#if I sit down and be good they might send me an ask one day

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Gabe/Stephen; not on the list

For the prompt: I would say Gabe and Stephen’s wedding because I want that more than anything in the world, but I suspect that’s coming without my prompt? But if it’s not… 

It would come either way, probably, but this started the ball rolling.

More Gabe and Stephen, more lists. No actual wedding, but we get pretty damn adjacent.

Gabe knew the list would backfire the moment Stephen started making it. He even told Stephen as much, but Stephen just shrugged a shoulder and kept working on it. He got into it as it grew too, enjoying it so much that Gabe told himself he was probably worrying about nothing.

And maybe the list wouldn’t have been a problem if the only person he’d told about it was Gabe. Probably would have been fine even if knowledge of it extended to the Marksons and Petersens, which happened sooner rather than later.

But telling Gabe’s teammates — that was a mistake.

“A what list?” Jared asks when Stephen first mentions it.

“An anti-wedding list,” Stephen says.

Bryce sits up. “You guys aren’t getting married?”

From this angle, Gabe can’t see how withering the look Stephen gives Bryce is, but the kick Jared aims at his ankle is probably related.

“Obviously we’re getting married,” Stephen says, like he wasn’t panicking for a good few days after they got engaged, and only the potential wrath of Miriam Markson kept him from fleeing on the next flight out of Vancouver. “It’s a list of shit we don’t want at our wedding.”

“Um,” Bryce says.

“You know,” Stephen says. “The wedding traditions we’re vetoing.”

“We is such a strong word,” Gabe says.

“Unanimous approval or none at all, Gabriel,” Stephen says. "A veto only needs one."

He's right. And Gabe guesses he would know, consdiering he's the one vetoing everything.

“So wait, what exactly are you vetoing?” Jared says.

“Nobody’s wearing white,” Stephen says, starting to tick items off on his fingers. “I mean, white dress shirts are fine, obviously, but nobody’s a virgin here, we’re not doing any all in white shit. No flower girls or ring bearers. No little groom cake toppers. Fuck knows there aren’t going to be any garters involved. I don’t remember the rest off the top of my head, but I have it all written down."

“I like the little grooms,” Bryce says, sounding hurt. Gabe hasn’t seen any pictures from Bryce and Jared’s wedding, since it was very much on the down-low — and he truly wishes he could see how those two managed to put together a wedding on the sly when they couldn't even sit across from each other without Gabe figuring out they were married — but he bets there were little grooms on top of their cake. He also bets Bryce still has those little dudes hanging around somewhere.

“Can I see the list?” Jared asks. “I’m kind of curious how many our wedding had.”

“Sure,” Stephen says, with a hand wave. “I’ll email it to you when I’m finished. Have a few more items to add first.”

“Cool,” Jared says.

After Bryce and Jared leave, Gabe mentions it might not be a good idea to send Jared the list, but Stephen just scoffs.

“What’s he going to do?” Stephen says. “Wear white to my wedding? Put little grooms on his piece of cake? He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not going to anything that actually fucks with the day, he’s not Dmitry.”

“Our wedding,” Gabe says.

“Oh come on, you already know what’s mine is yours,” Stephen says.

“You stabbed me with a chopstick over the last soup dumpling last night,” Gabe says.

“Stop saying I stabbed you,” Stephen says. “I didn’t even break the skin.”

“It hurt,” Gabe says, and Stephen takes his hand, planting an officious kiss on the back of it.

“Better?” Stephen asks.

“It was the other hand,” Gabe says, smiling when Stephen sighs dramatically before kissing it too.

“You’re really going to give Math that list?” Gabe says. “Blind trust isn’t usually your thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll lead to something hideous,” Stephen says. “But think of it this way: your idiot teammates are going to do something, so I may as well give them some parameters.”

“Huh,” Gabe says. “Good point.”

“I’m not exactly new to this, you know,” Stephen says.

“No, I know,” Gabe says.

At least whatever it is that’s coming, it won’t come out of the blue.

~

Gabe did not foresee this. Sure, when he gave Stevie and Dima and Bullet bachelor party planning rights he anticipated some variety of disaster, but he underestimated them, he thinks. Or overestimated them. There was some mis-estimation occurring.

He looks around. What initially looked like chaos seems oddly recognisable. Almost familiar.

It’s sort of wedding themed, which makes sense, considering the occasion, but everything’s slightly off, and not just because they’re in a venue more suited to clubbing than matrimony.

His eyes land on the big cake at the centre of everything. It looks more like the kind Gabe saw at Cup celebrations than a wedding one, decorated to look like a rink, with two little figures at centre ice. He’s too far to see the details, but he’s pretty sure they’re hockey figurines rather than grooms, and someone has decided to use the manipulable joints for, well, evil probably isn’t the right word, but maybe immaturity — Gabe’s pretty sure one of them is straddling the other. He guesses he should just be grateful no mounting is taking place, considering Dima’s probably the responsible party.

There are so many elements, and they don’t seem to fit together at all — elegant baskets of flowers that look almost painstakingly put together, surrounded by a scatter of rainbow confetti that feels like it's moonlighting from a completely different event. Some kind of crooner — Bublé? — playing, also from a completely different event. None of it seems to fit Gabe's picture of a bachelor party planned and attended by hockey players, even if the wives and girlfriends present also got involved in the planning.

It’s the guests themselves that help Gabe put it together. There was clearly a dress code, one that only Gabe and Stephen weren’t informed about, everyone all in white, neon bright under the black light. Like an item of a list come to life. Like one of many items of a list come to life.

He can see Stephen put it together a mere moment after he does, his eyes narrowing, mouth going flat. Playing at unimpressed for the — many — eyes currently on them, avidly waiting for a reaction.

“I’m going to fucking kill Jared,” Stephen says, and Gabe decides not to tell him just how proud he sounds.

“I wonder which one of the Canucks is wearing the garter,” Gabe says, and grins when Stephen forgets his audience and his composure for a moment, throwing his head back with a laugh.

#fic snippet #gabe markson #stephen petersen #jared matheson #bryce marcus #dmitry kurmazov

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 28

Honor Bound 6 - 28 (Chronic Pain) @badthingshappenbingo

Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: tattooing, chronic pain, old injury, blood, past consensual sex, negotiating boundaries

~

By the time Brandon had finished half of Zachariah’s tattoo, Sam was beginning to sweat through their shirt. Zachariah had long since sweat through his. Sweat was beading on his brow, running into his eyes, and Brandon had given him a rag to mop his face so he would be more comfortable.

“Just let me know if you need to stop, man, and we can stop,” Brandon had said a few times. Every time Zachariah would bite his lip and shake his head and say he was fine, really, and Brandon would keep going, at least until the next time he would ask. He was asking it every few minutes, now.

Still, Sam hoped no one would notice how much pain they were in. Sitting on this stool with nothing to support their arm, the old wound had long since begun to ache. Old, throbbing pain radiated up and down their arm. The palm of their right hand prickled where normally there was only unsettling numbness. They cradled their arm against their chest.

It had been so, so long since they’d had a bad pain day.

Still, thankfully, everyone seemed to be focusing on Zachariah. It was nice to find the luxury even to be in pain without drawing the worried and guilty glances of their family. Living under the watchful eyes of Isaac, Gavin, and Gray was – well, it was what Sam wanted, but it came at the price of knowing their pain hurt the ones they lived with and loved so dearly. It was nice to be able to exist, even in pain, and not have to so carefully mask it, even for a few hours. Masking it took more energy, which made the pain worse, which just made it harder to mask—

A hand fell on their shoulder. They flinched and sucked in a gasp. Fire jolted through their wound to their hand and they cried out.

Brandon pulled the tattoo machine away from Zachariah’s shoulder and all eyes turned to Sam. They shuddered and ducked their head at the awful, familiar guilt and worry in everyone’s eyes, the way everyone seemed to reach for them at once…

“I’m fine,” they bit out – an instinct. Their hand spasmed against their chest.

“Whoa,” Brandon mumbled as he set the tattoo machine to the side. “You all good?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, more forcefully this time. “It’s just—”

“You’re really pale,” Isaac said weakly. It was his hand on their shoulder that had startled them.

Sam squeezed their own wrist tightly as they dragged in a shaky inhale, pushed out a hissing exhale. “Yeah,” they croaked.

“Do we need to take a second?” Brandon said. Sam raised their eyes to him. He looked as relaxed as if they were talking about their lunch plans, as if Sam wasn’t moments away from throwing up all over his floor.

“No,” Sam breathed, squeezing their eyes shut and forcing another deep breath. “No, you can keep going. This is just… this is just something that happens.”

Zachariah shifted in his chair. “Um… I think… I might need a minute.” His voice was shaking, sweat beading on his upper lip. He looked like he had just run ten miles.

“Sure,” Brandon said, nonchalant as could be. He set the tattoo machine and stained cloth down.

The fire was fading, but the crushing ache was not. Sam leaned their head against Isaac’s chest as he stood beside them. “G-getting better,” they murmured. “It’s just… I think it’s just sitting here. Making my arm hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Isaac said gently. He wound his arms around them and held them close. It felt nice to be held, even though Sam could feel his heart hammering against their cheek through his shirt. “Maybe I can take you home? Gavin can stay here with Zachariah?”

“Uh…” Zachariah sounded better than he had a minute ago, but not by much.

Sam lifted their head and glanced at Zachariah.

He stared at Brandon apologetically. “Could I actually… be done for today? I’m sorry, but… it’s more than I thought I could—”

Brandon lifted a gloved hand, stained with ink and blood. Zachariah fell silent. “No problem at all, dude. Like I said, we didn’t have to finish this today. Let me cover this, and you can just come in tomorrow and I’ll finish you up. Deal?”

“Deal,” Zachariah huffed, sagging with relief. Sam sagged with him. Isaac’s arm wound around their shoulders, and they nearly slumped off their stool and into his embrace. Gavin appeared at their other side. Their mouth twitched, and embarrassment prickled in their stomach, before they raised their eyes to look at him; he looked pale, too, and tired.

He probably needs rest more than any of us right now.

Still, Sam could tell by the hard set of his mouth that nothing could have pulled him away from watching the Stormbeck crest disappear from Zachariah’s shoulder.

“—'ll probably bleed a bit,” Brandon was telling Zachariah as Sam blinked against the pain fogging their thoughts. “And leak some ink. If there’s more blood than, like, just a little bit, come see me. But don’t worry about a little blood and ink. I mean. You’ve had a tattoo before.”

“Yeah,” Zachariah said weakly. He flinched as Brandon wrapped clear plastic over the half-finished tattoo.

“Yeah, so, tomorrow morning I have another job, but tomorrow afternoon I’m free. Come by then and I’ll finish you up. Everybody good to make it home?” Brandon looked around at everyone, his eyes staying on Zachariah longest. Sam nodded and leaned against Isaac.

“W-we’ll make it,” Gavin murmured through pale, thin lips. His arm slid around Sam’s waist, although he looked like if Sam leaned even slightly against him, he would collapse.

The sweat on Zachariah’s skin was already starting to dry. He raised his damp t shirt and mopped his brow, then looked at Sam. He offered them a tentative smile.

“Halfway there,” he said softly, and held out his hand to them. His palm was warm as they slid their hand into his.

Brandon tore the plastic wrap and tucked in the ends, smoothing down the last stray bits. “Okay, you’re all good,” he said, and rolled his little table of tattoo supplies against the wall. The tattoo machine clinked as he began to disassemble it.

Sam released Zachariah’s hand and pushed themself unsteadily to their feet. Zachariah rose beside them. Isaac and Gavin stayed on Sam’s either side, Isaac being especially careful not to jostle Sam’s arm. Sam breathed slowly through the pain, which had dulled now to a steady throb. The pain hadn’t been this bad in… in weeks. Still, it crawled into their muscles, digging into their very bone, and ate at them. When they passed through the door to Brandon’s shack and felt the cool breeze on their face, they heaved a sigh of relief.

“Home, then?” Isaac said gently. His eyes belied his worry, but… there wasn’t as much guilt there as Sam expected.

They leaned into him, but froze as they felt Gavin stumble at their other side. They chewed their lip and caught themself casting a worried glance of their own at Gavin. “Um…”

“Why don’t…” Zachariah stared at his feet as he spoke. Sam hoped that one day he wouldn’t look so frightened, all the time. “I mean, um… Sam, if it works for you… you could come over to my place, and, um… I’ll…”

I’ll take care of you.

Sam swallowed past the lump in their throat that formed at Zachariah’s unsaid words. They forced a smile.

“…I’ll make us dinner if you want. And we could just hang out… have a quiet night.”

Sam blinked.

“Sam?” Isaac said. “Does that sound okay?”

“Um.” Sam met Zachariah’s eyes, stomach fluttering with embarrassment. He had never been the one to coddle them, not when they had to wear the sling, not when they needed to sleep half the day because they were still healing, never. Still, if Zachariah were to take care of Sam… they couldn’t imagine him ever making them feel guilty for it. They nodded numbly. “Yeah,” they said. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

A shy smile played at Zachariah’s lips. “Great,” he breathed.

Sam squeezed Gavin with their intact arm and laid their head against Isaac’s shoulder. “See you back at the house later, then?”

“Only if you want to,” Isaac said, and kissed the crown of Sam’s head. “If it works better for you to stay the night at Zachariah’s, no worries there.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, and stepped away. Isaac and Gavin waved at the two of them as they headed toward their house. Before they could disappear from sight, Gavin collapsed against Isaac’s side. Isaac’s arm wound around Gavin’s waist and they kept walking like that, Gavin leaning all his weight against Isaac, until they turned a corner and disappeared from Sam’s sight. Sam swallowed hard and looked up at Zachariah. This time, neither of them bothered to conceal the worry on their faces.

∴

Zachariah’s cooking was amazing. Now that Sam thought about it, they didn’t think they had ever had a dish that Zachariah had made himself. Cooking was so often a communal thing with the family, and so often something simple that could be thrown together quickly to serve six people, then seven, growing until they were a ten-person family; rice, some kind of vegetable, and some kind of meat with a delicious sauce was the usual fare. Besides, that made leftovers easy, too. For someone to cook something just for themselves was so rare that it almost never happened.

Still, Sam could scarcely believe that they had gone all this time – more than three months – without tasting Zachariah’s cooking. Even without the fancy spices that he was used to having in the city, he had made some kind of rice-and-tomatoes-and-chicken dish that had Sam going back for seconds, even still a little nauseated from the pain. Now they were stretched out on the couch, regretting the second helping but happy to be cuddling in Zachariah’s lap, a sack of microwaved dry rice propped under their sore arm. They heaved a sigh and rested their head against Zachariah’s broad chest.

“Good?” Zachariah murmured, and Sam detected the slightest hint of self-satisfaction in his voice. It made them smile.

“You know it was,” they groaned, burying their face in his shirt to hide their smile. “You… you tricked me into eating so much. You… coerced me, Zachariah Medina.” Pain twinged through their old wound. They sucked in a breath through their teeth and held their hand tightly to their chest.

Zachariah’s mouth made a firm line. “Still pretty bad, huh?” He shifted the bag of rice, pulling it higher into Sam’s armpit.

“No, it’s, ah…” Sam pushed out a slow, shaky breath. “Not as…” Their stomach lurched, and they clenched their teeth together to keep from being sick all over their own lap. Another slow breath in, another slow breath out. They glanced up and found Zachariah’s warm brown eyes staring into theirs.

His lips trembled – no, they weren’t trembling, they were just moving soundlessly like he was trying to choose which words to say. Sam closed their eyes. They couldn’t focus on both him and the pain at once. They couldn’t deal with—

“We… don’t have to hang out, if you don’t want to,” Zachariah said. Sam’s shoulders relaxed as they realized there wasn’t any disappointment in his voice at all. They opened their eyes again, their gaze unfocused. They wet their lips.

