#But that post made me think of this and just *clenches fist* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dungeonpuppykai · 8 months

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When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

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dilemmaontwolegs · 27 days

Text

The Perfect Life || CL16 {1}

Summary: On the outside it appeared you had the perfect life but Charles didn't know the secrets that had been kept from him. In order for him to succeed deals were made with your family and no price was too much to pay. Warnings: nsfw, swearing, fighting, mentions of character death, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, horrible parents, Arthur Leclerc being the best friend ever WC: 2.5k

One || Two || Three

“What have you got yourself into now?”

There was no simple answer to that question and it was the very reason you had specifically not called the man waiting for an answer in the corridor. You dragged your eyes away from the chipped grey walls of the cell and stopped reading the tagging that littered the bricks - you didn’t really care that P & H were 2getha 4eva - and sat up from the concrete bed you had attempted to sleep on.

Stretching your tired muscles, you ignored his question and asked one of your own. “What are you doing here, Charles?”

“Arthur called.” Charles grabbed the bars that separated you, his knuckles turning white as he scanned the other vagrants you had been locked in with. “Did you have to get him involved?”

“What makes you think it was my idea?” It was your idea, but it was rude of him to assume so.

“My brother wouldn’t know how to find an underground fight club, let alone join one.”

“Maybe you don’t know your brother as well as you think.”

“Maybe, but I know you.” He looked at your cheeks that were still shiny from the Vaseline that helped the blows glance off, then he looked at your busted knuckles that not even tape could stop from splitting. “Why?”

You shrugged, but it tweaked your shoulder that had taken quite the punch and you winced at the spike of pain. “For a bit of fun, let off some steam.”

“Yeah, you look like you are really enjoying yourself,” he muttered sarcastically before walking away.

“Wait, Charles, where are you going?”

“Home, it’s late and Arthur is waiting in the car.”

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You didn’t call me,” he stated coldly. “Bail yourself out this time.”

Your clenched fist hit the metal bar and he briefly paused as the ringing sound followed him down the hall. “Dammit, Charles. Please?”

He continued walking away and you dropped back onto the hard slab of concrete wondering why you bothered. Charles never cared for you and the friendship you had with his younger brother, in fact merely breathing around him seemed to be an offence. It had been that way ever since your family sponsored his career, it was like he resented you for your family’s money.

“Y/L/N,” a burly bailiff called out, interrupting your ranting inner monologue. “You’ve been posted.”

A frown pinched your brows together as the door opened and you saw Charles standing in the shadows behind the officer. “Now would be the time for a thank you,” he muttered.

You were tempted to throw a ‘fuck off’ his way but bit your tongue and accepted the thick hoodie he had draped over his arm. While the sex workers you had shared a cell with wore just as little clothing, yours was for an entirely different reason. The sports bra and bike shorts were perfect for fighting in but left you cold in the early hours of the morning, so you quickly pulled the hoodie over your body. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want your money,” he sighed, rubbing his temple and leaving you with the impression that you were the headache he had.

“That’s not what you said to my father 10 years ago.”

“Is it too late to lock her back up?”

The bailiff looked awkwardly between the two of you and if you were in Monaco the officer would have probably marched you back to the cell, but Charles was in Nice now, he was in your city.

You quickly signed the release form for your belongings and slipped the family signet ring back onto your finger before turning your phone on. A flood of messages from your father, his assistant and his lawyer, appeared in the flurry of vibrations that made Charles scoff and shake his head. “Worried about his little princess, huh?”

It was your turn to scoff. If only he knew how utterly wrong he was, but you weren’t one to air the dirty laundry of your family - even if it would shut the pretentious twat up for one minute. “Same time next week, boys,” you said with a nod to the officers behind the Perspex wall.

“You’re seriously messed up,” Charles commented as he followed your quick descent down the front steps and aimed for the dark blue Porsche.

“Keep sweet talking, you flirt,” you shot back sarcastically. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

Arthur had opened his door the moment he spotted you and he knew from the pained look on his brother’s face, and the smile on yours, that the interaction had gone as well as expected. He couldn’t understand why two people he loved dearly had to fight like cats and dogs every time they were in the same room. He had tried to get you to talk to Charles, to tell him the truth about your situation, but it had been hard enough talking to Arthur about it and you trusted him with your life. You weren’t going to go through that again for someone that would be more likely to spit in your face.

“How’s your nose?” Arthur asked as he gently cupped your face and inspected it.

“Relax, I already reset it.” You took comfort in the warmth of his palms but the fuzzy feeling that came with knowing someone in the world cared about your wellbeing was gone in an instant.

“Daddy can always buy you a new one.”

“Charles!”

“Forget about it, Tur,” you murmured as you stepped back and started to make your way home on foot. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“If you care about him you will leave him alone,” Charles called out as he opened the driver's door. “You’re just going to drag him down with you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Arthur growled at his brother before he started to follow you down the street. “Wait, please.”

“You should listen to your brother,” you said over your shoulder. “I’m a sinking ship.”

Arthur’s footsteps quickened as he jogged to your side and pulled you to a stop. “You’re not a sinking ship, but if you are then I will be your lifeboat.”

“That’s stupid analogy,” you scoffed as he pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry I got you arrested.”

“I could have run when they raided but what kind of best friend would that make me?”

“One with a clean record,” you pointed out, feeling his chest bounce with a silent laugh.

“It’s overrated. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo now, one to remember my incarceration by. Maybe a tear, just here,” he said as he touched his cheek. “Think it would make me look cool.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Oh yeah, the ladies would love that.”

“Please don’t give my brother any more bad ideas,” Charles muttered as he rolled by slowly in his car with the window down. “Get in, both of you.”

Arthur opened the door and pulled you down with him, tugging you into place on his lap before you could escape. He wasn’t going to let you walk home at 3am, no matter how safe Nice was, but it was annoying that his brother only bought a two seater sports car when he knew that the two of you had been arrested.

You guided Charles away from the waterfront mansions and into the industrial area that was abandoned at the late hour. Arthur had been to your place plenty of times but it was a first for Charles to see the concrete building with a chipped tile roof at the end of the rundown street.

“What are we doing here?” Charles asked as he parked in front of a rusted metal door.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, kissing Arthur’s cheek before opening the door.

“What is this place?” Charles asked again as he followed you out, frowning at the key to the door you found under a shattered pot plant.

“I can’t exactly go home like this, can I? Genius.”

Arthur’s door shut as he got out to referee the second round of verbal sparring for the evening.

“I’m surprised they even let you home after the crap you put them through.”

“Yeah, well, I'm still useful to them so they can’t get rid of me yet. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“It must be so hard living your perfect little life,” Charles drawled sarcastically and Arthur inhaled sharply at the insult.

“You think my life is perfect?” You laughed bitterly and Arthur looked down at his feet. “Do you know why I fight in that shitty underground cage? The only freedom I have is when I get in that ring. It is the only choice I get to make for myself. For five minutes, I am in control of my own life, Charles, I get to fight for myself.”

“In control? You have always done and gotten everything you wanted,” he argued. “You wanted a pony, you got a fucking pony.”

Your vision narrowed as anger exploded in your chest. “There was a price, you fucking idiot! I am paying that price now. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life planned out for you, to find out those gifts came with terms and conditions, so do me a favour and shut the fuck up for once in your life please.”

Charles took a step closer but Arthur placed himself between you, his palms pushing his brother back as your breath quickened to uncontrollable pants. “You don’t understand, just let it go.”

“Damn right I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you listen to her bullshit, Tur. Jules couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her, and I can’t either.”

The whomping of blood rushing around your head echoed in your ears as time slowed and Arthur’s arm pulled back. You watched him close his fist like you had taught him, keeping his thumb on the outside to avoid breaking it. You watched the veins on his hand grow thicker as he threw the punch at his own brother and the shock barely registered before Charles fell down on his ass.

“Jules couldn’t be in the same room with her because he knew the truth and he felt guilty!” Arthur screamed down at his brother. “You were too young to understand then, but we aren’t kids anymore.”

Charles broke free of his state of shock and scrambled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “What truth? Huh? Is it worth ruining our brotherhood?”

“Jules was engaged.”

“Bullshit.” Charles shook his head violently and you sank to the ground, leaning back against the cold bricks for the second time that night. “He would have told me.”

“Ask Enzo.” Arthur knew Charles would believe him. Lorenzo was Jules’ best friend, it was why Charles met Jules in the first place. Jules already had ties to your family and he used them to broker the deal that funded Charles’ career.

“Okay, so what if he was engaged?” Charles snapped as his agitation grew. He was suddenly questioning everything he knew about his godfather and it showed on his shaking hands.

“Because he was engaged to me,” you whispered, a shadow falling across your face as Arthur crouched down beside you and wiped away the tears you hadn’t even felt fall. You couldn’t tell if they were tears of anger or sadness, the two seemed to blur when it came to Jules. He was always there, even in your earliest memories. He was like an older brother to you, he even taught you to ride your bike without trainer wheels. He was always there, until he wasn’t.

Charles was right, he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you once the deal was made. You couldn’t blame him for that.

“No, no fucking way,” Charles laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “Arthur, are you listening to this shit?”

“I’ve seen the contract, Cha.”

“You’ve always been gullible but this is actually stupid. She was 16. Jules wouldn’t have married a girl. He was 25 for fucks sake.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” you admitted quietly. “It was the price for the deal he made, and you are right, Jules was too noble for that. It took a lot of convincing on his part to wait until I turned 21. My father resented that fact, I think he was hoping to sell me off to someone sooner.”

Charles stumbled back to the hood of his car, watching as Arthur took a seat beside you and draped his arm protectively over your shoulders. The brothers stared at each other but you stared at the gravel between your legs while the truth lingered in the air.

You could feel the pieces connecting in Charles’ head as if they were being screamed aloud and you flinched at the moment they all came together. Arthur’s arm tightened, Charles' throat bobbed and nausea roiled in your stomach.

“It was me,” Charles choked. “Wasn’t it?”

You didn’t bother looking up as you nodded. “My father never cared about your career. He wanted a union with the Bianchi family and he finally got the opportunity when Jules asked to sponsor you.”

“Why the hell would he agree to that?”

“Because he believed in you, obviously, and I like to think that maybe he thought he could get out of the agreement before I turned 21.” You shrugged because you would never know the complete truth now. It made you sick to think that maybe he did find a way out of it, in the worst way possible.

“Your father…”

“Is a real asshole? Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to say sick bastard.”

You chuckled in agreement and tipped your head back. “Perfect life, am I right?”

Charles had the decency to winch at the reminder. “You’re an adult now, why don’t you leave?”

“I wish it were that easy. All my bank accounts are under his control. They didn’t let me go to college. I don’t know anyone that isn’t indebted or loyal to him,” you sighed. “I got this place with my fight winnings. It’s not much but it’s mine, at least until he arranges another marriage for me, then I suppose the poor bastard gets it too.”

“Marry me.”

You barked a laugh and looked at Arthur, his lips still parted like they were shocked the words had passed by. “Now you are being stupid. I love you, Tur, and that is precisely why I wouldn’t wish this shit on you.”

“Then marry me,” Charles offered. “You hate me already, and I owe Jules everything. You can come to Monaco and study, or get a job, or whatever you want to do.”

“No, thank you,” you said as you pulled yourself to your feet and opened the door. “Drive safe.”

“I’m serious,” Charles growled as caught the door before it closed. “I am offering you a lifeline, why won’t you take it?”

“My father taught me many important life lessons but the first one was if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Good night, Charles.”

Part Two

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #arthur leclerc fanfic

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darklordofthesimp · 1 year

Text

Wrath (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: After you risk your life protecting Ghost, the Lieutenant is furious. Angry enough, in fact, to pay you a late-night visit.

Requested by @chippyroh :

#69 Shut up or I'll shut you up.

#71 You’re driving me out of my fucking mind

A/N: Listen here you little shits, I will not be making a part 2 to this and you cannot convince me this time.

Category: Sexual Tension || Angst || Enemies to ? || Hurt/ Comfort

Warnings: Graphic language, Manhandling/Rough-handling, Sexually suggestive themes.

It was meant to be an easy mission but, really, what were you expecting?

You were experienced enough to know that when it was meant to be a breeze, you had to prepare for a fucking hurricane. And as Ghost stormed towards you, his fists clenched and his gaze furious, you knew this was gonna be one hell of a storm.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He didn’t stop until his chest bumped into yours, heaving and hard. His wide shoulders swayed from side to side as the officer sized you up. “Are you fucking stupid?”

You grit your teeth and glared. “I just saved your fucking life, Sir.”

