weird cat guy- nishimura riki x reader
a/n: THIS WAS REQUESTED BY @angrybananapolice I HOPE ITS OKAY <3
request: can i req a comfort kinda fluff with Riki? reader is that kind of friend who's like a side character in her own life. Like, she isn't known by her name, she's known as her best friend's friend. You get me? so basically, reader isn't recognised a lot but then Riki somehow waltzes into her life blah blah thats all on you and then they kiss at the end because :)
warnings: cursing, insecurity, angst, comfort, fluff, kinda romcom
wc- 600-800 words
MASTERLIST
in school you were pretty invisible, you didn’t talk much and when you did your friend would accidentally overshadow you. you don’t think she meant to, it just happened.
it was really frustrating you inside but you never were going to say anything. at the end of the day school wasn’t forever and you could move on with your life in a couple years max. there was no reason to make a scene or beg for attention.
that’s how your life was, blending into the background. who were you to change it?
when you walked to school with your friend you listened to her go on and on about some annoying guy in her dms. you thought she didn’t realize how lucky she was for people to actually have a romantic interest in her. you had a feeling something like this would never happen to you. a guy making a fool of himself to gain your attention? funny.
“he was so annoying all he did was yap!” you felt her hand on your shoulder. you couldn’t help but laugh along, no matter how you were feeling- she had a point.
“he really did sound like a yapper.” you started to joke with her as she continued.
“and his instagram was a little odd too! wait look!”
you watched as she pulled up his instagram, you both spent time poking fun and giggling. it was almost like middle school again.
until you got to the school building, then you faded in the background. you loved your best friend just not at school. she talked to way more people and left you by yourself socially. she would drag you around and then not truly include you.
and that’s how you’d spend your days, doodling on your math notes, messing with your shoes under the desk, and trying not to fall asleep. rinse and repeat…
however one thing did happen, on your walk home you were alone because your friend got invited to a study hall.
“i’m sorry y/n… will you be okay on your way home?”
you nodded and smiled at her, forced, “yeah of course! don’t worry about it!”
you started your journey home by yourself, at this point you should’ve gotten used to it. being alone. it was almost tranquil and you felt like nothing could ruin this moment for you. no school, no stress anymore, no-
“PLEASE STOP THAT CAT!”
when you looked up you saw a cat and a lanky figure sprinting towards you, the cat jumped on you and scared you so bad you fell over. the guy toppling down with you.
“what the hell!?” you yelled grabbing your head.
the boy looked at you, “i was trying to get that cat! i wanted him!”
you tried to stop the dizziness, “go to a shelter then, you psycho!”
the guy stood up and grabbed your hands to help you up, “that’s too easy!”
you finally looked at him and he was astonishingly attractive, “you’re crazy!” you looked away from him, now embarrassed. you barely talked to people, let alone attractive people. this was so embarrassing! and it was the hot guy’s fault!
“i’m sorry for knocking you over!” he exclaimed, “listen how can i make it up to you!” he stood there tapping his foot.
you grabbed your bag off the floor, “by leaving me alone.”
“come on! i totally knocked you over! well technically the cat did then i tripped over you but that’s not the point!”
you looked at him again, “you can leave me alone and stop being weird towards stray cats.”
at that, you walked away quickly passed him. god knows what that weirdo does on his free time. chasing cats? what a dork.
the next day was like clockwork, you enjoyed your bestfriends company until school, then you lost her. school and your studies were boring- it was a review week.
you sat down at your desk for lunch, your best friend sitting by you but not with you.
“oh y/n what do-“ everytime she tried to talk to you, someone else took her attention. if you tried to talk, someone talked over you.
you learned your lesson quickly.
“i heard that cute guy has been peeking into the classrooms today!” one of her friends exclaimed. one thing you learned was that listening and noting things was key to at least trying to enjoy the social aspect of school. you didn’t have to be involved.
“which one?” your best friend asked. everyone looked at your friend.
“that cat boy! he always chases cats and birds!”
you found yourself giggling slightly, that was ironic. what are the odds?
your best friend gasped, “oh him! he is so cute!”
they started talking amongst themselves until you heard giggling and gasping. probably some arm smacking too. which was typical in the gossip circle.
“oh my gosh it’s him! (b/f/n) he’s probably going to go over to you! what if he asks you out!”
yeah probably. you knew how this was going to play out. she’d go out with him, probably get the ick, then he’d have a bad rep because he fumbled with the school’s flower.
it was then more silent than usual and you had a box of chocolates thrown on your desk.
you looked up and it was cat boy, the psycho that ran into you.
“what’s- what’s this?!” your eyes widened, the boy started to snicker.
“for running into you. my mom told me to get it.” he pulled up his chair in front of you, all eyes were on you both.
“i didn’t even know you went to my school!” you whisper yelled, panicking that the attention was on you. the boy started to unpack his lunch in front of you and you hid your face from everyone.
“likewise!” he spoke and started unpacking his lunch, “do you like cucumbers? my mom always packs them but i don’t really enjoy them.”
he started speaking like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“ummmm…. what are you doing?”
the boy looked up at you, “actually talking to you.” he whispered, “and having lunch. duh.”
your eyes scanned the room, your best friend’s friends still looking at you, including her. you felt nauseous.
“this isn’t a funny joke if you’re pranking me.” you said firmly, the boy looked a little shocked.
“why would i be pranking you? i don’t have friends either.” he said simply and took a sip of his milk, he put the cucumbers on your plate.
you eyed the cucumbers, “is that why you chase cats and birds?”
he looked up at you, giggled, then nodded, “i’m riki by the way..”
“y/n.”
you honestly expected him to hang out with you once and then drop it. but that didn’t happen… he actually continued to hang out with you. be around you, and actually talk to you. riki would remember the little things too.
he started to walk you home and you got so used to his company that it scared you. in your mind you were boring, he was probably just using you to get to your friend. you’d take whatever riki said with a grain of salt, no matter how sweet. why would you risk having feelings for someone who could just be using you?
the weather was starting to warm up and your allergies were not helping you. your head was in pain and school just wasn’t it for you today. the idea of looking at the green chalkboard sounded nauseating.
you stayed home and took pain meds, around 10 am you were trying to make tea when there was a knocking at your door.
that was terrifying, it was only you home. if someone decided to break it you would probably die.
you rushed over and peeked through the window. and there was riki.
you opened the door, “what are you doing here.”
“you weren’t at school, can i come in?”
“can you stop pretending you actually care?” you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked down at his feet. you were getting tired of riki being overly nice to you, especially because to you it was fake. it was a facade.
you heard a surprise noise and then a scoff.
“i’m not pretending! what do you take me for!?”
you finally got the courage to look up at him, “someone who’s way out of my league and probably only using me to get to my friend, it’s happened since middle school, and she likes you too! so go to her! stop wasting my time.” you went to shut the door but riki stopped it.
“what the fuck are you talking about? have i ever mentioned your stupid- no offense- your stupid friend?” riki readjusted the bag on his shoulder, “i got your schoolwork too dumbass, since she said she forgot it. that’s the one and only time i’ve ever spoken to her.”
you looked at him, still in disbelief. riki looked at you, somewhat annoyed.
“y/n i’ve hung out with you everyday for a month, i have no other friends because people either make fun of me for being cat boy or they’re just trying to date me. it’s a weird 50/50.” he said simply, his stare softened.
“riki-“
“what’s that burning smell?”
“FUCK!” you rushed back to see the water boiling over the stove and went to fix it. you were already upset because you couldn’t find the kettle, now you were upset you fucked up.
“god! i can’t do anything right!”
unbeknownst to you riki let himself in, “go lay down. i’ll make tea.”
you flipped around and looked at him, at this point you didn’t feel well, you were overwhelmed, and you just wanted to lay down, “fine… whatever…”
you laid down on the couch and tried to check your notifications, your best friend hadn’t even checked if you were okay. hell, she didn’t even read your text asking to get your work.
sighing you zoned out until you felt a weight next to you, “sit up and drink up.” you listened, mumbling a thank you.
“i like you.”
you choked on your tea, “you what? riki that’s not funny, that’s mean. you’re being mean.” you spoke quickly and waved your hand brushing him off.
“i’m not lying to you, i’ve been hitting on you this entire time!” riki exclaimed and sat back astonished.
you set the tea down, “it’s hard for me to believe you.”
“i know.” he took a deep breath and leaned his head back, “i know. clearly it is.”
you felt bad now, if he was telling the truth you were the one being mean now…
“i’m sorry, im not used to all of this.” you felt your eyes water and riki sprung into action. he softly grabbed your hands, they were freezing.
“i know you aren’t, listen… i lied when i said i didn’t know we went to the same school-“ he blurted out. you looked up at him.
“what.”
“i’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of school but i didn’t know how to tell you and you were always around that stupid group that never talked to you and i felt really bad but i couldn’t say anything because im known as weird cat boy and i just i was trying to catch that cat to try and impress you but i failed-“
around the middle of his speech it was like time stopped, it was now or never.
if it was a joke and your school social life was over then you could transfer online or something.
you sat up on your knees and made the boy face you, before you leaned in and kissed him.
he tensed up before easing into the kiss, when he pulled away softly he chuckled, “i’m sorry for lying about that, it’s the one thing i lied about and i felt embarrassed for liking you for so long.”
you pecked his lips again, “is it embarrassing to like me?”
“NO!” riki said quickly, “absolutely not! i just felt like a loser, NOT BECAUSE-“
you started to laugh, “i’m just teasing you!” when you calmed down you looked at him, riki’s ears were pink and he was just staring at you.
“thank you for being a real friend to me…” you smiled at him, tearing up again.
“can i be your real boyfriend? or am i about to get friendzoned…?”
you laughed again and hugged him, well tackling him, “you can be my real boyfriend!”
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complaining
pairing: coriolanus snow x reader
w/c: 3.6k
warnings: literally full on SMUT, bit of swearing, underage drinking but only if ur american, coriolanus is a warning in himself.
a/n: help my smut writing has gotten so good the past few months this popped off so hard. been obsessed with coryo since the movie came out (you cant expect a mentally ill woman not to fall in love with him. you just cant.) so here’s this. i’m disgusted by myself too. bye. (requests r open, send me stuff here)
-
Livia Cardew's 18th birthday had been a mistake to attend. The party had been held at Pluribus Bell's nightclub, a place in which you only found yourself when you made an appearance at your friend's birthday parties, and the entire club had been packed, not only with Livia's family and your classmates from the academy, but with their friends and families, too.
Overall, there must've been three hundred people there, all tightly packed together, some drunkenly pressed against eachother, dancing, others swaying silently by the bar or stood by one of the table booths, yelling in eachother's ears to get their points across. You thought that, of the three hundred, you might only have known thirty.
Livia, unfortunately, considered you as a close friend, which was certainly true when you were young children, but, as the years had gone by, you'd actually found her, and most of the other girls in your class, to be almost insufferable. Nevertheless, you'd managed to land yourself an invitation to her family's mansion before the party had started, and you'd pretended to be having a good time, even although the crystal glasses that you were drinking from and the buffet that Mrs Cardew had set out on the gold-trimmed marble dining table, had settled a queasy feeling into the pit of your stomach.
The only other face in the Cardew's enormous living room that wasn't constantly grinning, was Crassus Snow's own son, Coriolanus, who you'd make eye contact with on occasion, and he'd send a small, knowing smile, and an eye roll back in your direction.
You liked Coriolanus, a lot, actually, you considered him to be your best friend, sometimes you even dabbled with boyfriend. But your classmates couldn't know that, simply down to the type of bond that you shared, and so, after every bout of eye contact, every blush-inducing smile, you'd simply turned your body away, back to Clemensia, or Livia, or Arachne, and waited for the next time you'd catch Coriolanus' eye. Of course, he was almost always staring - he thought you were the only thing in the room worth looking at - even while speaking to his fellow classmates, and so, every time you turned around, you'd repeat the process over again.
"Are you even listening to me?" Arachne would say, voice as booming as ever, and Livia would intervene, calling your name to have you rejoin the conversation.
The party had been terrible to begin with, the opulent nature of the Cardew household having you feeling sick, right from the get-go, and had only gotten worse when you'd all left and gotten into chauffeur-driven cars to be taken to the nightclub. You'd been sweaty just looking at the crowd when you arrived, and saying hello to classmates that you didn't like but had to pretend to for the social status of it all had exhausted you even further.
But the night had ended the same way it always did, with you leading Coriolanus Snow back to your apartment, hands loosely intertwined with eachother.
You and Coriolanus lived in much the same circumstances, both in the same apartment building, where the exterior and most of the homes inside were packed with marble and precious stone, the two of yours being an exception to this.
You'd both come from rich families, of course you had, this was the Capitol after all, but, after being orphaned in the war, you lived alone, in an apartment that seemed to have crumbled more every time you arrived home, with pieces of plaster falling from the ceiling day by day, and new cracks appearing in the walls as often as every hour.
Coriolanus was only slightly better off than you were, what with Tigris and the Grandma'am still living with him.
Ever since the war, you'd been on eachother's side, no matter the circumstance. If either of you had chance to sneak food from the dining hall of the academy, you'd share it between you, and if there ever came a cold winter, Coriolanus would invite you over, and let you share the scarce warm clothes and blankets he and his family owned, topped with a bowl of cabbage soup from Tigris.
You supposed your sleeping together after the very occasional night at Pluribus' nightclub had come naturally, and the sleeping together most every night for the past few months had been only the normal progression. You didn't mind it, but, of course, no one at the academy was ever to find out. It would only spark rumours, which would certainly mean that, soon enough, your classmates would find out about both of your financial positions, which could absolutely not happen.
Your nights together remained simply intimacy in the dark, and you supposed you were both okay with that.
Coryo had his first two fingers interlocked with your last two, and your arms swung between you as you walked ahead of him. Neither of you were particularly drunk, a personal choice rather than an inability, as Livia's parents had paid Pluribus Bell extra for their daughter's party to feature an open bar, which could've been taken full advantage of by the pair of you, considering you'd never have enough money to even get into Pluribus' normally, nevermind buy enough drinks to make you both feel lightheaded.
But the Cardew's were high up in the Capitol, and Livia's entire family was in attendance, which meant that, with them, came the rich and famous, government officials, celebrities. The two of you, not having rich parents to fall back on, couldn't risk getting blackout drunk. It was the kind of thing that was funny if you were affluent enough, but embarrassing and ill-mannered if you weren't.
"You know," Coriolanus gave your arm a particularly hard swing, "I think we're getting pretty good at that."
"Good at what?"
"The whole, pretending we don't really know eachother, thing."
You scoffed and turned your body slightly to face him. "We don't pretend we don't know eachother."
"Well, whatever you'd call it. Pretending we're just acquaintances?" Coriolanus moved his tongue around in his mouth a little, mulling over the words like he'd only been asking himself the question. And then he gave his head a shake. "No, we're definitely pretending that we don't know eachother."
"It was your idea." You shrugged. Your conversations seemed to often be pointed, but it was all in good spirits. You knew that you loved eachother really.
"I'm not saying it wasn't." You laughed at his remark, "I'm saying we're good at it."
"And you're happy to do it?" You raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head almost too enthusiastically. Maybe the posca was stronger than you'd thought.
"Not particularly, but if it means that this keeps happening, and you keep sharing the food that you steal from the hall, then I could keep going." Your mouth fell open in feigned hurt, and you clamped a hand over your chest.
"You're only sleeping with me for stolen leftovers?"
Coriolanus shook his head and grinned at your joke, looking down at his feet, which were aching with how tight his boots were. "I'm kidding, obviously. Of course I don't like it, but you know what everyone's like."
"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt to be friends in public." You swung your hands between you for a few seconds while Coriolanus considered your proposal. You were nearing your apartment, and you fumbled in your coat pocket with one hand for your key-card.
"No. No it probably wouldn't." He said finally and you gasped.
"Are you agreeing with me for once?" You'd reached your apartment complex, now, and the LED lights on the archway into the building were almost blinding when paired with the crystal chandeliers that lined the lobby. The pair of you began climbing the marble staircase that brought you to your apartment, which was situated on the second floor. You always found it almost comical, how the Capitol had kept it's glory in apartment buildings but that the people housed within some of them were one missed rent payment away from eviction.
"I always agree with you." Coriolanus laughed, giving your hand a tight squeeze. You pressed your keycard against the lock-pad and, the second the door buzzed open, you'd untangled your hand from Coriolanus' to undo the buckle on your too-high heels which had once belonged to your mother, who's feet were only one size bigger than yours and so you were able to just about get away with wearing her old, but still stylish, shoes.
"Only when we sleep together." You gave him a seductive wink which had him laughing.
"Which seems to be more often than not these past few months." Coriolanus took off his blazer and tossed it over your tattered sofa, which was beautiful in it's glory days, but was now cracked and moulting.
Your face had broken into a cheeky smirk as you approached him, your back still to the door as he faced you. "Are you complaining, Snow?"
In one, swift movement, Coryo had backed you into the door and had one hand on your waist, the other above your head. He cocked an eyebrow at you in a way that had you weak in the knees, "Do I seem like I'm complaining?"
"I'm not sure, pretty boy, you'll have to do better than that." Your smirk was still present, and, without hesitation, Coriolanus' lips were crashing down onto your own, with just as much hunger for you as you were used to.
He moved fast, he always did, and he'd removed your coat from your shoulders and thrown it to the floor without even a second thought, and was now twirling the straps of your dress between his fingers teasingly. Your hands roamed his chest, blindly searching for the buttons of his shirt, and, when you found them, you fumbled with them until you'd undone them all, and then you pulled it from his arms, so that he was in nothing but his father's old black slacks.
Your dress was Livia's - you'd told her you just couldn't decide what to wear, and she'd offered it up - and it was huge and puffy and made you vaguely resemble a cupcake, and so, when Coryo's fingers finally slipped under the straps and began peeling them down your shoulders, you felt an incredible sense of relief to finally be out of the thing.
When you'd stepped out of the dress, Coriolanus almost dropped it on the floor, but you stopped him, "Ah, ah! That's Livia's, I can't get it ruined. Her father would probably skin me to make a new one. Can you put it over the sofa?"