“I still want to… be around you,” they croaked. “I just… sorry, it’s just… hard to deal with… this. Right now.” Their left hand curled into a fist.

“I get that,” Zachariah said. “I do. So… how do you want to be around me? It’s up to you.”

Sam drew a deep breath in through their nose and blew it out through their lips. They glanced around the small living room. There wasn’t much to the space; there was a small table with a few chairs, some shelves set up that had been stocked with a few weeks’ worth of food, the kitchen leading off to the right. In the other direction led the hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. Sam’s eyes lingered on the hallway.

“Um…” Even without their meaning to, their mind strayed to the ways the both of them had spent their time together for the past month. While Gavin had been missing, Zachariah had been as much a prisoner in the farmhouse as if he had been chained there.  He couldn’t go on walks with the others like he used to, or swim in the lake, or go into town. There had been so little to do but lie in bed together, clothed at first, then not, then…

Sam swallowed hard and returned their gaze to Zachariah’s. “I’d just really like to lie down,” they said woodenly.

And I don’t want to fuck you tonight. Please, please don’t ask me to fuck you tonight.

Zachariah nodded once. “Sounds good,” he said, and opened his arms.

Sam felt tired in their bones as they pushed away from his chest and stiffly got to their feet. The warm bag of rice slid onto the couch cushions, but Zachariah waved their hand away from it.

“Let me,” he said with a gentle smile.

Sam shuffled to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light before they crawled on top of Zachariah’s blanket. They lowered themself onto the left side and curled into a limp ball. The bed dipped as Zachariah joined them.

“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” Sam mumbled.

There was a slight huff as Zachariah tucked the warm compress under Sam’s arm and settled behind them, curling around their body and pulling them close. “I figured,” he said softly. “I don’t feel like it, either.” There was a smile in his voice.

“Yeah?” Sam shivered as he nuzzled into the back of their neck, pressing a small kiss into their curls – and then he settled, his breath fanning out over their hair.

“Yeah.” Zachariah’s thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth on their left wrist. They were grateful for the touch, for his warmth, and for the fact that this was the extent of it. Isaac would be worried, and guilty, and sad, his hands reaching out to Sam, perhaps clutching at them so that he could remind himself that they were alive, and that he wasn’t about to lose them, but Zachariah… Zachariah just was.

“Hmmm,” Sam hummed. The heat was helping. As their muscles relaxed, the pain ebbed, just the slightest bit. Still, their palm kept tingling. They wondered if this pain would last, or if it would be gone when they woke.

@womping-grounds ​, @free-2bmee ​, @quirkykayleetam ​, @walkingchemicalfire ​, @inpainandsuffering ​, @redwingedwhump ​, @burtlederp ​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog ​ , @whatwhumpcomments ​, @whumpywhumper ​, @stxck-fxck ​, @whumps-the-word ​, @justplainwhump ​, @finder-of-rings ​, @inky-whump ​, @orchidscript ​, @inkyinsanity ​, @this-mightaswell-happen ​, @newandfiguringitout ​, @whumpkitty ​, @pretty-face-breaker ​, @pebbledriscoll ​, @im-just-here-for-the-whump ​, @endless-whump ​, @grizzlie70 ​, @oops-its-whump ​, @kixngiggles​, @1phoenixfeather ​ , @butwhatifyouwrite ​, @carnagecardinal , @whumpifi , @squishablesunbeam

#honor bound 6 #bad things happen bingo #chronic pain #whump #hurt/comfort #old injury #blood #past consensual sex #negotiating boundaries

[raytm]

I wanna write ships so bad but I fucking forgot how to like idk be like hey bestie wanna ship 💅

#I LITERALLY #do not know how to breach conversation I just go #if I sit down and be good they might send me an ask one day #ima o ??? #I’m either like ADHD in ur DMs going AWGWGDVVFFVVVF #or I just stand in the corner like the socially paralysed insect I am #ooc.

[hazyhae]

indica dreams | ldh

plug!hyuck x fem!reader ft. bestie jeno and cousin johnny

summary: when you finally decide to do something about your sleeping problem, your best friend suggests weed as a solution. he introduces you to donghyuck — a plug who makes it his personal mission to teach you everything there is to know about it. 

wc: 11.7k 18+ mdni

cw: fluff, mild angst, smut, weed/marijuana use in multiple forms, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it up!), creampie, oral (receiving), flirty down bad soft dom!hyuck who's highkey a simp, dirty talk + voice/praise kink, reader has sleep problems and is a chronic overthinker, reader has a bad trip on weed, tender loving and reassurance, baby/sunshine/my girl as petnames

you turn over in your bed for what feels like the hundredth time, eyes shut tight as you groan in frustration. you open your eyes and feel around for your phone, blinding yourself once the screen faces you. 4:23 a.m. great.

when your alarm set for work blares just a few hours later, you feel as though you shut your eyes for only a few minutes, reluctantly getting up to start your day.

this has been happening for a while now — maybe 1 or 2 months? you’re not sure when exactly it started, but you know the stress from work has been affecting your sleep schedule terribly.

you’ve tried melatonin — huge headache the morning after. other methods you tried led to something similar or didn’t work at all, and it frustrates you to no end. after another day of fighting to stay awake at work passes by painfully slow, you sit on your bed brainstorming with your best friend over the phone.

“i think we’ve gotta do something about the stress, then maybe the sleep will come with it?” jeno’s voice rings through the speaker. you can tell he’s just waking up, evident in his low voice and delayed responses.

“like what? quit my job?” you ask sarcastically. “you know i can’t do that.”

“i know, not that.” you can almost hear him shrug. jeno never has any problems sleeping, being able to sleep through the night and even take a nap or two throughout the day with his work from home job.

a lightbulb seems to flash in his head as he lets out a small gasp. “wait,” his voice sounds closer to the phone speaker, and a few seconds later, your phone buzzes with a new message.

6:06pm jenjen: dongfuck 010-xxxx-xxxx

“dongfuck?? who the hell is that?” you ask, confused and almost slightly irritated.

“oh shit, i forgot it sends the contact name and everything,” jeno laughs. “anyways, i think the answer to your problems is some good old weed.”

you pause. it’s not as if that never crossed your mind, in fact it has even before your sleep problem came about.

you never entertained the interest as no one in your friend circle knew enough about weed for you to feel comfortable trying it for the first time and you haven’t had the energy to go out as much, giving you no chance to meet someone who does.

“i could be down? but what do you know about weed, lee jeno?” you ask your friend suspiciously.

“no, not me,” you hear him tap on the phone for emphasis. “that’s where my buddy dongfuck comes in.”

you don’t know why, but your gut feeling tells you that you might be in for more than just a good night’s sleep.

lee donghyuck

the new contact in your phone apparently belonged to the resident stoner of his friend group who hustles as a local plug, and while jeno had his thoughts about the guy, quoting pain in the ass and corny flirt, he couldn’t deny that he knows more about weed than anyone he’s ever met. and as much as jeno talks shit, you know how he’d be if he actually hated the guy.

you had texted the new number nervously, asking if he could give you the basics on getting high, and he had responded with “it’s too much to text” and an address. jeno trusted the guy, so you did your best to brush aside your nerves.

it’s your saturday off when you arrive at the address he sent, triple checking that you are at the right place. your gps leads you to a building that looks like a 2-story house. it’s so lowkey that you probably would have walked right past it if you weren’t looking for it, but upon closer inspection it has a very minimal but aesthetic exterior, with vines running alongside the house’s entrance.

“NCTeaHouse” a sign reads right above the door, and you peek inside the small window in the door to see the interior. your mouth forms an o as you realize the house is in fact a store.

the front door opens suddenly, almost hitting you in the face as you step back in surprise. a dark haired man with rounded glasses peeks his head out from behind the door.

“oops, my bad. __ right?” he asks, a little unsure.

“yeah, and you’re donghyuck?” you ask, taking in the man who looks to be around the same age as you.

“just hyuck is okay, come on in!” he says cheerfully, opening the door fully. “i was wondering when you were gonna come in, saw you wandering around the entrance for a good 5 minutes,” he chuckles.

your face gets hot at the knowledge that he saw you like that. “i was making sure it was the right place, okay?”

he hums and leads you in, and you take in the view of the shop around you. it’s tiny, but warmly decorated, browns and earth tones dominating the space with boxes lined along the shelves and few displays in the middle of the shop. he goes behind the front counter, bent down as he rummages through a box.

you take a look at products at the register, finding that they are different tea bags. glancing back at the displays, you recognize the other boxes to also be different tea brands, and some other products you don’t recognize.

“is this where you sell?” you ask, seeing that he’s still looking for something.

“oh no, not here, this is my side job. we sell tea, coffee, and some other stuff.” he gets up with a smaller box in hand, leaving the register as he beckons you to a back room. “but it’s my cousin’s shop, i just help here when i can.”

the back room is also warmly decorated, simple with 2 couch chairs, a table with a coffee maker, and a tiny fridge with a small burner on top.

“you can sit in one of those chairs, do you want some tea?” he asks. you decline politely and sit as he places a kettle on the small burner, turning it on before sitting on the other chair.

“aren’t you working right now? i don’t want to take up too much of your time,” you ask worriedly, not expecting the address he sent to be his workplace. he shakes his head.

“nah, trust me, we barely get any customers, and if they do they’ll ring the bell out front,” he says, waving his hand. “anyways, jen told me you wanted to learn about weed? what do you want to know?”

you feel your face get hot again. you know quite literally nothing about weed, and to admit that to a friend of a friend is a little embarrassing. but again, if jeno trusts him, so do you.

“to be completely honest.. i know nothing about it. i just know i have trouble sleeping at night and jeno suggested it might help,” you tell him.

“so just for sleep?” he asks.

“well, yes.. and no,” you start. you finally have the opportunity to learn the ropes from someone who actually knows what they were doing, but would he be down knowing you were starting from ground zero? he peers at you, noting that your expression looks a little conflicted.

“hey, no need to feel shy about it. everyone has to start somewhere,” he assures.

his words have more of an effect on you than you would expect, feeling touched at the reassurance of someone you barely know. it’s crazy how one sentence can have you feeling like you can trust him with whatever, but you nod in response.

“i think.. i’d like to learn at least the basics about weed, or even more if you’re willing? i’ve always been interested but never had the chance to explore it, but something tells me that’s what you’re all about,” you let your inner thoughts spill. he noticeably lights up at your words.

“and you’re absolutely right! trust me, as long as you’re willing to learn, i’m more than willing to teach,” he chimes, excited for someone who could potentially be as into weed as he is.

like you, none of his close friends really indulge in the substance, and it’s not like he can smoke on the regular with his customers, so he feels genuine excitement at the prospect of a weed buddy.

the sight of his lit up face at your curiosity really reassures your decision to trust jeno’s recommendation. as if on cue, his kettle starts whistling and he gets up to turn off the burner.

you watch as he pours the water into a mug he had set to the side. your eyes trail over his outfit: a comfortable looking brown hoodie paired with some ripped jeans that hug his long legs just right.

your eyes move back up to his face, only to see him staring back at you with an eyebrow raised.

“like what you see?” he asks with a teasing grin. you groan to hide your embarrassment, now seeing what jeno meant when he called him a corny flirt. but you really were checking him out, so you quickly try to come up with an excuse.

“i’m just thinking you don’t really look like you’d be a plug,” you redirect. he shakes his head.

“and what do you think a plug should look like?” he asks, face the tiniest bit more serious. the question surprises you.

“i guess, a little scarier?” you say quietly. you do imagine a plug being that way — quiet, intimidating, maybe a few tattoos. definitely not the man in front of you with his big brown eyes behind a pair of silver framed glasses, fluffy hair and even fluffier hoodie. he laughs at your answer.

“and that is where you are wrong,” he tuts at you, waving a finger. “stoners come in all shapes and sizes, and this plug of yours just happens to be incredibly charming and handsome.” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you can’t hold back your laughter.

aside from the last part, his words ring true, and you feel a little silly at your preconceived notion. one of the main things that has stuck out from him so far is his lack of judgement, and it’s something you admire. maybe this really is a good thing for you.

“anyways, when are we gonna start these lessons?” you ask, returning to your original goal.

“we can start now if you’ve got time,” he smiles, taking a sip of his tea. you check your phone, noting that not too long has passed since you arrived. you don’t have any plans besides trying to catch up on sleep, but you know that will probably be futile. why not?

“i’ve got time,” you let him know, and he meets you with a bright smile. he gets you some water, telling you to get comfy for his “weed 101” course.

“so let’s start with sativa vs. indica.” he types something in his phone, pulling up a slideshow. “all weed will fall into one of these two, or a combination of some sort.”

“you didn’t have to make an entire presentation??” you gasp. he must really be that eager to teach you.

“just let it happen, trust the process,” he insists. “anyways, you’ve got that sleeping problem, so anything indica would be your best friend,” he explains, showing you different examples on his phone.

“and what about sativa?” you ask, and he grins.

“that, my friend, is what you smoke when you want to have fun.”

you quickly realize that there is so much more to weed than you initially thought.

he jumps from topic to topic on different strains, smoking vs. edibles, joints vs. blunts, pipes vs. bongs — it was a lot. your head spins as you try to recall all the information he’s given you, and he takes notice at the shift in your demeanor, even if you try to feign the same eagerness you had coming into it.

“is it too much? we can take it slower, break it into sessions maybe,” he offers. you’re really wowed at how down he actually is to do this, and if you’re being completely honest, hanging out with an attractive guy while learning about and potentially indulging in some weed plus hopefully getting a good night’s sleep out of it? it sounds too good to be true.

“won’t that be taking too much of your time?” you ask worriedly.

“i’m true to my word, as long as you’re willing to learn, sunshine, i’m all yours,” he says, mouth pulled into his same grin as he downs the last bit of his tea, probably cold now after hours of talking. “plus the next few times you come, i’ll bring my stuff so you can try it out.”

you know you aren’t immune to his charms, and your face warms at the affectionate words. despite the corniness jeno complained about, hyuck had a way of keeping you on your toes while giving you an odd feeling of ease.

“i think i’d like that a lot, thank you hyuck,” you beam. an alarm on his phone rings, and his eyes widen.

“it’s already time to close? time flies,” he says getting up from the seat to start closing up shop. you get up too, ready to head home. “wait,” his voice halts you.

“are you hungry?” he asks a little timidly, a stark contrast for how casual he’s been this entire time.

you’ve been there for a while, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starving at that point. “yeah definitely, my last meal was breakfast,” you recall.

“okay sit tight, then. dinner’s on me, let me close up really quick,” he smiles, and before you can protest, he’s rushing through the break room door. a smile rests on your own face. you pull out your phone to check the time, seeing messages from jeno.

4:29pm jenjen: u ok? he didn’t eat you did he

5:50pm jenjen: dude wait are u ok neither of you are responding to me 5:50pm jenjen: don’t replace me ):

7:15pm you: stop you big baby we were just having a good conversation 7:16pm you: ngl i’m glad you introduced us, i have a good feeling about this jen (:

even after you insist you pay for your own and treat him as thanks for his lessons, hyuck stubbornly refuses and pays for the entire dinner bill. as he pulls up to your apartment to drop you off at home, he places a box in your lap before you exit his car.

“tea?” you ask, eyeing the box. reaching over to your lap again he taps on the box, punctuating his words.

“this right here is something i mixed up a while ago. i’m not the biggest edible person, so when i don’t feel like smoking, i’ll drink some of this. there’s barely any weed in it, but steep it for like a minute and try some an hour or two before you sleep.”

he looks incredibly proud of his own creation, but you’re a bit conflicted. it’s difficult to meet his energy when you’re nervous at the thought of trying weed for the first time on your own.

you don’t voice your nerves, not wanting to dampen his excitement. he’s already given you a lot and you just met the guy.