You weren’t much in comparison to the towering figure that Ghost presented, you knew that. Still, you stood as tall as you could manage and set your jaw. You were right to provide him with backup. You were right to have taken out the people on his tail.

You’d done everything right.

So, why was he so fucking angry?

“Don’t start this shit with me, Sunshine,” Ghost hissed, fingers wrapping around your bicep. He pulled you in flush against his body, your armoured plates knocking against his. “That was out of line.”

“Saving your life?” You questioned, bewildered. “Saving your life was out of line, Ghost?”

His eyes narrowed and a deep rumble reverberated in his chest.

“No,” he snapped, leaning back. “Pretending you were anything but a fucking sniper was, though.”

Your breath left your lungs as though you’d been sucker-punched. You searched what little features you could see for an ounce of regret, any softness in his features to show he didn’t mean it- but the kohl on his eyes only highlighted the sharpness of his gaze.

“This isn’t over, Sunshine,” Ghost warned, snatching his hand from your arm. He imparted a glare that had your throat tightening, before he brushed past you roughly. For once, you wished you had never made it home.

______

You were angry at yourself for crying.

It was in your own shower and hidden from the rest of your unit, but you were still upset.

Your life was insane and full of enough sorrow to destroy most, and there were more than enough reasons to justify an emotional break. However, crying over a man? You were ashamed. Embarrassment seared red hot across your chest, it made your blood boil- it made you angry.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

You had done everything right. Price had clapped you on your back upon your return, commending your quick thinking. Ghost had scoffed at that, watching the interaction from the darkest corner of the room.

“Leaving your post is not ‘quick-thinking.’” The words had been a snarl from beneath his bloodied mask.

Price raised a brow as you shifted on your feet furiously. “I saved you on the evac, Sir. There was no fucking post.”

Ghost took a step toward you, his finger pointing at your chest as though he were marking you for death. You were thankful Price stepped in, you were angry but you weren’t stupid. You didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with the grim reaper himself but you would to defend your actions.

“How about you both hit the showers and cool off. Good job on today,” he gave the two of you a pointed look, “the both of you.”

You said nothing, only returning Ghost’s glare vehemently before storming off.

Your clothes felt too soft on your freshly scrubbed skin. It always felt like that after a mission; everything smelt too good, felt too good and sounded too quiet. It would take you a couple of hours to adjust, but your blood burned at your surroundings.

You were already overstimulated and now you were uncomfortable.

Fuck you, Simon Riley, you ingrateful twat.

You wanted to find him and shake some sense into him. You wanted a fucking thank you. You wanted his recognition, his approval and you seethed at your desire to feel accepted by him.

You dried your hair roughly with the towel, your frustrations translating into your menial tasks. Angrily shower, angrily dry off, angrily get dressed- you were fucking furious and you couldn’t get past it.

Bang, bang, bang.

You gasped, dropping the towel as someone battered against your door. It shook on the hinges under the pressure, and you stood frozen for a long moment. It was late, there was no reason for anyone to be visiting.

Everybody from the 141 was out and about, you and Ghost had returned a day earlier than expected.

You frowned as they knocked again with the flat part of their fist, the dull thuds picking up in volume. You scooped the towel from the floor, throwing it over the chair in the corner.

“Coming,” you shouted before they could go for a third round. You worried the frame wouldn’t hold up much longer. No sooner than you had twisted the handle, the door swung open. You leapt out of the way, eyes wide as a towering figure stepped through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

The lock engaging behind him sounded like a death knell.

“Sir-“ you rasped, stumbling backward as he approached you.

“Cut that shit out,” Ghost snapped, “you know my fucking name.”

Fuck.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, as you continued back into the room. He was furious, just as heated as he had been when he’d gotten back from the mission. The man had clearly showered and changed, standing before you in a hoodie and balaclava.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You glared at him, heart leaping into your throat as your back finally hit the wall. Ghost’s eyes slid to each side of you, marking how you were trapped between your own furniture.

“You know what you did today, Sunshine,” he said heatedly, “everyone can congratulate you about it as much as they want but you listen to me. Never do that again.”

You sneered, leaning forward. Ghost inclined his head, meeting you halfway as your noses nearly brushed. “I saved your life within the parameters of the mission and I’ll do it again and again if I fucking have to.”

“You were almost killed!” Ghost’s finger rose to press into your chest harshly. “Almost had a fucking bullet put between your eyes.”

“But I didn’t! Had I not stepped in you would have been a fucking pin cushion, Simon!”

You were forced back into the wall as he smacked an open palm into the plaster beside your head. You jumped at the sound by your ear, your lip trembling beneath his gaze. You could feel the heat emanating from his body in waves, he was fucking burning.

“What?” You whispered, your mouth dry all of a sudden. “You gonna fuckin’ hit me, Riley? You gonna hit me for doing my job?”

“Of course not, you idiot.” He snapped, leaning back. Ghost’s eyes narrowed as his hand slid from the wall by your head, resting at his side.

“Why are you here then? Barging into my room, locking the door behind you, putting me against the wall,” you listed, your voice low and urgent as you glared at him. Your chest heaved against his as you raced to catch your breath. “You’re either here to fuck me or fight me and we both fucking know that you hate my guts, Riley. So, get to it and get the fuck out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine,” Ghost rasped, shifting on his feet. “You deserve to get your shit rocked for the way you acted out there.”

You searched his gaze, his eyes the colour of a stormy ocean as he glared right back at you. “You don’t even know what you’re doing here,” you snarled, leaning forward once more. This time, Ghost didn’t challenge you. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved, L.T?”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“Your life is worth more than mine, Simon,” you growled, poking a finger into his chest. “You’re my superior, it’s my job to protect you.”

“Then fucking listen when I say shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

“Sniper or not, if it ever came down to me or you- it’s my fucking job to die for you-“

Your back slammed against the wall, breath leaving your body at the impact. You were disoriented for a short moment, vision hazy as you tried to regain your bearings. His body was pressed against yours, his hands gripping your shoulders so tight you knew you’d be bruised.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t anticipate his next move. Not when he gripped your jaw, half his fingers on your face and the others wrapped against your neck. He leaned down and you flinched, opening your mouth to gasp.

He wasn’t going to hit you.

Instead, Ghost kissed you.

You don’t know when he had rolled his mask upward, but his mouth was hot and urgent against yours, groaning when he swallowed your gasp before it could come to fruition. He tasted sweet on your tongue and poisonous to your mind, drowning all your inhibitions in his touch. You whimpered against him and a wicked smile curved his lips upward.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly as his free hand moved to tangle itself in your damp hair, your dripping strands locked tightly between his fingers.

When he pulled away you were dizzy, your head falling back to rest against the wall. Your chest heaved as your heart pounded against your ribs, demanding to be freed.

There was nothing but silence for a long moment, the space between you both filled with his ragged breathing and your shaky gasps. You were so close you could taste him, his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re driving me out of my fucking mind, Sunshine.” Ghost rasped finally, his voice throaty and strained. “You just don’t fucking listen.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes trained on the beast before you. You’d watched this man tear people apart with his bare hands. You’d seen him take bullets to the chest, seen him snap necks and tear limbs.

But those fingers that had wreaked so much havoc rested on your throat softly, now. So gentle, as though he thought you would crumble beneath him if he squeezed.

But he wanted to grip tighter, and you knew it. You could tell by the twitch of his fingers, by the clench of his jaw.

“I can be taught, Sir,” your voice was barely a whisper but Ghost’s eyes snapped open as though you’d yelled at him. He watched you, like a predator observing its prey. You wondered if he thought he’d misheard you, maybe he was praying that he hadn’t.

When he leaned in close, your body shivered against his as adrenaline spiked your system.

“I’ll fuckin’ teach you to listen, Sunshine,” he murmured finally, fingers tightening against your skin. “Don’t you worry.”

Maybe he didn’t hate you, after all.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw2 ghost #ghost x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty #task force 141

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table.

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state.

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately.

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel.

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck.

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless.

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone.

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless.

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed.

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that.

He could have done more.

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time.

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again.

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.”

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it.

A single white pearl hung from the chain.

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you.

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you.

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller hbo #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: tdtrt

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xxsabitoxx · 3 months

Text

Steam Room

Megumi x Female Reader

Warnings: Megumi and reader are around 22-24 in this, public sex, submissive megumi, edging megumi, switch megumi, dominant reader, submissive reader, it’s a whirlwind okay. Blowjobs, handjobs, come eating, rough sex, restraining, humiliation, creampies, possibility of getting walked in on, sweat… yeah

A/N: third scheduled post! Again, you may have already seen this on my ao3 cause I posted it a few weeks back. Still, enjoy!

Word count: 3.5k

The room was thick with steam, your bodies sticky from the sweat clinging to them. “Shit…oh fuck please…” choked and embarrassed, Megumi’s face was flushed red from more than just the sauna. Your head was bobbing steadily along the length of his aching cock, violently twitching in the warm cavern of your mouth every time your tongue passed over the head. Despite the heat of the room, your mouth was somehow hotter.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Megumi’s voice was slightly higher in pitch, whiny even, as your tongue slid along the underside of his cock. He was growing desperate at this point, you had led him to the brink of coming three times now, cruelly stopping just before he reached the end. You felt your lips twitching with the urge to smirk, unable to as your head continued to move up and down around him. “S-seriously don’t fucking sto-oh.” You pulled away again, wiping your mouth with a sadistic grin.

Megumi looked pissed, brows creased and lips wobbling as his cock twitched, precum weeping from his tip at yet another failed orgasm. “Stop fucking doing that.” He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. For a moment you actually felt pity, meeting his watery gaze through the steam of the sauna room. “You’ve been such a naughty boy, Megumi.” He looked down at you with a pout on his face, clearly confused and disgruntled. “You don’t even know what you did?”

“What I did–” Megumi rasped out, plump lips hanging open as he stared at you with furrowed brows. “Oh…” It came back to him then, fond memories of him doing the exact same thing to you no less than two days prior. “T-this is my payback for…” he gasped as your fist tightened around his shaft, tugging hard and slow. “Payback for tying me to our bed and edging me for two fucking hours.” Megumi hissed as you tugged particularly rough, pleasure shooting all the way up his spine as your pretty hand toyed with his already too sensitive cock.

“L-Listen I-I…oh fuck…oh…” His head fell back, skin glistening with sweat as his hips nearly jerked off the bench. You watched, fully enthralled by the sight of his throat bobbing and jaw clenching as he tried not to make a complete fool of himself. “Listen to what, Megumi?” again, just as quickly as you started, you stopped. Megumi’s tip was turning an angry shade of pink, irritated from the contant relief being tugged away from him when he least expected it.

“Fuck please… your mouth…” He was whining again, every ounce of respect he had for himself flying out the window at the sight of your swollen lips just inches from his aching cock. Those same lips curled into a cruel smirk, eyes trialing over the dips and plains of the muscles that made up Megumi. “It would be so awkward if someone walked in on us right now, don’t you think? A guy and a girl in the men’s sauna, completely naked, the guy whimpering pathetically while his girlfriend edges him over and over… really awkward, don’t you think Megumi?”

You reached down to cup his balls, mouth watering at the sight of the precum dripping steadily from his tip. You wanted him in your mouth, down your throat, crying and begging you to let him cum. But you loved to taunt him even more, not a single thing was tying Megumi down to the sauna’s bench… but your words had him glued into his space. “It would be so easy for you to take over, Megumi. Pull me up by my hair and throw me on the bench, fuck me stupid until you’ve got what you wanted and then leave me hanging… yet you sit here for me, obedient.”

He only whimpered, pretty lips wobbling as your other hand rested at the base of his shaft. His whole body was flushing a shade of pink at this point, more so from you than the sauna. “Do you want my mouth, Megumi?” you were going to give it to him either way, an absolute sucker even when you were cruel. “Yes… please I want your mouth so bad.” He needed to feel it, your wet tongue lathering his cock in the way that made his fucking toes curl. You knew just how to make him putty in your hands, how to fuck him stupid with out having to do anything at all.

“Then beg for it, better than that.” You smiled up at him, batting your lashes innocently while he squeezed his eyes shut. You would be the death of him, he was absolutely sure of it. “Please… fuck please let me come… mommy please.” It slipped out so naturally you wouldn’t have thought anything of it until Megumi himself froze. Your lips fell open, eyes locking with his as he seemed to turn the deepest shade of red possible. “Mommy, huh? Didn’t think you were into that kinda thing, Megumi…” Your hand had begun to massage the flesh of his balls again, your free hand coming up to wrap around the base of his shaft as you observed him.