He laughed and obliged, he always did, draping the dress neatly over the arm of the sofa before coming back to kiss you, this time even rougher than before. His lips trailed down your neck, hands roamed your body, fingers familiarising themselves with the black lacy set you'd worn under your dress, the only reason being that you knew Coriolanus would be the one taking it off of you that night.
He pulled back from you for a second, admiring your form, how your waist dipped in and you curved back out at the hips, how perfectly the bra sat on your chest, and, most of all, how you were all for him in that moment, how you seemed to always be all for him. "Oh my God." Was all he seemed to be able to muster.
The underwear had actually been stolen from a boutique near your house, one owned by Coriolanus' own cousin's boss. But you figured he didn't need to know that.
Coryo's head had dropped to your collarbone, and his lips travelled all the way across your chest, occasionally sucking or biting, which had your breath hitching in the back of your throat. "You're taking your time tonight." You observed.
"Mm." He hummed against you and then brought his head up so that his icy blue eyes were staring straight into yours, "Do I still seem like I'm complaining?"
"Oh, shut up, Snow." You giggled and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Coriolanus seemed satisfied with his teasing of you, because his hands had started to travel south, until his lithe fingers had pushed your underwear to the side and he'd pressed one of them inside of you, earning a mewl of approval and making your back arch away from the door.
Coriolanus chuckled against your lips. "Every time."
"Again," You tried to sound convicted but whined when the tip of his finger brushed against a sensitive spot, "Shut up, Snow."
Your hands reached for his belt and he didn't stop you as you made quick work of unbuckling it and pulling it from his belt loops. As soon as it was on the floor, the button on his pants was undone and they were on the floor, too.
"Eager." Coryo remarked and you moaned as he added a second finger and increased his pace. Normally, by this point, he'd have you on your bed, or at least the sofa, but it seemed he wanted things to be different tonight.
As soon as a third finger found it's way inside of you, you were a moaning, whining mess, and your teeth sunk into Coriolanus' shoulder as you tried to stifle your whimpers. Your knees had started to buckle and you knew your legs would give way any moment now. "Coryo...Coriolanus, I can't...I can't stand up." You were so breathless that even trying to get a sentence out was next to impossible.
Coryo's free hand held you steady by the waist, fingers gripping your back and thumb pressed firmly into your stomach. "You can take it, honey. Know you can."
His words had you melting and you felt yourself nearing the edge as he curled his fingers inside of you. "Coryo, I'm gonna...God, you have to stop-"
"I'm not stopping. Want you to finish on my fingers before I fuck you." He'd never spoken so lewdly to you, ever, and it had you wondering what had gotten into him, at the same time as it had you clenching around him.
"Coryo!" You called out as you felt yourself getting there. "Fuck, Coryo-"
"I know, baby. I know, come on." He looked you right in the eye as he said, "Cum for me."
That was all you needed, you came undone right there, pressed against your apartment door, moaning so loudly you were certain that Tigris and the Grandma'am would hear you, ten floors up. You, once again, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to try to quiet yourself, but it was hardly of any use.
Your legs had given out halfway through your orgasm, and Coriolanus' hand had dug into your waist harder to keep you held up. When you'd finished, he grinned at you, breathless, and scooped you up with minimal effort, only to dump you onto the sofa. His underwear was gone in seconds, and you were still wearing your set, but he was hovering over you, seemingly ready to sink into you and make you feel even better than before.
His lips found your neck again, and he was saying right in your ear, "You did so well, sweetheart. So well."
He was one for praising, and you were one for receiving, so it only made your pupils dilate even further. "Are you ready?"
His eyes were locked onto yours, fingers wrapped around your chin, always so caring, whether he'd just finger-fucked you against a door or not, always making sure you really wanted it. You nodded, "Yes. Ready."
"Okay." He kissed you again, "Let me know if you need to stop, yeah?"
"I will. You know I always do." He'd pushed your underwear aside again, and slipped into you with a slight effort in no time, which really reinforced his, 'sleeping together more often than not', statement, as it had taken at least a few minutes and some words of encouragement the first couple of times.
You gasped and dug your nails into his back, which had Coriolanus' face screwing up slightly. He'd always liked when you dug your nails into him, the pain feeling more pleasurable than anything. "You feel amazing. You always feel amazing." His hands found your breasts, squeezing them through the sheer lace.
"Do you want me to take my underwear off?" You asked through breathy moans. Coryo shook his head quickly and kissed over your bra.
"No." He said, almost authoratively, and thrusted into you harder, faster, as his hand wandered over your body and his eyes raked over you. "Want it on."
You nodded and obeyed, unable to do anything but almost scream his name, with how fast, and rough he was pounding into you. "Coryo, I'm getting close again-"
"You can hold it." He threw his head back in pleasure and a guttural moan left his throat. "I'm nearly there too. Can't hold it, seeing you like this." He gestured to your underwear.
"You like it?" You asked seductively, earning another moan and a nod from Coriolanus. "Got it for you, wore it tonight for you. Knew you'd like it."
"Fuck, who's all this for?" You knew he was close now, could feel him twitching inside of you. You were close too, but you liked the hold you had over him.
"Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean." You teased, still breathless but with a smirk on your face. Coryo shook his head at you, convincingly disapproving, and then his hand was on your throat. Lightly enough that it didn't hurt, but just hard enough that your breathing was slightly laboured and he had more power over you than you had over yourself.
"Who is this for?" Coriolanus asked again, voice harder this time. You weren't sure where this was all coming from, but you certainly enjoyed it. You were cocky at the best of times, and you liked having someone keep you in check.
"You, Coriolanus." He groaned and thrusted into you so hard you were seeing stars. "Fuck, Coryo, it's all for you. I'm always all for you."
"Good girl. That's a good girl, all mine." He gave your throat a light squeeze and then released you, leaving you gasping for air. "Shit. Gonna cum." He dropped his head again, still unrelenting in his pace or roughness. "Are you there?"
"I'm there too." Your moans were strangled, so loud you could hardly even quiet yourself by clamping a hand over your mouth. "God, Coryo!"
You came for the second time, Coryo following right behind you, and you felt his load come out in ropes inside of you, only making your high even higher. Coryo collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily and bodies shaking together. "That was amazing, Coryo." You cooed, hand stroking his white-blonde curls back from his forehead.
"Might've been the best we've had." Coriolanus was so out of breath he could barely form a full sentence. You hummed in response, nodding your head and then letting it fall back against the arm of the sofa.
"So you liked this?" You teased, plucking your bra strap from your skin and then letting it ping back on you. Coryo's face turned a light pink colour and he laughed.
"So what if I did?" He lifted his head, chin resting against your belly, "I liked it, a lot. Think you're beautiful. You know that."
You nodded. "I do."
Coryo shook his head, really laughing now, "There's the arrogance."
"Arrogance? You live in the Capitol, Coryo, there's many more arrogant than me." You hadn't stopped stroking his head, and Coriolanus thought he could've fallen asleep, your voice always calmed him, someone safe, and the added touch and his physical exertion made sleeping sound even more appealing.
"I'm kidding. You are beautiful, you should know that." His voice was soft, quiet, and you were glad that his eyes were closed, because your cheeks felt warm and you were certain you were blushing. "Do you think we should start acting like we know eachother?"
"I'd like that." You admitted. "Should we introduce ourselves? Maybe tell eachother two truths and a lie?"
"You know what I mean." Coryo finally stood from where he'd been laid, between your thighs, and gave you a kiss on the forehead as he bent down to retrieve his discarded clothing. You sat up aswell, fixed out your underwear, and reached for your dress. "I'd like people to know that I know you."
"In this kind of way?" You gestured to both of your nakedness as Coryo pulled his underwear back on. Your cheeky grin was back, the one he loved so much. Your constant teasing made it hard to know whether or not the pair of you were actually in love or just best friends sleeping together, but Coryo didn't mind too much, as long as he had you, he was happy.
"Maybe this can wait until we've passed first base in public. Cant skip straight to fourth, you know?" You'd put your dress back on by now, and Coryo had just finished zipping his trousers and was fussing over his hair. You crossed the room to him, and his hands settled on your waist and he pressed a small, fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose.
"Oh, that would be dastardly." You checked the time on your mothers watch, which you still had encircled around your wrist.
"Pluribus' doesn't close for another two hours, should we go back?"
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What if reader did somehow manage to escape Silas for at least more then a year?
White bunny
Mafia!yandere OC x reader
Summary: a year has passed since you escaped Silas. When he finally finds you, you're a shell of what you once were and he desperately tries piecing you back together.
Warnings: angst, kidnapping, panic attacks, a bit of age regressing? (I don't know), broken reader, knife
Word count: 1.6k
He’s found you. He’s finally found you. For a year you’ve managed to keep yourself out of his reach … but not anymore. You’re going to come back home now. He can’t stand to be away from you even a second more.
“Pick the lock”, Silas tells one of his men. “Quietly. If we wake up the other residents in this building they’ll call the cops.”
The man in front of him nods and sinks down on his knees by the front door with his hands full of supplies. Silas watches as he picks the lock with a satisfying feeling in his body. He’ll be able to hold you soon. A year has been too much for him. He usually can’t stay away from you for three hours … let alone a year. The second he sees you, he’ll capture you in his strong arms and never let you go again. His heart hammers in his chest at the thought that there’s only a locked door in between you. Soon.
“It’s open”, the man says.
Silas smiles and opens the door. The apartment is dimly lit, an indication that you must be asleep. His heart swells. Oh, how pretty you must be.
Sadly, one of his men knocks over a vase with his machete. Silas can hear it crash against the floor, but has no time to stop it. Mortified, he looks around, expecting you to stand in any of the door frames. He’s quiet as a dead mouse, listening. He can hear moving in the room to his left and grabs the handle. Locked? He tries again, harsher this time.
“I know it’s you”, he can hear your voice whisper from the other side of the door. “Leave, Silas.”
“L-Leave?” he repeats. “Are you nuts? I’ve been looking for you for a whole fucking year, baby! I’m not going anywhere. And if I am, you’re coming with me. Don’t make me break down this door.”
He feels like a feral animal. Every inch of his body needs to feel you and he’ll go crazy soon if he doesn’t get to have you.
“I’m not going anywhere”, you spit.
Silas turns to his men and gestures for them to pick the lock. Only a few minutes later, Silas opens the door. You’re crouched down in the darkest corner of the bedroom with a knife held out in front of you. Silas breaks out into a relieved smile. It’s really you. His dear, little Y/N.
“Why don’t you put down the knife before you hurt yourself and come over here and give me a big hug, hm?” he asks and opens his arms.
“I’d rather plunge the knife through my heart”, you growl back.
Taken aback is an understatement. Silas frowns in shock.
“Why?” he wonders.
“I don’t want your filthy hands on me!”
“Well, that’s not up to you to choose-”
“No, I’m serious, don’t touch me!”
He freezes at your tone. You sound absolutely horrified at the thought of him touching you? Everything about your body language is in defense. You seem ready to attack him if he moves just the slightest bit closer. You’ve never been like this before. WHat has happened to you?
“Y/N, put down the knife”, he says again, calmer this time, testing the waters. “I’m just going to talk to you. Okay?”
You shake your head quickly, lifting the knife with shaking hands.
“Take it”, he orders one of his men.
The designated man moves closer and you swing the knife wherever you can reach, cutting him here and there, but he is like a machine — not moving an inch. He grabs the knife out of your hands and backs away. You’re defenseless now, just like Silas wants you to be. He walks over to you and sinks down in a squat to take in the sight of you. Your entire body is shaking violently, wide eyes following his slightest motions. Silas reaches out his hand to stroke your head and calm you down, but you scream in terror and cover your face with your arms.
“Baby, I wasn’t going to hurt you”, he says, growing worried. “What’s wrong, little thing?”
he can hear you whisper something and leans closer to hear. A mantra of ‘don’t touch me, don’t touch me’ leaves your trembling lips. He can feel his heart sink to his stomach. Did he do this to you? He can’t have … can he?
“Give me the rope”, he says over his shoulder. “If I can’t touch them, I have to make a leash or something.”
Your cries escalate. Silas turns to look at you with even more despair.
“P-Please”, you beg incoherently. “A-Anything but that. Please!”
Silas gulps. This is his doing, a hundred percent. The touching can be coincidental, but he’s the only one who’s kept you tied. Things start to click together. Oh, what an idiot he is.
“Little thing, look at me”, he says. “I’m not going to touch you and I’m not going to tie you, but I’m not leaving this apartment without you. You got that?”
You nod quickly. He wants nothing more than to wipe your tears and hold you tightly in his arms, but he won’t be able to hear more of your cries. He starts to think of a way to get you out of here without frightening you even more, but his worries are quickly resolved. The lack of air you got when hyperventilating has made you black out.
“I’ll take them”, Silas says and lifts you up in his arms. “Don’t worry, little thing, when we get home, you’ll go back to normal.”
Oh, how wrong Silas was. You’re quiet and reserved and refuse to be touched. All you do is sit in bed while hugging your legs to your body and keep your eyes down on the mattress. He has to come up with a solution to make you relax. You haven’t slept or eaten in days now. He leaves to go to the store in hope to find something to get you loosened up. While looking through aisles of scented candles and body lotion, he sees the children’s department. With one last resort, he walks over to the stuffed animals.
“Are you sure Y/N would like a stuffed animal?” his second in command asks hesitantly.
“What other fucking choice do I have?” he groans. “If they refuse to hug me, I guess I have to find a substitute. I can’t fucking listen to their crying anymore. They barely want to be in the same bed as me. This has to stop before I go insane.”
“Which one should you pick?”
“I think the white bunny will be the best alternative.��
He picks out the fluffy animal and heads straight for the cashier. The woman seems to recognize him, but doesn’t say anything. Silas is grateful for it. He’s in no headspace to be dealing with people today. All he wants is to see his little angel happy.
When he comes home, he notices that his bedroom door is open.
“Shit!” he gasps and looks around, seeing his second in command. “Get the car, they escaped again!”
He’s just about to pass the guest room when he notices that the door is ajar. Carefully, he peaks in, finding you lying on the bed in a fetal position. Silas sticks out his head in the corridor and alerts the second in command that you’re found before sneaking into the guest room.
“Hey, baby”, he whispers gently. “I got you something.”
You don’t move.
“Here”, he says, placing the white bunny on the bedside table.
Silas holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. He silently begs for you to like it. Carefully, you sit up and pet the soft toy. Silas notices how your eyes aren’t … dull anymore. You seem to recognize the toy somehow.
“D-Do you like it?” Silas asks nervously.
“Bunny …”, you whisper.
“Yes! Yes, it’s a bunny. I got it for you. Do you like it?”
You nod slowly and take it in your hands. For a few seconds you feel around before hugging it close to your chest. Silas breathes out in relief.
“Why are you here?” he asks. “I thought you ran away again …”
“I didn’t want to be in there”, you mumble. “Want to be away from you.”
“But … you’re mine. We’re meant to be together. I haven’t touched or tied you a single time since we came home. Why can’t you at least acknowledge my presence?”
“Scary …”
“I’m not meaning to- … wait, why do you talk like that?”
You look at him questionably.
“You talk … almost baby like”, he says slowly. “What’s going on?”
You hug the bunny closer.
“Oh … I get it”, he says, nodding. “Would you like to watch ‘Scooby Doo’ with me? In the living room? We can get you some vanilla ice cream and those cookies you mentioned that you liked when you were a kid.”
You nod. Silas breaks out into a smile and nods along.
“Alright”, he says. “Let’s go downstairs.”
You voluntarily follow him down to the living room, hugging the toy closely. He can’t seem to figure out why you suddenly started to act younger than you actually are, but he's not going to question it. You’re not crying, you’re not telling him to go away. That’s good enough. He creates a fort of pillows and blankets on the floor for the two of you to sit on, almost making a pillow fort. If you need childhood stuff, he’ll give them to you.
Silas gives you glances throughout the movie. He knows he has gotten a second chance. You’re broken and it’s all because of him. He breathes in. This time, he’ll be careful. He’ll never hurt you again.
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Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (1 of 4)
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, protective Kyle, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series
With no one to turn to, you contact Gaz, knowing that he'll listen. But old instincts are hard to ignore, and Gaz comes to you because your current boyfriend isn't worth your love. He needs you to understand that.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist
It’s late. The colors on the television are bright in the dark room. Sound is off but Kyle isn’t watching. It’s more for the background. A distraction. All the muscles in his body ache. That’s how it always is when he returns from another deployment.
Everything is fine until he arrives home and plops onto the sofa. Like a slumbering bear emerging from winter hibernation, his body reacts to the sudden silence of rest as if peace isn’t something Kyle deserves. It’s why he’s always gone, and because of his continuous absences, you left.
Lonely. You were always lonely with him, and it’s because Kyle made it so. It’s a constant regret that sits in the back of his throat like spice buildup. It burns. Rages. Simmers.
When Kyle’s phone starts buzzing, he doesn’t notice at first. The screen is bright like the television, but it isn’t until its rattling boxy body shifts that Kyle’s gaze glances downward. He considers leaving it, allowing the caller to fall to voicemail, but something stirs in his stomach. It hooks his attention.
Perhaps it’s the late hour or the sudden tightness in his chest. Something is bothering him like stubborn sticky spots on the kitchen floor.
Kyle sits up, reaching for the vibrating phone on the tabletop.
Your name scrolls across the screen.
At first, Kyle’s mind cannot comprehend it. The letters that make up your name move over the screen of the phone in a blur, almost like they’re moving too quickly. But that isn’t possible. Kyle’s mind simply cannot comprehend why the hell you’re calling him this late at night.
You are no longer his. The two of you aren’t together. You moved on and rightfully so. Kyle has seen all the social media posts, and sometimes the blokes at work might bring you up, usually to provoke him. But the fucking joke is on them. The separation was mutual. It was kind and calm and fine.
But that doesn’t mean Kyle hasn’t thought about you. There is no box inside his head to put you in. There is no hole or lock or key or barren wasteland where he could simply toss your memory into and forget.
Kyle didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to let you go.
But you weren’t happy. He was always gone, and still is. Kyle never figured out how to be a partner to you when he was a partner to his work.
He regrets not fighting for you. He regrets not speaking up instead of gently bowing out.
And it’s late. It’s fucking late. Why are you calling him?