“thank you hyuck, i appreciate it.” you open his car door, getting down with the box in hand. “see you next week?”

“no problem at all, try that and let me know how it goes okay? i’m kinda not the biggest texter, so call for anything,” he says softly. “i’ll see you next week, sunshine.”

with the nickname sending a buzz through you, you close his car door, padding up to the front of your apartment complex before turning to wave. he waves back, flashing his headlights, and he doesn’t leave until you’re completely inside.

you go into your kitchen, placing the box on your counter. you open it, pulling out a paper accompanied by little tied sachets containing an assortment of dried leaves.

steep for two minutes with boiling water, can steep longer if you want a stronger tea.

-h

you smile to yourself. lifting a sachet to your nose, you note that it smells like a regular bag of tea. he did say there was barely any weed in there, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try?

you double back on that thought. you really don’t know how you’re gonna react to it, and the anxieties crawl back up your throat. what if it doesn’t turn out well, and you’re all by yourself with no way of getting the substance out of you?

you don’t want to risk it. you put the contents back in the box and place it in one of your cabinets. maybe you’ll invite jeno over to try it with you so at least you’d have someone with you if it all goes wrong.

you get ready for bed, hoping that the night brings you even a little sleep.

your hopes are unfounded when you wake up to a call from your manager, begging you to come into work to help fix an urgent problem. she promises you double pay and breakfast, and reluctantly, you accept.

you head to work with only the idea of some extra money in your pocket keeping you going, but you know already the second you step foot into your work building that you will be fighting for your life for the next few hours.

by the time the sun has set, you’re dragging yourself through your apartment door, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next 24 hours. you change out of your work clothes, hopping straight into bed and closing your eyes in hopes that sleep will take you.

when your eyes open an hour later, frustration bubbling at your throat from an hour of tossing and turning despite your utter exhaustion, you rip your sheets off, heading to your kitchen.

you open a cabinet, taking out a familiar little box. you’re willing to give this a try — anything to get some good sleep. but anxieties still run through you as you take out your phone to text your best friend.

8:35pm you: jen wyd?

you wait for a few minutes staring tiredly at your phone until a message pops up.

8:41pm jenjen: out with jaem what’s up?

you sigh, letting your friend know to forget it, and open the box. there sits a familiar note, and you trace over the neat handwritng.

call for anything. hyuck’s words ring in your ears. before you know it, you’re moving on autopilot and repeated ringing sounds through your speaker, his name displayed on the screen.

rrrring. rrrring. with every ring you feel more anxious, debating on just hanging up and resorting to melatonin, and when it reaches his voicemail, your heart sinks.

you end the call, placing your phone in your pocket and deciding to look for your forgotten sleep supplements. you don’t even take more than a couple of steps when your phone starts buzzing. you answer without even checking the id.

“__? what’s up?” his voice rings through the speakers and relief floods your system.

“hyuck, sorry to bother, but are you busy right now?” you ask.

“free for you, and not a bother, don’t apologize,” he says, and you can hear the smile on his voice. your cheeks twitch into a slight smile at his sweet words, but the tiredness seeps into your words.

“i’m gonna try your tea.. i’m so exhausted and i can’t sleep but i’m just so nervous about trying this by myself — oh and i called jeno but he’s busy — i’m sorry i ju-” your sleepy spiel is interrupted by his voice.

“woah, woah, sunshine, let’s slow it down a bit. no need to apologize for anything, really,” he assures.

you feel as though you could cry from the combination of relief and sheer exhaustion, now a little calmer explaining your circumstances and nerves at your first time having any sort of weed.

“hey, go ahead and try it, and i’ll stay on the phone until you fall asleep, okay? you can tell me if you’re feeling bad or weird or anything and i’ll be right here.”

“promise?” you ask hopefully. it’s not ideal to be asking someone you’ve known for literally a day to stay on the phone with you, but your tired mind and body scream sleep over shame.

he laughs. “you’re so cute, yes i promise.” you try not to show how much of an effect his words have on you, masking your stirring feelings by warming some water.

in the next 20 minutes, you’re sitting in bed with a cup of hot tea, taking small sips and letting the aroma waft as you chat over the phone. he’s right, the tea tastes nothing like the pungent scent of weed you are familiar with. his tea is calming and herbal.

“tell me about your day,” he requests, and you start from the call from your manager in the morning, explaining how some intern almost cost your company a client under your project, and you had to save their ass.

“you’re too good for them,” he says smugly.

“you’re just saying that, but thank you,” you reply, and he denies it, whining slightly.

“i would never say anything i don’t mean,” he asserts. he acts offended that you would even insinuate he was only flattering you, and you try not to read too much into his words, now halfway through your cup of tea.

“how about you tell me about your day, hyuck?” you ask, changing the subject.

he’s happy to talk about his day, lamenting spending his entire weekend at the shop, but explains how there were a group of unique customers today.

“this guy came in with a few friends, asking us if we have anything that could calm animals?? i honestly don’t know shit about pets but i don’t think tea and coffee are safe.” you chuckle at his animated telling of the story. “he had reeaaally nice eyebrows, though.”

your cup now sits empty on your nightstand, your head resting heavily on your pillow as you listen to him. he’s so expressive, and you hum in response to his ramblings. you have no thoughts besides how pleasing his voice is to your ears.

your eyes feel heavier and heavier as his voice sounds more and more distant.

when you wake up to your alarm set for work chiming the next morning, you feel the most rested you have in months. checking your phone, you see a missed message notification.

10:48pm hyuck =) : sleep tight, sunshine

a while has passed since your first go at the tea, and it’s three weeks until you are able to see hyuck again. at the beginning of those three weeks, you found that every couple of days hyuck would call, checking in on you. the first few calls never lasted as long as your first did, but soon you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice.

you started to ask him how his day was before he could hang up, and after a few times of sharing back and forth, nightly calls to talk about your days became a routine.

in all honesty, you wanted to see him sooner, but the work days kicked your ass and different friends made plans on your days off. despite the chaos in other parts of your life, it felt like your nightly calls were what got you through the tiring days.

you were almost out of tea, and resorted to having the tea every other day to save. something must have shifted when you met hyuck, as even without the tea, sleep came much easier with the exception of a few days.

when you call hyuck on a friday night after work, hoping to restock and spend some time with him over the weekend, he meets your request with enthusiasm.

“didn’t realize you missed my lessons so much, my #1 student,” his teasing rings over the speakers.

“actually, youtube is sounding really good right about now,” you reply, putting up a flat tone at his remarks.

“i’m kiddinggggg jeez, come to the shop around 6 tomorrow? dress warm, we’ll try something new,” he instructs, and you agree.

sitting in your living room, you take a sip of the usual tea, noting that you’re down to your last bag. you drift off to sleep that night, and instead of the anxieties you had felt the night before the first time you met him, excitement floods your system at the thought of seeing him.

the next day’s lesson brings you to a new location, still NCTeaHouse, but the cozy back patio behind the store. strung up hanging lights are already lit, given how the sun has started to set, and the lounge couch makes it look like an ideal hangout spot.

“if you see me napping back here one of these days, you better not say anything,” you joke with hyuck.

“you’re always free to, as long as i’m invited,” he winks and you’re shaking your head at his unabashed self. you’ve gotten a lot more used to his flirty words, coming to expect at least a line or two during your nightly conversations.

“anyways, you’re probably wondering why we came out here tonight.” you nod, and he lays the contents of his pockets on the small table in front of the two of you.

“i thought we could try smoking today, if you’re comfortable,” he grins, arranging everything on the table, and you’re impressed by the assortment.

he’s got different bags of weed, wrapping papers, lighters, and little tins. he gets right into explaining, pulling out the contents of the tins. he holds up two rolls, one a little thicker than the other.

“this right here is a joint, it’s just weed. this thicker one is a blunt. it’s got nicotine in the paper so the high is a little different.” he hands them to you to look at and continues. “i prefer blunts, but depending on what you put in them, a regular joint would probably be better for someone who hasn’t smoked before.”

you never doubted jeno’s words, but hyuck really is living up to your friend’s praise of his weed knowledge. you nod in understanding at his clear explanations, handing them both back to him. he sets aside the joint and starts to put away the blunt until you stop him.

“let’s do the blunt,” you quickly interject. despite wanting to go with the more beginner-friendly option, something in you wanted to do what he liked. maybe that way you could get a little taste of his world.

“wait, are you sure? it might be a bit harsh,” he warns.

“trust me, i can take it,” you say stubbornly. he pauses almost unnoticeably with an unreadable expression at your words before it shifts into a dubious look.

“if you say soooo,” he teases. you slap his arm lightly, huffing as he laughs before getting up to grab some water before you begin. he settles back into the couch once he’s back. he picks out a blunt and his lighter, turning to you with a more serious expression.

“this high will probably feel a bit more intense than anything the tea could do, so just take it easy okay? if you start feeling bad, please tell me,” he emphasizes. “promise?” he holds out his pinky.

you nod, linking your own pinky around his. he tightens the hold and you feel your heart tighten a bit in turn. the emotions whirling in you are too complex to decipher, ranging from slight anxiety at the thought of actually being high to gratitude for hyuck’s reassurance.

“just watch, okay?” he places the blunt between his lips, lighter flicking at its edge as he inhales for a few seconds. he holds the smoke in, rotating the blunt a few times before straining his neck up to exhale a hefty cloud of smoke.

the sight leaves you breathless. hyuck is attractive, and of that you have been sure since the day you met.

but this hyuck, sitting next to you in his black leather jacket and dark jeans on the baggier side stirs something inside of you. it’s just one hit, but you’re outright entranced by his movements. he brings the blunt back to his mouth for another hit, and flicks it on an ash tray sitting on the table as he holds in the smoke.

your eyes don’t leave his hands, adorned in a few simple rings as he moves as if it’s just muscle memory, smooth and rehearsed. he again lifts his head to release the smoke, and this time you can see a vein that trails down his thick neck as it comes into full view.

what is likely not even half a minute feels like an eternity to you, and it takes a couple calls of your name to snap you out of your trance.

“earth to __? wanna try now?” hyuck waves his hand in front of you, offering the freshly ashed blunt.

“just a couple seconds, and not too strong of a pull. hold it in for a few seconds before releasing the smoke,” he instructs as you pick it out of his grasp. you nod, bringing it to your mouth.

you do as he says, pulling only for a few seconds before passing it back to him, intending to hold the smoke in. you don’t get to that point though, for as soon as the two second mark hits, your throat constricts as you involuntarily cough up the smoke you pulled from the blunt.

curses leave hyuck’s mouth as he quickly puts out the blunt, scrambling to hand you the water he brought earlier. you take it quickly, letting the water soothe your throat as you continue coughing between sips.

“are you okay?” he asks, worried expression on his face.

“i-i’m good, i thought i was gonna do better than that for my first one though,” you admit sheepishly.

“hey, we’ve got a lot of time to practice,” he reassures.

you’re not sure if the weed is already hitting you, but the warm hanging lights seem to illuminate his face even more. his fingers play with a silver chain laying on his white shirt.

“do you want to try another? or are you good?” he asks, peering into your face to check for any signs of dicomfort.

“i’ll try one more time,” you resolve, and he grins, firing the lighter back up. he holds the blunt up in front of you, and your hand moves to grab it, but he doesn’t let go, keeping it steady in front of your mouth.

“go for it, sunshine,” he gives you the go ahead, still holding it for you as your mind screams at the intimacy. you lean forward a bit to take a small hit of the blunt, trying to ignore his eyes burning into you. you make sure to inhale a little less than the first time.

“goood, just like that, now hold it in for a bit.”

you lean back into the chair as hyuck brings the blunt to his own lips, taking a drag out of it as he watches you carefully. this time, your throat doesn’t constrict, and you blow the smoke upwards emulating his earlier movements.

“that’s my girl,” he praises, smile stretched wide. you were doing so well, but his praise catches you at the very last bit of smoke leaving your throat, causing a hitch in your throat as you lightly cough.

he hands you the water again, patting your back as you curse under your breath.

“don’t worry, it’s still your first time, and i’ve heard coughing after smoking gets you even higher,” he coos, pats turning into gentle circles on your back.

you feel hyperaware of his touch, but when his hand separates from your form a piece of you longs to have it back. you glance at him as he takes another hit. you might not necessarily know what feeling high feels like yet, but whatever you’re feeling right now might just be it.

the anxiety and gratitude you felt coming into the smoke session has melted into something else — a desire of some sort that you can’t put your finger on. you know that’s not from the substance now in your system.

all you know is that the fuzzy feeling in your body and mind along with the dark-haired man next to you is something you could get used to.

after that day, something definitely shifted. you see hyuck a lot more, and every time he comes more than excited to teach you something new.

the next time you see him it’s pipes. he came prepared with two — one for you and him, and sent you home with the one you were using once you got the hang of it, insisting it liked you better.

another time is bongs. this one was pretty hard for you to get a hang of, and his hands guided yours on how to hold the bong and when to take out the bowl. it was hard to stay focused on the steps with his casual physical contact, so you’d have to revisit that.

one of the days, he even brings his dab rig set up to show you. you were completely lost with this one, and he didn’t force it, just assuring you that you could always come to him and he’d have it all ready and set for you.

he takes pride in showing you his creations, and is always quick to affirm you as you learn. while he never explicitly said he was doing it, you could tell after the first time you smoked that he wanted to find ways to make smoking a little easier on you.

you recall a specific day you came over to the shop, promised the “hyuckie special” by its namesake over the phone the night before. you were surprised to see someone other than hyuck in the shop once you arrived, especially since it was after hours.

“are you the one donghyuck’s been bringing around here?” a tall man with ashy brown hair tucked behind his ears stood behind the counter. he was really handsome, but also slightly intimidating. the tattoos on his exposed arms reminded you of your initial idea of what a plug looked like.

you muttered a timid yes as you approached the man. he definitely looked a little older than you and hyuck.

“johnny, i’m the owner of your little love nest,” he joked, hand reached out to shake yours.

you shook his hand, introducing yourself as you tried to tell him you’re just friends. before you could, hyuck busted through the front door, eyes going to your joined hands.

he stomped up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you stepped back from the counter.

“what are we talking about?” he asked, pointed look at johnny. johnny just laughed loudly, clutching his stomach as you stood there, confused.

“relax lover boy,” he regained composure, turning to you. “thanks for keeping him busy, i should’ve known something was up when he stopped texting me every week whining about the shop.”

hyuck’s hand tightened around your shoulder, and he started tugging you around the back.

“don’t listen to him, bye,” he called not even looking back. johnny just waved, trying to keep down another laugh at his cousin’s erratic behavior.

“bye, __, see you around!” he waved, you returning it as best you could as hyuck pushed you through the door. as soon as you reached the back patio, a sulky hyuck started grumbling.

“you won’t be seeing him, he’s barely at his own shop anyways.” he plopped down on the couch, emptying his pockets as usual.

a lilac colored tin stuck out among his materials, and you picked it up to see what it was. his familiar neat handwriting spelled out your name.

“made that one for you, think you’d really like it,” he noticed you observing it, sulkiness gone.

a floral, herbal scent wafted to your senses once you opened it, and inside you saw a few joints.