“Does my baby boy want mommy to suck his cock?” You purred, eyes narrowing as you gauge his reaction. He twitched, nearly violently, as his lips quivered. “T-this is so embarrassing.” he whined, nodding his head to answer your question. You clicked your tongue “that’s not how mommy likes her answers, use your words like a big boy, Meg.” You tightened your grasp around his base, causing him to jerk forward from the sudden pressure. Hesitantly with a weak voice “Mommy please suck my cock… I want to cum so bad… Mommy please…”

Shiny tears were pricking his eyes, threatening to slide down his reddened cheeks. That was enough for you, your head moving forward and dropping down to encompass him. Megumi’s head fell back, a loud guttural moan leaving his lips as you swallowed around him. Your tongue slid along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins that ran along it as you bobbed your head. You wouldn’t torture him any further, allowing him to cum when he was ready. Based on the way he was gripping the edge of the sauna’s bench, he would fall apart within seconds.

“Gonna… oh fuck m’gonna… mommy please…” he babbled, nearly incoherent as you focused your attention on his leaking tip. His salty precum coated your tongue, increasing in volume with every pass of your fist over his spit-covered shaft. Finally, his hand found its way to your head, gripping your hair so harshly you couldn’t help but whine around him. “Gonna… oh shit… fuck…” a string of profanities left his lips, your name falling in between each one as he came in your mouth. You worked Megumi through it, greedily swallowing his release until you felt him relax.

You pulled off of him as he began to soften, moving to stand and stretch your aching legs. “Who would have thought that Megumi Fushiguro has a mommy kink.” You grinned down at his tired face, voice slightly hoarse from everything you just did. It took you a second too long to process the tired expression morph into annoyance. Even after blowing his load, even though you had his legs feeling like jelly, Megumi managed to move faster than you could think at that moment. “H-hey!” You squeaked, flinching as your back met the hard wooden bench of the sauna.

“You’re so fucking dead, pulling that shit out of me.” Megumi was seething with embarrassment, unable to handle the fact that he had called you mommy willingly. “Oh come off it, Meg. You loved every second of it.” You could feel him twitching back to life, settling his body weight on top of your own. “Doesn’t fucking matter, it’s still embarrassing” His cheeks were permanently stuck on a shade of rosy pink, his hands finding your wrists and pinning them above your head. “You gotta learn some manners, it’s not nice to put people in that kind of vulnerable position.”

Megumi’s voice had dropped into something more sultry, leaving you to feel helpless as he slotted his hips against yours. “Gonna have to fuck some sense into you, mommy.” It was full of sarcasm but you couldn’t deny the way it made your cunt clench around nothing. “Do it, fuck some manners into me, Megumi…” You were panting, the heat of the sauna paired with Megumi’s weight on top of you made you realize how sticky your skin felt. Megumi’s cock was hard again, leaking precum and twitching with need to be inside of you.

“So filthy, you’d probably love it if someone walked in on us right now. Wouldn’t you, mommy?” You nodded, lips parted as you panted. “Yes… fuck yes I would… it would be so humiliating… we’d get kicked out for sure…” you whined, hips jutting upwards to grind against him. That realization had Megumi hesitating a little less, the urge to tease you now replaced with the worry of getting caught. Not that it would be the first time you two had been walked in on… but getting caught in the sauna room would mean removal… he couldn’t bear the thought.

Megumi’s brows furrowed, head moving to look down at your sweaty bodies. “Be good and keep quiet, Mommy. We really don’t want to get kicked out before I can fuck some sense into you.” Your lips trembled before pressing tightly together, nodding obediently as Megumi reached down to guide his tip between your folds. He dragged it slowly, still sticky from his cum and your saliva… and now your own arousal. “Relax.” Was all Megumi said before pushing into you, shivering despite the heat because of the way you inhaled so sharply. The grip he had on your wrists with just one hand kept you from jerking too far from him.

You were soaked, but Megumi was far too big to go in with no prep. You couldn’t help the whine that left you, your ankles locking behind the small of his back to keep him in place despite the ache spreading all the way down to your thighs. He was heavy, splitting you open inch by inch as he engulfed himself in your heat. “M-megumi…” Your hips shifted, trying to alleviate some of the pressure but it only caused him to brush that one particular spot. You swore you saw stars for a moment, a loud cry leaving your lips only to be silenced by Megumi’s free hand slapping over your mouth. “What did I say about being quiet, hmm?”

You didn’t respond, not even a muffled attempt behind his palm. Megumi didn’t move his hand away, glaring down at you “You love to think you can put me in my place, don’t you?” Megumi bottomed out as he spoke, the bulbous head of his cock pressing snuggly to your cervix just because he knew how much it made you squirm. “You’re so cute when you’re naive.” He added softly, carefully moving his hand away from your mouth so he could find better grounding. “This is your last warning, make any noise above a whisper and I’m pulling out.” You nodded, jaw clenched as you tried to remain quiet. You knew Megumi never made empty promises.

Megumi’s head fell forward, catching you off guard as he smashed his lips to yours. Your lips parted shakily, allowing his tongue entrance as the hand he had been using to cover your mouth snaked down to hold your thigh. Megumi’s hips drew back until he was half way out of you, pushing forward again with the same haphazard intent. His only goal was to fuck you until your hips were brusied and he’d likely need to help you walk out of this sauna. You moaned into his mouth, fingers twitching for something to grasp but his grip on your wrists was as strong as iron, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. Every pass of his cock through your velvety walls had you seeing stars, each graze of that one particular spot had your hips jerking into him.

Megumi pulled away, eyes lidded as saliva kept your tongues connected. He was panting, face still stuck in that permanent flush as his hips connected with yours over and over. Sweat was making his skin shine, his usually unruly hair was starting to flatten from the humidity in the room. You had to admit, he never looked more beautiful than he did at that very moment. “Y-You’re so pretty… Megumi!” Your head tilted back, a silent cry leaving your lips as your orgasm brewed deep in your gut. Even with your clit neglected, you swore Megumi would make you cum untouched in that sense. “You’re…fuck you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded, panting heavily but managing to keep yourself quiet for him. “I can feel it… your cunt is clenching so–ha–so fucking tight… so greedy.” Megumi’s jaw was clenching, trying to silence his own noises as if you hadn’t had him on the verge of tears only a few minutes prior. Megumi’s head dipped lower again, lips pressing to your ear as he spoke “Gonna cum without me playing with your clit?” it was nearly a growl, making you whine breathlessly as you uttered out a small “yes.” Megumi huffed out a laugh, rolling his hips into you slowly. He wouldn’t be that cruel to you, especially knowing how hard you came every time he toyed with your cunt.

The deliberate roll of his hips pressed his pubic bone snuggling to your cunt, rubbing along your clit with each draw back and forth. “O-oh shit… Megumi…. Megumi please…” You wailed softly, voice hoarse and full of need as you strained to keep your cries on the quieter side. “Please what? What does mommy need so badly?” He was hitting deep, kissing your cervix before grinding his hips hard. “To cum… I need to cum, Megumi. Please… oh fuck please let me…” You begged, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. It felt like pressure, the kind that made your toes curl but kept your orgasm just out of your reach. Your cunt was aching, pulsing around every inch of his cock that was stuffed inside of you.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? Earn it.” You froze, gasping loudly as Megumi halted all movements. The tingling pressure of your impending orgasm was fizzling away into nothing. Still, you had never felt as full as you did right now. “E-earn it?” you questioned, unintentionally pulling against the restraint that was Megumi’s grasp on your wrists. “Earn it, apologize for humiliating me.” He wasn’t letting it go, that realization made your cunt clench tightly, suctioning to him and pulling a wanton moan from his lips. “M-megumi.” You didn’t want to apologize, your pride wouldn’t allow it. But still… if you wanted to cum. “Say it, Mommy. Apologize for edging me… for making me call you mommy…” Your nose scrunched, “I didn’t make you… you said it your–oh!”

Megumi pushed into you more, not going anywhere since there was nowhere to go but it only made the pressure more intense. “I don’t give a fuck. Apologize or you’re getting nothing.” But even then, you knew Megumi wouldn't be able to pull out and leave you hanging. Still, you were getting impatient, and likely dehydrated with all the sweating you were both doing. The physical activity didn’t help of course. “F-fine… fuck I’m sorry Megumi… I didn’t mean to suck you off so good that you had to call me mommy.” Your tone was full of sarcasm, a devious grin pulling at your lips as Megumi’s cold stare turned into one of shock. “Un-fucking-real.”

You yelped loudly as Megumi drew his hips back completely, leaving you empty as he pushed himself up and off of your body. “Megumi–” you squeaked, thinking you had actually offended him until he was yanking you up with him. “Looks like I forgot my reason for doing this in the first place…” You could only let out a noise of confusion as Megumi’s hands were on your wrists again, pulling them behind your back as he spun you around. You yelped as he pushed you forward, thanks to the sauna set up your knees were digging into the bench you had been sitting on while the top half of you was pressed to the platform of the next.

“You’ve got to watch that filthy mouth of yours.” A hard slap rang through the small space, accompanied by your quiet cry and pain blooming on your ass cheek. Megumi didn’t hesitate, thrusting back into you so quickly it nearly hurt. With your arms restrained, you could do nothing to aid yourself in this new position, having to let Megumi have his way. “Apologize.” Megumi barked, hip snapping into you at a brutal pace, you couldn’t even think straight anymore. Your brain felt like it was melting into mush as Megumi brutally fucked into you. “I’m not hearing–fuck– an apology…” you whimpered in response, trying to pull yourself together to say something–anything– that would satisfy Megumi’s wishes.

“C’mon you can’t be that far gone… or maybe I’m really just that good and fucking you stupid.” he spat, aching to slap your ass again as it jiggled with each snap of his hips. “M-megumi!” you blubbered, tears leaking down your face as every snap of his hips hit that one particular spot. You were going to pass out at this rate, a mix of the steam, your activity, and now your tears were going to do you in before you could even finish. “I’m s-sorry, Megumi.” you wailed, fat globs of tears soiling your pretty face as your cunt sputtered around his cock. “I’m so sorry f-for embarrassing–” you hiccuped, sniffling harshly as you tried to continue.

But that was more than enough for Megumi, his hand sneaking around your front and dipping between your thighs to start rubbing circles on your clit. “Shh… that’s it…” he murmured as you dissolved into tears, he leaned forward to place kisses along your sweat spine as he worked on bringing you over the edge. As much as Megumi liked to be cruel to you, the tears always did him in. He was a sucker for you, especially when you cried too prettily for him. “Gonna make you cum, pretty girl.” he sighed, hips working overtime as he tried to stave off his second orgasm “Your apology is accepted, baby. You’re doing so good.” he praised as you hiccuped.

You whispered his name over and over, his fingers working wonders on your clit as your orgasm quickly built again. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Ruin me.” his voice was low, full of need, making you clench as your orgasm grew nearer. You’d cum any second now, making a mess of yourself, Megumi, and the poor sauna bench below you. It only took a few more snaps of his hips and you were coming hard. A strangled cry of his name left your lips, just loud enough to make Megumi work faster in fear of someone coming to check on the two of you. “Shit… fuck…” more profanties left Megumi’s lips as your cunt covered him in your release, creating a ring around the base of his dick and sending him over the edge. Megumi spilled into you, whining your name just as loud.

Megumi let go of your wrists once he could breathe again, pulling out of you slowly and huffing out a laugh when only a little bit of his cum leaked out. “You okay?” he sat down, carefully grabbing your waist and pulling you down to his level. Sleepily you nodded, pressing your head to his sweaty shoulder. “Thirsty… we gotta get out of here.” You motioned to the towels you had come in wearing, feeling rather than hearing Megumi laugh in response. “I don’t think we raised any suspicions… but they’ll certainly be worried about how long we’ve been in here.” You nodded, trying to will yourself into a sitting position so you could get yourself covered and out of the damned sauna. All you wanted now was water, a bath, and your shared bed.

“C’mon, Meg. Mommy is tired.” You smirked at him as you straightened, watching his shoulders sag as he looked at you. “Was that apology fake?” He chided, getting up to grab his towel as well. “Course it wasn’t… you’re just fun to tease… Daddy.” you glanced over your shoulder at him, mischief glittering in your tired eyes. For the first time that night, Megumi kind of understood why the whole “mommy” thing was appealing to you. “You’re too much.” he sighed, returning your smile as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “You know you love it.” You offered in return, securing the towel in place as you turned to face him. “Yeah… I do.”