Hope—or a sliver of it—blooms in his chest, twisting around inside his body like ribbons around bone. When the feeling pulls taut, that excitement slides into worry.
The two of you are not together.
You rarely call him.
But his phone is buzzing.
And you are waiting on the other end.
Kyle’s slides his thumb across his phone’s screen, answering the call. He brings it up his ear, and that is when he hears it—a choked inhalation. It is one he recognizes. You’re crying, and trying to hide it.
“What’s wrong?” asks Kyle automatically, the instinct to take care of you rising to the surface.
There is a soft sniffle before you speak. “It’s—fuck. I’m sorry for calling you this late. I didn’t think you’d even pick up. Or be home. Are you home? Shit. I—”
“What’s wrong?” he repeats, because there has to be something wrong. You’re calling him, not your boyfriend. “Are you hurt?”
The idea of someone putting hands on you builds in his mind. It is followed by so many other possibilities. A wrecked car. Someone following you home. Everything.
“No—I mean.” You pause, sighing. The difficulty to communicate doesn’t sit right with him. You’re clearly in distress and the need to fix it is unbearable.
“Are you at home?” This time Kyle lowers his voice. Makes it soft. Gentle.
“Yes,” you answer.
He nods as if you can see him. “I’m coming over.” Kyle is already pushing off the couch, shrugging on his coat, and reaching for his keys.
“Kyle.” You say his name—just his name—and it says so much.
The ribbon between his bones loosens. Tightens. Ties his emotions and memory of you all together until your face is all he can picture.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Kyle makes it in fifteen.
When you answer the door, Kyle shatters like glass hurled against the wall. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. The look on your face dances between anger, sadness, and relief. He has no idea where on the spectrum he currently sits but this vision of you only puts him back to those days when he’d come home for a few days, taking off again, leaving you with nothing for stretches at a time.
There are no awkward greetings. No embarrassed flushes. Kyle does not hesitate, and you open for him. He reaches for you, and you answer in kind, embracing Kyle so hard you might squeeze the air from his lungs.
That would be fine. Kyle would happily suffocate.
Kyle stands and holds you, breathing in your familiar scent, pressing his face into your hair. His eyes close, and it’s just like before. Like you never left him. The sensation of you this close ignites every possessive part of him. It tells him to not let go and to keep you close.
But you are not his woman. Not anymore. And yet you should be.
He does not pull away until you do. But you don’t retreat into your flat, or slip out of reach. You stay right where you are, the two of you hovering just inside the doorway. On instinct, Kyle is touching you, one hand cupping the side of your face, your tears staining his skin where he touches your flesh. His other hand is on your upper arm, thumb rubbing across the bare skin there in gentle strokes.
You begin to melt, the muscles in your body relaxing. What Kyle wants to do is to take you to the couch or the bed, to drape you over his body, to place you in his lap. That is the intimacy he craves. It’s what he would do if you were still his.
Those gorgeous lips of your part, mouth opening as if you wish to speak, but whatever you want to say is lodged in your throat. In their place come fresh tears and sudden shifts of emotions that range from frustration to despair.
You’re hurting. You’re hurting so much, and Kyle only wants to fix things.
“Look at me,” murmurs Kyle, both hands now cradling your face. “Let’s get you settled. Yeah?” You nod, your small smile forced. “Come with me,” he coaxes.
He draws away and gently reaches out to take your hand, guiding you over to the sofa. He instructs you to recline, grabbing a few more pillows and a blanket. Once you’re all tucked in, Kyle digs around in your kitchen searching for snacks while the kettle boils for tea.
The need to take care of you is overwhelming. Kyle’s head throbs from the incessant voice that tells him to get you calm, to make you comfortable, to listen when you’re ready. The routine is easy, and Kyle provides, executing what you need without prompting or even second guessing it.
And you open up for him. Thank him. Reach out with your hand to hold his as he sits next to you on the couch. You’re calmer now with your tears wiped away and your face no longer puffy.
“Ready to talk about it?”
Your thumb runs along the edge of your mug. “Still want to hear it?”
“You can tell me anything,” he replies automatically.
You lick your lips and inhale. “He yelled at me.” By the defeat in your tone, Kyle can immediately tell that this isn’t the first time.
Kyle stays quiet, allowing you to take the lead, to tell it however you need to.
“This time it happened after we met up with some of his friends. I called him ‘boyfriend’ and got a few odd looks. In the car he told me not to call him that. I didn’t understand so I pushed.” You glance down at your tea. “He screamed the whole ride home. Dropped me off here and wouldn’t even look at me.”
Kyle goes cold all over. You’ve been with this guy for almost six months and he’s upset that you referred to him as your ‘boyfriend?’ No. Fuck him. That’s fuck boy behavior. That’s a man who wants all the benefits without any of the commitment. You don’t deserve that. And this fucker doesn’t deserve you.
Sighing, you reach for your phone and unlock it, turning it around to present it. Kyle takes it, staring at the screen. There are texts upon texts from the guy, all of which you’ve left unanswered. It starts as an apology and quickly becomes angrier as he scrolls.
But you did answer him. It’s the very last message. You sent it just before you called Kyle.
We’re done, it reads.
And there is no answering reply. There are no pulsing bubbles to even indicate that he’s formulating a response.
Good. Fucking good.
Kyle extends his arm, returning the phone. You don’t lock it. You shut it down, tossing it onto the table. Placing the mug of tea down, you sit up, staring intensely into Kyle’s eyes. There is so much he sees there, but he won’t move first even though he wants to, even though he wants you to return to his arms so he can remind you just how perfect the two of you are for each other.
But sometimes memory and the movement of it are just the length of a singular breath.
Maybe it is Kyle that moves first. Maybe it is you. In moments—seconds—you are straddling Kyle’s lap, arms laced around the back of his neck, your mouths pressed together in perfectly wanton need, a reunion that shakes every bone in his body.
You are fresh air. Cold ice cream on a hot summer day. Strawberries with sugar and cream. Sweet. Perfect. And only for his consumption. That is always how it should be.
Kyle’s hands slide up your body, over every curve.
“I miss you. I miss you all the time,” you confess, fingers digging into the front of his shirt.
Your admission is validation.
“I’d never tell you to not call me ‘boyfriend,’” murmurs Kyle against your mouth before going in for another kiss. “I’d want to hear you say it all the time.”
His words are a promise. An invitation.
Take me back. Please. Choose me.
Your lips part and Kyle slides his tongue inside, relearning your flavor. It is heaven dissolving on his tongue. He chases it, chases you, until you’re tugging at his clothes, wanting them gone.
It doesn’t matter that this is your sofa. If you want him, Kyle will lay himself bare, let you have whatever the fuck you want. There isn’t much to remove from you, but once the two of you are bare and you are straddling his lap, Kyle gives all his love and attention to these next moments.
Your body briefly resists, and then it melts, allowing him entrance. Kyle wraps one arm around your waist, hand splayed over your lower back to support your weight as you roll your hips up and down his cock. His other hand holds onto the side of your throat, keeping your gaze on him as you fuck yourself on him.
It’s glorious. Perfect. You are so slick and warm around him. He never forgot, but the real thing is better than memory. Better than his hand in the shower or the dark. You are moaning, light and wavering and only for him.
Your fingers dig in, nails clawing but not tearing. On the next rock of your hips, Kyle slides deep, and the sound you make nearly snaps his control. He holds fast, hand sliding to squeeze your ass as your movements become frantic and with no purposeful rhythm. You’re seeking your end, and Kyle wants you to have it. He needs you to have it.
“Come on my cock, love. For me. Yes. Like that.” You squeeze and Kyle groans loudly. “That’s it. Fucking hell, love.
You turn your face into his neck to stifle the cry that erupts from your throat as your orgasm hits you. Kyle nearly finishes himself, your pussy a vice around him, claiming him. A shudder runs through your limbs, and then you’re nipping at Kyle’s neck and jaw.
“Finish inside me,” you whimper, drawing back enough to gaze into his eyes.
Kyle doesn’t need you to say it twice.
Changing position, Kyle slides both hands to the curve of your ass. Lifting, he shifts you until he’s propped up on his knees. Your legs drape over his arms, completely open for him. You cling to him and Kyle brings your bodies together over and over again.
He will finish—he will, but Kyle needs to hear that word first.
“Are you mine?” he asks between clenched teeth. It’s the only thing keeping him steady. He’s ready to snap, ready to release.
You nod and it isn’t enough.
“Say it.”
“Yours.”
“Mine.”
Kyle grinds his pelvis against you, rubbing perfectly across your already sensitive clit. You cry out, clench around him again, but still, he needs to hear you say it.
“What am I to you?”
“Kyle,” you moan, and he laughs.
“Not that.” A little spasm runs through you and Kyle feels it reverberate all the way to his brain. “Won’t give you what you want until you say it.”
You gasp as the next thrust punches the air from your lungs. “Boyfriend,” you manage to whimper. “You’re my boyfriend.”
Fucking right.
Kyle immediately takes you to your back on the couch, thrusting a few more times before pressing taut, sealing your bodies together as his own release overcomes him.
His mouth meets yours and Kyle’s body is singing, pulsing, and bright.
You are his.
You are his.
You are his again.
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria
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lipstick kisses
pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader
wc: 1.1K
warnings: one ass smack, vomit mention, reader wears makeup
summary: your boyfriend is just too cute to keep your lips to yourself.
A/N: used the prompts "you're gonna get lipstick all over me" and forehead kisses both by @ihateprompts. no ghostface. to that anon who wanted more ethan, here you go baby.
masterlist / ethan landry
was the sidewalk tilting? was that a giant chasm or just a slight crack in the cement? your legs felt like jell-o suddenly.
“oh- oh, okay. honey, can you- here just…” your boyfriend, ethan squatted down with his hands on his thighs and back slightly hunched. he looked over his shoulder and gave you that adorable smile. “piggyback ride for one, honey.”
feet stumble on the two steps you took, hands holding his shoulders as you regained your balance for a moment. and then you threw up on the lawn outside the party house. ethan rushed over to keep any hair away from your face and rubbed a soothing hand over your back as you heaved until nothing came up. as you stood up you wiped the back of your hand over your mouth and then pouted with droopy eyes at your boy.
“oh, honey…” ethan murmured. the hand not stopping their motions as you flung yourself into a hug.
“i’m tired.” mumbled into his neck. ethan asked you to repeat yourself so you moved your head back and said again, “i’m tired.” in a more whiny tone.
“okay, well, let me give you a piggyback ride to my dorm. just gotta stay awake for ten more minutes, can you do that?” his big hands held your cheeks to keep your head from lulling about.
you managed a weak nod then ethan returned to his previous position. your hands back to holding his shoulders and you stalled for a moment, again. “gonna throw up again?” you heard the worry in his tone. you shook your head and before ethan moved, an impulsive thought came to mind. you smacked his ass.
“y/n!” ethan screeched and you just giggled. “o- okay. i’m ready to- to head home now.” ethan watched you for a moment longer before facing forward. you jumped on his back a little shaky, but ethan’s hands caught your thighs and hitched you to a comfortable spot as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck.
the two of you walked in silence for a while. taking notice of everyone’s party attire or listening to the music that was booming through the walls. the whooping and hollering of drunk college students mixed with the honking of horns from passing cars. the blackmore fountain came into view.
lips started to press kisses onto the side of ethan’s profile. exaggerating mwahs, sloppy aim, ethan’s boyish giggles. your love attack continued until ethan stopped at the door to his building. two more sweet kisses to his right cheek just as he tapped your thigh, telling you to slide down.
when you rounded his back and saw his face, you had to suppress the grin from coming to. ethan’s brows moved and arched in question.
“what?” a hand came to his face, “do i have-“ fingers moved away and were stained red, from your lipstick. a drunken snort at the look of shock painting ethan’s face while you were just overjoyed.
“honey… i know this color stains.” “well, all the girls ogling at you will know that you're spoken for.”
his lips quirked and he looked at the ground before pulling open the door. “spoken for? i didn’t realize this was the eighteen hundreds.” he pushed you through the threshold and moved towards the elevator to his floor.
a sigh of relief left your lungs when ethan pushed the door to his and chad’s shared dorm room. zombie-like feet carried you towards ethan’s made bed and you flopped face-first into the covers. the feel of ethan’s fingers holding your ankle and pulling your shoes free made you sigh in contentment.
“honey,” his hands held your waist and tugged at your body, “i have those wipes you keep here. you have to take your makeup off. you always reprimand me in the mornings if i don’t tell you.”
a huff as you pushed off the bed and turned onto your back. body at a slight angle with just a leg over the edge, with your hands sitting over your stomach, “can you just do it for me? please?” lips in a pout with pleading eyes.
ethan swiped at the concealer that was creased under your eyes, “okay. i’ll be gentle.” he bent under his bed for the box of stuff he kept specifically for you.
“you always are.” a mutter as you watched his curly hair dip down. his face popped back into view, a blue pack of makeup wipes in hand. you shuffled your head around his pillow until your head was turned his way, watching his fingers pull the flap away and waiting for him to caress your face like you were fine china.
“i just… rub this over your face?” he stared at the material. “yeah, but you’ll need to be light-handed around my eyes. don’t have many of my lashes to spare.”
ethan’s upper body leaned over yours, his left hand holding a side of your face while his right moved the wipe over your skin. he watched as your layers of makeup left your face and showed your imperfect skin beneath; pores, bumps, pimples, and some annoying facial hair that needs to be dealt with on another day. but you didn’t shy away as ethan’s eyes danced over those bumps, you just gazed back with slightly hooded eyes. Blown pupils zoned in on the kiss stains that marked him as yours.
“take a picture. it’ll last longer.” pushing his curly bangs away, “too lazy to grab my phone. but i so wish i wasn’t.” at the simple comment ethan stopped his task and grabbed your phone from the charger and plopped it on your clasped hands. a quick “thank you” as you went to the camera and captured the kissed-stained face of your boyfriend who smiled easily and flashed those lovely eyes. happy with the results you let him get back to work without interruption.
after three makeup wipes to ensure your face was as clean as it could be for the night, you changed into comfy clothing. you waited in bed as you watched ethan flit around the small space, turning the light off, and climbed into bed.
the two of you lay side by side, hands tucked under your heads that sat atop pillows. your eyes were straining to stay awake for just a bit longer, but you were pulled by the heavy hands of the sandman into lovely dreams involving ethan. your ears were able to hear the bedding crunch around you and feel the slight heat that ethan’s body gave off as he pulled you closer to his person. his hand rubbed up and down along your back and he pressed sweet kisses to your forehead.
the last kiss lasted just a bit longer. he lingered in the touch before pulling back and tucking your head to his neck. ethan whispered good night and i love you, before dreaming of you while you slept beside him.
-
ethan landry taglist: @astrxq / @websterss /
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Odds were against us - John Marino
A/N: My submission for @wyattjohnston Winter Fic Exchange 2k24! This is the first time I have participated in a fic exchange and wow has it been really fun for me! Thank you so much, Demi, for being a gracious host and your rockstar organization!
@pcttymcrlecu I hope you love this as much as I enjoyed creating it for you. Also, I am IN LOVE with the song inso for this. I listened to it on repeat the entire time I was working on this. Thank you for sharing 🥰
Song Inspo: Solider by James TW
Word Count: 2.5k
The odds were against you.
Well, maybe not right away. You did grow up two houses down from each other.
But once you moved away for college, the world seemed to keep you apart as much as it flirted with the idea that you two could be together.
Growing up, it was the Masschusettes version of the three musketeers: John, Paul, and you. There was never a Marino brother around without you. Living on the same street had great perks, like a hockey net to shoot at, a ton of legos, and endless nights spent on their backyard play set.
From the beginning, John and you had a connection. Even as his twin brother was supposed to know him the best, you always seemed to be on the same page with your buddy. For years growing up, you and John had been tango-ing with will they, won't they, before he went to Harvard and you went to theUniversity of Pittsburgh. The next three years, every time you were both home, the tango continued. Both dating other people, never wanting to ruin the friendship, finding excuses for why you could never talk about the elephant in the room.
Then, John left Harvard after his junior year to play for the Pittsburgh Penguins. You were thrilled to show him the city! You took him to your favorite restaurants and introduced him to your college friends. It was you sitting next to his brother and his parents, in a freshly pressed Marino jersey, as he did his solo rookie lap in black and yellow.
It was you who left Pittsburgh a year later.
While others in your major wanted to be at Google and Microsoft, you wanted to use your computer science degree for good. When the call came for your dream job at the National Renewable Energy Laboratory in Golden, Colorado, you knew you had to decide. You loved John, but he didn’t know, and it was hard to imagine a life where you stayed on the sidelines for potential. So before you decided, you nudged the situation to see what John would say when he was faced with the possibility of losing you.
“I got a job offer!” You exclaimed to him at happy hour.
“Whoa! Of course you did! You’re so cool.” He puts his chin in his hand, giving you googly, heart eyes in admiration. He is joking, but it puts a silly smile on your face. He sits back up, taking a sip of his beer, waiting expectantly. “So tell me everything. Will you get an office? How close will you work to the arena? And can I come to have lunch with you every day because that is a requirement. We have spent too much time apart.” Your stomach drops out of your body. You look away, taking in a heavy breath.
“That is the one downside.” You bite your lip, then continue. “It’s not here.”
“Oh? Is it like out in the boonies or Philly?”
“No. Like Colorado.”
Surprise slaps across John’s face. Then he looks away, trying to gather himself quickly.
“But you just got here and maybe I shouldn’t go...” You trail off. You hold your breath, wanting John to say something. You know this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. But a yearning inside of you begs for John to tell you to stay with him in Pittsburgh.
“You should go. This is everything you’ve been wanting. You deserve this.” John’s words are everything he should say, but they fucking sting. Tears build in your eyes and you nod. “I’m proud of you.” John finishes with a dainty whisper. He licks his lips, looking away. “Look at us.” He tries for a laugh but it comes out like a cough. “Both of our dreams are coming true.”
You want to ask him why it feels like your chest is imploding?
But you don’t.
