a hug against his bare, tanned chest. The gold in his eyes and horns glow like fire in the light of the ballroom. "I'm so glad you could make it! You look stunning!" He laughs, strong arms wrapping tighter around you.

You smile, "I'm glad to be here, Dia."

"I'm glad..." He says softer now. If the both of your words were an innuendo, neither of you pointed it out.

Barbatos appears silently at the left hand side of the Demon Prince, shaking your hand, you give him a sweet smile.

You barely get to greet him before the Demon Butler swiftly makes his way across the ballroom, and out of the glazed, oak door that led to a short corridor and then led to the kitchens.

After more peasant conversation with Diavolo, another Demon Noble had arrived, the scarlet haired prince pouted at the thought of leaving you before waving and making his way towards one of Hell's Aristocrats.

You wave him goodbye, you scan the Ballroom, eyes locking with violet ones. The seventh born gives a small smirk, lazily making his way toward you.

Belphegor had seen your dreams. He had felt the water pool into your lungs, the air escaping your grasp, the harsh bruising of the rocks you were slammed into.

He saw every dream, tried to stop them from reaching you. Sometimes he failed, your mind wanted to return to that moment. To pick it apart, to relive what it didn't understand itself, to find an impossible answer.

Sometimes your mind, your wonderful, horribly beautiful mind; would be too adamant, would loop back to it.

He didn't protect you. Not when he first betrayed you, not when he crushed your bones in his grip.

He couldn't protect you. Not when you were flung from rock to rock, sharp edges digging into fragile skin. Not when water burnt through your throat like fire.

He couldn't protect you. Not when your dreams bypassed his control. Not when the thin threads of your trauma induced nightmares slipped through the cracks.

The Avatar of Sloth could only do so much, yet, it never felt like enough. He couldn't protect you.

"Hey Belph!" You grin, closing the distance between the two of you. "You seem distracted, whats up?"

Belphegor snaps out of it, lips upturning. "Oh nothing, I just thought of something for the Anti-Lucifer League....What about you, MC, enjoying yourself?"

"For the most part yeah! But I haven't seen Mammon anywhere...." You say thoughtfully before deadpanning. "He's going to be strung up upside down by tomorrow morning, isn't he?"

"Yep."

Hours passed, a sleeping Belphegor had been handed over to Beelzebub, who was currently carrying his twin home. You were tempted to ask to join, but decided against it.

You weren't made of glass, you had agency. You could handle a silly ball.

Standing in one of the corners, beverage in hand, you'd elected to just people watch for a while.

Levi sat semi-hidden by a curtain at the grand window, switch in hand, noise cancelling headphones in, no doubt reaching the end of his social battery.

Satan stood at the other side of the Grand Hall, talking with contacts and connections you couldn't recognise. Golden blond hair perfectly in place. Asmo must've fixed it up for him.

Speaking of Asmo, he was on the dance floor with various succubi, giggling, smiling, and just in general being a social butterfly.

Mammon however, was still no where to be seen. Probably looking for treasure. Classic Mams. You smile to yourself.

Lucifer stood, being entertained by admirorers of all shapes and sizes. You stiffened.

Sometimes you forgot the brothers were Hell's Most Eligible Bachelors. It was easy to forget, seeing as you lived with them, and they were all idiots.

You could feel Levi's worried eyes on you none the less. Your stomach twisted with his sin, orange as a yolk, what came first? the chicken or the egg? You didn’t know nor did you care. Why would Lucifer choose you anyway? A weak human demon who couldn’t even survive a…-

You gripped your drink tightly, knuckles lightening. You took a sip, but with your tense muscles, the liquid burnt its way down the wrong side of your throat.

You spluttered.

Even the droplet. Even the sip. It grew, multiplied even, filling your lungs like goop, you gasped for air. The ballroom flooded a murky green. Stumbling, you pushed through the oak door to the hallway, where it was quieter.

Your heart beat out of your chest, your breathing was laboured, leaning against the wall, you lost your boyancy, dripping down until you sat on the ground, knees to your chest.

You stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath, engaging your senses.