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femdomlieeh · 2 months

Text

Caramel (m)

Sub!Brat!Sunghoon (ENHYPEN) x Dom!GF!Reader

WC—4.5 ✧ k

WARNING—jealousy ✧ semi-public masturbation (car, m) ✧ spanking (m!r) ✧ face sitting (f) ✧ degrading ✧ praising ✧ piv ✧ riding ✧ nipple play (f!r) ✧ hair pulling (m!r) ✧ name-calling ✧ pet names (Love, Baby, Mommy) ✧ awkward encounter with Yeonjun from TXT

THEMES—smut ✧ established relationship ✧ fluffy ✧ jealousy ✧ good boy turned bad

NOW PLAYING —I Wanna Be Yours ✧ Arctic Monkeys

A/N. I got some sweet messages of encouragement from readers on both wattpad and tumblr after my last update: thank you! Your words and support motivated me to post this sooner<3

M.LISTS—enhypen ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

The mall was packed with people. After Valentines some stores had crazy sales on winter collections since the last major winter holiday was over and the desperation to empty the racks full of winter clothes before it was too late was at its highest point. So, you and your valentine Sunghoon decided to go to the mall. Although you knew the winter leftovers weren't always the prettiest and that you likely wouldn't end up purchasing anything, you thought it would be fun to try on some clothes and just walk and talk since you hadn't spent much time together since Valentine's Day. Also, who knows, you might actually find something nice!

"Baby, you're so sweet," you whispered into Sunghoon's ear, kissing his temple after he greeted you with two hot lattes, one matcha and one caramel — he always picked those two drinks partly for the taste, caffeine and warmth but also so when the two of you were halfway finished you could switch cups.

"Everything for you, Love," he gave you the matcha latte, blushing at your little affection since you were in a very public setting. The only type of physical touch he felt comfortable initiating in front of others was holding your hand or a quick hug, otherwise it was you giving him pecks on his cheek, sitting on his lap or petting his head, which he loved no matter how embarrassed he felt in the moment — your attention and affection is precious to him.

"Thank you," you took a sip of the matcha, content worth the content and also because the cup was warming up your cold hands, but you grabbed his hand anyway, preferring that source of warmth.

He knew his ears were probably red now. He loved it when your cold hand stole the warmth from his.

You swung your hands a little as you walked to your favorite boutique, hoping to find something nice on sale or just walk around and look at different clothes together. But before you entered you were surprised to hear your name. Immediately you recognised the voice but Sunghoon was caught off guard. A foreign voice. A happy voice. A man's voice. The two of you turned around and spotted a man who looked like he belonged in a Kdrama. Sunghoon wished he hadn't been distracted by your touch as you led him to the boutique and that he instead dragged you two to a hot pot restaurant on the opposite side of the mall so you wouldn't have run into this perfect man but it was too late.

The demon with a picture perfect smile walked up with open arms to you two. Or to you and not Sunghoon to be specific. The handsome man hugged you in front of Sunghoon. His ears didn't turn pink like Sunghoon's would when he gave you a two second hug in public. And omg you hugged this man back!

He pulled the rude, good-looking male stranger by his coat, gently separating the two of you.

"Who are you, again?" Sunghoon asked, very confused as to why a male he doesn't know would feel comfortable hugging his girlfriend right in front of his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I got a little carried away when I saw her," the guy said with a grin, which made Sunghoon clench the fist that was once in your hand.

"My name's Yeonjun. ____ and I have known each other for more than six years now, right?" He said, looking at you, not Sunghoon.

"Yeah, I think it's been five, six years already. Time goes by so fast!"

Sunghoon gulped. He hadn't even known you for half that time.

"And we haven't seen each other in so long!" the so-called Yeonjun went to your side, entering the boutique together. Sunghoon felt his mouth go dry at how Yeonjun referred to the two of you as "we" and walked side by side with you so naturally. This fucking doucheb—

"Yeonjun, this is my boyfriend, Sunghoon," you made sure to introduce them to each other since Yeonjun got too excited and talked too much too fast and forgot to ask for your boyfriend's name (which was very much his character).

"Nice to meet you, Sunghoon," Yeonjun held his hand in front of you to shake Sunghoon's hand.

But your otherwise sweet, polite boyfriend pretended like he didn't see the waiting hand, "Likewise," holding your hand instead.

This was supposed to be his day with you, not handsome Yeonjun's day with you. You were supposed to walk slowly, look around for nothing in particular, arms hooked together (your doing), sipping your lattes until they were half empty so you could switch cups!

The thing is, the two of you were right by the entrance to this boutique heading inside when Yeonjun came so its not like you could pretend you were going to another store to get out of this situation or you would seem rude for blowing him off for no reason, especially since he's been your friend of six years. Or have you two been a thing? Was Yeonjun your friend as in you were in the same class at uni or your friend as in ex who you ended on extremely good terms with or — even worse — was he a "right person, wrong time" type of "friend"? No. He's overthinking it. Surely, you would've told him about all your exes already and Yeonjun's name had never been mentioned. Besides you were a smart person, you wouldn't get into a relationship with Sunghoon if you had feelings for or unfinished business with Yeonjun or anyone else.

But the hug. The way Yeonjun showed you physical touch so easily, no sign of insecurity or blushing. Your comfortable body language, as if you've hugged Yeonjun hundreds of times before.

"Do you remember this?" Yeonjun said, holding up a small pink purse.

"Yes, I do remember," you laughed at the memory.

"What?" Sunghoon looked so lost. You two had inside jokes together!

"After you won a bet, I told you I'd buy you a pink purse one day."

"Yeah. We were stressed kids back," you smiled at the reminiscence. You had gotten a higher score on a test so Yeonjun had promised to buy you whatever you wanted and the first thing you could think of at that time was a pink purse. Since he lost the bet during high school, you didn't expect him to buy it since he didn't have a lot of money and also because it was better to save whatever money he had. But high school was long gone and you hadn't thought of the purse since but Yeonjun remembered.

"Now I have the money to do so..." he continued.

"I already got that same exact purse for her," Sunghoon interrupted before Yeonjun went too far, noticing that was the only pink purse in this section so Yeonjun wouldn't be so rude as to suggest buying another pink purse with another design. Of course, Sunghoon didn't want a handsome man to buy his girlfriend a purse that would remind her of him each time she looked at it — unless that handsome man was Sunghoon, of course.

You looked at Sunghoon after he told the lie, but didn't say anything because he'd also do the same for you if he knew you told a lie to or kept a secret from someone.

"Really? You got her a 30€ purse?"

Now that was rude.

"Well, I really wanted this purse, so the price doesn't really matter," you said, embarrassed your friend would say that to your boyfriend.

"Of course! Of course! If you wanted the purse," Yeonjun tried to save the situation, realizing what he sounded like. He sent a friendly smile at the two of you and started looking through a rail of T-shirts.

After a few minutes of trying to find something that was cute on the sale rack, you called your friend over. "This one would look really good on you, Junnie," you held up a white dress shirt in silk that you found on 30% sale.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I think you pull off this kind of aesthetic well."

Hm, how do I get her to only look at me? How do I get her to only look at me? How do I get her to only look at-

Sunghoon walked up to the two of you, "Do you wanna switch cups, Love? I know you love caramel latte and it will get cold soon," he held the cup in front of your lips so you could taste it. He was right, you do love caramel latte and it tastes so much better warm. You smiled at him. The way he showed affection without having to touch, but just remembering any little fact about you and being caring always made your heart melt. You lifted the matcha latte cup to his lips, making him taste too and he did, but not without blushing. For a moment he forgot you were in public and he just wanted to lay down, tangle your legs and arms together and with the hot drinks getting cold on the table as a rom-com played in the background forgotten as you just looked at each other and talked and kissed—

"Guys, do you have anything to try on?" Yeonjun interrupted your little moment.

Then you switched cups before you looked over at Yeonjun. "I can't find anything I like for now—"

"Then you can come and rate this shirt on me. See if you were right that I would look good in it?"

Oh no. Sunghoon did not like this. He had to do something fast.

"Look, Love! You would pull off this dress so well," he half-yelled to get your attention and held up the first thing he in arms reach, blushing at both the dress and at the double entendre.

Your gaze turned to your boyfriend but your eyes visibly went from curious to a bit mad. It was a tight, red dress with a deep cleavage — and it was inappropriate for Sunghoon to suggest trying on or buying this kind of clothes in front of someone else, especially a friend you hadn't seen in a long time. But the fact that it had a lace bra under it, making it look like lingerie, was humiliating. You turned red. Not from blushing, but from fuming. It was very odd of your boyfriend to do that; the guy who blushed when you kissed his cheek at a restaurant when you were sitting alone held up this sexy dress and suggested you try on or buy it in front of Yeonjun.

Yeonjun turned away, awkward, "I'm just gonna go...try this on."

"What was that?" You questioned sternly.

"What was what?" Sunghoon gulped, still holding the dress.

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Are you trying to get punished?"

He remained quiet, tall but so small in your presence.

"Cat got your tongue? Hm? Talk, you didn't have a problem being loud just a minute ago," you whispered so others — especially Yeonjun — wouldn't hear you.

The sound of a door creaking was heard, which made you retreat your hand immediately and turn around.

"How does it look?" Yeonjun asked and scratched his neck as he showed off the white dress shirt you suggested.

"My eye was right. You should buy it," you gave him a thumbs up. Sunghoon did not like this.

"Thank y-"

"I wanna try it on too," Sunghoon interrupted him.

"Oh, sure, I can give it to you in a minute."

"Actually, I think I need a bigger size because of my shoulders so I'll just grab a fresh one." It was Sunghoon's turn to be rude.

He felt a minor adrenaline rush — if that even existed — as he power walked to the part of the clothing zoo where he remembered you had told Yeonjun to try on a shirt you found. At this point would do anything to keep your eyes on him instead of that guy. He hurried into the changing room, changing in just a minute and opened the door.

Your eyes were definitely on him. He had styled the shirt a bit differently than Yeonjun, choosing to keep the first four buttons undone, way sexier than the usual one or two undone buttons. The pure white silk complemented his skin, making him ironically look like an angel.

"You look really, really good, Baby."

It was a modest compliment, since you had company, but Sunghoon already knew what you were thinking as you eyed him up and down.

"It looked better on me though," Yeonjun said in a jokingly manner.

"No, I look better in it," Sunghoon said, "Right, Mommy?"

It slipped out. He didn't mean to say that. In fact, he's never called you that before.

Yeonjun gulped and stood up to go, "I'm gonna go pay for this real quick."

"You're gonna regret that," you said with a voice that was too calm.

"What you gonna do about it, Mommy?" Might as well go along with this brat thing.

"Guys, something came up so I gotta go. I just wanted to say bye!" Yeonjun appeared with a bag and an awkward smile.

"Bye," you said, hugging him farewell.

some minutes later.

After throwing the almost empty caramel latte in the trash, you slammed the door of the car (not hard, but a little louder than normal). Sunghoon had embarrassed you in front of an old friend, your angel acting like a brat. And he was just glad he had your attention.

"Love~"

You started the engine and took off, completely ignoring his cute calling.

"Mommy," he leaned over to your side, putting his face in your boobs.

"Brat," you pressed your hand harshly on his dick. He was hard. "You really got hard from acting like a desperate slut in public?"

"Mhm. More, Mommy," he whimpered in your ear.

"Slut," you pushed his face away with the hand that was giving him pleasure just now, placing his head gently onto the neck rest (still worried for him even when you were mad).

He smirked, ears red at the contrast of your words and pushing and then kindness. He needed more. So much more. Any little attention you had given to Yeonjun today, he needed that attention tripled. He would've acted like a brat much sooner today if he knew you would've taken him home to punish him.

With his eyes on you he undid his pants. He wanted to push the limit. You looked away from the road for a split second to catch a glimpse of what your boyfriend was up to, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Being a needy whore," he replied and slid his hand inside the pants.

"Touching yourself without my permission two minutes away from home? You're begging to be punished like the bitch you are," you chuckled and sped up.

"Yes, Mommy," he moaned both as an answer to your statement and because of the pleasure his hand was giving. Apparently he loved calling you that.

"Well, you're gonna get it soon, slut," you replied as you were parking.

At that, he went even faster with his hand to get on your nerves even more. And then you were parked. He went for the door in a second, excited for what was about to happen. You got out too and unlocked the door to your place. A slam was heard after you got in. Shoes were taken off and thrown to the side. Sunghoon took your jacket off for you. "Did I say you could touch me?"

Pink spread across his cheeks as he responded with a no, shy all of a sudden. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt just like at the mall and dragged him to your bedroom. He almost couldn't keep up with your steps. Inside the bedroom you pushed him to the wall, a moan slipping out. You tugged his hair and pulled his head back harshly. "Pants off. Now."