Instead, you hug your childhood best friend while telling yourself how selfish it would be to confess you’re in love with him before you go
- - -
Three years later, so much has changed since you hugged John on that bar stool. You have been promoted twice and received national recognition for your work in solar energy. John had rough seasons in Pittsburgh, but has found a new, comfortable place in New Jersey. Paul is with the L.A. Kings in California. You make it a point to meet up with John and Paul when John visits on his West Coast road trips. John and you connect when he is in Colorado. When you’re back home, you make the commute to Jersey and fly home out of Newark. Otherwise, you’re texting daily, sending GIFs and memes and tiktoks back and forth while keeping each other abreast of your busy life.
You’re closer than ever. More in love with him than ever too. But how would it ever work?
The repetitive thoughts consume you as you stir the queso you had been making for your taco night at your new home in Golden. It has been a long, competitive process to get this house, but you are so proud of it. A dream home to match the dream job that the dream boy will see tonight.
A knock sounds on the door. The dream boy waits for you on the other side of the wood.
“Hi!” You squeal when you see John. “Welcome to MY home!”
“Uh, Ma’am, where is the owner of this home? You’re too young and single? It couldn’t be you?” He jokes, then pulls you in for a tight hug. “Thought we could celebrate.” He tilts the bottle of wine at you. It is nothing fancy. In fact, it's Cook’s, the bottle you two had stolen from your parents’ bar to have after prom on the beach.
“Let’s get this expensive gal in a nice lil ice bath.”
“There is nothing nice about an ice bath. Or that wine.” He snorts, shrugging his coat off.
“You can put that in the closet right there.” You point to his right. He opens the door, settling his jacket between two of yours. A warmth spreads through your body at his clothes mingling together with yours, gathering each other's scents.
“Don’t dawdle in the doorway, Johnny. Come into my kitchen!” You’re giddy as John's sock covered feet slide across your wood floors to join you in the open, modern space.
“Gas range?” John oos and aws at all the fixtures you show him. He hypes and gasps at all the right moments. Your cheeks hurt from grinning as you become Vanna White against your refrigerator.
“Go best friend!” He cheers as you do a little spin and dance for him. You laugh at the end.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” You tell him honestly.
“Me too. Glad we got in early.” He opens his arms for you. The weight of you settles against his chest, creating a bonded connection. John squeezes tight, his chin on the top of your head. He works you both into a sway, enjoying the weight of each other’s arms. This version of John is your favorite. The one who blurs the lines between best friends and lovers. You breathe in the fresh scent of his cologne, then wait, making him be the one to break your embrace.
“So is there an upstairs?” He wonders.
“There is! They gave me two whole levels!”
“What! Scam. It’s all a scam.”
“Look at my wall of pictures.” You point out as you head up the stairs. There is a whole gallery wall of frames and people, many of which John is in. Paul too.
“I know these people!” He grins, looking at their decades of memories. “My favorite night.” He points to a picture. It’s the New Year's Eve you were pretty sure you almost kissed.
“Mmm, it’s up there for sure.” You agree, waiting for him. His eyes trace the memory like he wants to burn it into the membrane of his brain. Then he turns to you, grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs, becoming the tour guide.
“So up here we have uh…” He looks around. “An office!”
“Oh! And a standing desk?! She works on her fitness.” You fill in.
“We have very different definitions of fitness.”
“I hope so, NHL player.”
“And over here,” He tugs you by your fingers. “We have a guest room. You would never have blue as your color. It is not boring enough. This can’t be your room.”
“Shut up! I love neutrals! They’re in!” You shove at him as he howls with laughter.
“Paul’s room for when he comes to visit. Your parents and sister too.” You can’t help but notice John doesn’t include himself in that.
“Oh here we go.” He gets to your room, pushing the cracked door open to expose your favorite space in the house. He pauses in the doorway, taking it in.
Two lamps on either side of the bed illuminate the room as the sun sets behind the mountains outside. Your white walls are warmed by their dim light. The bed is made with a plush, white comforter and a light tan blanket draped along the foot of the bed. The walls had been painted the faintest of olive green. Various shades of cream and tan pillows create the look of a bed you want to jump into to mess it all up. A black and white picture of waves sliding onto a Nantucket beach is above the headboard.
John has gone still and silent. You are nervous as he continues to look around the comfy oasis you have created as your escape from the world. You were meticulous in your quest for homey, comfort items that would dull the sometimes harsh world out there. Does he hate it?
“What do you think?” You finally ask.
“Honestly?” He murmurs.
“Yes!” You giggle, trying to cross the distance you feel separating you.
“I wish this was our house.”
You freeze. John keeps looking at the bed, eyes ravenous over the clean bedding like he is seeing something else.
“I wish this was our bed.” He sighs. “I wish I was the one who got to sleep here with you because this is so clearly your dream house and I wish I was your dream man.” He stands there with his hands in his pockets, still not looking at you. This is when you realize he really doesn’t know. How does he not know?
“You are.” You whisper.
It’s John’s turn to be still and dumbfounded.
“You’re my dream man, Johnny.”
You bite your lip and John rushes towards you. His hands grip your face, tugging you into his lips. Your head falls back, delirious at his mouth finally being on yours. He holds your head up, working his lips to an angle so his tongue can devour your mouth. You never want to breathe again. His tongue and lips on yours are everything you’ve ever wanted. How will you stop?
Need takes over and you break apart begrudgingly. John rests his forehead on yours, thumbs delicately stroking your cheek bones.
“I’m in love with you, Johnny.”
“Good. Cause I am deliriously in love with you. And I’m sick of not telling you that every day.” You grin, inhaling heavily as tears fill your eyes.
“How are we going to do this?”
“I don’t know.” John sighs, gripping your face tighter in his fingers, like that will stop the rest of reality from intruding on your moment.
“I’m scared. We live so far apart. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
“We’ll have to be brave, sweetheart.”
Being brave is your second act.
The next 6 months you navigate the journey from friends to lovers while trying to mitigate the 1,700 miles that separate you. A 2 hour time zone difference weighs heavily on your relationship, along with two careers that threaten to ground you before your relationship even has a chance to take off. Then the off-season comes and John decides to train in Colorado with local NHL players at altitude, convinced it will give him that next step in his game.
The season begins again and your bed is as empty as it was before. You’re miserable. Lonelier than you’ve ever been and it spews mean thoughts in your brain at all hours of the night. John feels the same. You both discuss it openly, but neither of you have solutions for this next roadblock. Something will have to give, you both know it, but neither of you can speak it.
Right before Thanksgiving, your fist feels heavy against his Jersey City apartment door. He isn’t expecting you, but the relieved sigh when he has you in his arms tells you how welcome you are here. He ushers you in, pasting his lips against your skin as you try to set your bag down.
“What are you doing here?”
“Accepting my job offer.” John bolts up.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, babe. Don’t do this for me.”
“I’m not going to pretend it isn’t because of you. Of course it is. But this is a really good career move for me too. We can have it all.”
“Your house-”
“-will always just be my house. I’m ready to upgrade to our house.” You lock your hands around his neck, fingers guzzling up every bit of warmth from his skin. “I know what I want to do in my life and it’s to be where you are.” John groans then hugs you into his chest desperately.
In another month, you cut those 1700 miles down to 0. You and John move into your new place together. While you’re unpacking the neutral bedroom decor he makes fun of, John walks in then pops down to one knee.
“Can’t wait another minute.” He confesses. “I’ve been downstairs trying to talk myself out of doing it and why? For what? Because there isn’t an audience? There isn’t a photographer? Your nails aren’t done? That’s not us. This is us. So, marry me?” Your bottom lip quivers. A blink sends tear tracks down your face as you nod enthusiastically, telling the man, who is still your dream boy, “YES” you will marry him!
The wedding is a fast plan, you need to do it in the off-season and neither of you care for anything super fancy anyway. It’s a quaint ceremony on a similar Nantucket beach that hangs above your now shared bed. You and John stare in awe as you take turns reciting written vows that may as well be a decades long love letter to each other.
“Let’s keep betting on us, baby.” John finishes. You laugh, nodding vigorously.
When it’s time to seal the deal, John winds his hand around your waist, then tilts you down, kissing you so fully that you’re dazed when he brings you back up.
Like it has for thousands of years, a kiss between two lovers seals your fate.
It’s been decided.
A forever commitment.
One that binds you and John as partners, who keep bending the odds and winning anyway.
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Ok imagine this.... force 141 meeting price twin sibling reader that's a retired captain but here's the twist they think reader is an imposter when in reality their just here to visit price and take him to his favorite restaurant for his break...
This is so old I’m sorry :,)
Protective 141 my beloved
“Leaving, on a jet plane..
Don’t know when I’ll be back again..”
Your soft voice cut through the music, singing along as your tires dug across the dirt road leading to the base entrance.
Your keychain swayed gently from the rear view mirror, a tiny toy soldier John had slipped into the pocket of your slacks the day you were promoted to Captain.
As much as you were at peace with retiring from your position, those small pieces of your career never seemed to disappear.
The security personnel were all smiles seeing your truck pull in, joking and teasing as they’d done for so many years. While your car was taken care of, you were lead to your brother’s office before being left to greet him. You listened through the door, only hearing the tapping of his keyboard.
BANG, BANG, BANG.
You grinned like a child when you heard a low curse and angry footsteps. The door flew open.
“You are a pest.”
“Good to see you!” You beam.
“Mhm.” He grumbled, though he guided your shoulders inside carefully.
It had been strange since you left, but just being in his office was reassuring. He told you what he could now that you weren’t in on classified info, and you told him nearly everything. The nightmares, the daydreams, the panic attacks, disassociation.
Talking to him always reminded you that even though you ached to be back in uniform, leaving was for the best.
You displaced his office decorations and spoke with him for a few hours before he hugged you goodbye tightly, reminding you that this was still a version of home, and he was here.
“Always here.” He said.
You closed his door gently, hesitating a moment to run your thumb down the groove of the door seam in thought.
“You lost?”
The voice nearly made you jump, though your years in service didn’t let you show it as you turned to see a young man in uniform, scanning you with a furrowed brow.
“Do you need assistance?” He repeated, adjusting his cap.
You blink in realization. “Oh, I’m-"
“This is a restricted area, mate.” Another voice joined the first, accompanied by an intimidating figure that had appeared from behind a corner. Not an inch of him was uncovered apart from his eyes, his build and layers making him look even more threatening. He seemed to puff up like an angry cat; amusing to your trained eye.
“John is my brother, I worked here with him before your task force transferred here.” You replied smoothly.
“Price doesn’t have siblings.” The masked soldier spoke lowly.
You smiled despite yourself. “Well, that’s news to me..”
“Need some directions?”
Another?
Your patience thinned.
“Look. I served here, he’s my brother. If you open this door, he’ll tell you.”
The first soldier eyed you suspiciously.
“Forgive me for not taking your word for it, uh..?”
“Price.” You deadpan. “My last name is Price.”
The capped soldier hummed, seemingly still off-put.
You sighed, exasperated. “Please open the door.”
“Yeah, alright.” The masked man starts toward you, and you fight the urge to skillfully escape his hold when he guides you by the shoulder back into the office.
“I hope you’re not lying..” The Scottish soldier from before murmured as you passed, and John lifted his head from his work.
“Claims to be your-”
“For Christ’s sake, release your death grip from my sibling!”
His exasperated tone makes you smile as the three soldiers flank you. The hand on your shoulder leaves along with a tense apology that only deepens your amusement.
“If I wasn’t, I think they did a pretty good job interrogating me.” You say lightly.
“I’m so sorry.. what’s with you lot, aye?”
He shut down the protesting of the capped and Scottish soldier with a raised hand, sighing as he brought you to face them.
“Should have thought to introduce you..”
Capped soldier was Gaz, Scot was Soap, mask was Ghost. Their apologetic shuffling of their weight made you comfortable already.
“It’s nice that you’re so..protective.”
You hoped they sensed your amusement and didn’t really think you were rattled. It would have taken a lot more than a strong arm to trip you up.
“They’re idiots.” John corrected, sitting back down.
“You served?” Ghost murmured.
“I did. I retired a few months ago.”
“You’re.. Price’s age?” Gaz’s tone was disbelieving.
“Oi.” John glowered.
“You can’t say that..” Soap nudged Gaz harshly.
“The exact same actually. Well..” You glance at John. “I am three minutes older..”
“And yet you’re the child.” John bit back.
“Why’d you never tell us you have a twin sister?” Soap gestured to you.
“Not your business?” John replied.
“Aye..” Soap rolled his eyes.
“You three should come with us for dinner.” You suggested.
John’s ‘No’ was overshadowed by the resounding enthusiasm of his task force.
“You’re supposed to be on my team.” John grumbled.
“I’m retired, John, I work alone.”
He glared at Gaz’s quiet laugh.
“7:00. We’ll be at that little run-down near the bar.”
“You’re taking them there? I thought you were family.” Ghost shifted his weight.
“Good chips.” You and John both defended the restaurant of choice at the same time.
“Oh, they’re twins for real..” Gaz murmured. “Creepy.”
“See you tonight.” You gently shoved John’s head before excusing yourself.
“See you!”
“Bye!”
“Cheers..”
When you had left the building, the three turned back to John. Soap didn’t get a chance to open his mouth before John rumbled a warning.
“If you so much as think about it, I will tear you apart.”
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Azriel x adhd!Reader
A/n: As someone with ADHD I struggle with a lot of stuff like my emotions and daily tasks. I like talking about it bc I don’t think it should be taboo and I hate the stigmatism around it that it’s just people being lazy. If your struggling with ADHD or any other mental health problems know you’re not alone ❤️
Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, some angst
At first Azriel didn’t understand why your mood could be so up and down all the time. Or why you struggled with getting out of bed some days and others you had so much energy you didn’t know what to do with it.
You didn’t like loud noises, being touched unless you wanted too, and some textures overwhelmed your senses causing you to lash out.
You have a hard time communicating your feelings and he does too, which makes you both frustrated when one of you just brushes the other off or is passive aggressive.
Azriel notices you space out sometimes or that when he’s talking to you, you ask him to repeat things because you didn’t hear him. He thinks it’s odd but brushes it off as you just being preoccupied. He also picks up on your fidgeting but never thought anything of it
One day you both snap at each other resulting in the worst fight you’ve ever had
Azriel ends up going to Rhys for advice because he doesn’t want some stupid fight on a random Monday to be the reason you break up
Azriel tells his brother about the issues that have been building up over the last few months and Rhys, who’s been one of your best friends since childhood, tells him you’ve always been that way
He doesn’t go into detail, it’s your story to tell, but he does tell Az about when you were younger and your parents had Madja come give you a few tests. He remembered being a little nervous for you but you were fine. You just needed a little extra help and attention with things because your brain works differently
Azriel instantly feels bad that he didn’t know
“It’s ok Az, she didn’t even tell me until we were teenagers.” Rhys says sympathetically. “Yeah but I’m the one that’s supposed to be there for her, not get angry with her.” Rhys hugs his brother, insisting he stay the night and that time apart will do you both good
The next morning Az comes home to you baking in the kitchen
You had to move around or the thoughts of Azriel not coming home because you were too much of a burden were going to eat you alive
When you see him you try to apologize but he cuts you off asking if you could sit down and talk
“I don’t want to push, but Rhys told me about when you were younger and the testing with Madja.” He says gently
You take a deep breath, trying to blink your tears away
Sometimes it’s hard for you to talk about your ADHD because you hate to seem weak or different
But you’ve held back long enough and if you didn’t tell Azriel soon you knew you would get worse trying to mask it
You tell him everything. how your energy goes up and down, your depression and that it’s worse because you can’t find the energy to do things
You feel useless sometimes because you forget things or because you don’t listen
He hugs you as you cry into his chest, “I just feel so guilty being this way. I’m sorry Az.”
He brushes away your tears, “It’s ok my love. I know I don’t communicate well either. And I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt this way. It must’ve been killing you to keep it in.”
From that point forward Azriel was always there to make things better
Your communication improved and fights or the silent treatment became very rare
You weren’t afraid to tell him if something was bothering you or if you needed extra help or attention from him
Azriel and his shadows could pick up if you were being overstimulated or stressed out, so there were times you didn’t even need to ask
If you were out with the group and became uncomfortable Azriel would take you somewhere quite to help calm your anxiety
He’d wrap his wings around you so it would be dark and quite, helping slow your panicked breathing
“It’s ok baby, take a deep breath.” “That’s it, in and out, don’t rush.” “Here feel my heartbeat, can we try and match it?”
If you didn’t like how your sweater or dress was feeling that day he would be there with a back up or give you his own
“Are you sure Az, I don’t want to take it from you then you’ll be cold.” “Don’t worry about me baby, I just want you to be comfortable. Plus I’m built for the cold, Illyrian remember?”
Whenever you start fidgeting it’s usually if you’re bored or nervous. Azriel always keeps a little fidget toy or a pen on him so you can hold it and focus your energy on that. He knows you hate being thought of as a distraction and you think it’s better to focus on a small thing in your hands rather than swinging your feet or pushing your chair around
You thought him knowing about your ADHD would change how he feels about you or treat you differently. You bring this up to him one night in bed, “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you at all. You’re still perfect to me, my love. You just need extra help sometimes and it’s ok to ask for help.”
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Wing Man Part 6
Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5)
A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.
Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.
This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school.
Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute.
He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set.
Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago.
Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music?
“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.”
Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call.
The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport.
“Last time?” He’d asked.
“Last time.” She’d repeated.
“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.”
“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”
“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.
“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.”
This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”
“Fucking off is fucking off.”
“Maybe you need to fuck off.”
“I tried, remember?”
She remembered. Both of them remembered.
“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”
“Uhhh...”
“Eddie.”
“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed.
“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”
He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint.
“No.”
“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”
Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”
“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked.
“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge.
“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”
“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”
“That’s turning your brain to mush.”
“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.”
Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.
“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”
“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.”
“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?”
“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”
“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”
Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is.
It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds.
Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it.
The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night.
“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.”
“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”
Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day.
“Night, Ecker.”
“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.”
“Does it matter the order?”
“Good night, Eddie.”
Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood.
He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.
Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing.
His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was.
With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on.
Fall Semester, 1984
The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school.
Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention.
Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in.
He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear.
Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal.
The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him.
The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you.
“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement.
“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie.
He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box.
“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his.
You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him.
“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly.
“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception.
You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.”