Three things you could hear;

Idle chatter from the ballroom, completely muffled by the heavy wooden door and stone walls. Your own laboured breathing, although it was catching up to you. The blood rushing in your ears, evaporating from a rapid raging river to a small sparkling stream.

Three things you could see;

The stone wall, dark liath limestone blocks and bricks melded together, midievil in their design, they reflected the light of the overheard torches in a subtle, orange glow. The glazed panes of a glass window, the moon shone bright tonight, as it always did in the Devildom. You liked to think it was watching over you. Maybe it was.

If you turnt your head to the left, an archway was visible, a simple one. It dug into the stone wall and ceiling, pushing against the internal structures, standing out whilst holding together.

You continued your listing, smell and taste were ruled out, on account of you not being able to taste, and there not being any real noticable smells.

Three things you could feel;

The fabric of the clothes Asmo chose for you streched on your skin, the seams digging into your thighs where you sat on the ground.

The stone floor, hard and cold, even with the layers you had on, you shivered ever so slightly.

And lastly, you could feel the phantom ache of pact marks long faded, your heart heart, though it had stopped beating out of your chest. You felt calmer, more in control, yet still;

You sniffled.

After all; you didn’t have the best track record for keeping your head above water.

That’s how Lucifer found you. The door hissing open and his signature boots clacking softly along the ground announced his presence.

“MC, my love, are you alright?” He raises an eyebrow, The Avatar if Pride putting his aside and hunkering down so that he was more or less eye level with you, concern pooled in his expression. He reached a gloved hand out and caressed your cheek.

You nod, croaking out an "I'm okay now..."

"Are you sure, my darling?" The first born looks into your tired eyes, before tilting his head, asking for permission. You grant it.

He pulls you in for a hug.

"What upset you, dove?" He asks softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I-...I just feel like I've...like I've lost you all...and myself I guess...It sounds stupid! I know...but I just...-"

Lucifer hushes you, "Nothing you could say could ever sound stupid. He pauses. "Unless you're with Mammon...or planning something with Satan and Belphie."

That squeezes a giggle out of you. He smiles, tilting his head, a strand of raven hair falling ever so out of place at the movement, crimson eyes stare into yours.

"But that's not all, is it, dear?"

You mumble something unintelligible, but count on Lucifer Morningstar to hear it. "Have I told you yet? That you look absolutely gorgeous tonight, MC?" He asks in all seriousness. You avert your gaze.

He grabs your chin softly, "I'm serious, Darling. You're the best person at this ball, the best thing that has ever happened to my brothers...to me. Sometimes I feel you truly don't realise that...seems I must take care to remind you more often, my love."

You try to speak, but the air swallows up your words, your mouth open and gaping like a fish.

Lucifer's lips quirk up, he pulls you closer to his chest. You lean into him, giving a weak smile, ear pressed against his breast, listening to his heartbeat.

You felt calm; content even,

T he hug wasn't a fix it all. It wasn't some magic wand that had been waved, you weren't suddenly better. You were still traumatised, that emptiness, though dull, still ached in your heart, along with the places on your body the bright beautiful symbols of your pacts had been sketched onto your skin.

The hug was comforting none-the-less. Lucifer was impossibly gentle. He would cradle the ashes until you built yourself back up again in his arms, phoenixes need time to adjust before they can spread their wings, after all.

It would be hard. It would be so so difficult, so taxing, to rise from the ashes once more, to thrive again, but you had an army of idiots that loved you, who would go to the ends of the earth just to see you smile. It wasn't okay yet, you weren't 'fixed', you wouldn't be for a long time but you had years upon years, decades upon decades, centuries upon centuries.

i physically cannot write anything overly angsty bc im a wee softie smh this took me ages i am so sorry abt that </3 also i had another ask that i started planning out halfway through writing this and the contrast in the tone i was going for is so funny🧍‍♂️

#obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #omswd #obey me mc x lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me scenarios #obey me drabble #ask

[koolades-world]

Hello i'm the person who gave you the idea of satan being an angel and i wanted to say thank you very much!.