They were on the floor in seconds. "No underwear? You took them off when you were trying on your shirt? Slut," you smirked and sat down on the foot of the bed in front of him.

"You know your place." He got over her lap, flashing his ass for her to admire. He had been doing weighted Romanian split squats at the gym lately. This position on your lap was one he had been in before. But never for acting out in public or calling you something inappropriate in front of a friend.

Your warm hand started rubbing his skin smoothly to prepare for punishment and joy. "Do you remember your safeword?"

"Pear."

"Do you remember my safeword?"

"Pineapple."

"Good. Count, if you don't we'll start over again. Understood, slut?"

"Yes, Mommy," he said with anticipation clear in his tone. He finally had all your attention on him — and your hands on him as well. This is exactly how he wanted the day to go: spend quality time together.

"How many do you deserve?" You asked to test him.

"Uhm... Ten?" He asked, playing dumb.

"Fifteen it is. Twenty if you misbehave," you said and gave him a harsh spank.

"One," he whimpered out, surprised.

The next one was harder.

"Two," he said under his breath.

"Can't hear you, princess," you slapped his ass cheek rougher.

"Three," he yelled out.

He kept his ground, but you wanted to wreck him for how he acted today — if he wanted to be hurt or just go he should've told you and not been a slut — so you hit harder, if possible.

"F-Four," he stuttered in defeat.

You smirked and brought your left hand to his hair, pulling it.

Your right hand blew him with the same strength as before.

"F-Five," he moaned from the beautiful pain.

Spank!

"Fuck! Six!" He cursed.

"Watch your language," you warned and raised your hand up higher and when it came in contact with his skin it made the loudest hitsound.

"S-Seven. So-So-"

Spank!

"-Sorry! Eight," he exclaimed in a moan so high pitched he was embarrassed.

Spank!

"Ah, nine," he moaned loud enough for the neighbours to be awkward around you next time you see them.

Spank!

"Ten. Mommy, please," he cried out of desperation, not sure if he wanted a break or more.

You were only halfway there, yet his dick already had pre-cum leaking out on your jeans.

"Please what?" You asked and delivered a harder one, knowing exactly what he needed.

"E-Eleven. Mommy, touch me, please," he begged pathetically, knowing you would deny him.

The spank got harder at that.

"Twe-elve," he whined like the bitch he was.

You pulled his head back and looked him in the eyes, "Be a good slut and you might get rewarded"

"Thank you, Mommy."

You let his head go back to rest on the bed (gently just like you'd done in the car) and then spanked him harder to see how much he could take.

"Thirteen," he called out.

His ass cheeks were as pink as his cheeks when you greeted him with a kiss to his temple at the mall.

Spank!

"Fo-Fourteen. Mommy!"

His dick stung at this point. He needed you to touch him so damn much.

Spank!

"F-Fifteen," he moaned, crushed.

He closed his eyes harder, waiting for the next spank.

To his surprise, you just touched his ass softly, grabbing here and there, "You were a good slut for me."

"Thank you, Mommy," his ears got pink at how gentle you were being, petting his hair, combing your fingers through it.

"As a reward you get my cum and if you're good enough you'll get to cum too," you whispered as you nibbled on my ear.

"Thank you, Mommy."

You pulled him off your lap, standing up and giving a peck to his forehead before softly pushing him back on the bed. You let your jeans fall down to the floor to be long forgotten. Sunghoon licked his lips at the sight of you in black panties. They were see-through! He was so distracted and suddenly the panties were gone and you were sitting on his waist.

"Please, Mommy, sit on me," he pleaded with a made-up sweet voice, wanting to be on your good side so you wouldn't tease him.

"How much do you want it?" You moved some hair away from his eyes, resting your hand on his jaw.

"So much. Please, please, sit on my face. I want to be good for you now, please," he made sure to look you in the eye with a small pout.

"I know you got jealous and acted like a slut because you wanted my attention, but you know I like good boys more, right?" You mock pouted at him.

He nodded fast, "I know. I'm so sorry, Mommy. Let me prove I'm your good boy. Please?"

"Since you begged so cutely...prove it to me," you said before you moved up until your pussy was above his face.

He eagerly stuck out my tongue and put in the tip between you folds to tease you a little and to prepare for what was coming.

"You think you're gonna make me cum this way, bitch?"

His tongue slipped in further and faster to taste your delicious juices. You arched your back slightly at the stimulation, he smiled against you and started nudging his nose gently against your clit. Your hands found their place behind you, on his stomach. You weren't satisfied with the feeling of fabric, so grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it up so you could touch the skin and small curves of his abs. Sunghoon definitely had more muscles than that guy. His hands went to your butt and, before you protested, they pushed you further down on his face and so his tongue went even deeper.

"Desperate for Mommy's cum?" You asked and grasped a handful amount of his wet hair.

He hummed against your pussy, sending vibrations; he was determined to make you cum so good you'd let him cum too. You yanked his hair slightly and he arched his back a little. To show his appreciation he kissed on your clit. Whimpers started spilling from your mouth and excitement and pride started filling him. Both his face and cock were glistening with pleasure and neediness.

"I'm gonna cum."

He nodded and dove in deeper and licked you like he had been thirsty for you his whole life. You pressed herself lower on him, moaning. He held your thighs as they were beginning to shake. His lips sucked on your clit as if it were your nipple and you finally blessed him with your tasty cum. He licked and slurped till there was nothing left to swallow.

"What do you say now?" You asked as you sat back on his chest, catching your breath.

"You're delicious- I mean, thank you, Mommy."

You chuckled and continued with a question, "Who deserves rewards?"

"Good boys," he replied happily.

"Are you a good boy?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Yes, you are. Take this off," you said and tugged his shirt, "That shirt from today looked better on you anyway."

He took it off as soon as you told him to. His dick was still standing proud, red from the pleasure and resistance.

"Please, Mommy, sit."

"You think I'm going to let your slutty dick inside me just like that? Go get a condom now."

He hurried to his bag, stark naked in the sunlight from the window. But he didn't care, he just wanted to be inside Mommy. When he got back you had already gotten nude — and that was enough for him to open the condom, put it on and throwing himself on the bed in seconds.

"Don't get too comfortable, sit up," you ordered him as you crawled onto the bed.

He obeyed and rested against the headboard, attention on you. You continued crawling until you sat on his lap.

"Your thighs are so thick and sexy."

"Thank you," he blushed because he'd been going to the gym consistently and your validation made him proud.

"Feels like a sin to make them tremble, but oh well."

You lowered yourself on him until long moans littered the air, both of you sensitive; you from a little overstimulation right after cumming and him from ignoring his pink dick for so long. Without preparation or warning, you bounced up and down on him. He wondered where you get the stamina to do bounce on his dick so well.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he cried out.

He saw your boobs bouncing too and just had to start sucking on one of them, hand palming the other one. You gasped. He was very good with his mouth. Your hips moved faster and Sunghoon couldn't keep his moans inside as he switched his mouth to the other boob. He felt like a pervert but he really really loved how your boobs moved up and down when they weren't in his mouth. You tightened your fingers into his hair and made it harder for him to concentrate and suck. He looked up into your eyes through his long eyelashes and started licking your nipple before putting it between my lips.

"My slut."

He let go of your nipple, "No. I'm your good boy, please," and went back to sucking on it.

"Really?"

"Yes, yes, I am. Please, Mommy." Kiss after kiss was placed on your boobs as an apology for being a shameless horndog back at the mall.

"Such a good boy."

"Mhm," he mumbled not letting go of your nipple, sucking harder, needing you to praise him more.

Your thighs were trembling, an orgasm coming soon. Sunghoon was close too, but he needed your permission first. "Mommy. Mommy. I-" A moan disrupted his sentence. "Ngh, Mommy. I-I'm gonna cum."

You yanked his head back at that and put your lips on his neck, "Cum for me, my good boy."

He filled the condom with his cum.

"Th-Th-Thank you, Mommy."

Your hips rode out his orgasm and he moaned like a slut the whole time. "Mommy, hurts."

"Good." You continued overstimulating him, chasing your second orgasm. He bit his lip, trying not to moan too loudly. Then you came too with a small bite to his neck.

You laid on top of him, just hugging, breathing each other in and pecking at each other's faces and shoulders.

"Want me to run us a bath, Baby?"

His answer was a small pout — your weakness — and a soft nod.

You got up and held his hand, leading him to the bathroom where you threw away the condom in the trash and swayed slowly back and forth as you hugged, waiting for the bathtub to fill with warm water.

"Oh! Almost forgot something," you were confused when Sunghoon let go of the hug.

You smiled as soon as you saw him come back with a lighter and caramel scented candle.

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathing in your dust

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours"

—alex turner

617 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 6 months

Text

about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—”

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer.

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.”

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?”

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight.

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight.

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you.

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby.

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see.

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want.

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.”

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet.

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!”

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill.

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years.

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…”

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously.

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.”

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try.

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close.

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room.

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle.

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun.

—-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter x reader angst

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loviatarsluv · 3 months

Text

The Last Vampire Spawn

inspired by this post by @fangsandfeels as well as this gorgeous art by @ria-neearts above that may or may not have made me sob at work when I saw it :)

also inspired by my dire need to hug this poor baby in this scene in particular and give him literally any sort of comfort because god knows he needs it 😭

Astarion x gn!tav / Astarion x gn!reader

SPOILER WARNING! act 3 and the climax of Astarion’s quest line!

CW: violence, death, anguish, angst, blood, gore

rating: sfw (still mature for the listed content above)

in summary: Astarion finally kills cazador and bro needs a hug and a therapist fr

this one is very short I don’t even know the word count lol

Astarion’s guttural and enraged wails echo against the stone walls of the crypt, nearly drowning the sounds of Cazador’s failed attempts at gurgled shrieks as the dagger pierced his body over, and over, and over.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs and watch, gripping onto Halsin as he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders as the three of you watch in horror while Astarion lets out two hundred years worth of pain, and agony, and hatred into every single thrust of the blade through his old master’s body. Hot tears sting your face as you watch on, tension filling the gaps of silence between your companions.

The vampire lord’s body falls limp before Astarion, bloodied and covered in viscera, lifeless. He takes a deep breath, falling back on his feet as his knees dig into the bloody marble floor. Sobs wrack through his body as he looks down with disdain at the corpse before him.

You exchange a glance with Halsin, a deeply unsettled and concerned face set into his features that wasn’t typical for his usually calm and collected persona. He looks between you and Astarion, and with just a glance, you realize what he’s thinking.

Before you can stop yourself, you run to Astarion, kneeling beside him. He’s too distraught to notice your presence beside him, so you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jolts slightly at your touch, then turns his face - his bloody, tear stained, and ever beautiful face to you, crimson eyes filled with a million emotions you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“I’m here, my love. It’s over. You did it,” you whisper, voice trembling and breaking.

His eyes scan your face frantically, chest rising and falling rapidly and anxiously, his breathing ragged and uneven - he looks at you, and you look back at him, as you try to force a reassuring smile through your own tears.

His face twists into an even deeper scowl as his eyes dart between you and the ruined corpse crumpled on the floor next to you.

“His death isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.” He growls, his fists clenching onto the fabric of his breeches.

You stare at him, speechless. You know that no words could suffice or possibly begin to dull the pain that was evident in his face.

“I suffered through two hundred years of pain and starvation and torture… and all I’ve gotten from it all was being the one to see the light leave that monster’s eyes,” he whispers angrily, tears still rapidly streaming down his blood covered cheeks. “It isn’t fair.”

You tentatively move your face so that your eyes meet his once again, nearly afraid of what you’ll see when you do.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, and he presses his lips into a thin line.

“And where were you twenty years ago? A hundred? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young men you’d come to the rescue for?” He barks, his voice booming and bouncing off of the stone walls and into your ears making your head pound.

“Astarion—“

“How dare you! How dare you come to me now… when I’m this!” He wails, his voice cracking on the last word, his shoulders slumping.

Hot tears return to your waterline and pour over your lashes as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and cradling his head.

He presses his face into your chest, eventually wrapping his arms around your waist and melting into you, causing you to fall backwards slightly as he practically lays on your body, sobbing into your gear. He grips the back of your shirt as if his life depended on it, even though for the first time in what felt like a while, perhaps it didn’t.

Because despite the roiling dread in his gut - he was free. At long last.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, gently rubbing circles into his bare back as you let him cry. Sob. Scream. For as long as he needs.

The others slowly migrate closer, but not too close, not wanting to interrupt or intrude, just silently exchanging sympathetic glances, and a flash of pride across Karlach’s face as she looks on.