“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least.
“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn’t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.”
Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was.
“Rookie mistake.” He said instead.
“Rookie...?”
Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”
You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”
There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’.
He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”
“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.
“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”
That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh.
“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”
“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.”
That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead.
A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him.
“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”
You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters.
Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good.
Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are.
“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves.
“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.”
If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office.
Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave.
Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click.
Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in.
He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again.
Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway.
Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality.
“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”
“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”
“In my office.”
Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk.
“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?
Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween.
“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out.
Nothing.
You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve.
Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone.
You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him.
That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again.
Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate.
“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”
You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can.
“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”
“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself.
“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?”
“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”
“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand.
“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”
Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!”
“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”
You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway.
“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.”
You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”
Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically.
“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.”
“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”
“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.”
“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”
“Rewinding the returns,-”
“Ugh.”
“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”
“Ugh.”
“And cleaning the bathroom.”
“UGHHHHHH.”
“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin.
“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”
“Gross.”
Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”
“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms.
“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”
“...No.”
“Then let’s hurry up and-”
Ding!
“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked.
“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started.
“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped.
“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”
Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to.
“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips.
Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended.
You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib.
“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it.
“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder.
“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter.
“We can handle it!” Steve said.
“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”
You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks.
But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices.
You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out.
“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you.
The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked.
Please comment and reblog <3
Part 7
Dividers by @strangergraphics
Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3
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⟢ — ms. independent. | 성화.
⟢ pairing : ceo!seonghwa x black!fem!reader ➖ genre : fluff mostly, stangers to lovers ➖ requested : yes! @nqvgue ➖ warnings : sexist comments, just one person trying to put down another, lowercase use
“c’mon, hwa. you can’t just stare at her all night.” wooyoung bumped seonghwa lightly on the shoulder. seonghwa didn’t respond to his assistant but took a sip from his red solo cup instead.
hwa had been eyeing y/n since he first saw her. he not only found her attractive, but also loved how devoted she was. to her work, to helping people around her and keeping herself up on two feet. he liked watching her in her element — the confident beauty she radiated.
they’d met only a couple of times before, being in meetings with the board of their companies. they made small talk but never a full conversation. seonghwa was always too nervous to speak to her and never really knew what to say.
“damn man, you are down bad.” yunho walked passed him, smacking his back while laughing. wooyoung agreed, shrugging his shoulders.
seonghwa shook his head at his friends’ comments. he knew he was being a bit of a wuss, but he couldn’t help it. things were always strictly business with y/n and he never wanted to make it awkward with a ‘hey, let’s go on a date’ type of vibe.
but tonight was different. tonight he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering off at the thought of her, even with the loud music in the building they were in. especially not with her looking as good as she did.
she wore a velvety black dress, a slit slightly rising up her thigh. her hair was thrown up into a wavy updo, two strands cascading down the sides of her face.
seonghwa was fascinated by her to say the least.
eventually he tore his eyes away from her, knowing he probably seemed like a creep.
he took another sip of his drink, before placing it in a reserved spot and making his way toward y/n.
“guess he’s going in for the kill.” wooyoung mumbled to the woman he was talking to, watching his boss strut off.
seonghwa didn’t want to startle her by just walking up like any desperate man would, so he tried to be as subtle as he could.
he walked to the snack bar first, grabbing small amounts of food for himself before going to stand near y/n.
she was laughing and conversing with a few of her coworkers, probably about some odd customers they received.
he waited until she was finished and stood a few inches away from her. she took a sip of whatever was in her glass and sat listening to the music.
“at least the decor is better than the food.” seonghwa said, looking up at the ornaments on the ceiling.
to his surprise, y/n had giggled at his comment, “really? i’ve been drinking the whole time so i‘m not sure what any of that tastes like..”
he let out a small laugh, nodding, “yeah. it’s not all that appetizing.”
“guess i’ll be getting take out for the night.” she shook her head, smiling.
seonghwa had looked over at her, falling in love with her smile. for some reason, the sight warmed his heart. her grin was brighter than any light lit in that room.
“i think we’ve met before, er, what’s your name again?” y/n said, finally turning to look at the male for the first time.
“seonghwa.”
“seonghwa,” she repeated to herself as if she just had to remember that name.
“i’m-“
“ms. l/n, uh, i’ve been meaning to get your feedback on our ideas for the new home design you have coming up?”
y/n had been interrupted with business talk once again, taking her focus off of the lost man next to her. even though seonghwa already knew her name, he stood there patiently, waiting for her to finish her talk so they could continue theirs.
“san! yes, i sent an email to your team. i wanted to meet by monday morning, if that’s okay with you?” she sent a smile to the male that was now in front of her.
san agreed to y/n’s idea as they continued their conversation. it had became awkward for seonghwa. awkward for him to just stand there and look like a lost puppy waiting on its owner.
more people eventually came up to y/n and before he knew it, there were 4 more people in front of her. he was about to give up and walk away before he heard one of the workers’ comments.
“y/n, do you even own your company?” he had snorted. seonghwa had turned back to see who it was and he wasn’t very surprised to see a slimmer male dressed in a light gray suit. it was minseok, one of the managers of a nearby company.
“excuse me?” y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. this wasn’t the first time someone was ‘skeptical’ of y/n’s work ethic and her independent mindset but this was certainly the first time someone said it to her face.
“i mean, i guess i’m just a little confused. wouldn’t you need a man to do all that for you? you know, make the money, get all the things you need to start your own company.” minseok’s smug smirk made y/n want to smack it right off of his face but she kept it professional instead.
“maybe that’s what you think. but everything i have, i made on my own, sir. i don’t know about the rest of you, but i worked hard to get where i am.” every word y/n said she meant. she’d gotten different degrees in college and always had a workaholic mindset.
“you worked hard? or those men you had in your office worked hard?”
everyone around y/n and people within reach of the conversation heard. they all gasped and mumbled, turning to y/n wondering what she would say next.
but before she could say anything, seonghwa stood in front of her, blocking her from minseok’s view. he shoved the shorter male’s shoulder, his face had turned colder than earlier. when he’d looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“back off, yoon. you’re not even a director yet, you have no room to talk.” seonghwa’s voice was an octave lower now, his jaw clenching. he followed after y/n who was already storming off toward the exit door.
“where you going? giving your lady friend more money for her pretend organization?” minseok called after him.
he continued his steps after y/n, calling back to minseok, “i’m going to have a discussion about ceo work. something your position and paycheck don’t know a thing about.”
everyone murmured and some laughed at hwa’s comment, which left minseok’s jaw dropped.
after some walking, he found y/n outside of the building, leaning against a light pole.
“what are you doing all the way out here? it’s way too cold.” he stood next to her, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
she shrugged, chuckling bitterly, “i work hard and i still can’t make people happy.”
seonghwa listened to anything else she had to say but those were the only words she let out. he felt bad for her, knowing that she took her work seriously but everyone still saw her as a joke.
“y/n,” he started. “can i call you that?”
she turned to him slightly, gaze still on the ground. the girl nodded, patiently waiting for seonghwa’s next words.
“what you do with your life, your career, it’s not for other people. did you go to college for some random real estate manager? did you study late in the night just to please people?”
seonghwa’s tone was soft but stern. he didn’t want y/n to beat herself up over some vulgar comment. she was way too good for that and even he knew it.
she shook her head, listening to him closely. he was right. y/n always did what she wanted to do when it came to choosing her career and going to school. everyone had always told her that it’d be hard to get to where she was but she never listened to them. now look at her.
“y/n, you’re one of the strongest women i’ve seen,” hwa chuckled. “and i don’t even know you that well yet..”
“you’re just saying that.” she shook her head smiling.
“no, i’m serious! anyone who can’t see how hard you work and how you manage to keep yourself on both feet is just as dumb as minseok.”
his comments made her all giddy inside. y/n had always gotten compliments about her work ethic, so why was it making her all flustered now?
seonghwa was facing her completely now, hoping she’d do the same. and she did, turning her body to face him, her gaze everywhere else but his eyes.
“thank you.” was all she could manage to say as she attempted to hide her growing smile. it wouldn’t show visibly but her cheeks were as warm as the sun.
seonghwa shrugged in a ‘no problem’ manner, smiling back down at her.
“do you you have your phone?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
hwa patted his pockets, making sure it was there before giving her a confused nod.
she held her hand out for him to give it to her after unlocking it. she typed in her number, saving herself as ‘Ms. L/n 💆🏽♀️’.
“for business purposes.” she emphasized the ‘business’ part, letting seonghwa know she was only making fun.
he texted her a quick ‘hi :)’ so she could save his contact.
after grabbing her small bag from the stand by the light pole, she readied herself for home.
she began to step off the pavement sidewalk but turning before she could actually leave.
y/n walked back toward seonghwa, a hand coming to rest on his firm arm. she stood on her toes, planting a warm, long kiss to his cheek. he was surprised at her action but attempted to keep his cool.
his eyes seemed to sparkle afterward, making him look as if he was in a trance.
“thank you again, hwa.” she smiled sweetly, her tone matching her face; soft and warm.
and with that, she turned on her heel, making her way to her vehicle.
⟢ milan’s notes: i wanna make a pt2 just not sure when it’ll be
taglist: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun (message or comment to be added)
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Day 30: Squirting - Steve Rogers
Kinktober Day 30: Squirting - Steve Rogers x f!reader
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, soft!boyfriend steve, manhandling, comfort, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, dom/sub undertones, squirting in clothes, intense orgasm, nicknames, no use of y/n
A/N: ahh only one more day to go!
my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link
You were beyond exhausted, collapsing onto the couch as soon as you stepped through the door, dropping the bag in your hand as you landed face-first onto the cushioned seat. Work had been hectic, busier than you’d ever experienced it and you were slowly reaching burnout territory.
Sleep was threatening to take over your body and you would have allowed it if it wasn't for the large hands that eased off your shoes, jolting you awake. You mumbled as acknowledgement for your boyfriend getting home, usually, you'd be greeting him at the door, knowing his job was way more important than yours, feeling guilty when you ever moaned about work but today you just couldn’t muster up the energy.
Steve knew this the moment he found your bad left haphazardly in the hallway, sympathy settling on his face as he approached you on the sofa and decided to help you out. After removing your shoes, he gripped your body, which only caused you to groan as your boyfriend lifted your body, something he loved to do showing off his super strength.
“Shhh, I’m just helping you, relax” Steve’s voice was low and calming, lifting your body so he could sit where you were on the couch and positioned you so that you were sitting in his lap, back against his muscled chest, head lying back against his shoulder and both of his arms wrapped around you leaving you in a warm embrace.
It was an instant relaxation, all your muscles loosening, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as your eyes remained closed as your hands gripped onto Steve's arms tightly.
Steve’s mouth dropped, slowly and delicately kissing along the column of your neck, “bad day at work?” he asked softly.
You chuckled mostly to yourself, “you could say that, sorry I should have said hi” turning your head you puckered your lips, hinting for him to kiss you which he did after chuckling under his breath at your neediness.
“It’s ok, don’t apologise we all have shit days like this. Just relax into me, let me take care of you”. His warmth already made you feel even more sleepy, goosebumps prickling your skin as he returned to kissing along your neck, up to beneath your ear, gently biting on your ear lobe causing arousal to begin pulsing through you.
At the same time, one of his arms moved across your stomach, holding you still close to him, whilst the other moved down, stroking your abdomen, lifting your shirt to drag his rough fingers against your soft skin, dancing along the hemline of your light grey leggings.
“Steve” you huffed, shifting around in his lap but he only held you tighter.
“Let me take care of you” he repeated and now you understood his meaning properly as his hand disappeared into your leggings and underwear. Your breath hitched as his fingers teased along your slit, his lips turning up into a smile against your throat as he could feel you already dampening to his touch. “Always so ready for me”.
You didn’t answer, just swallowed audibly as he pressed harder, the tips of his fingers finally grazing over your eagerly awaiting bundle of nerves, hips twitching as he began circling it. He moved steadily, wanting to build your arousal even though you were already begging him to go harder and faster, but he didn’t listen.
Around and around his finger moved, eventually applying more pressure as your pussy began twitching and clenching around nothing. Steve knew your body better than his own, knowing the exact way to tease your clit that would have you crying out but he stopped before you could orgasm, giving you time to relax before continuing on.
Steve groaned as his fingers finally dropped lower, feeling how wet you were, his own arousal painful in his trousers but he wanted to make this about you. Teasing your entrance for a moment, he began by rocking his finger back and forth, adding a bit more length which each movement until his middle finger was deep inside your warm, soft cunt.
He could feel how much you were clenching, your body desperate to feel something but he had a plan, mouth continued to lay delicate kisses along your neck that only caused your back to arch, wanting more but he held you firm.
“You like this baby?” he asked, just wanting to hear you speak as you’d resorted to biting your lip to hold back the ungodly moans that were threatening to spill out.
“Yes, you’re making me feel so good Stevie” you gasped as he began fucking you slowly with his finger, stroking along your walls. “Please Steve…” you begged.
“What do you want, tell me”.
“I want to cum, I want you to make me cum, please”. Steve smiled against your skin, loving how you sounded and proceeded to add another finger causing you to suck in a quick breath at the brief stretch.
You’d expected him to rock his fingers back and forth like he had been doing before but this wasn’t what he did.
Instead, Steve pushed his two fingers all the way in, his palm flat against your clit and began tugging his fingers quickly and harshly, curling them directly against your g-spot. You screamed out in ecstasy, his fingers fucking you hard and fast, his palm smacking against your clit.
All you could do was hold onto his arm, pleasure pulsing powerfully through your body and an overwhelming sensation that you were not able to hold back as it felt like you were going to explode until it began loosening and could hear the squirting of your juices spraying out against his hand.
Steve stopped having heard this, glancing down your body, you too opening your eyes to see your grey leggings had turned darker where your squirt had soaked through the material. “Fuck” Steve groaned before continuing with his actions with more power.
You couldn’t even correctly react, mouth dropping open, a steady moaning scream erupting from you as his hand and fingers began pulling up, your body squirting, even more, completely soaking your leggings and Steve’s lap beneath.
It was so intense that you hadn’t even been able to sense your orgasm building until it was too late. It was all so overwhelming that you had to grab his wrist, pulling his hand out of your cunt as pleasure barrelled through you, with each wave of the orgasm your cunt squirted in steady little streams only causing it to start dripping.
Your body was shaking and twitching, mind blank of any coherent thoughts as Steve praised you in your ear about how well you’d done and it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
After the waves of pleasure settled, all you could do was collapse back into his chest, body feeling limp. Steve kissed along your hairline, his breath fanning across your face, “let’s go and have a bath baby”.
You only quietly mumbled an “ok” before he was carrying you off into the bathroom.
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Hi! Wanted to start off saying I love your writing so much! I had an idea that I’d love to see written by you, though I’m not sure if you do swf type stuff? (If not please totally ignore me!) And also not sure how detailed you prefer people to get, so this might be way too long for a fic lol. Either way, love your writing and hope you’re doing well!
So essentially Leon has a friend (afab) who has had a boyfriend for a while, and Leon begins to notice that she’s been staying home all the time, showing up less and less to hang out with their friend group, and giving excuses to not show up that’ve begun to repeat. Leon gets suspicious and confronts her when they’re alone for a minute, asking if her boyfriend is preventing her from hanging out with her friends and family. She confirms that’s the case, and explains that her boyfriend gets insanely suspicious about her interacting with anyone outside of him because, “Why would you ever need to talk to or be around anyone else? I should be enough for you. I should be your whole world.” And Leon, who has always had feelings for her but never acted on them is essentially like, “You know there are people who’d treat you better than that, right?”
leon x fem!reader
wc: 1.6k
tags: SFW YAYYYY! implied emotionally abusive relationship, hurt + comfort, leon is a cutie that cares about u a lot, dialogue heavy again
It's been a while since he's seen you.
So long, in fact, that Leon is starting to feel worried.
He never liked your boyfriend—couldn't stand the way the guy constantly talked down to you or the people around you. Leon never said anything, though. The guy made you "happy"—(in your own words)—and he would rather keep his tongue shut than threaten the friendship he has with you over this guy.
He thought he was making the right decision.
And yet, here he is, staring at the multitude of messages that he's been sending you over the past few weeks. Invitations to hang out get ignored. Questions about your well-being get ignored. Conversation starters get ignored. It's frustrating. But above being frustrating: it's nerve-wracking. Leon is worried. And he has been for weeks now... you're pulling away from him. And not just him; you're pulling away from everyone.
bestie: Hey. I'm worried about you, can we please talk? You've been distant for a while now. Did I do something wrong? [7:32]
bestie: Hello? Cmon. Dont ignore me [7:47]
You don't even read it.
It's at this point in time where Leon is starting to feel like he needs to do something. To say something. You were never like this before—and he's upset. Really upset. Which leads him to where he is now—fumbling with his phone as he stands outside of your apartment building. What does he even say? Does he call you—maybe text you? Will you even respond? Probably not. What if your boyfriend—the whole reason he wants to speak with you—is over your place?
Jesus, Leon. He thinks, stuffing his phone along with his hands into his jacket pockets. Come on. She needs you. Whatever happens happens.
Three knocks on your apartment break you out of your boyfriend-argument induced stupor. Your mind is foggy as you stumble from your bed—wiping your tears—to head to the door. This time, you don't even know what you've done wrong. You listen to your boyfriend faithfully. You've stopped talking to Leon, stopped hanging out with your friends, stopped messaging your family everyday—what else is there to do? You just want him to be happy.
boyfie: Do you even care about me? [7:26]
boyfie: i ask you to do the bare minimum shit and you never listen [7:26]
boyfie: Maybe we should just break up. i treat you like you're the only girl for me and all you do is whore yourself around [7:27]
He's told you so many times that he's the only one that'll ever love you the way he does. Explained that he is and should be your endgame—tells you that every good relationship needs it's compromise. He tells you that he's compromised so much to get nothing in return. And you believe it.
You'll have to figure out how to make this right—after you see who's at the door. With one final wipe of your tears with the back of your hand, you open your front door—maybe hoping to see your boyfriend, but...
"Hey, I... are you crying?" Leon's face is scrunched together, eyebrows drawn in and eyes squinting at the sight of your (admittedly pathetic, but adorable) display of sadness.