“that’s the hyuckie special — or should i say the __ special?” he pondered, taking them from you to show them off. “i know you secretly prefer joints so don’t argue with me, but this one is a custom blend of a hybrid strain and dried lavender, you know, for your sleeping problem.”

you didn’t know what to say besides thank you over and over, touched at his consideration and the fact that he made a blend just for you. only for you.

from then on, that special blend quickly became your favorite as it really did help you relax a bit more. he would have his blunts of choice while you settled on the special formula made just for you.

your time with hyuck definitely shifted, but it wasn’t the only thing — something in you shifted as well.

that desire you felt that first night you smoked only burns brighter and hotter — the phone calls aren’t ever enough anymore, you need to see him, to be with him. even with a busy schedule with work and other friends, you make time, because being with him feels like nothing you have ever felt before.

somewhere along the routine of monotony in your life, maybe you subconsciously pushed yourself to the back of your priorities. but with hyuck, the way he takes care of you just makes you feel so prioritized, so seen.

he remembers your favorites and preferences even if mentioned only in passing, teases you with inside jokes only he could know, follows up on any gossip or worries you share, picks you up and drops you off at home, and never lets you pay for anything — food or weed alike.

you’ve never had an easier time falling asleep, with or without weed, and you can only assume that this connection with hyuck gave you a way of navigating the anxieties and negative feelings that plagued you. he felt like your person.

you could swear jeno’s eyes could fall out of his head from how wide-eyed he stares at you as you tell him all of this, from the generous lessons to the custom blend to your complex feelings growing by the day.

“you better not tell him any of this,” you warn, but jeno’s expression is still in shock. “what is it?”

“are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? hyuck? like lee donghyuck??” jeno asks in disbelief.

“yes?? who else would i be talking about?” you’re confused by your best friend’s reaction.

“no fucking way, because the hyuck i know would never do any of that. i don’t even think he knows when my birthday is,” he says.

“to be fair, i don’t think he knows when mine is either?” you offer. jeno looks straight into your eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“no i mean to say — he doesn’t pay anyone that much attention, even his friends, and i know he’d never willingly shell out his weed money, let alone every single time you’re together,” he explains. “i thought the weed lesson was gonna be a one- or two-time thing, not a whole series.”

you didn’t think so either. the time you spend together isn’t even lesson-like anymore, with it just being smoke or tea sessions with endless conversation. there’s no clear definitions, but you know you need to ask jeno’s opinion.

“do you think he likes me? like likes me?” you ask your best friend. it feels silly to ask like that, to have feelings that makes you unable to think of anyone else.

but you ask even though you think you know. you’d be blind to not notice his actions, the look in his eyes, and johnny’s insinuations. jeno’s surprise at his special treatment of you is just further confirmation.

“honestly, in my eyes he’s down bad, but do you like him?” jeno asks, unsure if he’s liking where your conversation is going.

you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t. somewhere along the course of this whole thing, that desire that planted the first time you ever met him grew every time afterward and bloomed into something you could no longer contain.

you never tried to deny it, but you’re realizing this is your first time actually admitting it. you look down, suddenly shy under the focused gaze of your best friend.

“jen, i do. i really do like him,” you confess, entire body warming at the quiet declaration.

jeno’s quiet for a second before letting out a groan in response. you look up to see him with a hand over his face.

“what’s wrong?” you’re slightly offended at that response, but jeno just shakes his head.

“nothing, just always knew he was a corny flirt, just never thought you’d eat that up,” he muses. “he’s annoying, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“should i tell him?” you ask, hoping for advice. jeno shrugs.

“that’s up to you, i don’t know what your relationship with him looks like besides what you’ve told me,” he replies, not giving you an answer you so desperately want. “what i do know is i’ll kick his ass if he ever hurts you, and you can never replace me. got it?”

you lunge at your best friend, squeezing him affectionately and barraging him with promises of unchanging friendship.

you sit at your dining table reading the label of a little bag.

“a friend left this at mine the other day and told me to keep it, but i don’t fuck with weed so you can have it, little miss stoner,” jeno had said, giving you a bag of gummy edibles before dropping you off at home after dinner.

you thanked him for it at the time, taking it with you inside. edibles are the form of weed you are least experienced with. hyuck had explained them briefly, but you’ve never done them with him since he doesn’t really like them too much. he reasoned that smoking helps him control his intake better.

you’re feeling a little daring tonight, however. you have a lot more experience with weed now, and your tolerance has definitely risen.

though you’re a little nervous about trying them without hyuck, it’s too late to call and you feel a bit more confident at your weed capabilities. the you from the beginning of this weed journey would be surprised at how much you’ve changed.

it’s just a little gummy, how bad could it be? plus you have the next day off, kicking that worry. you pull out a single pineapple gummy, splitting it into halves before eating one. you settle into your couch, turning on your tv to let the edible kick in.

when an hour passes and you still don’t feel anything, you’re confused. you look up how long it takes for an edible to hit and check the package for an expiration date, but everything seems fine. has your tolerance risen that much?

you pick up the other half of the gummy, looking at it carefully before deciding it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more. the dosage per piece is not anything concerning, so you eat the other half without thinking too much.

when your eyes start to blur in the next 5 minutes, you know you’ve made a mistake.

you’re glued to your couch, staring at the ceiling as the high runs through your body, feeling a slight tingle from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, coming and going in intense waves. your thoughts race, and 99% of your thoughts are consumed by hyuck, hyuck, and hyuck.

an uncertain amount of time has passed, your phone forgotten somewhere in your apartment, but you feel like you’re in an endless cycle of a million thoughts turning into no thoughts at all, all while your body is experiencing such a new, yet heavy feeling.

the smoking high is definitely different from this edible high, and you start to understand why hyuck prefers the former.

you don’t feel like you’re in control of yourself at all, and the feeling is entirely too overwhelming. the second half of that edible hits, with the high intensifying and your thoughts jumping yet again.

a feeling of dread runs through you.

you had been doing well keeping a general positive/neutral train of thought on that first half of the edible, but the second a single negative thought hits you, you find yourself unable to stop the spiral.

why did you do this to yourself? don’t you need to focus on other things? are you going to let this be another thing that drags you down? what does hyuck really think of you? do you really think he feels the same way as you?

you fight back against your own thoughts, wrestling to tell yourself that everything with him has been nothing but good, but the intensity of this high brings an entirely new side to all of this — paranoia.

hyuck had explained before that paranoia could come with being high, but you had overtime forgotten the possibility. being high has given nothing but good times and relaxation, but all of that could probably be attributed to the company you had getting there.

you don’t even realize you have tears streaming out of your eyes until your hand comes back wet after rubbing your face.

it’s all too much, and more than anything your mind screams that you need hyuck.

you force yourself to get up, hazy eyes looking for your phone, spotting it on the dining table.

12:27am. hyuck should still be awake gaming, and you can only hope that he is. you crumple to the floor as you quickly find his contact and call him.

only one ring passes when he picks up.

“what’s up, sunshine?” his voice rings through the speaker and you can hear the click of his mouse and keyboard in the background. immediately a sense of relief washes through your body, slightly breaking through the high and has the tears flowing harder than before.

“h-hyuck,” you sob, and immediately the sound of clicking stops.

“are you crying? what’s wrong? are you okay?” his concern makes you want to cry even more, but more than that you want him here with you.

“hyuck, i-i took an edible and i think i took too much and i’m so overwhelmed right now — i can’t stop thinking and crying and i’m just so scared,” you weep, and you hear rustling coming from the phone and the clinking of keys before you’re even done with your sentence.

“stay on the phone with me, baby, i’ll be right there, what’s your apartment number?”

he really knows you like the back of his hand. somehow, he knows that what you need most is him. even if he didn’t know that, the fact that he’s rushing over without you even having to ask helps you shut down the voices that tell you he doesn’t care.

10 minutes of affirmations and sweet words come as you cry, trying so desperately to hold back from telling him everything you’ve been feeling, including what you feel about him.

when his call cuts off with a knock at your front door, you stumble over to let him in, legs having fallen asleep from your position on the floor as you called him.

as soon as you open the door and see him, hair freshly washed and in a hoodie and sweats, the anxiety leaves you like a spell. his glasses are slightly fogged, and he’s catching his breath from rushing up here.

the second he gets a glimpse of your puffy eyes and tear streaked face, he comes in, enveloping you in the warmest, tightest hug.

you immediately melt into him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans back against the front door. you stay there for a few minutes, emptying your eyes out as he comforts you.

“hey, why is my pretty girl crying? what are you so scared of? i’m right here,” he coos as one arm remains securely around you as the other hand alternates between patting your head and massaging the back of your neck.

when the tears seem to have subsided, he waddles over with you still in his arms to your living room couch, and you remain firmly attached to him. he checks your face for anymore tears, and when he finds none, sits you on the couch to get you some water.

“where are your cups?” he asks, checking the cabinets, and you tell him there’s bottles in the fridge. you look at him from your spot on the couch, and immediately feel your heart pang.

this is the first time he’s actually been inside your apartment, but you can’t help but think that he looks so perfect here — that your living space somehow feels more complete than it ever has.

when he sits down with you, handing you tissues and water, he has a hand on your arm, rubbing up and down as you gulp down some water, only now realizing how dry your mouth is.

“so you wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours? and who you got these edibles from? because i know it wasn’t fucking me.” some agitation peeks through his otherwise neutral tone, but his eyes are serious as he waits for your answer.

you tell him about how jeno gave it to you, and hand him the package as he reads the label.

“you had one piece right? that should be fine, but it looks like you might be a bit more sensitive to this since it’s your first time with edibles.” he scolds you lightly, tapping your forehead. “still, i wish you would have called me to at least be on the phone with you when you tried it.”

“i-i wanted to, trust me. but it was late and i thought i could handle it,” you explain.

“that’s why i hate those things, only take them when i really want to feel high as shit, but look what they’ve done to you, baby,” he frowns, going back to rubbing your arms up and down. “any weed needs, you come to me, okay? don’t need my girl going to others for that when i’ve got more than enough.”

my girl.

you realize in your hazy state that his usual “sunshine” has been replaced with other, more endearing, names — my girl, my pretty girl, baby. the sound of his voice has always been addicting to you, but the affectionate names leaving his mouth take it a step further.

you want to hear more. with a boldness that could only be fueled by the weed still running its course through your system, you lean into him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“can you call me that again?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“what?” his voice right next to your ear sends chills all over your body.

“you know.. your girl.. i really like how that sounds.” immediately he’s separated from you, hands holding you at the upper arms as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“what?” he repeats again, and you could almost laugh at how shocked he looks at you mentioning a name he called you.

“your girl.. or baby too..” you say, dazed. you are definitely coming down from your high, but the ensuing sleepiness is making you even more honest. but more than anything, you want to be honest with him right now.

“wanna be your baby, hyuck.”

he lets out a pained groan at your words, running a hand over his face.

“__, you’re high as fuck. you don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, bottom lip between his teeth.

“i know what i’m saying,” you hook your finger around his chain, tugging him a little closer. “i want you to be my baby, too.”

you lean in, closing the distance between you as your faces hover just centimeters from each other. hyuck holds his breath, eyes darting from your glossy eyes down to your lips. he can’t help it, eyes getting hazy as you close the distance, kissing him.

he returns your energy, pressing closer to you with his hands grasping your waist. he moves to deepen the kiss, but after a few seconds the pressure on your waist increases, shutting his eyes tighter before pushing you back slightly.

“i hope you still mean this in the morning, because i want to be yours too,” he has a slightly pained smile. “but you’re so high right now, i don’t want to do anything you’d regret once you’re sober.” you whine at him trying to kiss him again while he stops you, holding your shoulders.

“don’t tempt me, you don’t know how hard you’re making this for me, baby.” he gets up, tugging you up along with him. “let’s get you to bed, sunshine.” he lets you lead him to your bedroom, his hands set on your shoulders, and you plop down on your bed, eyes already heavy.

you hold out your arms to him.

“sleep here tonight?” you ask, and he groans after slapping a hand over his eyes.

“you’re testing me,” he chokes out. you jut out your lower lip, but your eyes threaten to shut any moment.

“i’m not testing you, i just want to wake up to you, is that too much to ask?” in his eyes, you look so cute cuddled up in your bed, eyes begging him to stay. his heart soars as he realizes the sight he’s seen in his dreams could be a reality, starting now.

“i really can’t win against you, just give me a second.” he leaves for a little while, turning off the lights throughout your apartment and making sure the front door is locked before sliding into bed with you.

he immediately pulls you by the waist closer to him, and you, drifting to sleep, cuddle into his chest.

“i won’t do anything okay? don’t worry about anything,” he promises sincerely.

“thank you hyuck.. thank you..” you mumble a bit, nuzzling into him further, sleep taking over. he just holds you tighter.

“sleep tight, sunshine.”

that’s the last thing you hear before you enter into a deep, deep sleep, feeling secure and warm wrapped up in hyuck’s arms.

you wake up to soft snoring and long arms wrapped around you, and as you rub the sleep from your eyes his face comes into full view.

hyuck is sleeping so peacefully in front of you, and if one thing remains from your raging high last night, it’s that hyuck just fits perfectly in your space, it feels overwhelmingly good in his arms, and you want him here always.

“i like you,” the words come out as a whisper as you brush some hair from his forehead. he pops one eye open, elliciting a gasp from you.

“all good, sunshine?” he asks, and you nod. in a second he’s closing the distance between you two, laying a tender kiss on your lips. his arms tighten around you as you lean into him, letting yourself indulge in his warm kisses.

“this isn’t a dream right?” you ask sleepily, and he chuckles at the way you open and close your eyes to see if he’s still there.

“you dream about me?” he grins, and you hide your face back in his chest, nodding slowly. “good, because i dream about you too.”

any sleepiness you had has dissipated completely, and you feel like your heart would explode if you met his eyes right now. his hand, however, meets your chin to tilt your head back up.

“i like you too, by the way, if it wasn’t already obvious,” and with his own confession he meets your lips once more.

it takes a while for the two of you to get out of bed, with both of you dozing off and on, sharing lazy kisses and cuddles until hyuck’s stomach starts rumbling.

“maybe we should get something to eat?” you suggest, starting to slip off the blanket. he’s quick to try and stop you, but before he can catch you you’ve stood up, tugging hyuck by the arm.

“5 more minutes, pleaaaase,” he whines, arm going limp at your efforts to get him up.

“it’s already almost dinnertime, hyuck,” you check your phone, surprised at how much time has passed. his glasses sit next to your phone on the nightstand. while you’re distracted, he sits up at the edge of the bed, looking at you with a darker expression.

his hands trail down your waist, squeezing lightly once he reaches your hips. you drop your phone to be met with his hooded eyes trained on your lips. his eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches as he tightens his grip on your hips.

“i think i’d like to eat something else,” he whispers, leaning into your neck, peppering kisses from the bottom of your chin down your throat. you let out a surprised whimper at the sensation, chills running down your arms.

you move your head down, wanting to kiss him, and as if he reads your mind, his lips meet yours with a passion mirroring the one from the night before.

“lay down, let me get my fill, sunshine,” he urges, feeling himself already incredibly hard at the thought of himself between your legs.

“we’ve been in bed all day, we should take showers and eat first or something,” you start, but you’re cut off with a sharp tug, hyuck pulling you beside him. he sinks to his knees by your legs hanging off the bed.

“later, i need you so bad, you have no idea.” his hands move under your shirt as he loops his hands in the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“do you want this, baby?” he asks as you lean back on your arms, meeting his pleading eyes from his spot between your legs. you gnaw on your lip, already feeling the dampness on your panties. you do want this. so bad.

“i want you, hyuck,” you give him the go ahead. he’s more than willing to give you everything you want and more. he pulls your shorts down your legs, groaning at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear.

he pulls that off as well, spreading your lips with his pointer and middle fingers as he admires your core.

“stop staring, it’s embarrassing,” you look away, hips shifting as you feel yourself getting more and more turned on by the second.

“just admiring, baby,” he states warmly, glancing up at your embarrassed expression as he wraps his arms around your legs, hands digging in as he grabs at the flesh of your thighs.

he leans in, licking a stripe from your entrance up to your clit, ending his trail with a swirl of your bud. you moan out at the sensation, clutching at your sheets as he really gets his fill.

he’s messy, tongue going from prodding at your entrance to his face moving side to side over your clit. a growl leaves his throat as he feels your hands move to grip his hair.