I really liked how you did the reactions and the ending with MC is adorable. If i'm honest it was my first time asking for a request (manly because of my english) but when i saw that you liked my idea i was excited ♡.

So here's another idea in case you need any what do you think if MC holds a grudge for all the brothers threats?. For example all those times when Mc's life was put in danger, the insults and threats make MC start to hold a grudge against the brothers. Of course when it happened with Belphie *cough Mc's death cough* Mc snap at the brothers. It would be great if the brothers have to earn Mc's forgiveness.

(By the way i realized that the editor changed two words in the previous request so if it happens again i'm going to cry)

hello again!! so glad you liked the way I wrote the previous request <3

of course i can write this! hurt/comfort is so fun to write and i feel like it's for sure not talked about enough the way Mc would feel after the events of chapter 16 especially towards Belphie

please enjoy and hope to hear from you again soon!

Mc with a grudge against the brothers

Lucifer

he knew you weren't exactly fond of him towards the beginning of your stay in the devildom and while he did feel a little bad, at first he felt like he couldn't undo the damage that was already done

he harbored a lot of guilt especially after he got to know you

he understands when you got upset because the entire situation really was all his fault

he wants to gradually rebuild the trust he broke and makes sure he doesn't rush you

Mammon

as the only brother who never threatened or harmed you, he's on your side since the way his brothers treated you was shitty

after you finally snap at them, your mutual bond only grows as you only really want to be around him

willing to be the middle man between you and his brothers

he'd do anything for you babes

Levi

he isn't sure how to feel at all

he didn't think he'd be so upset by someone who'd only known for such a short period of time

he didn't think he'd miss you so much but he's afraid to try and talk to you in case you got mad again

it might take him a while, but just know he thinks about you daily

Satan

he kind of thought you wouldn't be mad at him after that serious bonding you guys did but understands where you're coming from

it was wishful thinking

he really wants to make it up to you since you helped him become who he is and let him know he's got nothing to prove to anyone

he gives you lots of gift and cards instead of trying to talk to you in person at first, then personally talks to you

Asmo

at first he's certain you're not mad at him but comes to a shocking realization

he struggles to accept the fact that you're upset with him but eventually comes to the realization that you might hate his guts

he actually remains in denial for a while and acts like nothing is wrong

only after you yell at him does he realize what he's done and tries his best to give you the space you need

Beel

he hates to admit it but he was part of the problem

although one of his rampages is what caused you to grow closer he won't ever forget how he acted towards you

he's probably the most genuine in his apology

he really misses having you around so he's the first to admit he's in the wrong since he wants to be able to talk to you again

Belphie

at first, he didn't think what he was doing was the big of a deal since you were just a way to get what he wanted

after he goes through with it and sees the damage it caused, he changes up

he doesn't expect you to forgive him

he works hard to show you he's changed and even if you never want ever be his friend again, he at least wants you to feel comfortable living in the same house as him

#obey me! #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #omswd

[alisonwritesimagines]

I'm Wonderstruck, Blushing All the Way Home ~LA!Shanks x Reader~

Summary: You and Shanks grow close when you're not watching Luffy.

Author’s Note: My coworker is almost caught up with the anime One Piece which I think is crazy and impressive.

Part of the Enchanted Series

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: candy store -tooth rotting fluff

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

You sat on Shanks's desk as he sat on his chair in front of you. After exploring his ship, the two of you made it over to his quarters where you two got to know each other more.

"So how did you get that scar?" You asked him as you lightly touched the scars that ran below his eye.

"One of Whitebeard's crewmate's did this to me," Shanks told you.

"Makes you look tough," you tell him.

"You think so? Not handsome?"

"Well that too," you say.

“Do you have any scars?” Shanks asked you.

“Just small ones from my clumsiness. Nothing interesting like yours,” you tell him.

“So what do you think of my ship?” Shanks asked as he leaned back against his chair.

“I like it.”

“Maybe when Luffy’s old enough, you can join me in sailing around the world? Look for the one piece?” Shanks asked you.

“I don’t like the sea,” you tell him as you shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid of what lies beneath the waters. It’s just a little too scary for me,” you tell him.