"No—I'm not. I was just..." You trail off, voice low and sad and whiny enough to make Leon's heart break into a million pieces. Guilt rushes over him in waves. He should've come sooner. You feel a firm hand squeezing the meat of your shoulder.
"Don't even lie... can I come in? We really, really need to talk. I—"
"No! No—you can't come in. Look, I'm sorry Leon, but..." You put your hands up defensively, creating distance between the both of you. Leon's heart breaks into a million more pieces. "That's not a good idea. You need to leave."
"Need to?" He sounds offended. "I'm not going anywhere. What I need to do is talk to you. About a bunch of things. It's just a talk!"
He pauses for a few moments.
"He won't get mad at us for just talking," Leon adds, in attempt to quell your obvious anxiety at just conversing with him. It's pretty much just as he thought; you never would avoid or ignore him on purpose. Your boyfriend told you to. You're just too sweet to realize that he's treating you like shit.
"Even if he doesn't... I don't want to risk it. I really don't want to upset him..." You avoid Leon's gaze. "Can you just... go away? I don't want to ruin my relationship anymore than I already have."
Leon's heart breaks into a trillion pieces.
"I'm... not going anywhere." Leon says slowly, taking a step closer to you. "Come on. He doesn't have to know. I'm worried about you. Everyone is."
"I don't want to lie about having you over. That would just be wrong." You pause. "And worried about what? I'm fine. Really."
Leon sighs. You watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose—watch as he looks around your apartment building. And then, you watch as he ducks under your arm to enter your apartment. He's already got the door shut behind himself before you can protest or say anything.
You open your mouth to speak, but—
"Just hear me out! Please. Come on. We've been best friends for years. Don't you care to hear about what I have to say?" He pauses, a pout forming on his face. You start to feel guilty for ghosting him. "Please. I'll be quick."
And you sigh in defeat, saying nothing. Which to him, is an invitation to speak.
"I... uh, okay, I know I said I wanted to speak. But I actually want you to talk to me instead. Talk to me about what's going on—" He reaches for you, putting a hand on your cheek. His thumb swipes away your tears. You don't pull away this time. "I need to know. I've been dying not knowing what's going on with you. At least give me the reason you ditched me."
"I... I'm sorry..." You mutter, eyes downcast as you avoid your best friend's intense gaze. "I should've talked to you about it, I'm sorry. It's just—he didn't want me talking to you, because..."
"Because?"
"Well—he said that you... uh, had a crush on me. And he didn't want me hanging out with you anymore because it's... cheating."
"What?! I don't—I..." He trails off, voice pitched a tad too high considering the fact that he's lying his ass off. Deflect, Leon. "Okay, whatever. What about our other friends? Your family? What's your reason for that?"
"H... he just said that you and—well, everyone doesn't understand our relationship. And that you guys just want to break us apart."
Damn right Leon doesn't understand your relationship with that douchebag. And damn right he wants you to break up with him. He doesn't verbalize any of this—not now, at least. He keeps a hand on your cheek, reveling in the feeling of your warm skin on his hand.
"And... why are you crying right now?" Leon's voice is soft as he speaks to you. He's trying his hardest to coax the truth out of you.
"Because..." You bite your lip, still looking away from Leon. The look on your face has his heart breaking into a quadrillion pieces. He could treat you so much better. "I made a mistake. And he won't tell me what I did... but I want to fix it. I really don't want to lose him..."
"You know... if he was a good boyfriend, he wouldn't not tell you what you did wrong." Leon's brows furrow together once more, replacing his softer expression. "He shouldn't want you to be upset. He should want you to be... happy. That's what couples should do."
Leon's doing a lot of talking for a guy who's never had a relationship before. He'd never admit that the reason is mostly because he only wants you.
"I know, but—"
"There's no buts. Come on. Don't you see? He's treating you like shit. I don't want to see you like..." He gestures to all of you. "This. Sad and lonely and desperate for this guy to treat you well. He's never going to treat you well."
He pauses.
"There's so many people out here. People that can treat you better. That care about you... like me, for example." Very subtle, Leon. He thinks, but thankfully... you don't seem to catch on. Or you don't comment on it if you do. He takes the opportunity, pulling you closer into him.
You don't pull away.
Making progress.
"We're best friends... I only want the best for you." You wrap your arms around his torso. Making more progress, he thinks. "I care about you more than you know. And I've been lonely without you."
You bury your face in his chest. It's comforting. It always has been. More progress.
"Everyone is worried about you. You need to... stop letting him string you along like this. He's taking advantage of you." You sniffle in his chest.
Maybe he's right, you think.
"Let's go back to the way things were before. Me. And you. And, uh... everyone else, yeah. And you being happy and smiling and having fun. I haven't seen you smile once since you started dating this guy." An exaggeration, but not all a lie. Now that you think about it, you aren't exactly happy. At all, really.
You're cracking.
"But..." You want to protest, to say anything, but the words die in your throat. You miss Leon. You miss your friends. You miss your family.
"No buts. Let's watch a movie. We can order pizza and stuff our faces. And you'll block that bastard and hang out with me every day again." You try to hold back the smile that threatens it's way on your face.
You hate to admit that this sounds like a good idea.
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congrats on 1k, angel!!! 💙 so soo proud of you!
whew okay, so the way i debated between wayyy too many things for your celebration because options 😵💫 but we're goin with mirror sex and breath play, ily ty
Bea, I love you. Thank you so much for your kind words - I'm grateful to call you a friend! And thank you so much for your request - mirror sex and breath play with Joel Miller coming right up. I hope you love it - it's a little different to what I'd normally go for, so I'm nervous to share it, but here we go!
Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader
Word Count | 2k
Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. So, obviously we have breath play and mirror sex, there's some dirty talk, soft!Joel, some body insecurity from reader too.
Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.
You sigh as you take in your appearance in the bedroom mirror. There was no shying away from the fact that these past months in Jackson had changed your body. No longer scrounging for twenty-year-old cans of food or going days without eating just to make sure Ellie had enough. Here there was an abundance of everything. The warm stews from the mess hall, the fresh produce you cooked in your home, the barbecue food that would sometimes appear at The Tipsy Bison, it was all having an effect.
You’d tried to ignore the pinching of your waistband all day, had even popped the button at lunchtime and not bothered to do it back up until you have to walk back home, but as you lifted the hem of your shirt, Joel’s shirt, you could see the red lines the material had made on your skin. Doubt started to fill your mind. He’d stuck around through thick and thin with you, been there on your darkest days, and you on his, had seen your body go through far more than gaining a little weight, and still never left, but this place was different.
You couldn’t help but think about all the women here, captivated by the broad, mysterious new man who kept to himself. You heard them whispering in the bar about everything they’d like to do to him if only he’d give them a chance. Whether they noticed you listening in or not, it didn’t matter, you knew if Joel ever tired of you, he’d have the pick of the bunch.
You can feel the tears building behind your eyes, willing yourself to swallow them down before you lose control, when you feel that familiar, strong pair of arms encircle your waist. Automatically you mold into his frame, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, he’s an observant man though, he knows something is wrong.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” You’ll never tire of that Southern drawl in your ear.
“It’s stupid.” You mumble, trying to turn in his arms, he’s keeping you exactly where you are though.
“Ain’t stupid if you’re upset,” He presses the softest of kisses to your cheek, “Tell me.”
“Jeans don’t fit.” You murmur, hoping that he won’t force you to repeat it, forgetting that he is actually pretty deaf these days.
“Huh?” Yep. Deaf as a doornail.
“I said,” You clear your throat, tears threatening to spill again, “My jeans don’t fit anymore.”
You can feel his breath exhaling deeply through his nostrils once he hears you, his arms bringing you closer, fitting tighter around your middle.
“That ain’t a bad thing, baby,” He muses, kissing the soft skin behind your ear, “Mean’s you’re alive, mean’s we’re livin’, properly now.”
“I know,” You whine, wriggling your body to try and get him to change the subject, “I just….”
“Just what?” He’s kissing down your neck now, “You gotta tell me what’s wrong, baby, else I can’t help.”
“Worried,” You sigh, mainly from frustration, but also from the sensation of his hot mouth on your skin, “Worried you won’t like me anymore.”
He movement of his mouth stops dead, pulling away from you, but keeping his arm tight around your middle, “Did I just hear you right, baby?” He asks, “Worried I won’t like you anymore?”
You nod silently, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He’s watching you intently in the reflection, taking one of his big palms from your middle to take your chin in his grip, “Look at yourself,” He commands, “You don’t see what I see?”
“I guess not?” You shrug, not being able to shake your head through his grip on your chin.
“Sugar,” He breathes, “I could never not want this face,” He’s let go of your chin and is instead trailing his fingers lightly over your cheeks, “The way your cheeks have gone plump, and that little dimple you get here,” He presses his finger right where he’s talking about, “Whenever you smile, you drive me crazy baby.”
Then he’s letting his other arm drop from your middle, placing a hand on either of your shoulders, teasing his fingers lightly down the skin of your arms until your flesh is erupting in goosebumps, even through the material of his flannel that you’re wearing. Once he’s trailed his hands back up to your shoulders, he’s unbuttoning the shirt, slowly but surely, and then dragging it off your frame, leaving you in just your bra and jeans.
This is the sight you hate. The way your tummy spills over the top of the waistband, the way the bra is definitely too small to comfortably do up in the back, causing little rolls of skin to spear, bunching around the material.
“Stop thinkin’ and listen to me,” He murmurs, back at your ear now, hands reaching around you to cup your breasts through your bra, “Always loved these,” His hot mouth is back to pressing kisses on the skin behind your ear, “Ain’t ever gonna complain about them getting bigger.” He’s firm in his squeeze which has you tipping your head back, pushing your chest further into his palms, but he’s already moving on.
His fingertips are gently running down your sides and over the curve of your waist, your body jolting when his touch borders on tickling, until he’s reaching around and undoing the button of your jeans and pulling the zipper down. There’s an instant relief, but you can see those damn red marks again.
“You see this?” He’s looking at you in the mirror again, urging your eyes to look at his hands where they are on your hips, “My favourite place to rest my hands, when I’m grabbin’ you in the kitchen to move you outta the way, or helpin’ you bounce on my cock.”
The utter filth mixed with the sweet sentiment have arousal pooling between your legs, you can already feel the need to rub your thighs together for a second of relief. You always wonders how he does this – takes the things you think are your biggest flaws and makes them seem so insignificant, but in the best way possible.
His hands skin the waistband of your jeans, hands slipping beneath the denim to grip the globes of your ass, “Do I need to say anythin’ about this, baby?” He asks, “Think you know exactly what I think about this peach.”
He’s right. You know it’s always been one of his favourite parts of you. The way his eyes would trail over you when you bent over when you were out on the road. The way he pulled at your hips to pull you closer into his body whenever he slept behind you. The way he would bring a hard palm down on the skin when he was fucking into you from behind or give it a playful swat whenever he walked past. The way he would grip onto it, much like he was now, when he would kiss you. He needn’t elaborate this time.
He shucks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles, guiding you to step out of them, before he makes quick work of unclipping your bra. You’re fully naked now, a sight you don’t think you’ve seen from yourself in many years. You want to shy away from it, want to pick apart the scars across your body, the added weight to your thighs and stomach. But when Joel is stood behind you, looking into your eyes in the mirror like he just won the lottery, it all inconsequential. None of it matters anymore. Because he was right. This means you’re alive, and you’re happy. You’ve got the man you always wanted to worship the ground you walk on. So what if you needed to go to the outfitters tomorrow for a new pair of jeans?
You meet Joel’s eyes in the reflection, noticing how your own eyes darken with lust at the same time his do, “You’re wearing far too many clothes, Joel Miller.” You whisper, voice low and husky.
You place a palm on the glass, leaning yourself forward. Your ass presses only momentarily into his crotch, before he’s pulling away and practically ripping his own clothes off. He’s naked and behind you in what feels like seconds. His calloused fingers are reaching around and slipping through your folds, dipping down to your entrance, where he finds you slick.
“Mama…..” He breathes, the term of endearment making you blush, “So wet and ready for me.”
“Always Joel.” You breathe as he brings those soaked fingers up to play with your clit.
You push yourself back into him, chasing his thick cock. You’re aching for him, always are.
“Look at yourself,” He’s saying, “Watch yourself when I give you my cock.”
You do exactly as he says, eyes on your own in the reflection as you feel him line himself up with your slick sex.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life tellin’ you just how beautiful I think you are, sugar,” He says, hand resting at your throat as he slides his cock into your aching cunt, “Gonna love you regardless of how many new pairs of jeans you might need, you hear me?”
You don’t answer straight away, overwhelmed as always by the way he’s stretching you open as he works himself into your pussy to the hilt. You’d never watched yourself like this and it’s almost like you’re having an out of body experience. You know the girl in front of you, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes glazed over is you and you know the man grunting behind you with his cock finally sheathed in your cunt is Joel, but it doesn’t seem real somehow.
“Gotta answer me baby,” He speaks as he draws his cock from you almost all the way, “Only gonna give it to you if you answer.”
“Yes Joel…” You whine, and you’re rewarded with his cock slamming back into you.
He sets that pace, one hand pressed firmly at your pussy, working at your clit, the other at the base of your throat where he squeezes every now and then. You’ve seen Joel in a thousand circumstances where he’s had his hand around someone’s throat before. None of them have ever ended well for the other party. He could snap you in half like a twig if he wanted, but the way he rests his hand, squeezing just enough to cut your air for seconds before he releases, does nothing but thrill you. It sends shocks down your spine, straight to your pussy. You can feel how wet you are, you can hear it as he stuffs you with his length.
You can see him in the mirror, and the visual is obscene. His teeth sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, the way his eyes are focused on the place where you’re joined together. You’re reveling in watching his fingers work your clit and you can feel that telltale coil in your belly start to unravel.
“Joel – fuck – don’t stop, I’m gonna….”
“Watch yourself,” He demands again, squeezing the hand at your throat, tilting your chin ever-so-slightly so you’re watching, his fingers rub a few more times over your clit before you’re letting go, “See how fucking pretty you look when I make you come, baby?”
There are no words at this point. Your legs are threatening to fail you, all you can feel is the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, repeatedly. All you can hear is his skin slapping against yours, your moans and groans combining. Then, just like he always does in this position, he’s pulling himself from your clenching walls and fisting his own cock. You hear him first, the low growl you’ve come to know and love, then you feel it, the warm ropes of cum spilling over the cheeks of your ass and dripping down your thighs.
You’re both quiet for a moment, respectively trying to catch your breath, before he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you backwards to the bed. He throws you down on the sheets, a surprise yelp leaving your mouth.
“Joel, the sheets!” You exclaim, “We just changed them, now they’re going to be covered.”
“Don’t care,” He grumbles, dropping to his knees in front of you, dragging you forward by an ankle, “Wanna eat this perfect pussy, make you forget everything, so all you’ll know is my name and what this mouth feels like.”
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Committed Extra II
Read the rest here: Committed
Based on this ask
I always suggest listening to this TikTok while reading this series but I think they remind me SO much of Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros.
Warnings: 18+, smut, maybe a little more romantic-smut than smut-smut but anyways. Please ignore any continuity errors from previous parts. I couldn't find what I was looking for but it doesn't mean they don't exist. not suitable for Ramadan
~3.2k words
Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.
Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So he was going to devour her body instead.
Sarah was going to Mitch’s, which meant her place was empty.
Harry didn’t have any clothes or anything, but he didn’t care. There were leftover items between himself and Mitch so as long as they didn’t have to attend a wedding there was an outfit for him the next day.
The car ride was silent. Unless he heard her heartbeat, which was extremely plausible because it was beating so hard. He held her hand, like he had ten thousand times before, but now it was different. Because Harry loved her. Like really loved her. The way she always dreamed of him loving her. Every time she remembered he loved her she squeezed his hand. It brought a smile to his face, and she swore the needle of the speedometer crept up another increment just to get them home faster.
The logistics of the night hadn’t dawned on her until they were in her apartment living room. Silent as Harry locked the door behind him. Nerves started to swim in her bloodstream. They had incredible chemistry, their friendship was solid, she had seen Harry at his worst—sick with the stomach bug that required a complete change of clothes, and he had seen her sweaty and covered with dirt after helping her dad in the backyard.
If the sex was bad, what would it say about their relationship?
It couldn’t be bad, right? She had waited so long to have Harry in her life in this capacity. Friendship was their opener. Saying I love you was the main setlist. Sex was just the encore. It would be fine.
Right?!
“Are y’okay, kitten?” He asked.
“Hmm?”
“You’re ‘bout t’squeeze m’fingers off m’hand,” she released the death grip she had on it. “Tell me,” he ordered, but his voice was soft.
“I’m so nervous.”
“Nervous?” He repeated.
“What if the sex is bad?”
He chuckled. “I highly doubt it will be bad,” he pulled her close, trapping her against his body, cupping the side of her face and kissing her as if he had kissed her in the very spot a thousand times before. “But m’not with you for the sex.”
“Well, I don’t know what you were up to while I was gone but I haven’t had sex in a year and a half so I would like it to be good,” she murmured.
His eyes scanned her face, searching for something. “Y’think I had sex with someone else while y’were gone?” He asked.
She rolled. “That’s what you took away from that?”
“Who did you sleep with a year and a half ago?” He asked ignoring her follow-up question.
“It’s none of your business!”
“Your body s’all mine now,” he said simply. But it set her skin aflame and her heart into a frantic beat that had her worrying she would need an ambulance on standby outside the building. “S’very much m’business,” he murmured.
“Harry,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. “That guy I went out with for like a month?”
“You slept with him?”
“We went out for a month, Harry.”
“But he was awful.”
“You thought everyone I dated was awful.”
“They were,” he said petulantly. She sighed.
“When did you last have sex?” She asked.
“I don’t know, three years ago?” It should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. This was his best friend and he didn’t care.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “No really, I told you. You have to tell me.”
“M’not kidding kitten,” his voice was firm.
“You haven’t had sex in three years?” She still sounded incredulous, and Harry just stared at her waiting for it to click. Her lips parted. “How...why...?”
“When I realized I was in love with y’kitten,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want t’have sex.”
“So you were just going to...never have sex again?”