“you don’t even know what you were doing to me last night, baby,” he groans into your cunt. “had me going fucking crazy.”

one of his arms unwraps from your thigh, hand pushing at your legs to keep them spread as his long fingers prod at your entrance, one entering you slowly as you grip his hair even tighter. he drags it in and out of you in time with the circles he licks around your clit.

“you’re my baby, right?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through you. he inserts another finger into your entrance and curls them into you, feeling around for a spot that will get you moving just right. he’s stretching you out so well, getting you prepared, wanting you to feel good.

you can’t even respond, already feeling your mind start to wander off, feeling a high so different from every other one he’s shown you. he finds a spot that makes you squeal just a bit higher, and he pistons his fingers in and out to hit that spot just right.

“where’s my sunshine from last night? the one hanging on to me, cute as fuck,” he recalls your high state, how you just melted into him in a different way from how he had you now.

“come on, one more time, don’t you remember? wanna be your baby, hyuck,” raising his voice to a teasing tone in a half-hearted imitation of you. his fingers don’t falter in the slightest.

“please sunshine, let me hear that again?” your mouth, open from the cries leaving you, can’t form any words. he leans down to lay a hard suck on your clit, sending you over the edge as you cry out, legs clamping down on his head as he rides out your orgasm.

he detaches from you as your legs drop, and he stands up between them to get a full view of you fucked out for him.

“fuck, baby, you look so fucking good right now. straight out of my dreams.” he palms himself over his sweats, feeling like he could burst any second, before ripping off his hoodie.

the sight of him standing over you, silver chain lying on his bare chest, is also something out your own dreams. you can feel yourself clench seeing his cock straining through his sweats. you catch your breath, mustering the energy squeeze him between your thighs.

in a second he’s pulling his sweats down, hard member slapping his stomach as he lays it on top of your core, admiring how it looks on your body.

“does my pretty girl need to be filled up?” he teases, pushing your legs up as he starts to tease at your entrance with his tip. you want it so bad, need it.

“then let me hear it, you’re my baby, right?” he lets his tip catch onto your entrance as you gasp.

“f-fuck, hyuck, i’m your baby! i’m your ba-” the second half of the word comes out as a shriek at the feeling of him entering you, bottoming out right away thanks to his prep. the feeling of being so full winds you, stealing the air from your lungs.

he hisses as your pussy grips him, throwing his head up. you can see the vein on his neck protruding, thick neck strained as he tries to get himself in check.

“relax for me, please baby,” he pleads through gritted teeth, circling your clit. “can’t move like this, i’ll cum too soon.”

you breathe in and out as the two of you try to reel it in, and his hips start to move slowly as he feels you adjust to him.

“you’ve been my baby since the day we met,” he breathes out. “since the time you told me you could take it.”

his voice has always been addicting, over the phone, in person, sober or high, but the way he talks to you in this moment just stirs something in your gut. you can’t stop yourself from clenching at his words.

“oh, you like when i talk to you like that?” he pulls out to push you up so your legs are no longer hanging off the bed, making his way to hover above you as he re-enters you.

“you’ve always been so good for me, always so eager to learn, always so willing to take everything i give you,” he lowers himself as he says this straight into your ear. his hips pick up the pace again, hissing at the clench from his words.

“can you, f-fuck, can you take it now?” he breathes out as he feels himself reaching you deeper and deeper.

“i-i can take it, hyuck, i can take it,” you moan out, tears pricking at your eyes as you shut them tight. he’s fucking you so well, and you can only moan as you do just that — take everything he’s giving you.

“you know ’d never do any of this for anyone else, o-only you baby, just wanna make my girl happy,” your heart clenches at his words along with your pussy.

“thought m-my heart was gonna stop when, shit, w-when you called me crying,” his words come out more choked as his hips rut against yours more desperately, starting to feel his own high coming.

“need to be with you a-always, be the only reason you’re crying.” you can only chant his name and yes as you feel the band in your stomach start to get tighter and tighter.

“i’d fucking do anything for you, i’m yours,” he chokes out, and your nails dig into his back.

“i’m your baby, i’m yours, i’m yours,” you repeat, brain unable to form anything else. his kisses your neck before moving his head back above you, his chain swinging against your face as his pelvic bone slaps against your clit harshly.

he moves his head up to kiss you deeply, messy remnants of your own arousal still on his toungue. the bed is creaking under the harsh movements as you get closer and closer.

tears stream down the sides of your face as the band snaps, sending you hurling over the edge as your back arches, gripping onto him tightly.

he curses under his breath repeatedly, hips stuttering to push through the tightness as he cums inside with a loud groan, pushing his head into your neck as he fills you up completely.

he goes limp on top of you, lying there for a bit as you both catch your breath. his softening cock is still inside of you, and you can feel yourself getting drowzy until his stomach rumbles.

he hisses as he pulls out, rolling over to lie down next to you. you turn your head to look at him, entire body spent. your eyes meet his, so soft and full of awe. he looks just as worn, but little do you know, he’s just getting started.

“round 2 after dinner?”

the next morning, a half-asleep hyuck nuzzles you to wake you up, having set an alarm for your work shift.

“sleep okay, sunshine?” his morning voice is deep and groggy, and it’s taking everything in you to not call out for the day.

you feel pretty well rested until you realize how sore your entire body is as soon as you try to wiggle out of his bear hug. his arms wrapped around you are unmoving as he tries unsuccessfully to fully wake himself up as well.

forcing yourself to sit up, you rub your sore back. his hands are still stubbornly attached to your form.

“like a baby,” you reply. you grab your phone, checking your schedule for today, concluding that it’s flexible enough to take a sick day. you text your manager, settling back into hyuck’s arms as you tell him you’re staying home. eyes still half-closed, he presses kisses into every part of your face his lips can find.

“good.” his response is simple as he speaks with his actions, pulling you in closer as the two of you drift back into sleep.

you’re content knowing that your mission to get rid of your sleeping problem was a 100% success, in more ways than just through weed, and that it’s ending with you having more than you could have asked for.

end.

a/n: if you got to the end, thank you so much for reading!!! i know i say this about every fic i've written, but this one was truly truly self-indulgent. it's my first full fic for my ult, longest fic yet, and a birthday present to myself :')

i really appreciate all the support for everything even though i have long gaps between releases. i have had sm fun, and i hope you all enjoy!! this one's more plot than porn but it's def getting a pt2 that's the opposite (it's already planned). thank you again, feedback always loved and appreciated!!

disclaimer: know your limits when consuming weed of any kind. also not all edibles are bad and can be so chill, just for my personal experience my own tolerance of edibles is low compared to smoking 😭 reactions/tolerances vary among people (edibles work better than smoking for many!) but pls be in safe place or with trusted people if you are trying weed for the first time !!!

-coco ♡

#coco writes #nct smut #haechan smut #nct x reader #haechan x reader #stoner!nct #nct imagines #nct hard thoughts

[illusioninfnty]

day 6 ; dry humping

↠ monkey d. luffy x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, dual virgins, luffy and reader are inexperienced, jealous!luffy if you squint, takes place a bit after opla season 1 so luffy is aged up

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Luffy?” You call for your captain, peeking your head into his quarters. “Is everything okay?”

You noticed that your cheery and optimistic captain had been unusually quiet the past few hours. He never had gone that long without some sort of exclamation or crazy action, and his odd behavior was worrying to you. So when he finally retreated to his room, you decided to follow to see what was up.

“Oh!” Luffy’s eyes widen, as he says your name, clearly surprised to see you. He sends you a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug, going inside and closing the door behind you. You take a seat next to him on his bed. “I don’t know,” you start. “You just seem…distant. You can tell me what's bothering you.”

Luffy sighs, taking off his hat to run a hand through his curls. “I don’t know how to describe it. I feel just so frustrated. But no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of it!”

You were confused too, unsure why Luffy wasn’t able to brush this off like he always did. Until a lightbulb went off. You remember Sanji mentioning urges that men get sometimes, and how they need a woman to fix it.

“It sounds like you might have some tension, you know, down…there.”

Luffy pauses, taking in what you said, before his eyes brighten. “I think you’re right!” he exclaims. “Oh wow, that makes a lot of sense now.” He goes quiet again, a sheepish look spreading across his face. “I don’t know how to get rid of it, though.”

You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think I’m able to help you with it.”

Luffy jumps up and grasps your shoulders. “Alright!” he cheers. He sits back down next to you and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly in thought. “That actually makes a lot of sense. The feeling always gets worse whenever I’m around you. I guess you have to be the one to fix it then, huh?”

“O-oh.” You stutter. Not only did you just discover that your captain (who you may have had a tiny bit of a crush on) was sexually frustrated, but he was like that because of you. A wave of heat rushed down your body.

“Yeah.” You confirm to Luffy, hoping to not seem too excited about this whole situation. “I just have to get on top of you.”

Luffy nods, spreading his legs and leaning back on his forearms, inviting you in. You immediately notice the boner he’s sporting, which makes you heat up even more. You seat yourself right on top of it, causing the two of you to moan harmoniously.

You start to move yourself on top of Luffy, his clothed cock hitting your pussy in the perfect spot. The fabric of your underwear rubs against your clit, causing your wetness to begin to stain it.

You reach your hand down to palm him through his shorts, hoping that you're bringing him pleasure from at least one of two ways. Luffy looks up at you with curious eyes.

“How’d you know to do this?” he asks you.

“I heard Sanji talking about it. He says guys feel like that a lot. Pent up, ‘s what he called it.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Have you done this with him?”

“W-what? No!” Your hands scrunch up in his vest and you swallow hard. “This is actually my first time doing anything like this,” you admit sheepishly, eyes downcast.

Luffy grins. “Yeah, me too!” he says brazenly. “Guess we’ll figure out how to do this together!” He laughs. 

You send a matching grin back as you continue to grind on top of him. You’re practically sopping now, an audible sound happening when you rock back and forth on Luffy. His cock throbs furiously, and you gasp when he grabs your hips.

He starts to rock back onto you, pumping his hips upwards into you. You lean forward as the sensation weakens you, and Luffy buries his face into your neck.

“Feels good…” he mumbles into you. You hum in agreement as you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure.

You increase your pace, wrapping your arms around Luffy as you both press close against the other, grinding each other uncontrollably. 

Luffy suddenly stills your hips and moves you onto the bed, face down and ass hanging off the edge. You gasp in surprise.

“Want to try this,” he breathes out as he hovers over you. You’re met with him thrusting against you from behind, hips moving wildly as he lets out low groans behind you. Luffy wraps his arms around your midsection, holding you in place.

You’re strung out and helpless as Luffy humps into you, his pulsing cock hitting against your clit. Your wetness has fully soaked your bottoms, and Luffy is able to thrust his cock between your clothed lips with ease.

Your captain moves with reckless abandon, hips jutting against your own. Neither of you can talk past groans and whines. This act feels primal, both of you desperately chasing your release.

His hands on your waist tightens as he humps into you and his groans are loud in your ear. You arch yourself into him, attempting your best to rub yourself against his cock.

He moans out your name into the crook of your neck as his body covers your own. “You feel really great,” he continues, his voice cracking. He moves faster and faster against you, seeking his peak. 

Your hands fist the bedsheet as you bounce back and forth against his thrusts and grinds against your clothed pussy. “Luffy!” you cry out. You can feel his hips start to move out of rhythm and he lets out a final low moan before you feel the stickiness of his cum seep through his shorts and onto your own.

Both of you are panting furiously, tired from your romp. Luffy rolls off of you, collapsing next you on the bed. You turn yourself onto your back and lean towards him, basking in the pleasure you just received.

Luffy turns his head towards you. “I don’t want you to do that with anyone else on the crew.” He says, with more seriousness than you’ve heard from him all night.

“I wouldn’t think of it.” You hesitate to continue as you prepare for disappointment with your next statement. “But—if you want, we can do this again soon. If you’d like to.�� You mentally hit yourself in the head for stumbling over your words so embarrassingly.

He sits up, seemingly recovered from his orgasm. “Are you kidding? You don’t even need to ask! ‘Course we are!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around your captain and giggling into his chest.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #one piece smut #monkey d luffy x reader #opla x reader #opla luffy #one piece live action #one piece live action x reader #monkey d luffy smut #opla luffy x reader

[surftrips]

luke x daughter of aphrodite!! maybe a super cute fluff where they help luke show percy around and just their experience with percy!

-🥽 anon

stop this prompt is soo cute ! thanks for sending it in <3

"You okay?" Luke asked the newest camper in his cabin.

"Super."

"We all have them, you know." Luke clicked his tongue. "Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else."

"So are you also... Do you not know who your..." the blonde boy began to ask.

"Am I unclaimed?" Luke shook his head. "No, Hermes is my father. That doesn't matter though, we're all on the same team here."

"Why is it okay they ignore some of us?"

"Spend too much time figuring out what the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you can stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer."

"And what's that?"

Luke smiled, guiding Percy out the door to show him the rest of camp.

The two boys ran into Clarisse and the Ares kids first. Luke explained to Percy that the Ares kids were always confrontational and brutally honest, but he had nothing to worry about, as long as he was around.

"Come on, let's go figure out what you're good at."

After crossing off archery and metalworking, and dodging several near death experiences, they sat down for lunch.

"Is there a Greek god of disappointment?" Percy sighed.

"We're gonna find the thing you're good at, I know it," Luke reassured him. "We should try-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Luke's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face, causing Percy to turn around.

A girl came over to Luke's side of the table and kissed the top of his head. "Hi, love."

Luke beamed, turning toward Percy. "Y/N, this is Percy, I'm giving him the tour. Percy, Y/N. She's in Aphrodite."

That much he could tell, Percy thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.

"Ah, bonjour! Comment ça va?" she asked him.

Percy looked confused, only recognizing the first part of the sentence. "Uhhh... hello?"

Y/N smiled softly, "Guess he's not in Aphrodite then. Any luck finding out your skill, Percy?"

"No, unforunately," Percy grumbled.

"Aw, don't worry. Soon enough you'll be like Luke here," she had moved to sit in his lap by now, one of his arms curled around her waist. "Did you know he's the best swordsman at camp?"

She looked at Luke proudly, Percy swore he saw hearts instead of pupils in her eyes.

"I think it's come up once or twice," Percy responded.

The Aphrodite girl smiled again, "Have you shown Percy the lake yet?" she asked Luke.

"No, not yet. Do you want to come with us?"

"You mean, do I want to show him the place where we met? Is that even a question?"

The trio finished up their food and headed back outside. Y/N led the way, her presence enough to clear a path in the group of campers idling outside. Luke and Percy followed a few feet behind her.

"So... how long have you two been...?" Percy asked shyly.

"Three years. Since we were 16," Luke responded. Though Percy had only known Luke for about a day at this point, he couldn't help but notice how Luke's entire demeanor had changed since Y/N's arrival.

"Oh, wow. That's a long time."

"I got really lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I got here, I had nobody. I mean, there was Annabeth and Thalia, but they're like my sisters. Y/N was the one that showed me what love is."

"Is that what you meant earlier? About enjoying what this place has to offer?"

He smiled. "You might be surprised, Percy."

"Are you boys coming or not?" Y/N called back toward them.

"Yes, ma'am!" Luke yelled back, jogging up to where she was. They were almost at the lake by then.

"So, Percy, anyone at camp catch your eye yet?" Y/N asked, her hand wrapped around Luke's arm.

"Babe, he just got here." Luke said.

"So? I knew I liked you the second we met."

Luke blushed, caught off guard by her sincerity. That was one thing he wasn't sure he would ever get over, her ability to express her emotions so unabashedly. It was something he still struggled with from time to time, but for her, he would let down all of his walls.

"I wouldn't say I have a crush on her or anything- she kinda just scares me but she did catch my attention," Percy interrupted Luke's thoughts.