After what felt like hours, Astarion goes quiet, his breath slowly evening out. He sniffles, then slowly lifts his head so his eyes meet yours.

You place a hand on his cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch, and sighs.

“He’s gone,” he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. As if he were mostly whispering it to himself. “He’s really gone…”

You nod, rubbing small circles on his cheek with your thumb. “I am so, so proud of you.”

He offers you a small, weak smile, that you return in kind. You place a kiss to the spot between his furrowed brows, his tense body relaxing only slightly into your touch. He still feels coiled up like a serpent ready to strike, still heavily on guard despite Cazador and his minions being long gone. You presume it will be a long while before he truly relaxes, but you feel more than willing and ready to be there every step of the way.

#this one had a lil kick to it!#idk why im just very emo about him lately #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #my fics #one shot #short fic

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rynwritesreid · 4 months

Text

You belong to me| Spencer Reid

A/N: The rest of my uploads this week will be ones that have being requested, as I have a few waiting to be posted and I feel bad for the people waiting for their requests:) Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Summary: You and Spencer had called it quits on your “relationship” when Spencer refused to commit himself to you fully. However, Spencer didn’t realise how much he would hate seeing you flirt with somebody else. Happy ending(I promise).

Content: Smut and angst. Fem!reader. Dom!Spencer and Sub! reader. Possessive and to an extent asshole Spencer. Oral (F! receiving). Vaginal penetration. No mentions of contraception. Creampie. owning/claiming kink. overstimulation. 18+

Masterlist| Requests are open| Navigation

You stood in Spencer’s hotel room, filled with anger. Spencer had made it clear he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you, you had also seen him happily flirting with other women. So, why did he have a problem with you flirting with a man who was very clearly into you.

“Spencer, last time I checked you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me. So, you do not get to tell other men to back off when they are flirting with me.” You stated through gritted teeth.

Spencer's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he absorbed your words. His silence was heavy, thick with the tension that hung between you. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating you both in a cloud of unresolved emotions.

Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and possessiveness. "It's different, okay? I mean... I didn't think you'd actually go out and find someone else so quickly," he muttered, his gaze avoiding yours.

Anger surged within you at his audacity. "Oh, so it's all about your ego then? You want me to pine away for you while you have your fun? Newsflash, Spencer, I have needs too. I deserve to be happy."

His eyes flickered with regret before hardening again. "I never said you didn't deserve to be happy," he rebutted defensively.

Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "Right. So, when I find happiness elsewhere, you suddenly have a problem with it? Sounds like double standards to me, Spencer."

Spencer's face flushed with frustration, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "It's not about double standards," he argued, his voice growing louder. "I just... I didn't expect to feel this way. Seeing you with someone else, it hurts."

“Oh, but you didn’t think how I would feel seeing you flirting with other people. God why is everything always about you?” you sighed; frustration etched into every line on your face. Spencer's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the tumultuous nature of your relationship.

Spencer walked over to you, his steps measured and deliberate. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. The touch sent shivers down your spine, a reminder of the undeniable chemistry that had drawn you together in the first place.

“Not everything is about me. But I can’t let what’s mine flirt with somebody else.” Spencer's words hung in the air. Your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air, an intoxicating mixture of possessiveness and longing. The intensity of his gaze locked you in place, his touch branding your skin, igniting a flicker of desire deep within you.

“Spencer, you don’t get to say that anymore.” You tried to pull away from his grasp, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. The pain shot through you, mingling with the remnants of anger and desire that swirled in your veins.

"I do get to say it," he growled, his voice thick with a mix of dominance and desperation. "Because no matter what we've said or done, I can't shake this feeling that you're mine."

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Spencer's possessiveness was suffocating, but a part of you couldn't deny the thrill it ignited deep in your core. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, melting your resolve with every passing second.

But you refused to let him dictate your happiness any longer. With a surge of strength, you wrenched yourself free from his grip, stepping back and putting some distance between you. The pain lingered on your skin where his fingers had dug into you, a stark reminder of the toxicity that had seeped into your relationship.

"No, Spencer," you said firmly, your voice trembling but resolute. "I am not yours to claim. I deserve freedom, happiness, and someone who respects me enough to let me make my own choices."

His face contorted with a mix of anger and hurt; his breathing ragged as he struggled to regain control. "You don't understand," he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. You're all I think about, all I want. And you're just throwing it away for some cheap fling."

"No, Spencer," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "This is not a cheap fling. This is me reclaiming my worth and refusing to settle for less than I deserve."

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice filled with a mixture of desperation and frustration. “You’ll always be mine. You’ve just got to accept it.”

Spencer’s lips than found themselves on yours. You wanted to protest, to pull away from the kiss. But you couldn’t, this is all you ever wanted. You just wanted Spencer, and you knew you were just flirting with that officer to see if Spencer would get jealous.

The kiss was electric, a collision of passion and longing that left you breathless. Spencer's lips moved against yours with a fervour that mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling inside both of you. As his hands roamed your body, igniting a fire that had never fully extinguished, you couldn't help but succumb to the seductive pull of his touch.

Spencer's lips curled into a predatory smile, sensing your surrender. His grip tightened even further, bordering on painful, but you found yourself oddly drawn to the discomfort, craving the mix of pleasure and pain that only he seemed capable of providing.

You melted into his touch, your body responding eagerly to his every command. The familiar dance of dominance and submission played out between you, the lines blurring as pleasure mingled with the lingering pain from his earlier grip.

Spencer pulled away from the kiss, his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered darkly, "You may think you're your own person, but deep down, you know it's different between us."

Your heart raced in your chest, conflicted, and torn between the intoxicating desire that Spencer ignited within you and the boundaries you were determined to set. His words sank deep into your subconscious, stirring a primal need to surrender to him completely.

“I’m yours Spencer, I’ll forever be yours.” The words slipped out before you could fully comprehend them, a whisper of submission that hung heavily in the air. Spencer's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and triumph, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. His hold on you tightened possessively, his fingers digging into your flesh as if marking you as his territory.

Spencer's triumphant smile sent chills down your spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through your veins. The possessiveness in his touch both thrilled and frightened you, but the undeniable connection between you made it difficult to resist.

Spencer’s hand found their way to your shirt, his fingers undoing the buttons slowly, revealing the vulnerable flesh beneath. His touch was both deliberate and tender, his gaze never leaving yours as he explored every inch of your exposed skin.

As the fabric fell away, exposing your bare chest to the cool air, Spencer's eyes darkened with desire. His fingers traced a path of fire along your collarbone, down your abdomen, until they reached the waistband of your pants. With a quick flick of his wrist, he unbuttoned them, his touch igniting a trail of need that burned through you.

You could feel the hunger radiating from him, a primal urge that matched your own. There was no denying the raw connection between you, no matter how toxic it may have become. It was a dance, an intoxicating game of power and surrender that neither of you could resist.

Spencer's lips found yours once again, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The kiss was a maelstrom of passion and possessiveness, fuelling the fire that raged within both of you. His hands explored every inch of your exposed skin, igniting a trail of desire that consumed you both.

As his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a fiery path in their wake, your mind struggled to reconcile the conflicting emotions raging within. Sensation mingled with uncertainty; pleasure intertwined with doubt. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All that existed was the intoxicating connection between you and Spencer.

You hadn’t realised but Spencer was pushing you towards the bed, his touch guiding you with an intensity that made your heart race. The sheets beckoned, a sanctuary where the turmoil of your relationship could be momentarily forgotten. As you sank into the softness, surrendering to the desires that consumed you both, the world outside ceased to exist.

Spencer's eyes held yours, filled with a mixture of hunger and adoration. Each movement, each touch, was a delicate balance between dominance and tenderness, awakening a whirlwind of emotions within you. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path.

The air brimmed with anticipation as Spencer lowered himself beside you on the bed, his body radiating heat. Your souls seemed intertwined, bound by an unspoken understanding that surpassed words. His lips found your neck once again, leaving a trail of kisses that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

With a gentle touch, he traced a path down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips worshipped at every inch of your skin, leaving no part untouched by his fervent desire.

As Spencer's lips trailed lower, his hands followed suit, caressing your thighs with a tender touch that made every nerve ending tingle. The anticipation built with each passing second, the air heavy with desire and the promise of unbridled pleasure.

Spencer's eyes met yours, you knew he was asking for consent, but you could sense he was asking for redemption. You hesitated for a moment, caught between the allure of surrender and the boundaries you were determined to set. The toxic history of your relationship with Spencer tugged at the edges of your mind, warning you of the potential consequences of giving in to his desires once more.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a glimmer of vulnerability beneath the seductive gaze. It was a plea for redemption, an unspoken promise that this time would be different. And so, with a mix of trepidation and newfound hope, you nodded, granting him the consent he sought.

Without hesitation, he lowered his head, his hot breath grazing against your sensitive flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, exploring, and tasting every inch as if committing it to memory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, each lick and suck sending shockwaves through your body.

The intensity built with every passing second, reaching a crescendo that threatened to consume you entirely. Your fingers threaded through Spencer's hair, urging him closer, deeper. He responded with a primal growl against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you. His mouth became a vortex of pleasure, his tongue expertly tracing patterns that drove you to the edge and back again.

You were lost in a symphony of ecstasy, the boundaries of pleasure and pain blurring as Spencer pushed you further towards the edge. His touch was both tender and possessive, his tongue exploring every inch of your intimate depths with a voracious hunger that left no doubt of his intentions.

The room filled with your gasps and moans; the air heavy with the scent of desire. Spencer's fingers joined in the dance, tracing maddening circles on your swollen bud, coaxing you closer to the precipice. The tension built within you, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap.

And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he plunged two fingers inside you, filling you completely. The sensation sent shockwaves through your body, pleasure spiraling outwards from the depths of your core. Your back arched off the bed involuntarily as he expertly curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot that had always driven you wild.

The world faded away as pleasure engulfed you, every touch from Spencer a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through your body. The boundaries you had set were shattered in the wake of the pleasure he provided, replaced by an insatiable hunger for more. Your mind became clouded with desire as he continued his relentless assault on your senses, pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion.

Spencer's movements grew more intense, his fingers plunging deeper inside you, as if he was determined to claim every inch of your being. The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths, mingled with his low growls of satisfaction. The intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure heightened your arousal, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.

As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, each crest stronger than the last, you surrendered completely to the intoxicating abyss. Your body writhed beneath Spencer's touch, aching for release as he skilfully brought you to the precipice of ecstasy.

The tension built within you, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap. The room filled with your gasps and moans; the air heavy with the scent of desire. Spencer's fingers joined in the dance, tracing maddening circles on your swollen bud, coaxing you closer to the precipice. The intensity grew with every passing moment, until you were teetering on the edge of an explosive climax.

Just as you were about to tip over into blissful release, Spencer withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting, throbbing, and desperate for more. A whimper of frustration escaped your lips as he grinned wickedly above you. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and mischief.

"Patience," he whispered huskily, his voice dripping with promises of pleasure yet to come.

You watched as Spencer slowly shed his clothes, revealing every inch of his sculpted body. Your breath hitched at the sight, desire coursing through your veins like a wildfire. The hunger in his eyes mirrored your own, igniting a primal need that threatened to consume you both.

With a predatory grace, he prowled towards you, his gaze never leaving yours. The weight of his presence filled the room, intoxicating and overwhelming. As he reached the edge of the bed, his hands moved to grip your hips possessively, his touch searing into your skin.

"I want to taste every inch of you," Spencer growled, his voice dripping with raw desire. His words sent shivers down your spine, anticipation coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach.

His lips crashed against yours again, a fierce kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. His tongue tangled with yours in a dance as old as time, exploring and staking claim to every corner of your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady combination of desire and something deeper, something that spoke of a connection that went beyond the physical.

Spencer's hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. His touch was possessive, but tender, an embodiment of the conflicting emotions that filled both your hearts.

With a deft motion, Spencer pushed himself up so that he hovered above you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. There was a hunger there, but also a vulnerability - a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I want to show you how much I love you." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and the weight of past mistakes.

In that moment, you saw the truth in his eyes. His words weren't just empty promises, but a genuine declaration of love and desire. The toxic history between you and Spencer had been a tumultuous journey, filled with heartache and pain. But now, in this moment, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance for redemption.

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to let go of the past and embrace the present. With a surge of courage, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands, pulling him closer to you. The taste of his lips ignited a fire within you, fuelling your hunger for him.

Spencer's hands roamed your body with a renewed passion, his touch setting your skin ablaze. Every caress was filled with purpose, a testament to the depths of his desire for you. You surrendered yourself completely to him, allowing him to explore every inch of your being.