He shrugged again. “I hadn’t thought ‘bout it t’be honest.”
It was so quiet in the apartment, not even her rapid heartbeat made a sound. “What if it’s bad? What if I’m bad at it? What if it’s not—”
“Kitten,” he sighed and shook his head. “We were terrible at French, and we took three years of it together. We’ll practice. M’not in love with y’because of sex. Obviously—loved y’before sex was an option. M’in love with you because you’re m’favorite person. M’only person,” he reminded her. “I don’t care about sex.”
It should have relieved her but it didn’t. “I want it to be good,” she whispered.
“I do too, kitten. Trust me. But s’not the end all be all.”
Quiet, surrounded them again. “C’mon,” he hummed and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Jus’ say stop if y’need a minute,” he pulled her jacket off her shoulders and bent to slip her shoes off. She felt like Cinderella. He was so gentle and while she was slightly terrified it would suck and he would realize he hated her, it was normal. Harry getting ready to undress her was normal feeling. It was warm, gentle, and all things that were Harry. She felt safe and maybe finally she realized he was probably right. Sex wouldn’t be bad. “We don’t have t’do this tonight either, kitten.”
“No way, you’ve been waiting three years and I think my vibrator is dead so it’s going to have to work,” she explained.
He groaned quietly, began kissing the length of her neck and making the noise vibrate her skin and veins in a way that nearly made her knees give out. “Well, charge it, because I have t’see that,” his breath was hot on her skin making her dizzy.
They stood and kissed for at least three minutes, her hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head silently begging for him to get closer. It was so quiet in her room she was starting to feel uneasy. “Can we put on some music or something?” She whispered.
“Turn on your radio?” He suggested kissing the curve of her neck and shoulder, taking the collar of her shirt away from her neck.
She shook her head. “I downloaded your music onto a CD, and I love you, but I think fucking to the sound of you and our friends would be a little too much for me.”
He chuckled against her skin forgoing the kisses and pulled his phone from his pocket and set up a random playlist.
Harry’s mouth found hers again and he gently guided her back onto her bed. His fingers started to push her shirt up her torso. She pulled away from his mouth and stilled his hands. “What are you doing?” She asked quickly. He chuckled.
“Trying t’take your shirt off. Do y’want t’stop?”
She shook her head trying to shake the nerves away. “Sorry,” her cheeks reddened.
“S’okay,” he assured her. “S’new, s’gonna be a little weird probably,” he amended.
She swallowed. “I don’t really like my body,” she whispered. “I don’t really talk about that with you...” she reminded him.
She was wrong. She was so beautiful and in Harry’s eyes there wasn’t any reason for her to feel ashamed or insecure about her body. It was perfect, exactly as she was. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “M’gonna make y’feel beautiful or we’re never having sex again,” he chuckled.
She giggled despite herself and nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“M’sure,” he nodded firmly. “M’gonna take m’shirt off first, then.”
“No, don’t do that, that’s not fair,” she stopped his hands before he could tug it over his head. “I can’t take my shirt off after yours.”
He laughed a little louder this time and he kissed her sweetly, pecking at her lips over and over as he pulled away. “We can’t do this without being naked, kitten.”
She took a deep breath, sighed, and pulled her shirt over her head.
Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.
Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So, he was going to devour her body instead.
His gaze scanned her upper half for a few moments admiring the tiny little bow on the center of her bra right between her breasts. He kissed the swell of each one every so slightly spilling out of the cup. Her breath caught in her throat and Harry kissed upwards, bringing his lips back to hers and he pulled off his own shirt without any fanfare. Harry often walked around without a shirt, when at the pool or a beach he obviously didn’t wear a shirt. This she was used to. Her hands roamed his body and his skin felt so warm and so nice she couldn’t believe she thought this could be bad.
Harry couldn’t get her zipper down.
She giggled and Harry snorted. “Didn’t know y’were gonna wear a chastity belt, kitten.”
The clasp of her bracelet somehow managed to catch on to the fabric of his boxers a few moments later. “Jesus,” she sighed and brought her face so close to the fabric to work it free Harry turned a bright shade of red, cleared his throat and she realized her hand was resting on his dick to get it undone.
“Oops,” she whispered and pulled back. Harry chuckled softly. Every awkward moment was completed with more kisses that by the time Harry finished struggling with the clasp of her bra, (“I’ve never seen a bra with a snap like this!” “It’s comfier!”) There were only Harry’s boxers and her underwear between them.
“There’s no going back,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want t’go back,” his voice was thick with the promise.
“Me either,” she whispered.
“Kitten,” he tilted her chin up from her staring at his chest. He brought her gaze back to his. “M’so in love with you. Always.”
She nodded. “I love you too,” she smiled.
He brought his mouth to cover hers again and a new feeling took over. The air was hotter, thicker, like they were moving through a pool of water. His lips never stopped kissing her, his tongue stroking softly against her lip as he did. It made her shiver. He curled closer to her, his hand reaching between them and skimming the outside of her panties. Her breath caught at the touch of his fingers on her suddenly aching center. Harry went back to kissing down her throat, over to the space where the curve of her shoulder met her neck. “Want t’make y’feel so good, kitten,” his voice was husky.
She already thought she was going to come undone from just his fingers touching the outside of her underwear and his throaty whisper. His fingers deftly pulled the fabric to the side, and he slid his finger down through the wetness that had accumulated between her leg. She shivered again and moaned softly again. He hadn’t even done anything. But his fingers were searching. Not for what she felt was aching for him most, but for her clit and he found it so quickly it made her cry out as he skillfully circled the pad of his finger on it not too hard but not too soft. “S’good, baby,” he hummed quietly and continued to kiss her. “You’re nice and wet, kitten. Who’s that for?”
“You,” her voice hardly carried through the whisper.
“Good,” he mumbled and dropped his finger lower, teasing her, because it felt like she was clenching, begging his finger to enter her.
Maybe if she had met Harry that night and hadn’t known his personality so well, she would have been shyer and wouldn’t have had the reaction she did. But part of her felt a little competitive and if he was going to tease her, she wasn’t going to let him enjoy it too much.
She pressed her hand to the outside of his boxers, feeling how hard he was and making him gasp at the touch. His hand stilled between her legs, and she tugged his boxers lower, so his dick escaped the fabric. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him. “Kitten,” he grunted into her skin, and she sighed as his fingers continued to circle her clit and search for something that she wasn’t sure Harry was going to find.
“Kitten, I haven’t had sex in three years,” he groaned.
“So...you better get inside me quick?” She suggested.
He groaned again. “Yes,” he nodded against her collarbone. “Please,” he almost whined. “Condom?” She nodded and pointed to her nightstand drawer.
She couldn’t disagree. Harry had double the time on her since her last intimate moment, but she wanted him so badly in her she thought if they waited any longer, she would cry. She removed her underwear and Harry sat up to remove his boxers.
Of course, she just finished feeling how big, hard, and long he was. But it was another thing entirely to see his length literally in the flesh. “Did y’jus’ gulp?”
Her cheeks warmed. “You’re...big,” she murmured.
He snorted putting the condom in place. “Y’know how t’give a guy an ego,” but she could see the way his cheeks pinked.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just...I want it,” she caught his gaze and as awkward as everything felt, looking into the pretty green eyes of her best friend, this was not. “I want everything with you.”
Harry’s gaze softened and he dropped his hips between her legs and caught her lips again. The sound of gentle music, their tangled breath, and the skin-to-skin contact was the only noise in the room. Harry reached between them again and slid the head of his cock along the wetness that pooled between her legs again. She moaned, loudly and without abandon. Harry grunted and pushed himself inside her.
It was like sliding the final puzzle piece together. They locked into a position that felt so right, so perfect, every bit of that awkwardness went away as quickly as it appeared. Harry groaned and buried his face in her neck again. It was his new favorite spot, tucked into the curve that smelled like her perfume and her hair. It was entirely her, and so perfect. “Fuck, kitten,” he grunted letting her have a minute to stretch to accommodate his body. It had been a while since there was a dick inside her and despite how wet Harry made her it didn’t help the ache that started as he settled perfectly between her thighs.
“Oh my God,” she whispered breathlessly. “Wow,” she mumbled.
Harry focused on breathing deeply so he wouldn’t burst the second one of them shifted. “We can jus’ stay like this,” he murmured. “Nothing else, for the rest of our lives.”
She kissed the side of his head and nodded. “Yes, please.”
He pulled back slightly, his body readjusted to the feeling and his gaze was hungry as he looked her in the eye. “You are my everything,” he whispered.
Her heart fluttered, as good as Harry’s body felt inside her, it was nothing in comparison to the way his words touched her. “I love you,” she whispered because everything else she thought to say seemed inadequate.
He smiled and brought his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and started to move.
It felt fast and slow at the same time. A juxtaposition that she didn’t know was possible. Every time Harry’s hips pushed from hers to create a heavenly friction, she followed him begging for him to come back. It felt like being apart from him, even the inch he moved to make everything feel better, was too much. She thought if it felt any better, she would cry.
“Fuck,” he groaned pumping into her at a steady rhythm. Her hands searched his body, the length of his back, digging her nails into his hips to keep him close to her. His hands held her hips in place so he was able to provide the right leverage that angled his cock, so it hit every right spot.
“Baby,” she moaned into his neck and kissed his skin. He groaned again in response. He twisted her as if he had done it about a thousand times and suddenly, she was on top of him. Pressing her hands onto his chest and moving her hips up and down so she was gliding rhythmically up and down his length.
“This was a horrible idea,” he moaned. “M’gonna finish jus’ looking at you.”
She blushed, covered her face with one hand, and laughed lightly. “It feels so good,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”
Harry brought her body close, one hand cupping the back of her neck and other slid down her back, gripping her butt. “We don’t have to,” his voice was hungry and he sealed his lips between hers.
“I’m going to...” she bit the inside of her lip and buried her face into his neck again. “Oh my God,” she moaned.
Harry answered her moan with his own again and met each of her thrusts with his hips. “S’good, kitten. Fuck,” he sighed. “Wanted this for so long,” he brought her mouth. “Can’t wait for you t’cum all over me and then do it all over again,” he groaned.
His voice made her ache all over. She was already aching. She wanted to stay like this for the rest of her life. Maybe longer if it was allowed.
She had a vibrator and she had sex enough times to know when she was going to have a good orgasm. But this was nothing like that.
This was so much more. The connection she felt to Harry the adoration and love she felt was more than any tingling, body shaking reaction she ever had when Harry thrusted into her just so. “Oh there, there, there,” she begged and dropped her face to his neck again with a heavy sigh.
“M’here, kitten,” he promised holding her close to him. “Right there,” he repeated thrusting as she rode through the toe-curling, body shaking orgasm. He nipped at her shoulder as he finished. Sighing heavily she dropped to him fully, her body warm, and he kissed her forehead. He brushed her hair down kissed her again. “Gotta get off, kitten,” he murmured.
“I already did,” she mumbled back.
He chuckled. “Just two minutes, kitten,” he assured her. “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed deeply, rolled to the side and let Harry get out of bed quickly. When he returned from the bathroom she was sprawled across the bed facedown. “You okay, m’love?” He asked.
She nodded. “I love you too, Harry.”
He chuckled, wrapping himself around her like a koala bear. “Good.”
“Wanna do it again?” She asked.
He laughed and kissed along her back. “Already?” He asked.
“Gotta make-up for all that lost time. And three years, Harry!”
He smiled against her skin. “Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need. We have forever now.”
--
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alejandro vargas but he became a pastor after he retired from the military and reader who is a newcomer to their church and and and (EXPLODES)
sin
COD - priest!Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader
[18+]
wc: ~ 4.4k
masterlist
warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance (Alejandro is taller than reader and reader can sit in his lap), pet names (mi niña, hermosa), masturbation (m!), fingering, unprotected sex
a/n: this is written all in Alejandro’s POV
Alejandro speaks to the crowd, taking in all the familiar faces. He keeps his voice calm as he repeats the passage he’s memorized by now. His eyes land on the back corner and he stumbles over his words as he notices you, someone he’s never seen before. You have your head slightly bowed and eyes closed as you listen to his words. You’re wearing a light pink dress with enough of a v-neck to show your soft skin and the rosary that hangs between your breasts.
He quickly continues talking and tries to shake away whatever emotion begins to claw at his skin. Temptation. Lust. The emotions he was told would truly test him and his character as a priest. He never truly listened before, or cared. Alejandro’s head was filled with too much trauma to pay attention to women. They come into the church and bring him gifts or flirt, but he always redirects their attention to prayer. They’re nice to look at, and definitely eager, but he’s never been interested enough to break his promise.
Before he knows it, his service finishes and people begin to file out of the building. Many stay behind to thank him and add more money to the donation plates. He sweeps his eyes through the crowd and doesn’t see you anymore. Disappointment and guilt washes over him. Disappointment at not finding out who you are and guilt for wanting to see your pretty face up close. She’s not an object to be lusted after, he tells himself.
The last of the church goers file out and he’s left alone. Alejandro walks back to the podium with the intention of picking up his book and walking into his office when he hears soft footsteps approaching. He turns and finds you walking down the aisle towards him. His mouth dries at the sight of you, sunlight cascading through the stained-glass windows and illuminating your body in soft light. Like an angel in a pink dress–No he reminds himself.
You stop about a meter away and introduce yourself. He breathes in slow and deep, your perfume too delicious to ignore. You’re new in town and missing your family so you decided to visit church, you tell him. It reminds you of home and you’re feeling a bit lonely. He listens as you speak, focusing on the sound of your voice and the way it draws him in. You like how beautiful the church is and how connected you feel to the words in the bible.
“Solitude and loneliness is something we all feel at some point. But I hope Las Almas can provide you with community, mi niña,” Alejandro says. [My girl]
“That’s what I want, community,” you say with a soft smile,” I was wondering if there were any bible study or worship groups that meet?”
“None yet.” He notices the sad look on your face that you quickly try to hide with a smile.
“I see, well I’m sure I’ll find my place here in Las Almas soon. Thank you, Padre.” [Father]
You turn and begin to walk away. Alejandro’s lungs seize as he realizes that the conversation has now ended. He knows first hand what solitude feels like. Priests take an oath to serve and dedicate the rest of their lives to God. It’s a sacrifice, one that leaves them lonely.
“Espera,” he practically yells out,” I–we don’t have one but, if you want to, we–you and I can meet in the afternoons.” [Wait]
You turn at the sound of his voice, your smile growing bigger with each word he says.
“I—yes, Padre. Me encanta la idea.” [I love the idea]
So you two decide on a weekday, one where you won’t be too busy. It’s also a day he knows not many people attend church, which means you two will be alone–no. He busies himself with work the rest of the afternoon and the days that follow. Alejandro tries not to think about you. He focuses on the other members who come in for guidance, on a few baptisms and communions.
At night, he does his prayers and squeezes his eyes shut while forcing the memory of your eyes and your citrus scent out of his head. He pushes you to the farthest corner of his brain, but as his mind relaxes and his dreams begin, he sees you. On your knees while you wait to swallow his dick. On top of him while you sink down his length. Bent over his desk while he takes you from behind.
A much better man, a good priest would ignore the temptation. He would remember his oath and fight the urge to fuck his own hand. But Alejandro never said he’s a good priest. He wakes in the middle of the night, cock aching and body sweating. He thinks of you while he pumps his length slowly. Alejandro imagines it's your much softer and smaller hand that strokes him. He thinks of your voice and skin. With a suppressed moan, he finishes. Ropes and ropes of come paint his stomach while he wishes you were here with him.
- - -
He cleans and organizes and then cleans and organizes his office all over again. You’re going to arrive soon and Alejandro finds himself nervous. The doors of the church are locked and the only source of light are the lighted candles in the front. He waits on a pew with the bible in his hand, reading but not actually paying attention to the words. His body is poised to jump up the moment he hears you knock on the side door.
The minutes go by, closer and closer to the time you two agreed upon. And then he hears it, a knock on the door and a soft, Padre? He slams the bible shut and fixes his collar before quickly walking towards the door. You greet him with a pretty smile and a kiss on his cheek that he can feel scorching his skin even under his beard. The mary janes make you a bit taller than last time to where you fit right underneath his nose.
Alejandro leads you to his office and motions for you to sit on his small couch. The sun has now mostly set, a yellow lamp illuminating the small room. You're sweet and polite, asking him about his day. He can tell you’re an avid listener by the way you respond at the appropriate moments and keep your body angled towards him. He sits across from you in an armchair and watches as you pull out a quilted pink bible from your bag. He notices you rub your upper shoulder a bit and then drop your hand back down to your lap.
Alejandro tries not to stare too much while you situate yourself. The dress you have on is similar to the one you wore during Mass with a row of buttons leading to a v-neck that shows the same gold and pearl rosary. The image of you wearing nothing but the rosary while he makes you ride him briefly flashes in his mind. He discreetly adjusts his hardening length between his thighs and uses his own bible to cover himself.
“How has Las Almas been so far?”
“Good, great actually,” you respond, ”it’s similar to home. The people here are so… welcoming and nice and just so warm.”
“That’s great to hear, mi niña–”
“I actually found out something about you, Padre,” you say in a teasing tone.
Alejandro’s mind races with a hundred negative thoughts. What could have you found out about him?
“I had no idea you were in the military. I thought maybe you just liked weightlifting.”
His body relaxes and he lets out a chuckle, ”Sí, I was in the military for most of my life.”
You tilt your head slightly and he knows the question you’re going to ask before it even leaves your lips,” Why priesthood? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He’s ready to tell you the answer he’s told everyone since he joined, I felt like it was my calling. However, Alejandro pauses. A few more moments pass and he’s left wondering if he can be truly honest with you. You wait patiently for his answer, your curious look void of any judgment.
“I… saw and did things that will… stay with me forever. I don’t regret any of it,” he quickly says,” but I want to–I want time to think about what I’ve done. Sometimes I think about praying for forgiveness too, from all the bloodshed.”
You lean forward and place a hand on top of his. He feels warmth spread up his arm as you give him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for sharing, Padre. I can’t imagine what you went through… yet you continue to help the people. That’s incredibly generous of you.”