"What's her name?" Y/N asked.

"Annabeth, I think."

Y/N nodded knowingly, looking over at Luke. "Well, I guess we'll just see if anything special blooms there. Anyway, we're here!"

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon now, painting the sky in beautiful hues of purple and pink. A gentle breeze accompanied the three as they sat down by the water.

Y/N leaned against Luke's body, savoring the warmth he offered. He absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair.

"Three years ago, I was sitting right here, when I saw someone a few feet away from me. He was throwing rocks into the lake and disturbing my peace," Y/N began. "When I looked over to see who it was-"

"You saw the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on," Luke cut in.

"Hey!" Y/N playfulled smacked his shoulder. "I know you've heard this story one hundred times but Percy hasn't yet."

"Yeah, I haven't yet!" Percy backed her up.

The two older campers laughed. "Thank you, Percy. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I saw this boy with curly dark hair and soft brown eyes, and I thought that's him. He's the one. This was before I was claimed by Aphrodite, but I just had a feeling, you know?"

Percy nodded, even though he wasn't sure he had experienced that feeling yet.

"But anyway, this boy looked kind of sad, so I decided to sit next to him."

"I think that's why he was throwing rocks into the water," Percy broke in.

Y/N giggled and Luke nudged her shoulder to continue.

"You're right, Percy, I had the same thought. When I sat next to him, I sensed that he was annoyed."

"Okay, love, let me finish from here." Luke softly kissed her shoulder and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"I wasn't annoyed-" he clarified. "At least, not at you. I had just been claimed by my father, but I was still frustrated with the whole idea of gods having children and just ignoring them. Then, this angel sat next to me and for the first time, I felt seen."

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, her face full of nothing but admiration. No matter how many times she heard this part of the story, she still couldn't believe how she got quite so lucky.

"Percy, our parents may never redeem themselves for their wrongdoings, but I thank the gods every day they sent me Y/N." With that, Luke gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

"Hello! As lovely as this story is, still a minor here!" Percy waved his hand in front of their faces enthusiastically, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.

#🥽 anon #luke castellan prompt #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #charlie bushnell

[whoistartaglia]

delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham headcanon #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x reader #al haitham fluff #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham imagine #genshin impact imagines

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Peeping Tom

Smut and Story Building (Blackmail, Deep Penetration, Defloration, Creampie, Rough Sex, First Time, Choking, Light BDSM, objectification)

Chapter 6

3,585 Words

(You encounter a peeping Tom as you have fun with one of your assistants. She tries to use her newfound information against you, but instead, you end up using her. By the end, you found yourself a new toy to play with.)

You return to your office with IU after a business meeting outside the company. The two of you talk about what just occurred during the last few days and how busy it’s going to get moving forward. 

“How does it feel receiving your first private jet, sir?”

“I’m excited; I remember riding on my father’s jet when I was younger and always wanted one of my own. Now I just need to get it customized, and I’ll be able to use it.”

“Before that, we need to hire a flight attendant.”

“That’s true.”

“What about asking your father for one of his?”

“No, I'd rather get someone that has nothing to do with my father. I don’t want them to tell him anything about my business.”

“I’ll try to put a post online to hire an assistant.”

“Sounds good.”

“Any requirements?”

“Someone not too old, eye candy. You know my tastes.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Also, any news on Big Hit and JYP?”

“I’ve heard that they are suffering a bit money-wise, so I think they are going to accept your offer.”

“Let’s see what they say. I don’t want to buy them outright, but I do want to hold a good chunk of shares, especially Big Hit. Bang Si-Hyuk seems like a pretty cool guy. He gave me a tour of his small building and even introduced me to his debuting group a while back. I really want to help the guy.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy with anything you give him, sir.”

“Let’s see how it goes.”

IU then hands you some documents and says, “This is some information I found out about JYP Entertainment. If you look at the third page, you can see that JYP was going to debut a new girl group under the name “6MIX,” but it fell through.”

“Oh, it seems like they had a hard time debuting due to one of their members leaving.”

“Yes, they added another member, Sana. It seemed like they were going to debut, but another of their leader also left the company, so they ended up scrapping the whole thing.”

“Poor girls, so much hard work and training to debut only to have it scrapped.”

“Yes, one in particular has been in their company for a long time. I heard she’s a very good singer.”

“Oh really? If JYP accepts the help, maybe I can ask him to release them from their contracts and send them my way.”

“I’ll keep you posted if there is any news, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Would that be all, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I have a meeting with one of the girls, so I’ll head to my office.”

“Actually, I’m going to grab a bite at the cafeteria, so I’ll walk with you.” 

The two of you walk towards the hallway, slap IU's ass, and walk the opposite from each other. Little did you know that you were seen by someone, the person IU was going to have a meeting with.

———— 

You get a message from IU that she has received some inflation about the deal with Big Hit and JYP as you are coming from the gym. It’s been a few days since you got any information, so you’re excited to see what’s going on. Without changing, you walk into her office, sit on the couch, and listen to some good news. 

You might not have noticed that Jennie has been curious about the relationship you and IU have since she’s a higher-up than you. She doesn’t know about your real position in the company and only thinks of you as one of the staff members. She was shocked when she saw you slapped IU on her ass and decided to follow you after that. 

Today, she had another meeting with IU and planned on having a light snack at the cafeteria before meeting up with her. Since she finished early, she decided to head up to the administration floor and relax on the outdoor patio before the meeting. She exits the elevator and makes it to the top floor. Jennie walks down the hallway and notices how quiet it is. She wandered around and found Irene’s and the CEO's office before hearing a faint noise coming from the hall. She quietly makes her way to the noises and gets to IU’s office from where the noise is coming from. 

Jennie tries to listen and places her ear by the door. She hears moaning coming from the other side. She tries to make up what the people instead are saying and can only decipher the male voices yelling that he’s going to cum. 

After some silence, she notices that the voices are getting nearer and runs towards the opposite side of the hallway to where the patio is. She peeks her head out and sees you coming out the door and IU fixing her skirt. 

“What the fuck, were they fucking in her office?”

“Omg, he’s getting it on with a higher-up in the company. Maybe I can use this.” 

———— 

Later that night, you get a message from Jennie from your staff phone. You read the message, and it is asking you for help moving some items around the house. You’re not in the mood to message her that you can do it tomorrow, but she is persistent. 

Somewhat annoyed, you put on a shirt and head down the elevator to the floor where their apartment is. You ring the doorbell, and Jennie opens the door within a few seconds. She wears a loose crop top and small shorts that show off her petite body. 

“You said you needed to move some stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the living room.”

You walk to the living room and see the items she was referring to. You spend about ten minutes moving the things, and Jennie is watching you up close the whole time.

“Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright, I’m going. I’m tired.”

“Okay, but I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Please, don’t. The stuff wasn’t that heavy. Maybe try moving it between the five of you before calling me.”

You can tell that Jennie got upset by this based on her facial expression. “I don’t know why you’re complaining; it's part of your job.”

“It’s not. I was just doing this as a favor since you all just moved into the apartment, but that was a few months ago. You girls can figure stuff out,” as you grab your phone and head for the door. 

Upset, Jennie yells, “If you’re going to be a douchebag about it all like the CEO, you’re messing around with his assistant.” 

You turn around and see a grin on her face, blackmailing you. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know that the two of you were fucking in her office the other day.”

“Lies.” 

“I saw smack her ass a while back, and this time, you were leaving her office, and she was skirted and had a smile on her face.”

“If that’s true, how would you know?”

“I heard the two of you doing it.”

“No one is going to believe you.”

“Hmph, I wouldn’t be so sure. I have the CEO’s number.”

“You’re bluffing. You don’t have his number.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, holding her phone out.

“Alright, do it.”

“Okay, I will” and is about to press the call button but then says, “actually, he might be busy with important stuff. I don’t want to bother him.” 

You know she doesn’t have your actual work number, so you tease her, “I don’t think he’s busy. Why don’t we go visit him and tell him the situation? I think he would be more than happy to hear about it.” 

You can see her expression change, and she says, “No, I think we can just leave it like that.”

You grab her waist, “Let’s clear things up. I don’t want rumors that I’m messing with the CEO’s assistant.” You pull her hand, exit her apartment, walk towards the elevator, and press the button for the top floor.

Jennie looks nervous but tries to hide her expression. “He’s going to be upset that we’re bothering him.”

“I don’t think so, plus you’re blackmailing me.”

When you arrive at the top floor, the elevator rings, and you both exit and walk towards the hallway. You ring the doorbell, but there is no answer. 

With a faint smile of relief, Jennie says, “See, he’s not here, so let me waist go.”

“Hmm… let me try something.” You press the numbers on the keypad and hear a ring, unlocking the door.

“How did you do that?”

You pull Jennie and lock the door. “Seems like no one is home. CEO-nim! Jennie and I are looking for you!”

“Stop, he’s going to be made that we’re inside his home. Let’s go.” 

“No, I don’t want to; let’s have a bit of fun.” You walk towards the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab a beer. “He has some good taste, nice.”

“Leave it; he’s going to get mad!”

“No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he is. I heard that he’s mean.”

“Really? They said that?”

“Irene said that he makes them work to the bone.”

“No, I don’t. Wait until I see her tomorrow.”

Jennie’s reaction changes, and she says, “What did you say?”

“Nothing, forget about it.”

“You said something.” She stops, looks around, and walks to the living room. She sees pictures of you and freezes. 

Frozen for also a minute, she turns around and says, “Are you CEO-nim?”

You want to play it off, but know that the gig is over. Instead, you smile and say, “Dang, you caught me. Surprise!”

Many things go through her mind, like how she ordered you around the apartment, teased you, and even tried to blackmail you. 

“So what’s this about having my phone number and blackmailing me about fucking IU.”

Jennie gets on her knees, rubs her hands together, and begs, “I’m sorry. I was just joking around. I didn't mean it.”

“It wasn’t funny. Why did you do it?”

She bites her lip and tries to come up with a reason, saying, “I don’t know. I just wanted to tease you a bit and got jealous.”

“Jealous? What for?”

“You’re my type, and when I saw you and IU, I wanted to blackmail you so you can do whatever I say.”

“You know, that could have really gone bad and gotten someone hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“If you’re sorry, how will you take responsibility?”

“Ehh?”

“You said I’m your type, and you’re pretty cute yourself. How about we have some fun?”

Jennie can’t believe what your words. She knows she said that you’re her type, but that was as a staff/trainer. Now that she learned you’re the one in charge of the company, she doesn’t want to do anything that might endanger her chance at debuting but, at the same time, finds it kind of hot. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“What do you think?” giving her a smirk.

Jennie knows what you’re thinking; it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it herself. You come close to her and grab her small behind, causing her to yelp.

She’s being this close to her. You know that she’s small and petite, “too, like a doll.”

“What?”

Instead of replying, you pick her up, carry her to the guestroom, and toss her onto the bed. 

“Wait… what are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were. I’m telling you what I’m going to do to you.”

Jennie is stunned by your words. The image of you has been turned 360 from ordering you around to the other way around. Deep down, she can’t help but feel small and submissive by someone so huge and powerful enough to change her life.

“Okay, I understand.”

“Since you do, then strip. I want to see what I’m going to be working with.”

Jennie gets off the bed and stands in front of you. She slowly begins to undress herself, taking off her crop top and her small shots.

Now in underwear, she shyly takes off her bra, revealing her small, cute breasts. She tries to cover them, “Don’t forget the bottom.”

You smile as she hesitates to pull down her panties and whines, “Do I really have to pull them down?”

“Do you want me to do them for you? Just letting you know that I won’t be gentle.”

“I…I’ll do it then,” as she slowly pulls them down until it drops on the floor and quickly cover her cunt. 

“Take your hands off.”

“But…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

 Jennie removes her hands, revealing her semi-bare cunt. 

“Fuck, you have a pretty-looking pussy and a nice pair of tits. Lay down on the bed and spread that pussy for me.”

Jennie feels embarrassed but does what you told her. She lays on the bed and puts her legs up. She tries to spread her legs, but the idea of spreading them open and showing her pussy to someone for the first time is nerve-wracking. 

“Spread them more!”

She widens her legs until you see her whole cunt in view. With both her index and middle fingers, she slowly spreads her pussy lips, giving you a view of her unused cunt. “How’s this?”

“Hot. You’re making me hard.”

“Really? I’m making you hard?”

“Yeah. Want to see?”

Jennie has never seen a cock before in real life, only on the internet when she would masturbate while in the dorms. Seeing one in real life is making her both nervous and excited, “yeah. I want to see it.”

You undo the bottom and drop your buttons, leaving only your boxers and a large bulge in sight. 

Jennie can feel her heart beating faster as you pull down your boxers, which makes your cock springs out. “Wow, it’s so big. Can I touch it?”

“Of course,” you say with a grin.

Jennie, with her index finger, touches the tip of your cock and throbs, “Haha, it’s likes me.”

“How about grabbing it with your two hands?”

“Okay, but I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap my hands around it.” With her small hands, she tries to wrap her hand, almost touching her fingertips.

Turned on, you ask, “Can I take a picture?”

Jennie looks up at you and smiles, “Sure, you’re the boss, right? I have no say.”

“Glad to see you know your place.”

You grab your phone and take a shoot of Jennie handling your cock. “Try putting it in your mouth.”

“Like this?” as she uses the tip of her tongue to lick the head of your cock. “Yes, just like that.”

You record her slowly licking your length, your shaft, pulling the head in her mouth, and even her trying to take a bit of your cock in her mouth as she plays with her cunt.

“Fuck… I knew you were a slut” you say as she has your cock in her mouth. “Hmmm… I’ll be your slut, Daddy,” giving you a devilish smile. You grab her chin in between your hands and say, “We’re going to get along very well.” 

She stands and lays on the bed once more and willingly spreads her legs for you, spreading her pussy, and says, “Make sure you get a picture of this.” 

“You know how to turn on a guy, huh.”

“I just want to please you, Daddy. Plus, I want everyone to know that you’re going to be my first.” 

You can’t wait any longer; you need to fuck her now. You set the phone down, walked back, and spread her legs. She grabs your cock and presses it against her belly, and asks, “Is all of that going inside of me?”

“It’s going to go right in here and reach all the way up here,” as you trace your finger and her wet cunt all the way up to her belly button. 

“Fuck me already, Daddy. Make me a real woman,” begs Jennie.

You grab your cock and rub your shaft against her wet lower lips, spreading them and covering them in her sticky nectar. “I’m going to put it in; just relax.” She balls up her waist against her chest, “Okay.” 

Jennie nervously watches as you align your massive cock against her small entrance, waiting for you to be her first and only cock she’s ever going to taste. 

You press the tip on your cock and slowly insert yourself until you reach her thin barrier, which separates her from womanhood. You look directly into her eyes, signaling that you’re going to go all the way into it. She nods back and tries to prepare herself for what’s to come. 

You grab her small waist and, without mercy, put your weight onto her petite body and slam yourself into her fresh womb. “Fuck!!! I’m cumming; you’re too big; you’re making me cum!”

Jennie’s body spasms, and she tilts her head back as she feels her orgasm overwhelming her. 

“Haha, you just came from me putting it in? Let’s see how many times you cum.”

You don’t let her rest and put her into a mating press. She groans from not being able to ride off her orgasm, “Daddy, wait. You’re going to make me cum again. Let me rest.”

“A girl like you doesn’t deserve to rest; you’re my sex toy. I get to use you however I want,” slamming yourself inside her once again. 

Jennie cries as she feels her insides being rearranged by your cock, “Ahh, you’re messing me up inside! I won’t be able to with anyone beside you! Fuck…you’re stretching my small pussy out!”