As the world around you faded away, it was just the two of you locked in an intimate dance of love and lust. The room seemed to disappear as you and Spencer became lost in each other. Every touch, every kiss, was a testament to the fire that burned between you.

His hands moved over your body with a reverence that spoke of the love he had for you. With each caress, he worshipped every curve and every inch of your skin. It was as though he wanted to memorize every detail, etching it into his memory forever.

You felt adored under his touch, cherished in a way you had never experienced before. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel desired, beautiful, and wanted. In his embrace, you found solace and passion intertwining, creating a powerful connection that surpassed mere physicality.

The heat between you grew with each passing moment, igniting a hunger that consumed every fibber of your being. Spencer's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. His breath was warm against your skin as he whispered words of love and longing, his voice husky with desire. You shivered under his touch, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.

With a fluid motion, Spencer eased himself inside you, filling you completely. The connection between you was electric, a fusion of bodies and souls coming together in a moment of exquisite pleasure. His movements were deliberate and measured, each thrust taking you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Your hands clung to his back, nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Every stroke, every collision of flesh against flesh sent shockwaves of delight rippling through your veins. The symphony of your moans and sighs mingled with his own grunts of pleasure, creating a harmony that echoed through the room.

The rhythm between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony. You lost yourself in the dance, surrendering to the primal urge that consumed you both. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure became your only reality.

Spencer's thrusts grew faster and more urgent, each one driving you closer to the edge of rapture. The room echoed with the sounds of your bodies colliding, a symphony of raw desire and ecstasy. The air crackled with tension as you both chased that elusive release, the anticipation building to a crescendo.

Your senses were heightened, every touch from Spencer igniting fireworks within you. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his devotion. You could feel the intensity in his movements, his need to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

As his lips claimed yours once more, you felt that familiar coil of desire tighten within you. It was as if the whole universe had condensed into this moment, this connection between two souls hungry for each other. Spencer's name escaped your lips like a prayer, mingling with gasps and moans.

With each thrust, you soared higher, teetering on the edge of an explosive release. The intensity of Spencer's touch, combined with the overwhelming love and longing between you, sent your body into a frenzy of pleasure. The world around you blurred into a haze as your senses heightened, every nerve ending electrified.

Spencer's movements became more desperate, his thrusts reaching a fevered pace. He was so close, as were you. With each collision of your bodies, it felt like an eruption of pure bliss was just within reach.

Your eyes locked, the connection between you unbreakable. There was an unspoken understanding in that moment, a shared desire to push each other past the limits of ecstasy. You wanted to give him everything, to show him how much you loved him.

As if sensing your thoughts, Spencer's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. His breath mingled with yours in ragged gasps as he whispered words of love and devotion against your skin.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the symphony of your moans and the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. The tension that had built between you was unraveled in that moment, as you both gave yourselves completely to the pleasure that surged through your bodies.

Time seemed to stand still as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. You clung to each other, lost in the intense pleasure that consumed every inch of your being. The room filled with the sounds of your cries and moans, a symphony of passion and desire.

As your climax approached, you felt a surge of warmth intertwine with the pleasure coursing through you. It wasn't just physical release anymore; it was something deeper, something that transcended the boundaries of mere pleasure. It was a connection forged in love and vulnerability, a sacred bond between two souls.

In that final moment, bliss washed over you like a tidal wave. Your bodies trembled and convulsed together, locked in an embrace that defied explanation. It was an explosion of sensation and emotion that left you breathless and sated. The world seemed to fade away as you clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure.

As your breathing slowed and your heart rates steadied, you remained tangled in each other's arms, basking in the aftermath of your passion. This moment, this connection, felt so different from anything you had experienced before. It was more than just the physical act; it was an affirmation of your love for one another.

Spencer pressed gentle kisses against your forehead, his touch filled with tenderness and adoration. You could feel his chest rise and fall against yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in perfect harmony with your own. The room was filled with a blissful silence, a peaceful sanctuary created by your union.

In the tranquil aftermath, you and Spencer lay entwined, bodies still humming with the echoes of pleasure. Your fingers traced lazy patterns along his bare chest, revelling in the warmth that radiated between you. The weight of his arm draped across your waist provided a comforting reassurance, grounding you in the reality of your newfound connection.

As the room filled with hushed whispers and soft sighs, you marvelled at the journey that had led you both to this moment. The toxic history that had once plagued your relationship now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the raw love and desire that now bound you together.

Spencer shifted slightly, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss. His breath danced against your skin as he whispered words of affection, promising to cherish and protect what you had created. With each gentle word, he washed away any lingering doubts or fears, replacing them with a deep sense of security and belonging.

~Join my taglist~

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#spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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hispg · 3 months

Text

Little bunny

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You riled him up. It's totally your fault for using this bunny outfit. Now, bear the consequences.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, mirror sex, soft!Dom Leon, pet names, light dirty talk.

An: Hi Hi, sorry for the recent absence, I haven't replied to any asks or comments. And sorry for the absence, don't get me wrong.I have to sort out some things in my personal life, and frankly my mental state isn't the best. From yesterday to today I had two terrible mental breakdowns.I don't like to talk too much about my personal problems here, but I don't think it's fair to ghost everyone. Anyway, I just wanted to say that my next posts will be scheduled,(I'll see if I have any ready works to post, and hopefully I do), and I'll probably be back around February 5th or so. If I feel better I'll come back sooner, but I need some time to breathe.Don't worry, I'll reply to each and every one of you as soon as I get back! I apologize for the inconvenience, but I promise I'll come back better and respond to every kind interaction I've received!

Sorry for the long rant, but I kind of needed it. Thanks for your attention so far💕

"Look at me, love." Leon purred in your ear, watching you through the mirror.

Your legs spread, his fingers buried in your wet pussy, your cream dripping down his fists and onto the floor, making a mess where you sat.

Your lips hanging open as you moaned, your head resting on his shoulder as you couldn't even open your eyes without rolling them.

It was all so dirty, the mirror bearing witness to the scene that was unfolding. You in a bunny outfit, all dolled up for a party, it wasn't your intention to make Leon horny.

But what did you expect? Sending him a photo of you in that bodysuit, your ass reflected in the mirror and you making a naughty face. Of course Leon would come running to see you. How could he not?

You wanted to get his attention, since he hadn't been able to talk to you all day, so you had the brilliant idea of sending him these provocative photos. And indeed, you got his attention, and at the same moment he left all his chores and came running to see you.

Now you had to deal with him.

"All that for me, love?" Leon purred in your ear, using his thumb to massage your clit.

You hung your head again, letting the hoarse whimpers escape your throat every time he sank his fingers into you, hitting those weak spots that made you soft in his arms.

His mouth found its way to your neck, sucking and licking at the area, his teeth rubbing against your flesh lightly. His little smile only widened when he felt you tighten around his fingers, you were almost there once again.

You felt that familiar feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind getting messy and unfocused, you just had attention at that moment.

Leon also sensed that you were close, watching your expression through the mirror. It was so exciting that he could stare for hours.

Your wet cunt welcoming his fingers so well, so slippery and warm that he could spend all day fingering you, without a break.

"So beautiful, look at you," Leon says, holding your jaw and making you look in the mirror.

Your face flushed, your cheeks as red as an apple, your glassy eyes that begged for his touches. Leon made a point of fucking you while you were still in that bunny costume you were wearing, just to see how hot and beautiful you looked.

"You only did that for a good fuck, didn't you? You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?" Leon whispers sensuously, using his thumb to tug at your clit viciously.

The way he spoke to you was enough to make you roll your eyes, your pussy clenching painfully tight around his fingers, you could bet that this time you wouldn't hold back.

"N-no, that wasn't it…" You moaned, rolling your eyes once more, feeling his fingers touching that weak spot of yours.

You heard Leon's chuckle, and he once again lifted your face, making you stare into the mirror once more.

"Open your eyes, princess. You look so beautiful when you come." Leon said softly, admiring your reactions.

And that was enough to get you there, you just felt your white cream being oozed out of your body, your eyes rolling back as you held onto his forearms tightly.

It was so dirty, the way you whimpered so slyly, his name sliding out of your mouth as you came. Leon kept holding your face, making you see the mess you'd made of yourself.

Through the mirror you could see him staring at you with those blue eyes, the corners of his curved into a naughty smile as he watched your fluids dripping from you.

And there he went, making you come for the thousandth time that night.And when he kept fingering you even after orgasm, you couldn't help yourself and started whimpering even more.

"Leon, stop, it's too much!" You whispered, pouting as you tried to win his pity.

But no, it wouldn't work this time.

"No, I'm sure you can take it." He says, slapping your clit, watching your every reaction.

You whimpered, keeping your pout while he played with your body. By this time Leon's cock was throbbing, aching as it was trapped in his pants, even he could feel his pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

But even though you were struggling to take it one more time, you cried out when he stopped stroking you, when you felt the emptiness he left when he took his fingers out of you.

He had better plans for you now, he wanted to watch a bit at that moment. He then sat down on his knees, leaning back as he saw your legs spread in that dirty way.

"Touch yourself." He demands, his voice low and husky, causing a chill to run down your spine.

You widened your eyes at his demand, biting your lip as you saw him undo his belt, push his pants down and pull it all out at once, his cock jutting out at the same moment.

Pinky tip, flushed, and swollen. The clear and perfect sign of the effect you had on him. Leon wasted no time in wrapping his hand around his dick, grunting as he lazily stroked his length.

You then began to do as he asked, keeping your legs open while you delicately placed your index finger on your clit, making small circles on the sensitive part.

"Keep going." Leon says, biting his lip as he watched you, he began to jerk off with more speed, keeping his gaze on you.

"But… I'd rather it was you." You say, looking at him with sly little eyes.

"If you do what I ask, I can give you what you want all night long." He says, fisting himself as he watches you rub your fingers over your clit.

So wet, soaking wet just thinking about the possibility of him fucking you, even if only with his fingers.

He noticed every detail, your hips rocking as you touched yourself and searched for more friction, right up to the point where you put a finger inside yourself, arching your back and moaning softly.

In one swift movement he moved behind you once more, wrapping one of his arms around your waist while pressing his chest against your back. And in the same instant you felt his size in your folds, his cock rubbing against you, making you both moan at the same time.

He forced you down, making his cock move back and forth in your pussy lips, making you squirm and try to get away from him.

Your movements on your clit stopped, and he growled in protest at your interrupted act. You felt his fingers sinking into your hips, just as he began to fuck you while maintaining total control.

"Keep going." He murmured, in an authoritative yet heated voice.

You obeyed, pressing your finger back into your clit, moaning even louder as you began to feel his balls slapping against you, he moved back and forth, his length grinding against your folds as he held you tight.

And you couldn't contain the moan you let out when you saw the trail of pre-cum running down his cock, making you salivate even more.

At that point you didn't know who was making more of a mess, you or him. Not least because even he couldn't hold back his grunts when he heard the wet, lubricated sounds that filled both your ears, along with your moans and grunts that mixed and became one.

"I'm close—" You moan, biting your lip as you look at Leon.

The image was what you needed to feel your cunt clenching around nothing, your body heating up as you felt your orgasm building more and more.

Leon fucking you from behind, his nails digging into your hips, to the point of leaving marks the next day. His cock emerging and plunging from your folds, your pussy lips becoming swollen from the repetitive movement that was driving you crazy.

You then began to move along with him, your hips moving back and forth, you couldn't hold back the sound that came from your lips every time you felt his balls slap against you. Heavy and full, slamming so hard against you that you could feel your skin heating up and burning with every thrust.

When you started rubbing your clit more fervently, he noticed, and soon grunted in your ear in a bossy voice:

"Pull out." He says, looking down at your fingers that were massaging your sensitive buddy.

Maybe it was just a way of being mean to you, to hold off your orgasm for as many times as he wanted.

"But… I'm so close!" You whimper, looking at him with the sly little eyes you were an expert at making.

"What a shame." He purrs, taking your arms and stopping you from continuing what you were doing.

He then took both your arms, holding them behind you, his hand firmly wrapped around your wrist while the other went back to holding tightly onto your hip.

Leon couldn't help himself and smiled when he saw the mess you'd made of his cock, to the point where there was an absurd amount of the creams oozing out of you.

So dirty, doing all this fussing while he was just teasing you, what a dirty little girl, but that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

"Mh, didn't you want my attention?" He purred once more, holding you tightly as he moved back and forth, rubbing his cock against you once again.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck, his lips lightly touching your skin, and he made a point of giving you little bites, leaving his mark.

"My pretty little bunny, making a mess on my cock." He whispered, in a sensual and provocative way, almost making you feel ashamed of what you were doing.