“And what if I tell you that a pirate like myself will never let you get hurt?”

“You can make the promise but can you keep it?” You asked.

“I’m a man of my word,” Shanks smiled at you.

“I’ll think about it.”

You looked out the window to see that it was already dark.

"I should probably get back home," you tell him as you got off his desk.

"You could stay the night if you like," Shanks offered.

"I think you're moving a little too soon," you tease.

"You can take my bed and if it makes you feel better, I can sleep somewhere else," Shanks insisted.

"Slept in worse places?" You asked him.

"You have no idea."

"Well, a strong and brave pirate like you can walk me home right?" You asked him.

"I certainly can," Shanks said.

The moment you stepped out of his room, the cold air hit you unexpectedly. You shivered a little but felt warmth again when Shanks put his cape around you. You smiled up at him as you both began to walk back to your home.

"You're not what I expected," you tell him.

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. The pirates I've met have been horrible," you explain.

"I'm glad I'm able to prove to you that not all pirates are bad."

"Me too. Will you be coming back to our village after your next journey?" You asked him.

"For you? Yes. I don't want anyone else taking a treasure like yourself away from me," Shanks says. You felt your face heat up from his words. You hid your face with his cape so he wouldn't see your wide smile.

"Well, this is me. Will I see you tomorrow?" You asked Shanks as you approached your home.

"Can't go without a goodbye," Shanks tells you. You began to take off his cape but Shanks stopped you.

"Keep it for tonight. Give us another reason to see each other tomorrow," Shanks tells you.

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight Shanks," you say before kissing his cheek. You quickly opened your door before hiding inside.

You could hide your smile from behind the door as you could feel yourself fall for Shanks a little more.

Today was your last day off before you had to watch Luffy again. You headed to Shanks's ship where you found his crew getting ready to set sail again.

"Shanks is in his quarters if you're looking for him," one of his crew members tells you with a wink.

"Thank you," you smile before heading over.

You knocked on Shanks's door before opening it.

"Hi," you say once you saw him.

"Hi," Shanks smiled as he walked over to you.

"Came to bring your cape back and brought you some food for the trip," you tell him as you placed a box of food on his desk. You took off his cape and handed it back to him.

"Thank you. We appreciate it," Shanks tells you.

"I guess I'll see you when you come back?" You asked him.

"We'll be back soon."

"Be safe," you tell him.

"You know, you should keep the cape warm for me," Shanks tells you as he put the cape back onto you.

"You're gonna come back for it right?" You asked.

"That. And you," Shanks said.

"I shouldn't keep you waiting. I need to go get some stuff ready before Luffy comes back tomorrow," you tell him before beginning to leave.

"Wait."

You felt Shanks grab your hand before pulling you back over to him. He cupped your cheeks before kissing you on the lips. You kissed him back until you had to pull away for air.

"I'll be waiting for you," you tell him.

"And I'll come back for you," Shanks tells you. You smile up at him before giving him one more kiss.

"Come back to me soon."

"And when I do, why don't we go on a proper date?" Shanks asked.

"I'll hold you to that," you tell him. Shanks gave you one more kiss before walking you out.

"Tell Luffy I'll see him when I come back. I know he'll love to hear my stories when I come back," Shanks tells you.

"I will. Stay safe," you tell him.

"For you," Shanks said before kissing you once more.

#red hair shanks #red hair shanks imagine #red hair shanks x reader #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks imagine #akagami no shanks #akagami no shanks x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece live action #opla #opla x reader #enchanted universe #alisonwritesimagines

[steddiealltheway]

Idk where this came from but anyways

It's May 28th, and it's pouring outside. It's the type of rain that makes the housewives of Hawkins want to curl up and read a book, but instead they're yelling at their children to stop playing in the puddles and come inside. At least that's what Eddie imagines as the rain soaks through his clothes, drops clinging to his eyelashes and falling down his face - he desperately wishes they're not tears.

He doesn't know where he is if he's completely honest. He's been walking for a while now, trying to avoid those puddles but giving up when his socks become soaked just from being out in the storm. He kind of wishes he was home, but simultaneously wants to be anywhere else.