Watching her becoming a mess is getting you more turned on. Even if it’s her first time, she’s a natural. You place your hand on her neck and firmly tighten your grip. Jennie panics when she feels your hand choking her, puts her hands around your arms, and looks at you in terror. “Shh… baby girl, calm down; I’m not going to hurt you, just something the both of us to enjoy. Trust me.”

Directly looking at you, she lets go of her hands and instead focuses on you, thrusting inside of her. “You feel so tight, Jennie; I feel like cumming already,” as you tighten the grip of your hand around her neck. 

You see Jennie trying to speak, so you loosen your grip, “Ahhh… cum… cum inside me, Daddy. I… I want to feel your cum in my tummy.”

You tighten your grip on her neck again as you fuck her roughly, only hearing the sound of both your flesh against each other. Little by little, you feel your peak approaching, a cold sensation in your back. 

“Fuck… I’m going to dump all my cum in your tight little pussy!” 

You feel all your cum shoot deep inside Jennie’s womb with your thick cum. Her eyes roll back from how tight you’re choking her as you pump a large load. Her body starts to go limp from the lack of air, so you let go of her neck and see the imprint of your hand around it. 

Immediately, Jennie gasps for air and comes back to her senses. “You’re such a good girl, Jennie. I think you’re going to be my favorite toy from now on.” 

She gives you a weak smile, grabs your hand, and places it back around her neck, “Keep fucking me, Daddy. I’m your dirty like toy.”

The two of you keep fucking all night long, every time you pump your cum in and on her body. At the end, you take a series of photos and videos of your work, Jennie’s body covered in cum and her cunt oozing out a mixture of both your juices.

—————

You wake up the next day and see Jennie under your arms. You try to get up, but she’s holding on to you. Rubbing her eyes, she turned around and said, “Good morning, Daddy.”

“Good morning, Jennie. How are you feeling?”

“Sore. I can still feel some of your cummies in my tummy. I feel my pussy gaped. I don’t think I'll be able to get married anymore, haha.”

“Good. You’re mine, anyways.”

“Jealous?”

“No. I just got like sharing my toys.” You grab her by the neck with a firm grip and say, “Don’t forget that, okay? You’re mine.”

“Yes, Daddy,” as she feels your strong hand choking her. 

You let her go and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. Jennie looks at her phone and sees text messages from her group mates asking if she visited her mom since she didn’t sleep at the apartment. 

Jennie replies to them and immediately gets an idea that makes her smile excitedly, “Daddy.”

“Yes.”

“Since I’m your sex toy, how about making the rest of us your toys?”

“You mean your groupmates?”

“Yeah, how bout it? Sounds like fun, right?”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea; I’ll think about it.”

#kpop smut #male reader #jennie #jennie smut #blackpink smut #kim jennie #TM smut #kpop male reader #kpop reader #kpop idol smut #kpop x reader #idol x male reader #girl idol smut #reader x idol #idol x reader #idol smut #blackpink x reader #defloration idol smut #defloration smut #g idol first time smut #first time idol smut

[peaachypie]

Video

Warning :

(camgirl, masturbation male and female, mention of porn video)

Miguel is a stressed man.

Always working, doesn't have time to rest properly neither to go outside and have his way with women.

But it happen, sometime when finaly sit on his chair to have a small break.

Ding !

Turning his blood red eyes to his phone he stare at the notification.

"@.peachie♡ is on live ! Don't miss it ;) "

When he click on it, you were there all smiling and welcoming everyone with those revealing clothes. Even a blind person could see your nipple through the fabric of the shirt. You were smiling, saying how much you missed your fan.

" you're so pretty !"

" spread your legs for daddy sweet girl..."

" can't wait to see those tits bouncing "

It was the comment you always had. You never answers to them. If they wanted to, they need to pay and Miguel knew it.

Some people might say it's easy money, or dirty money but for you it was just money. Doesn't give a shit from who it's from and how you make it.

You were talking about thing most people don't listen but he did.

Miguel always listen, he never comment.

He just listen.

@.Miguel_Ohara send 2k to @.Peachie♡

" thanks you Miguel ! Aw so...so sweet !"

You clap your hands, bending over to " see " the notification. Your breast exposed from the position. Miguel doesn't use his money for himself ... why not for you ?

The night keep going with that.

Miguel send money and you show some part of yourself until it was interesting for him and the others viewer.

" h...haa...t...thanks Miguel...!"

You breath heavily, as your finger move inside your hole with wet sound coming out.

Miguel watch, sighing against his teeth before looking down at his crotch. His aching cock pulsing against his holographic suit.

The sound of your moan and whine echo in the empty office as he let his cock break free in a small whimper.

He comment in private. He doesn't want people to see his public comment. It wasn't the first time you talked with on in private chat and it was where he mostly ask his request. He doesn't let his need come often, but when he does. He does it good.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you read the paragraph he send you, the way he describe you and the dirty talk but in a polite way. It was a lot. It was too much. It was often odd for the viewer to see how you played with yourself when someone gave you money, almost like if it was boring for you but when it come to him, everything was so much better, so much powerfull.

They couldn't see what Miguel told you, but by the expression on your face, it was good.

Miguel moves his hand on his cock, his thumb stroking his tip as precum would slowly run down his lenght. His eyes were almost close, as he let escape some whimper from his lips. Bitting his bottom lips to hold himself.

Watching you pleasure yourself was so pretty to watch. Hearing you cry his name and the fast " thanksyouthanksyou " you said everytime you reach an orgasm was music to his ears.

His start moving faster on his throbbing cock. His was so desesperate, he wanted to come with you, to come in you.

To watch you cum in person as you would thanks him for giving you his hard cock.

He scratch his desk with his talons, his cum coming out on his hand and lower stomach.

When he turn back his eyes to the screen, you were breathless, making a heart with your hand.

" thanks you all for watching ! See you next time ♡"

The live end on this.

Miguel take some time to think, to have some rest from his lewd activity before his phone ring again.

Peachie♡ send you a message :

" You're one, even THE only one always here and you send me a lot. You're a good fan♡

I was thinking that ... If one day you want to make a video with me, it would be my pleasure ♡"

His eyes widden at this message.

A video with you ? Did he wish too hard ?

His face goes hard again when his holographic assistant appear.

" aw come on big guy, you could have dress yourself !"

" Lyla, shut up please. I'm tired."

" too tired to do a video ?"

She says with a teasing grin as he groan in a slightly annoyed expression.

" I don't have time for video or whatever it is."

He clean himself and dress up, standing ready to leave for his apartment in Nueva York.

" you have nothing on wednesday ..."

He turn his eyes to the " innocent " face of his assistant. He leave in silence.

@Miguel.Ohara : are you busy on wednesday ?

@.Peachie♡ : i can be busy with you :)

@.Miguel.Ohara : you're gonna be.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse

[luveline]

could I get some miguel aftercare pls 🙏🙏🙏

cw suggestive content mdni !! I actually loved writing this it was the highlight of my day, thank you for requesting. fem, 1k

“You’re doing that thing,” Miguel says. 

You’re breathless where he’s fine, voice lost as you ask, “What thing?” 

He smooths his hands across either side of your face briefly. “Locking up. Relax, sweetheart. Catch your breath.” 

You cover your face with your hands but end up too hot, the back of your neck wet with sweat and your face glowing with heat. Miguel laughs softly, blowing cool air up and down your face where he lays beside you. 

He’d usually call you cariño or some other pet name in his native tongue, so sweetheart is out of the blue but no less affectionate. You close your eyes against his cold breath and slouch toward him, where you’re quickly held in his arms again, his voice quieter as he asks, “You okay?” 

“Mm.”

“Yeah?” He works the soft cup of your bra back down over your chest, pressing a kiss to the hill of your breast. “You sure?” he asks, your skin warmed by his breath. 

You curl down around him, trying to keep him there, your face in his hair and your knee sliding up his thigh as you turn onto your side. 

You’re hot all over and aching, but not unhappy. You walk a careful path up his chest and shoulder to his neck, your fingers brushing over the soft surface of his skin one centimetre at a time, not dragging, just touching, searching for his face. You hold his cheek in your hand and kiss his hair, not caring if it’s slightly ineffectual. He’ll know what you’re trying to convey either way. 

Sex with Miguel nearly always leaves you like this. More than satisfied, desperate to be hugged, and desperate to impress upon him how much he means to you if the sex hadn’t already. Your hand moves with him as he lifts his head to yours, eyes aligned, the familiar hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“You want me to open a window?” 

“I love you,” you say, because what you want is reassurance that it felt the same for him. 

His voice is velvet. “I love you. Te adoro. When I look at you… me dejas sin aliento.”

“Tell me,” you mumble. 

“I can’t breathe.” 

You tip your head back with a laugh, “That’s ironic,” you say. 

He chases you there, his nose down the curve of your throat and his hands pressing behind your back, wrapping you in, hugging you and kissing under your ear, bridging the gap again. It’s weird to be so together, to feel like one person and to have that end, but he hugs you and it’s nearly the same. It’s a different kind of connection. It eases your heart, calms your hot flush. 

“You are beautiful,” he affirms. “I just have better stamina.” 

“Don’t say stamina.” 

“You’re jealous of my stamina, and that’s okay.” He smiles into your neck before kissing it tenderly. 

Moments of this Miguel are rare. He’s so happy, you only get to see him as uninhibited in moments of intense connection, though that can be anything with him. A teasing remark as he helps you up the short step of the tram or a shared smile when you lean back into his chest for no reason at all, knowing he’ll take your weight. 

You savour it. He’s got a good heart. 

And a great physique. “Doesn’t count. You got it all from a bottle.” 

His lips part. “Oh?” he says, the slight scratch of his teeth sending shivers down your arms. 

His lips close in a soft, soft kiss. Miguel pulls away from you to sit up a touch, and then he’s caressing your hip and your knee like he can sense the ache, his face pensive. “Do you want to shower, or should I bring you a towel?” 

“Whatever you want to do.” 

“I want to take care of you,” he says earnestly, hand back up, resting on the strip of fat between hip and ass. “But…” 

You look at him. Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s taking you in, and thinking you might be the most lovely thing he’s ever seen, not just because he’s fucked you and you took it beautifully, or the sounds you made, or the feeling of your arm wrapped behind his head as you kissed him, but everything about you. He loves you and you know that, but he can’t convey it right. And he thinks if he cleans you up he might spend an hour just looking at you, because you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, all your marks and wrinkles and softness. He’d lose half the night. 

“You want to fuck me again?” you ask gently. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he denies, leaning down over you. You close your eyes and allow him another kiss. “It’s late, we can’t stay up all night. You’re tired.” 

You hum regretfully. “Yes.” 

“Was it everything you wanted?” he asks. “I can…” His hand trails down to your stomach. 

You laugh under your breath. “I don’t think I can anymore,” you mumble, half flirtation and half aching fondness. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you?” He brings his hand up and squeezes your face, taking another kiss, so many now you can’t count them. 

You smile into his mouth. You’re thinking thank you for being caring enough to think about it, and he’s thinking you’re crazy for not expecting it. Regardless, he doesn’t touch any lower, only dropping his hand and rubbing a sweeping, soothing line over your tummy and your side. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. 

You peek at him through threaded lashes. “Your eyes are closed,” you whisper back. 

“I knew before I closed them, and I know it now.” He sighs. “Sorry,” he says, kissing your cheek, “forgive me. I’ll get a towel.” 

“It’s my fault, being so enchanting n’ all.” 

Miguel kisses you again. “Exactly.” 

#miguel and spidergirl reader #miguel o���hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario #miguel ohara blurb #miguel ohara oneshot

[midnightbluebells03]

you should totally do reader x abby where she accidentally mentions marrying reader when using her strap on her.

SPUR OF THE MOMENT

CW - SMUT minors dni!, strap on (R! Receiving), reader is called good girl, talks of marriage (obvs), hair pulling, strap is called a dick once

Readers appearance isn't described (atleast I don't think it is), no use of y/n

About 800 wc

No outbreak

Send me request so I can try and get out my writing funk pls and thx

You can't even remember how long it's been since you two started. Abby came home a couple of hours ago, but since then, you've barely separated. What started as 'innocent' kisses while you made dinner had turned into this. Your face shoved into the softness of Abby's pillow, your legs starting to tremble, and hickies sprawled across your skin. As your girlfriend was positioned behind you with one hand pressed onto your lower back, her strap moving relentlessly in and out of your dripping hole. Dirty blonde hair sticking to her forehead as her sweat pools on her defined muscles. She always said fucking you was her favourite workout. And she meant it.

Abby's hips move at a steady pace, just enough to turn you into a mess but not enough to finish you off. It's purposeful, like all her moments. She just wanted to look at you a little longer, the way your back arched, and you desperately tried to back into her. Stopped by her grasp so all you could do was take what she gave you.

Her free hand comes to grip your hair, giving it a light tug and pulling your head back. Forcing a loud moan that had been sitting in your throat out as her lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. "Such a good fucking girl for me hmm?" Abby coos only getting a whimper from you in response, her grip tightens as she starts to fuck into you deeper, faster. Hitting just the right spot while you moan so loud you're worried about the neighbours hearing.

But as soon she she starts talking you forget all about it.

"I'm gonna make you my wife one day." it's more like she's talking to herself, mumbling in that deep voice she gets when she's claiming you. When her brain goes blank and all she can focus on is the sounds you make. The noise of your wet pussy as her strap continues to make you see stars. If she was any further away you might not have caught it. But the idea alone makes your face heat up and a whine escape your lips. "So fucking perfect for me, need you to be mine". You hadn't really talked about marriage, in all honesty you were afraid Abby wasn't into the concept at all. But her babbling in your ear is definitely clearing it up. "Just mine forever".

That's what sends you over the edge. "Abby!" You clentch hard around the strap, your orgasm rushing over you as Abby keeps talking you through it.

"There you go" she drops your hair as her hands move to rest on both sides of your waist. Pulling you backwards into her as you try but fail to muffle yourself with the pillow below. "Good girl, good fucking girl cum all over my dick".

Her movements slow once you finish, you let out a soft whimper as she pulls out. Leaving you clenching around nothing before turning onto your back. Your forearm comes over your eyes as you listen to Abby move around the room. The sounds of her cleaning and putting away the strap before she heads to your onsuite to grab a towel with warm water are what you've become accustomed to. So when a strong hand taps your leg, you don't even have to look. Just spread them slowly as Abby cleans you up. Peppering soft kisses along your inner thighs as she whispers softly.

"You did so good baby" once she's finished she throws the towel into the bathroom sink, deciding to deal with it later. "Just perfect"

Abby slumps down beside you, breathing heavily still while staring up at the ceiling. Slowly your brain catches up with what she said, you sit up quickly startling her slightly.

"What?" She asks confused, her hand now resting on your lower back. Rubbing small circles with her thumb.

You blink hard, looking down at her. Taking in everything, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. The way her hair is now wavy from being taken out the braid you had ruined. The way she looks at you with such a soft eyes. It makes you melt.

"You wanna marry me?" You ask softly, almost afraid to say it in case she didn't really mean it.

Abby's face turns red. She doesn't break the eye contact between you two as she nods timidly. "Oh um...yeah yeah I do" clearly your shocked expression was making her nervous because she gets this worried look on her face. Eyebrows knitted slightly. "Do you-"

"Abs" you say with a sweet tone. Watching has her expression softens before repositioning yourself to lay on her chest "Mrs Anderson, the Andersons"

"The Andersons" she repeats, pulling you closer and placing a kiss to your head.

#lesbian #wlw #fanfic #smut #writer #writing #tlou #request #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #the last of us

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

[linopls]

kinktober day nine

oral chan x fem!reader summary: you're chan's favorite inspiration warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), blond chan (it needs a warning) 0.8k words

“hey, can i eat you out?”

“what?” 

you and chan had been sitting silently in his studio. he had his headphones on and was working on a song for their next comeback and you were sat on the couch behind him, working on a project for one of your classes. you’d both been sat in complete silence for the past three hours, both working in a stress-free environment, which was rare.