Alejandro doesn’t feel the need to tell you to keep what he said to yourself. He’s not sure how, but he knows you won’t repeat his confession. He smiles and you pull your hand back and once again reach up to rub your shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asks while motioning to your shoulder.
“Sí, recogí una caja pesada” you respond, ”and I think I pulled a muscle but I’ll be fine.” [I picked up a heavy box]
Before he knows what he’s doing, Alejandro stands up and walks towards the shelf holding the anointing oils. “Do you want me to take a look? I had medic training in the military.”
“Oh, no it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose–”
“You won’t, trust me.”
Alejandro thinks he imagines the shy look on your face as you stand up and sit at the foot rest placed between his spread thighs. He’s back in his arm chair with your back facing him, trying his best not to react as he feels your body between his legs. You move your hair to the other side and move down the sleeves of your dress just enough to where he sees the imprint left by your bra strap. He catches a glimpse of a pink, lacey strap before you push it under your sleeve. He opens the glass bottle and pours a bit in his hand, places it on the side table and begins to heat the oil in his palms.
He can smell your perfume, the same citrus scent from last time. There’s also something else, an unmistakable sweetness found in your skin.”¿Lista?” he asks. [Ready?]
You give a nod and he brings two large fingers to press and mold the skin. There isn’t a ton of skin showing, only the part where your neck dips into your shoulder. It’s more than enough for him. He feels the warmth on your skin and holds in a moan as he notices goosebumps rise with each probe into your muscles. You tilt your head more down and lean back, almost pressing against his erection. You become more comfortable as he massages you, and he hears the unmistakable sound of a small moan leaving your lips.
His pants tighten as his cock grows harder but he keeps massaging and cooing in your ear, relájate, lo estás haciendo muy bien. Your moans rise only a bit in volume and he can see the fluttering of your pulse on your neck. The scent of your skin and the strong scent of the oil fogs his brain. He brings his fingers and ghosts over your pulse before sliding back down to your shoulder, leaving behind a shiny trail of oil. [Relax, you’re doing really well]
“Again please,” you whimper.
He stills, his heart beating in his chest at your words. You enjoy this just as much as he does, he thinks. Your body tenses, thinking you went too far and you begin to sit up again but Alejandro does just as you ask. Once again he runs light fingertips to your pulse and back down to your shoulder. He knows this is a bad idea, that he’s doing something that a normal, good priest wouldn’t do. He knows, hopes, what this will lead to but he doesn’t want you to pull away again.
Alejandro finds the courage to explore more of your skin, trailing the edges of the v-neck and back up with harder strokes on your neck. He can see your thighs squeeze together and feel the purrs in your throat. He wipes the rest of the oil on your neck before lightly squeezing it, with enough pressure to get your attention.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
You try to nod, not having much room to do so, ”yes.”
With his other hand that was gripping the arm rest, he slowly brings it up to your front and leads you to sit on him. Your firm ass lands right on his bulge and it's his turn to let out a groan from his chest. You twist and moan in his lap, trying to find a position that can no doubt relieve your own ache between your pretty thighs. With you in his lap, he begins to unbutton the front of your dress.
Little by little, your pink lacy bra comes into view. You lean your head back on his shoulder and move your hips in small circles. The rosary winks and glitters in the low light and Alejandro runs his oily fingers underneath the necklace to touch the skin at your sternum. His movements are slow and precise. There’s no reason to rush what he’s doing. He wants to take his time with you, hear the sounds you make, see what you look like when left bare. The dress is unbuttoned underneath the swell of your breasts and you push it down your arms and wiggle out until it lands on a heap at the foot rest. You kick off your shoes and socks next.
He turns his head slightly and presses his mouth on yours. Your lips are soft and pliant, letting him take the lead while he swallows the noises that leave your mouth. Your tongue gently prods his bottom lip, seeking entry. He opens his mouth and feels the press of your warm tongue on his. He moves a hand to keep your hips still, too close to coming from the way you kiss him and the movement of your hips.
Alejandro uses one hand to grip your neck while his other hand slides over your tits, down your tummy, and back up to your hardened nipples. The bra is basically see through, the shape and color of your nipples visible to his eyes. When he pinches your nipples through the lace, you whine louder and grip his wrist. He keeps pinching and pulling at your nipples, using the lace as stimulation.
He lets go of your neck and briefly pushes you forward a bit to unhook your bra. Once you fling it off, he uses both hands to massage your chest, rubbing up to your sternum and neck then back down to cup and pinch your nipples. Alejandro picks up the anointing oil again and pours more in his hand. Not wasting another second, he quickly rubs it into his palms and places his hands on your tits again.
“Bella,” he groans.
His hands move across your tits and soft tummy, lathering your body in oil. Your body glows and sparkles even in the low light from the lamp. He skims his fingers down your tummy, pressing and massaging the skin. With lubricated fingers, he teases the top seam of your pink panties. He pushes two fingers underneath the scrap of lace and feels the wetness that covers your cunt.
Alejandro skims the tip of his finger over your swollen clit causing you to twitch and nip at his bottom lip. He chuckles into your mouth and runs his finger over your clit again, loving how your breathing picks up. He continues his descent and slowly plunges his middle finger into your slick entrance. You both hiss, Alejandro wondering how he’s going to fit in your little hole the way your walls flutter and tighten around him. He cups your entire pussy and uses his palm to apply slight pressure to your clit.
“So wet and pretty, aren’t you?”
He pumps his finger slowly a few times, not able to move much since his hand is still in the confines of your panties. Alejandro adds his ring finger, shushing you when you hiss again. Up until now, you had left your hands at your sides, letting Alejandro explore your body. You raise one arm up and cup the back of Alejandro’s head, dragging your fingers through his hair. You continue to eat at each other’s mouths while Alejandro slowly pumps his fingers inside of you. His aching cock now forgotten, your grind down on his hand and spread your slick all on it.
He slips his fingers out and nips your bottom lip at your protest. “Quítatelos,” he says while hooking his thumb in the side of your panties and slightly pushing them down. [Take them off]
You use both hands to quickly wiggle out of your panties. Alejandro continues to stay fully clothed, wanting to focus his attention on you and the wet stains you leave on his pants. At this point, barely any words have been spoken aside from his coos of encouragement.
“Spread your thighs, mi niña,” he says as he helps you place a thigh over the armrest.
You look like a pretty angel in his eyes. Your thighs are spread, one foot placed on the foot rest while your other thigh hangs over the armrest. He pushes his hand into your stomach to have you lean as much into him, wanting a better angle to see your pretty pussy. Alejandro moves his slick fingers back down, pausing to rub your clit in a light circle then plunges two fingers into your heat again.
“Alejandro–”
“Padre,” he corrects you, bringing up his hand to squeeze your neck once more.
“Padre, así– por favor así,” you cry out. [Just like that– please, just like that]
He works his fingers faster and feels as you wet his hand the moment he curves into your g-spot. You’re loud, your cries bouncing off the old walls in the office. There’s no one in the church, yet even if there was, he wouldn’t care. Alejandro encourages you, whispering in your ear how pretty you sound and how perfect you wrap around his fingers. He uses his palm to press and rub on your clit.
“I’m com– oh fu– Padre, oh God,” you stutter out.
He plunges and plunges his fingers while you come apart in his lap. You bring both of your hands up to your neck, encouraging him to squeeze you tighter. You walls pulse and squeeze him and you twist your hips in jerky movements. Alejandro manages to see the gush of your slick wet his hand. He doesn’t mind if the rest of the night is spent giving your orgasm after orgasm. His balls are heavy and his cock is pained but he wants you to have as much pleasure as possible.
You push his hand away with the little energy you have left and melt into his lap. His fingers glisten with your creamy juices and he quickly sucks them in his mouth. Alejandro groans at your sweet taste and the remnants of the anointing oil, laving his tongue over his two fingers. You bring a shaky hand up to his wrist and pull his fingers out of his mouth. Your mouth is warm and wet while you lap and suck his fingers. It sends shocks directly to his dick as he imagines your mouth around his length.
You slowly sink down to your knees, pushing the foot rest away and situating yourself between Alejandro’s big thighs. He stops you as you reach for his belt buckle, knowing he’ll come the moment you wrap your lips around him.
“No, mi niña. I won’t last.”
You glance back up, eyes shiny and glazed from the orgasm you just had. He sees the moment an idea pops into your head, your lips forming a devilish smile. You stand on shaky legs and grab his hand, pulling him up. Walking backwards, you lead him to his desk and push the office chair away. You let go of his hand and push away the few books that scatter his desk, bending over and presenting your firm ass and glistening pussy to him.
You look back over your shoulder with innocent eyes, ”Will you please fuck me, Padre?”
He smiles at the way you drag out the last word, mocking him from earlier. Alejandro keeps eye contact while he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock. You glance back down and gasp slightly. He’s slightly curved and impossibly hard. The tip is painfully red and pre-come drips slightly from his tip. You begin to turn your body and reach a hand to touch him but Alejandro moves behind you and presses a hand on your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your tits press on his desk. He lightly presses his shoe to your bare ankle and you spread your legs further apart.
“Malo,” you mutter.
His head snaps up while he pushes his pants and briefs below his heavy balls. “I’m mean?”
Alejandro doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s sinking his length all the way in. His hips are flush against yours and his tip nudges your cervix. You tense and claw at his desk before he grabs both hands and pins your wrists behind your back.
“I’m mean?” he repeats.
You don’t say anything, mouth open but no noise or air coming out.
“Breath, mi niña,” Alejandro says.
He waits until he hears a few shaky breaths come in and out of your mouth. Once you're okay, Alejandro begins to pound into your drooling cunt, using your hands as leverage. Your walls are swollen and wet, barely able to accommodate his length. You don’t stop him, moaning loudly and chanting more, more, more.
“Is this mean?” Alejandro repeats again, watching as his cock thrusts in and out of your fluttering cunt.
“Yes,” you scream, ”so fucking mean.”
He lands a loud slap to your ass. “Don’t curse.”
Alejandro’s eyes stay where you two are joined. He watches as your inner walls grip him every time he pulls out. Your sticky arousal paints his cock and drips down your inner thighs. You begin to push your hips back into him, meeting each of his thrusts. You ass jiggles and recoils with each slam of his hips.
Alejandro slows down his thrusts, pulling out fully until it's just his tip notched at your entrance then sinking to rub your cervix. He does this a few times, calming his breathing or trying to while your pussy massages and suffocates his cock. His mouth hangs open and sweat drips down his chest while his body tenses.
If he could stay buried in your heat for the rest of eternity, he would. Alejandro tries to hold off his orgasm. He feels a pull in his balls while he speeds up his fucking. The noises coming from the both of you are raw and obscene. Alejandro groans and pants from deep with his chest. He loves the whimpers from your mouth and the unmistakable wet sound of your fucking.
“I–I’m going to, I need you to fin–finish inside, inside,” you stammer out.
You begin to squeeze around his length and Alejandro goes momentarily blind. He feels the gush of your come wet his cock, your pussy becoming a slippery mess. He pumps his hips faster while you come, jackhammering you into his desk. You’re a crying, trembling mess at this point. Drool pooling out of the side of your mouth and eyes half closed.
Alejandro explodes inside of you, marking your walls with his spend. He feels powerful in that moment, rutting into you like an animal while he brands your pussy with his come. He keeps one hand on your pinned wrists and uses the other to slap and slap your jiggling ass. Your cunt pulses and massages his cock while he fucks you through your simultaneous orgasms.
He stops spanking you and lets go of your wrists, one hand moving to grip your neck. Alejandro feels the beads from your rosary press on the side of his fingers. He makes you stand slightly while he grinds his cock into you and brings your mouth to his. In the same rhythm that he fucks you, he attacks your mouth with his tongue. There’s spit and teeth and bites but it's perfect. It becomes too much for the both of you. His cock unloads the last ropes of come in your messy cunt and you begin to cry no more, please – too much.
Alejandro manages to drag you to the couch in a few steps and sink down with you in his lap. His cock stays firmly lodged inside of you, now softened but still gripped by your tight pussy. Your head leans back on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Alejandro lightly grasps your chin with his thumb and index finger and presses his lips to your mouth. It’s a soft kiss, just the press of two mouths. He moves the hair from your sweaty forehead and places a kiss on your nose.
You look like a beautiful mess to him. Your body is shiny from sweat and the anointing oil, the rosary stuck between your heaving tits. Alejandro’s body relaxes as he caresses your warm skin with one hand. Maybe it wasn’t a lie he told the others. Maybe priesthood really is his calling, if it brought you to him. He skims his nose on your temple and breathes in your scent once again.
“Hermosa, how are you feeling?” he asks.
“‘m okay, Padre–”
“Alejandro, just Alejandro.”
You eyes open slightly in confusion, “But I thought you said–”
He chuckles, ”it was just the heat of the moment. The cursing stuff too, doesn’t matter. When we’re alone, you can call me Alejandro.” He waits until you nod and repeat his name back to him before he continues speaking. “How about I run you a warm bath, yeah?”
You nod then groan as you try to move your sore limbs, ”sí, I think that’s a good idea.”
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Cupcakes
Maybe this will be a thing. Or maybe not. Either way, I've got the Pedro brain rot.
Joel Miller/female reader
One shot - 1.1k words - AO3
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, mentions of blood, violence, gore. Joel is bad at feelings. Descriptions of explicit sex.
Joel doesn't understand you.
He doesn’t understand you. You smile. With your mouth, your pink lips curling above a deep scar on your chin.
“It’s my trophy.” You told him one night. “I got it from a crazy fucker who had a barn fulla clickers.” He’s not sure why any person would be penning up a bunch of those things, but you did say he was crazy. “Killed him though. Was one of my first ones.” He watches your face go dark with the memory, and he tries to imagine what you were like before all this. Soft, sweet. Probably someone’s wife. Maybe you stayed at home. Made dinner, made breakfast. Maybe you were the type that made cupcakes, real ones from scratch, with sweet spun sugar icing. Maybe you took care of someone.
He doesn’t understand the way you think. You’re always telling him to take it slow, take it easy, take his time. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. He has to move fast, quick, easy on his feet. He cannot slow down. You have no problem making pace, but it doesn’t keep you from voicing your opinion.
“You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. Don’t the doctors usually start old men on baby aspirin at your age?” He’s not that old, for christ’s sake. He’s not even forty-five yet, he thinks. When you laugh at your own jab, it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.
He doesn’t understand the way you fight. You creep around like a god damn cat, brandishing a knife in your hand, another two slipped in your boots. You liked surprise, and you hated guns. The first time he had watched you put a blade in someone’s clavicle, he thought he was going to be sick. He didn’t like you having to get so close, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were fine. And he hates how his head spins when he watches you put that same knife in the side of a clicker’s head, twisting it for good measure, before you’re shoving off of them and bashing their skull in.
“Can’t aim worth a shit.” You complained the day he took you out for practice. You couldn’t hit a single bottle, and he couldn’t fight the grimace that graced his face. When you saw it, your cheeks turned a different color, and guilt burned inside him.
He doesn’t understand why you’re so fucking stubborn. Why you don’t listen when he tells you to do something, when you blatantly ignore him when he tells you not to follow the crying little kid that’s begging for help.
“It’s not like it was life or death.” He turned on you so fast he watched your eyes go wide, his arms pulling your shoulders towards his chest. “It is life or death!” He had yelled. You had run into that building without a care after that kid, and he could hardly keep up. Turns out, the kid’s mom was already infected, and he didn’t understand. He was only five. You covered his eyes while Joel put her down. You had carried him all the way back to camp, even after Joel had offered to take him, arms wrapped tight around his back as he cried. So stubborn. But you let Joel hold you that night, for the first time. In the dark, your hand running up and down his spine, your whispered words repeating over and over. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Joel.”
He doesn’t understand your feelings. The way they shift from one day to the next. He doesn’t like how it feels when he catches you crying, drop of tears webbed in your pillowy lashes.
“What is it?” the words are gruff, and he wishes he was softer for a split second. You sniffle and shake your head. “It’s my dad’s birthday. Or would’ve been.” He gets it, he does. But he doesn’t know how to show you, so he just sits down on the step, his shoulder against yours. You wrap your hand around his knee after you’ve dried your tears, and he holds his breath while you turn your tear-stained face up towards him. “Thanks, Joel.” His name on your lips makes his blood sing.
He doesn’t understand the way you talk to people either. The way you make everyone feel like they’re some ray of sunshine in your life. Like they matter to you. You give everyone your smile, and your eyes, and your touch. You rub Rita on her back when she throws up every second week of the month, like clockwork. You braid the Marshall girl’s hair when her mom isn’t around to do it. You try to arm wrestle John when you both get a free moment, and he can hear your laugh clear across the yard when he lets you win.
“He gets a kick out of it.” You tell him one night. “Makes him feel good. Shitty world we live in, you know?”
He knows.
He wants to make you feel good.
He hasn’t had a woman under him in years. He’s all rough sandpaper, and he can’t imagine that scraping against your porcelain skin. But, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. He dreams about bending you back on one of those shitty mattresses, your skin rippling in goosebumps under the tips of his fingers. He imagines the way your mouth tastes, how your hand would feel wrapped around his cock. He thinks about how you’d sound, with his mouth on your cunt, his tongue licking up inside you, pulling an orgasm through your gritted teeth. He’d hold your hip in one hand and fuck his fingers into you with the other, feeling the way the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. He thinks about how he’d push your hips down onto his cock, your back arched in his arms, your mouth pressing into his shoulder as you moan. “Joel.” you’d whine, tongue darting out to lick your lips, hand gripping his forearm. “Fuck, Joel. Please.” He’d bite the skin of your neck, bringing it between his teeth, pulling the blood to the surface to brand you. You’d be his.
These things he wants, they’re just a fantasy. A gentle dream, like the memory of the world before. He knows that, he does. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting. From watching you when you’re on guard, hips swaying with every step you take. Doesn’t stop him from taking himself in his hand when he thinks about the curve of your waist, the prominent dips in your hips, the soft crease where your thigh bends when you sit, legs folded against each other. He wants to pin you beneath him until you’re shaking, wants to hold you to his chest while you sleep. He wants the sweet, soft spun sugar that melts in his mouth, the feeling of you in his arms. He wants the cupcakes, the real ones.
He wants it all. But it’s only a fantasy.
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