But it wasn't that, he was proud. Why was that? Because he knew that he was the only one who could leave you like this, and that you were all his, made just for him.

The way he spoke to you made you whimper, humping against him like a bitch in heat, sweat sticking to your forehead as you looked at him through the mirror.

His blue eyes never stopped looking at you, the way you were soaking wet, that bunny outfit that suited you so well. Or whether it was the way your breasts swayed as he grabbed you from behind, grinning shamelessly as he watched you.

And you heard his laugh as you rolled your eyes, letting a sly noise come out of your mouth in a high-pitched way. You were coming.

His hand that had been on your hip went up to your chin, and he made you look at yourself as you came once more.

"Look, bunny, how hot you are. Look at the mess." He says, forcing you to watch your fluids running down his cock, making a new mess.

Just as you saw more pre-cum coming out of him, he was so turned on watching you that he could cum just like that.

White cream dripping off him, making his cock wet and sticky, you did it the way he liked it. The way you were able to do everything the way he wanted, including not holding back while you came, was just one more success on your part.

But now came the part he was most interested in, he was going to fuck you like he loved. Just the sight of the whimpering mess you'd become was exciting, you couldn't speak more than two sentences, you couldn't do anything but moan. It was all down to him.

"You wanted some attention, didn't you?" Leon asked, putting his hand on your back and making you lie on the floor.

Your chest pressed against the cold floor, your nipples hardening even more from the contact. He was still holding your arms, keeping them pinned behind you.

You just stared at him with a pout, moaning as you watched him play with you, lightly smacking your wet pussy, eventually lightly slapping your ass. He just wanted to tease you.

"Please?" You pleaded, arching your hips towards him, only to receive a harder slap.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Leon purrs, positioning his tip at your entrance, and taking the opportunity to rub his tip against your clit.

He knew he'd have to stop himself from cumming too quickly, because just seeing you in this position was enough for any of his fantasies, it was what he needed to see to go over the edge.

"So be it, I'm going to fuck you exactly the way you want, bunny." He says, a wicked smile on his lips.

And then without you expecting it, he thrust into you all at once, and you felt the delicious stretch he gave you every time. Your pussy stretching to accommodate him with such mastery.

You just moaned, you were incapable of doing anything else, completely drunk on his dick.

You only had time to close your eyes tightly before he started hammering into you, without the slightest pity, just fucking you hard and deep just the way you liked it.

His grip on your hips was strong, and he handled you as if you were a doll that weighed nothing, thrusting into you as he pulled you back onto his cock. Your bodies slammed together abruptly, making that filthy sound echo throughout the room.

Leon was all sweaty, his muscles flexing with every movement, and you could watch him fucking you from behind as you watched the scene in the mirror.

While Leon had the perfect view of his cock sinking into you, your warm walls engulfing him in a unique way, making him grunt at how tight you were, and how hard you could take him. Your juices leaving a white ring at the base of his cock, honeying all over him, acting as if he was the only cock for you.

It was too much for Leon, watching you moaning like that, whimpering desperately as he fucked you. His response was to pick up the pace, his balls slapping against you as his tip reached points so deep you couldn't even imagine.

It was all so fast, you didn't even have time to think as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him hard as you wet his cock even more. Your voice loud and sly, your nails gripping the carpet hard.

And that's what he needed, the last little push, the image of you cumming on his cock in such an obscene way was enough for him to grunt loudly and pump his seed into you, withdrawing his cock and sinking back in with a deep thrust, making sure to finish inside.

For a while, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, shallow and heavy, as you tried to catch your breath.

But then you caught Leon looking at you, the bunny ears that were on your head falling slightly below your face, that bodysuit that drew out your every curve.

He squeezed your hips, looking you up and down. Oh no, he wasn't finished with his bunny.

You wanted attention, and he was going to give it to you all night long.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #re leon #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #leon re4

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boba-beom · 1 month

Text

₊ ⊹꩜ backrow theatre | CHOI BEOMGYU, KANG TAEHYUN

⟢ sub!beomgyu x switch fem!reader x dom!taehyun

⟢ drabble; smut, little fluff

⟢ going on a date with beomgyu in an empty cinema was a plan from the beginning. what you didn't know was that you were being monitored the whole time, and turns out it wasn't just you and beomgyu wanting to have some fun.

⟢ wc: 1.1k (drabbles never drabble)

⟢ a/n: beomgyu and taehyun. the back row of an empty movie theater. smut. @junniieesbby's req for my event! MDNI. I decided I'll slowly release these drabble reqs from my event during the week days too, I feel like it'd be a lot to post during the weekend :') I received more reqs than I thought! but I am extremely thankful nonetheless! feedback would be appreciated as always ᡣ𐭩

warnings under cut

⟢ petnames;(baby, pretty girl, good boy, etc), sir kink, threesome duh, oral (m. receiving), degradation;(slut), deep throating, exhibitionism, dirty talk, somewhat voyeurism, there's some mxm moments (if you don't like that don't send hate, just don't read), unprotected sex, hair pulling, soft choking, pervy taehyun, spit kink and cum eating. lmk if I missed anything!

giving beomgyu head in the back row of an empty cinema was not part of the agenda your a first date, but you weren't mad about it. and neither was the man moaning like nobody's business. you two were the only ones in the cinema room after all.

"ugh, shit, baby. your mouth feels so good." beomgyu sighs, placing both of his hands on either side of your temples, resisting how fast you're sliding his dick down your throat.

the dim lights only made the view of you on your knees even hotter for your date. your fingers fondle his balls while you try and take him in deeper every now and then, and he loved it indicated by his throaty moan.

in the cinema, each room is under surveillance by a member of staff; monitoring any forbidden activities such as filming the screen or in this instance, someone receiving head at the back row of an empty cinema.

the movie wasn't much of an appeal to most but it was also the first day of the viewing—at the latest time too. the member of staff huffs, adjusting his half-hard dick in under his slacks while watching the way your head bobs up and down between the legs of a man slumping in his seat. but he better do his job.

you kneel back on your legs, fisting beomgyu's cock with both hands painfully slow, twisting your fists as he leans forward to kiss you, moaning into your mouth.

light shines on the both of you, along with a stern voice interrupting.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I'm going to have to kick you guys out-"

"please don't kick us out," you squint to read his name tag, "taehyun."

blinded by his torch shining on the lewd scene of your slick hands over beomgyu's pulsing dick, you manage to see the corner of his lips curve upward.

"why shouldn't I? this is unacceptable and it's public indecency." he retorts, but his growing erection feels otherwise.

"if I let you fuck me will you let us finish and not tell anyone, sir?" you look up at him with your doe eyes, almost whining from the title rolling off of your tongue.

your boldness was good enough to keep you going, beomgyu's cock back in the warmth of your mouth and taehyun's pounding you from behind, also kneeling. the grip of two pairs of hands on your body—your head and your hips—essentially had your mind reeling, another thing added that wasn't on your agenda.

taehyun's thrusts didn't falter, fucking you hard enough until your legs are shaking, him having to hold you up.

"fucking cum, slut." taehyun grunts between clenched teeth.

your moans over beomgyu's cock doesn't help him from hold back his noises, whining your name as he feels his length throbbing against your tongue. that is, until taehyun pushes your head down, taking more of beomgyu until his tip was lodged down your throat and gargling, then pulling at your hair, stopping just when beomgyu's tip remains in your mouth.

the male above you starts grabbing on the arms of the seat, throwing his head back and mouth agape while you're moaning around his tip until he unloads his thick cum in your mouth.

"don't swallow yet, pretty girl." taehyun pants behind you, snapping his hips as he pistons into your throbbing cunt. "c'mere."

you shuffle on your knees, knowing they're bruised but the pain is nonexistent in a situation like this. taehyun sits beside beomgyu and fists his shaft, waiting for you to position yourself between his legs.

you open your mouth slowly, careful not to spill beomgyu's cum from the corners of your lips. after a couple more strokes, taehyun hunches forward, letting out his strangled groans after each pump of his white ribbons spurting out his tip and into your full mouth.

"good girl." he sighs, chest heaving while he caresses your cheek once you close your mouth. but you don't swallow. letting the bitter cum of both men mix over and under your tongue.

taehyun turns to beomgyu, a thought brewing in his head and hoping you'd be quick to catch on. he grabs your date's jaw, delicately squeezing his cheeks.

"open." is all he says, and beomgyu was quick to oblige, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out flat against his bottom lip.

taehyun looks at you, smirking and nodding his head in beomgyu's direction, a subtle smile playing on your lips. you genuinely wouldn't have taken him to be such a freak but he's so hot, and the lust in his eyes while he waits for you to move was enough to realise he was just as freaky.

getting up on your feet, your knees almost buckle as you move to hover over beomgyu, crawling over his lap as your slicked cunt makes contact with his half-hard dick. you look at him below you, whiny and bringing his hands over a loose hold around taehyun's wrist.

leaning over beomgyu's face, you part your lips, slowly letting the mixed substances fall out your mouth and into the male's beneath you. when you felt nothing left in your mouth you press your lips against beomgyu's roughly kissing him and still tasting the cum on against your tongues.

another higher pitched whine rumbles in his chest when he felt the liquids sliding down his tongue and to the back of his throat.

"that's my good boy. now swallow, baby." you coo in his ear and you feel beomgyu's cock jump beneath you, taehyun, too, found that extremely hot.

you didn't take beomgyu to be someone who would eat his own cum, let alone a stranger's, but you'd by lying to yourself if you said that it didn't turn you on.

when beomgyu swallowed the last drop of cum he opened his mouth to show you, tongue sticking out again and taehyun's hand slides down to beomgyu's throat, applying light pressure as he raises off of the seat and spits into the other male's mouth, then nods. beomgyu swallows that too, no hesitancy in sight.

"god, you take anything we give you, don't you?" taehyun chuckles, thumb rubbing beomgyu's bobbing adam's apple.

the movie was coming to an end, the credits just about to appear and the lights gradually brightens up the room while the three of you sort out your clothes and wiping down the collective mess on the seats.

you grab your jacket from your seat, looking around to find taehyun making his way to the exit of the theatre room.

"taehyun!" you call after him, also making your way down the steps to catch up to him.

he turns around, brows cocking up and his hands in his pockets.

"I was wondering," you start sweetly, "could I get your number and we can fuck again?"

he chuckles at your straightforwardness, taking his phone out for you to put your number in his contacts.

"pretty thing, I'd love to. just, not in the theatre again. you're lucky it was just me who saw." he responds firmly, but he has that stupid smirk crawling on his lips again. "and beomgyu?"

you give him a sweet smile.

"you two are hot so.." you trail, "this arrangement good?"

taehyun looks up to where beomgyu was, walking up behind you with his flushed cheeks.

"yeah, this could work." he nods, retrieving his phone from you. "see you around miss."

"see you around, sir."

taglist: @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @ahnneyong @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @itaehynz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @yunkiwii @prodsh00ky @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @aprilisque @ja4hyvn @smutnoullitheorem @seolis-world @jak-ey @my313 (send an ask to be part of the taglist! here's the spreadsheet for reference!)

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macfrog · 5 months

Text

secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves)

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me

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wonustars · 4 months

Text

𝘋𝘰 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 ? (Teaser)

𖦹 pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader 𖦹 wordcount: 15k+ (this teaser: 643 words)

𖦹 genre: enemies to roommates to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni 18+) (none in this teaser though)

𖦹 summary: your first day at your new university you spill coffee on an unsympathetic asshole. unfortunately for you that unsympathetic asshole becomes your roommate. 𖦹 in other words: you and jeonghan get off on the wrong foot, but through forced proximity and a snow day in due to a storm, you learn that your roommate is more than just the campus playboy.

𖦹 tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, e2l!jeonghanxreader, campusplayboy!jeonghan, roommate!jeonghan, afab!reader, bestfriend!booseoksoon, joshua is jeonghan's accomplice in everything, reader is the only one who knows how to cook, jeonghan is king of the sassy man apocolypse. (more will be added in the full fic) 𖦹 smut tags/warnings will be added in the full post.

𖦹 taglist form. you can also comment or send an ask but the form is preffered! :) thank u

𖦹 note: this jeonghan fic idea has been cooking in my head for a longgggg while now. idk when it'll be out but cosidering i'll have more down time, i'd say by the end of this month? but it really depends so sorry in advance if i take longer than that lol. i've also decided to make a google form for anyone who wants to be added to the tag list (you must be 18+ though, and i will check if your age is in your bio), as well as a permanent one if you'd like! anyways see you all soon! mwah - anna.