“what did you say?” you ask again.

“you heard me.” chan takes off his headphones and swivels around in his chair to face you. “i have been stuck for the past fifteen minutes and i need some inspiration.”

you laugh, “does eating me out give you inspiration?”

“maybe,” chan shrugs as he stands up from his chair and picks your laptop up off your lap and places it gently on his desk. “your moans are like music to my ears, and i need to listen to something else than what have been.”

“are you writing another ‘drive’?” you joke and chan laughs. you sit up and move to the edge of the couch where chan meets. he stands between your legs and lifts your chin to look him in the face.

“i might after this,” chan says before pushing his lips against yours. his lips are soft and taste sweet. he quickly starts to kiss down your jawline and to your exposed collarbone.

“i love when you wear my clothes,” he mumbles between kisses. it was raining when you arrived to the studio, which left you freezing and wet. chan, being the kind boyfriend he was, gave you the sweatshirt he was wearing.

 he kneels in front of your and puts his hands on your thighs, softly squeezing them. he softly bites down on your collarbone until he leaves a small bruise on the spot, he pulls away and admires the mark.

“so pretty.” he then looks you in the eyes, his soft brown eyes full of lust. “god, you’re so pretty, can i please eat you out now?” he begs.

the way he begs to pleasure you sends a warm feeling to your core. one of your favorite things about chan was that his love language was acts of service. while normally this meant he would do chores for you, hold doors for you, and make appointments for you. it also meant that he would always pleasure you first, usually several times, before himself. many days he would beg to eat you out, today, when you should be working, was no different.

you giggle. “of course.”

“thank you,” he sighs, quickly hooking his fingers under your waist band. you lift your hips off the couch to assist him and he pulls off your sweatpants in one swift motion.

like a starved animal, he quickly pulls your legs apart and licks one long stripe up your core. “god, you taste so fucking good,” he moans to himself. 

chan starts lapping at your core. he rotates between tracing circles and sucking on your clit and sliding his tongue as deep in your hole as he can. he then decides he needs to be even closer and wraps his muscled arms around your thighs and pulls your body to his face. this knocks you flat on the couch and you moan in response. he continues to work on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud.

“chan, fuck, please don’t stop,” you moan, tangling your hands into his blond hair. 

your words of encouragement have him sticking to the pattern of flicking his tongue at your clit and swirling small circles over it. he moans and hums as he sloppily makes out with your cunt.

“chan, please, please, please keep going. i’m gonna cum,” you whine, hips squirming in his strong grip.

without breaking contact with your cunt, chan looks up at you. the look in his innocent eyes sends you over the edge. 

“fuck i’m cumming,” you yell. you tighten your grip in his hair and press your leaking cunt against his face, moaning his name loudly as you finish. chan slows his pace, helping work you through your orgasm.

as you release the grip on his hair, chan sits up fully. you notice how blown out his eyes look, his blond, curly hair a mess atop his head, and your glistening slick coating his face. he makes direct eye contact with you as he licks his lips clean and wipes his mouth with his arm. your eyes roll back and your head falls back onto the couch. 

chan stands up with your pants in his hands, he folds them nicely before putting them on one of the side tables. he places a kiss to your forehead and picks up your body to lay you the proper way on the couch. he then grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and lays it over your body.

“but babe, what about you-?” you start, propping yourself on your elbows.

“let me finish this song,” he says, sitting back down in his chair and putting his headphones on. “i got my inspiration.”

i need chan to be blond again for my own mental health

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[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Twenty-Four - Milo's Birthday

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

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Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

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That night, the night after her run in with Kerry-Ann, she found herself at the kitchen table. Her old, beaten up laptop sat open in front of her and she typed away, writing her story.

She hadn't opened her laptop since their Monaco trip. A small glass on wine sat on the placemat beside her laptop. She brought it to her lips, finishing off the glass before she put it back down and returned to her writing.

"Momma?"

Her head snapped towards the door. "Munchkin, what're you doing up?" She asked as she saved her work and closed her laptop (every time she did, it was a wonder whether it would turn back on again).

Milo slipped into the seat opposite her, sitting on his hands. He rocked gently from side to side as he looked at his mother. "My bed at Danny's house is comfier," he muttered. It wasn't Milo's bed, just the bed in the guest bedroom that had been decorated with enough stuffed toys that the bed beneath was barely visible.

But it might has well have been Milo's bed.

"He'll be back soon, munchkin," she said and pushed her laptop away. "I miss him and Olivia, too."

Leaving her laptop on the table, she put her glass in the sink with the rest of the dishes and waited for Milo to stand up. Together, they headed back upstairs. She tucked Milo in and headed to her own bedroom.

It was the middle of the day in whichever part of the world Daniel was in. She called him, holding the phone to her ear as she called him.

It didn't take Daniel very long to pick up. The moment she heard his voice, she couldn't hide the elation she was filled with. Not that she had anybody to hide it from.

"Hey, honey," he said. Daniel sat outside of the AlphaTauri hospitality unit, coffee in front of him.

"Hi, Danny," she said quietly. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," He replied.

She didn't want to bring up her unpleasant encounter with Kerry-Ann. Not yet, anyway. They talked, talked about how the Grand Prix weekend was going, talked about how Milo had been enjoying school since he left

"He misses you, too," she said to him, and Daniel chucked. There was nothing she could have said to him that would have made him happier. "Danny, we need to talk about something."

From across the world, she couldn't see as his face fell. "What's the matter? Did something happen? Is it Olivia?"

"No, no," she said quickly. "No, Danny. I had a run in with Kerry-Ann earlier. And I know it's stupid, I know she was just trying to get into my head, but I can't stop thinking about what she said to me."

"What did she say to you?" He asked. He had sat up straighter in his seat, his posture tense.

She sucked in a breath. "First she... she accused me of being with you for your money. Which, I swear I'm not interested in you for money, Danny. I love the person you are inside, I swear."

"It's okay, sweets. I know. She was the one with me for my money, not you. I know you're not." He let out a breath. "What else did she say?"

Guilt ran through her. She knew this bit wasn't true, either. She knew how Daniel felt about her. But still, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. "She said that you don't love me," she said. "She said that you won't ever love me."

Silence. That was maybe the worst thing he could have done. Daniel said nothing. He didn't say a single thing to her for a good minute. Oh God, she was going to throw up.

But then Daniel let out a breath. "I did love Kerry-Ann. I loved her enough to have a child about her. But she showed who she really was after Olivia was born. I can't love someone that awful. She's got it in head that it's impossible I don't love her. So she thinks I can't love."

He paused, giving her a second to soak it in. "She's wrong, though. She thinks I can't love, but I love you so much that sometimes, I don't understand how it's possible. I don't understand how I can be so in love with another human being. But I am. I'm in love with you and I can't wait to buy you a ring."

She couldn't stop herself from gasping. "You don't mean that."

"Fuck, baby, I do. I've been gone a day and I just can't stop thinking about you. I know it might be soon but I can't help but dream about a future with you."

She couldn't stop herself from crying, sobs muffled by her pillow. "I can't wait for you to come home," she said through her cries.

Now, their reunion after the Grand Prix weekend was exactly what you'd think it would be. It was sweet and loving. Daniel took the four of them out for dinner and then, well, he didn't let her out of bed very much after that.

The next two months were bliss. Pure bliss.

With every Grand Prix that went by, things got a little easier. Nothing Kerry-Ann said could affect her, not when she knew how much Daniel loved her.

But then they ran into a bump. Daniel hadn't thought to ask when Milo's birthday was. But they were coming up to a year ad still, Milo hadn't celebrated his sixth birthday yet.

But then, a few weeks before the Vegas Grand Prix, she started coming home with presents. She snuck them into the house and hid them under the bed they shared.

"What's this?" He asked, watching the third time she pushed a toy beneath the bed.

She sat up and dusted off her hands. "Presents. For Milo's birthday."

Daniel moved closer to her. "Honey, when is Milo's birthday?" He asked. He had several Grand Prix coming up; he just had to hope that Milo's birthday didn’t fall on one of those weekends.

"23rd," she answered.

"What, November?"

"November."

"Fuck!" Daniel couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop the words escaping his lips. "Shit, baby. I'm in Vegas that weekend." His head fell against his shoulder and he let out a huff. "I'm gonna get him something good, I promise."

She ran her fingers through his curls. "I know you will, Danny," she said and kissed his forehead.

"I'll arrange for a party, too. And then we can do some when I'm back."

That was exactly how Daniel spent the next few weeks, planning and arranging Milo's birthday. Just like Olivia's birthday, he arranged for a custom made cake. There was a bouncy castle, a magician and more. Daniel was going to do whatever he could to give Milo the best birthday ever.

Milos birthday came around and Daniel wasn't there. Milo said he understood, but everybody could tell just how upset he was. Even more so when Kerry-Ann refused to bring Olivia to the party.

He spent most of his party in his bedroom. The bouncy castle, the custom made cake, the magician. He wanted none of it if his family wasn't all there together.

So Milo didn't enjoy his birthday on the day he turned six. He missed Daniel, he missed Olivia, enjoying it was near impossible. But he did enjoy the cake, the dinosaur cake Daniel had gotten for him.

Daniel was home the next day. He picked Olivia up from her mothers on the way and took them back to his home. Where she was waiting. With sweet, sweet Milo.

"Don't tell Milo, okay Livvy?" Daniel said to her as they pulled up outside. "It's meant to be a surprise."

Olivia mimmicked locking her lips and throwing away the key. She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders and followed her father up to the house. "Did you have fun at the party?" He asked as he pushed the key into the lock and twisted it.

"Oh, mummy wouldn't let me go to the party," she said and walked in, running up to her bedroom.

"What?!" Daniel cried as he dropped his bags.

His shout alone got the attention of everybody in the house. Milo came running down stairs (after his reunion with Olivia) to jump into his arms and she, his beautiful, wonderful girlfriend, came from the kitchen.

Daniel hugged Milo and let him go as he strode towards her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her waist. "Hi, baby," she said and kisssd him.

Daniel kissed her back, but pulled away quickly. "Kerry-Ann didn't let her come to Milo's party," he muttered. "That bitch didn't let Olivia go to the party."

"It's okay," she whispered, running her hands through his hair in a soothing manner. "It's okay. We're gonna go and have a nice dinner tonight, right?"

He nodded. "Right. Yeah. Really nice dinner."

Daniel wanted full custody of Olivia. More than anything in the world, he wanted full custody. But, first, he was gonna marry this girl.

a/n: we have reached the penultimate chapter of the Hooked On A Feeling series!! One more to go (but im definitely doing a follow up series dw)

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minseok-smaus @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lily-ann-b @cixrosie @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @lightdragonrayne @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

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[nymphomatique]

I NEED MORE OF LOSER NERD MIGUEL PLEASEEEEE YOU'VE AWAKENED SOMETHING IN ME

ask and you shall receive they say! here’s some more word vomit 2 hold u over while the full fic is loading 🤭

cw: mean reader LOL she calls miguel a bitch, foot humping, spit, shoe licking🫣, d/s play, miguel is down horrendous, hair pulling. might have missed smt but oh well. also this isn’t proofread oops lolz. but enjoy!! 💋

in #my opinion i think that loser boy miguel is into the degrading stuff. like the more embarrassing it is for him the more it turns him on.

setting the scene for you: miguel is over at your dorm doing you online lab work for you on your laptop while you’re getting ready to go out. naturally you have on the skimpiest number, tits out, ass out, the body is hypnotic, the whole nine.

miguel steals glances of you because while you may be a little bit of a bitch sometimes, god were you beautiful. you catch him staring and sneer at him and it makes him blush and duck his head down once more to do his- your homework.

the finisher? the heels you put on. they’re patent black pumps, red bottoms naturally. and miguel absolutely loses it. he feels his dick start to twitch in his sweats instantly and is already blushing a furious red.

“what’s got you excited, dweeb?” you tease, putting on your earrings. “bet your little nerd dick got hard looking at me, huh.”

he doesn’t say anything and just blushes even more and you laugh because he really is hard! nerd or not, one thing you can’t deny is the meat miguel is packing. you could fit some fun for the two of you before your uber came, if you were fast that is.

“promise it’s not cus i’m a perv.. i swear.. you look nice. s’all.” miguel sputters under your intense gaze.

“yeah? what part of me do you think looks the nicest, hmm?” you say while sauntering over him. he looks down at your shoes silently and you see the tent in his pants twitch. “you got a fucking shoe fetish, freak?” you giggle.

“n-no! it’s not-” he tries but you’re already thinking of how to embarrass him.

“don’t lie to me. you like the mommy dom shit, huh? well, come hump mommies foot.” you say standing only two feet away from where he’s sitting on the bed. he stares up at you with his glasses widening his already blown out eyes. “or don’t. i don’t have all day.”

with that he moves your laptop aside and strips down to his briefs. he makes his way to walk over to you but an idea strikes you. “crawl to me.”

and crawl he does, his tan skin and blooming back musculature making it’s way towards you on all fours.

“good boy. kiss my shoes and thank them before you start.” you say, your downcast gaze holding all the same authority and tension as your tone. he places both of his hands on the floor and begins to lower his lips to your shoe, his full lips making contact with your shoe.

“t-thank you, mistress, f- for letting me use your shoe to get off.” he says shakily, eyes averting your gaze. your mouth pulls into a small smile at his pathetic display. you almost laugh.

“i’m pleased. you may begin.” and miguel wastes no time, his swollen dick making itself seen in his boxer print. once again, you find yourself impressed at the heavy dick miguel packs. you figure it was probably given to him in place of a backbone. he scoots until his length is at the tip of your leather clad toes and he slowly begins to grind against your foot, letting out soft exhales of air.

“hurry up, i don’t have all day.” you spit, getting a little impatient at the time he’s taking. wordless, he speeds up his humping at your foot, his hand coming up to your leg, gripping your calf and the other hand placed palm down next to your foot to steady himself. as he speeds up, his moans come out louder and more frequently, his praises seeming to slip in with them.

you’re greatful for his height, because even on his knees, the top of his head reaches your lower stomach. you grab a fist full of his thick hair and jerk his head back so he can face you, and his expression sends a wave of heat through you. his face is flushed, eyes watering, mouth open spilling out moans of “thank you, mistress, so g-good.. i’m your good boy.. wanna be good..”

“wanna be good, huh? open your mouth for me then,” and without hesitation, he opens his mouth to you, and you spit into his mouth, some hitting the corner of his lip. “close your mouth and swallow it, bitch boy.” ever so eager to follow instructions, he does with a sated expression on his face. your spit seems to have excited him more, considering he’s fully thrusting against your foot now.

“c-can i cum please mistress? it hurts so bad. n-need it please, need you. f-fuuuck,” his pleading makes something in your chest tighten, seeing the power you have over this six foot two hunk of musculature beneath you, jumping at your foot like a depraved animal. he’s looking up at you, your hand still present in his messy hair, and with a cruel smile, you allow him to cum. “cum for your mistress.”

with a few more thrusts, he releases a heavy moan and cums into his briefs, occasionally twitching during his come down. before he gets a chance to speak, you push him off your leg and place a shoe to his balls, pressing ever so slightly, releasing a pert whimper out of miguel. “you made a mess of my louboutins.” you say flatly. “clean them.”

he takes no time to get on his knees and begin to lick your heel clean of his semen. you laugh at the sight, and even more when you see he’s sporting the beginning of another erection.

“fucking pathic,” you chortle. with your uber outside, you push your heel against his forehead and begin to walk away to get your purse as if nothing happened. “finish my homework and get the fuck out, if i see you’re still here when i get back, you’re cleaning the soles of my shoes next.” and with that, you leave your dorm with miguel in his soiled underwear on your floor, and your shoes sporting a new shine.

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