A car drives by him on the backroad and comes to a stop a few meters in front of him. It's almost comedic, the way the car comes to a stop then very slowly starts to reverse, as if the driver is talking themselves into whatever they're about to say to Eddie.

"Need a ride?" the driver asks.

Eddie brushes the wet hair out of his eyes and finds Steve Harrington of all people looking at him in concern. He scoffs. "I'd rather take my chances out here." Which is the exact moment that lightning strikes close enough that Eddie can feel the ground shake. It would be kind of metal if he wasn't shaking.

"Get in the car, Munson," Steve insists reaching over to push open the passenger side door. Eddie keeps walking. With the way the rain is pouring, he's surprised he's able to hear Steve curse under his breath.

The car slowly drives next to him, right window down causing the rain to likely soak the interior of the car. He doesn't know why Harrington cares so much. "I'm not going to leave you alone until you get in."

Munson raises an eyebrow. "That sounds pretty creepy, Harrington. You're not exactly helping your case." He treks on forward, hoping that Steve might take the hint and leave him alone. He hears the car come to a stop, and he's prepared for Steve to turn around and come back from wherever he came from.

Instead, his car door slams shut. Eddie glances to see Steve walking towards him. Eddie backs up. He's not threatened per say, but it's a natural response to whenever he sees a jock stalking towards him.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks.

"If you're not going to take up my offer on a ride, then I'm walking with you."

Eddie doesn't know what to say, but he lets Steve walk alongside him. It's... weird, but weird in the way that it doesn't feel weird. It's almost like it feels... right. Eddie shakes his head. "Why are you doing this?" It's not like he knows him. He doesn't think he's exchanged a single word with the man until now.

"Maybe I needed the company, too," Steve replies. Eddie wants to argue that he doesn't want company, and he certain doesn't need it, but saying that feels like a lie even in his head.

They get a few more steps in before Eddie comes to a halt. Steve turns to him and waits. Eddie gives in with a sigh, "Let's go to the car."

When they get in, Steve reaches into his back seat and snatches two towels, handing one to Eddie before he wraps one around himself. Eddie is too afraid to ask why he had them in the first place.

They drive for a couple minutes without talking, but Eddie isn't one who can sit in silence for long so he asks, "Shouldn't you be at Tommy's end of year party or whatever?" He's certain he had heard people talking about it for weeks falling on this particular day.

"He and I aren't exactly friends so no." Steve doesn't give any further explanation, and there's no hint of regret in his tone. Eddie has no idea when that had happened but is glad to be out of the gossip loop of Hawkins High School.

"Okay, so go to Wheeler's place." Eddie wasn't far enough out to not know about the supposed power couple.

"She broke up with me, called our relationship bullshit, so I don't think that's really an option."

Okay, Eddie is officially not in the loop. This time he can hear the tightness in Steve's tone, and he tries not to dwell on the small voice crack that accompanied the word "bullshit." He glances over to see Steve's hand flex on the steering wheel, knuckles white. He feels almost bad for bringing it up, so he changes the subject. "Where are we going?"

Steve shrugs. "Anywhere that's not home." It's a simple statement but the weight of it makes Eddie want to ask a million questions about what could be so bad about the Harrington residence.

But everyone has their own shit they're dealing with, so Eddie agrees, "Anywhere that's not home." But a few minutes later, he knows exactly where he wants to go, was probably walking there without even realizing it. "Turn left here," Eddie requests, and Steve follows without question.

A few turns later and Eddie is asking Steve to park on the curb. He hesitates to glance out the window, the image outside makes his stomach churn. Steve glances to his left and takes his keys out of the ignition. He climbs out of the car to Eddie's surprise and leads their way into the cemetery.

After Eddie finds his ability to accept reality, he leads the way to the tombstone he tries not think about. Steve takes in a sharp intake of breath next to him as Eddie freezes and stares at the grave.

Elizabeth Munson January 13, 1947 - May 28, 1973

"I don't know why I wanted to come here," Eddie says honestly staring at the name and thinking about how his Uncle Wayne has been locked up in his room like he is on this day every year - flooded with the thoughts of his baby sister. "It's not like I can talk to her," Eddie mumbles out.

Steve asks, "If you could talk to her what would you say?"

Eddie freezes at the thought. What would he say? He speaks without thinking. "I'd say I miss her. That I love her even though I've nearly forgotten what her voice sounds like. That I stole her bottle of perfume after they found her, and I need to ask her what scent it is because it's nearly run out." Eddie chokes on a sob, not realizing he had even started crying.

Steve reaches out and laces his fingers between Eddie's as he continues. "I'd apologize for flunking my senior year but insist that I'm trying not to be like Dad. I'm really trying. I'm trying so hard, but I feel like I fail every day. I'd tell her that Uncle Wayne misses her and was a wreck without her but still managed to raise me. I'd probably scream at her though. Ask her why she ever went back when she promised she would stay sober for me. She'd promised..." he trails off with a sob, and the next thing he knows is Steve Harrington is pulling him into his chest, cradling him as he cries.

It's fucking embarrassing or it should be, but Eddie needs this more than anything in the world.

"I remember her," Steve says softly, voice straining. "She used to read at the library before..." Before she went back to Eddie's dad once he got out of jail, and he gotten her hooked again. Before she broke the promise she had kept for years to stay sober. Before her body was found by her own brother after a young Eddie had told him she had been sleeping all day.

"She was so kind to me," Steve says breaking Eddie out of his spiraling thoughts, hand running through his hair and gently untangling the wet curls. "She would sneak an extra candy for me any time I saw her. And I would always beg my mom to stay longer because Ms. Munson was the only one who did all the voices right. And she would get so loud while jumping on the reading chairs with the biggest smile on her face, not caring that the librarian was shooting her the most annoyed faces... You remind me of her, really."

Eddie's stuttering breath evens out as he remembers being in that same library proudly watching his mom and her theatrics. She had always been so unapologetically herself, and Eddie has wanted more than anything to be just like her. He squeezes Steve tighter and chokes out, "Thank you."

They stay like that for a while, Steve holding Eddie while he cries until he can't anymore. Both of them reciting the tales of the great Ms. Munson recalling the time she had accidentally knocked over a bookshelf when imitating a ballerina in the children's book she was reading. Eddie had never known that Steve had been there almost the whole time, but it's nice to finally meet someone whose memories of his mom aren't from the last months of her life.

It has stopped raining when Eddie pulls away from the embrace. He's sure his eyes are puffy and red and there's definitely some of his snot on Steve's polo soaked in water and tears. But Eddie finds that Steve's eyes are similarly glossy and pink, and for some reason it's endlessly comforting.

Steve asks Eddie if he's ready to go, and Eddie looks at the grave one last time before nodding. Steve intertwines their fingers and leads the way back to his car. The drive back is relatively quiet, but Eddie relaxes in the silence. Steve reaches over and holds his hand again which makes Eddie's chest tighten.

He wonders what's back at home for him, and what happened to change King Steve and make him so overwhelmingly kind and caring. But he doesn't ask, not wanting to stir up the memories of what he's trying to run away from.

As Steve pulls into the trailer park, Eddie easily directs him in front of his home. Steve parks the car and gets out before Eddie can say goodbye and pretend like this never happened for Steve's sake. Instead, Steve pulls him into another hug, but he buries his head into Eddie's neck, and it feels like he needs this more than Eddie does.

So, Eddie takes his turn holding him. Running a hand through his extremely soft hair which has him relaxing further against him. He pulls back reluctantly after a few moments and says, "Thank you."

Eddie isn't entirely sure what he's thanking him for when Eddie should be thanking him, so he replies, "Thank you."

Steve lingers in his space for a few seconds longer before squeezing his arm and giving him a smile. Eddie waves goodbye and walks back to his trailer, finding Steve waiting to make sure he gets inside okay. As he hears the car drive off, he wonders if maybe his mother sent Steve Harrington for him that day.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #i sobbed writing this #screaming crying throwing up