#but then again who knows maybe I'll keep not getting high on my own going for another 50 or 100 days? idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrslankyman · 2 months

Text

Sinfully Gorgeous pt. 2

Vox x (fem) over lord reader

Smut

Word count: 5K

Working on: Part 3

3 weeks.

It had been 3 weeks since you shot that porno with Vox. So why in the HELL was everyone in HELL still raving over it?!

It wasn’t anything special.

It was a brand deal and that was it. It wasn’t like you knew it was going to be Vox. Valentino stated after the shoot he chose Vox since it would boost you both. Sure it did but at what cost?

Your phone was flooded with texts and emails from sinners asking if you and Vox were a thing.

Have you joined the Vees?

Were you and Vox fucking on the low?

How long were you two together?

All these questions were getting to your head and making you sick.

You laid back in your expensive bed. The silky pillows that most sinners could never afford comforting your head. Phone in hand you scrolled through your feed. Vox’s news show popped.

“Top of the hour sinners. Today we will be discussing the ongoing discussion that I and I'm sure our lovely {Y/N} is seeing too.” He clasped his hands together and turned to the screen in front of him that was showing photos of sinners questions.

“Has {Y/N} joined the Vees?” He read aloud. “No she has not, though I would not be opposed to the idea.” He chuckled, sending a wink to the camera.

You groaned and fast forward on the video stopping when a clip of the porno popped up on the screen. Curious of what he would say about it. You hadn’t talked to him since a day after that was filmed.

“How did it feel to fuck the {Y/N}?” He chuckled as he read that aloud. A smirk crawled onto his face. “Well folks I’ll tell ya. It was better than any sex I myself have ever had.” He leaned forward covering half his mouth with the side of his hand. “A little secret for you all, she has the tightest pussy you’ll ever fuck in hell.” He laughed leaning back. “Yes folk it’s true she was definitely a virgin and safe to say I took that card from her.” His cocky laugh echoed in your head.

He took your virginity?

What was he a fucking idiot?

Embarrassing you on Hell's public news.

You were not a virgin, far from it and for this cocky ass tv faced man to state he was the lucky one to take it from you made you seeth.

You instantly opened up your messages and searched his name in your contact. Typing out a text. Fingers flying across the screen as anger edged in every digital word typed.

{You}: who in the HELL do you think you are? Saying you took my virginity on the fucking news? Real mature of you. What the fuck are we teenagers in high school. If you ever fucking do something like this again I will make sure you and your little fucking news channel are never broad casted again.

{Vox}: Wow, didn't suspect you to see it so soon. What's the matter, I was just messing around. I bet it was the best sex you’ve ever had, why not say your best was also your first?

{You}:oh were cocky as fuck huh? You really think you were the best? Keep dreaming.

{Vox}: I must have been something for you to go off script.

{You}: fuck you, you went off script as well.

{Vox}: oh you wanna fuck me again? Maybe I'll make it an even better time, we can make our own script.

{You}: you know what I meant. Never fucking mention me on your little show again. It was a one time deal.

{Vox}: aren’t you just a ball of sunshine. Whatever you say darling. I’ll erase that part of the segment from the show and their memories.

{You}: good, the only time your fucking mind control has been used for an actual purpose.

{Vox}: Or I can just keep it up. You know you’re not being very kind.

{You}: oh fuck off this is hell. I don’t need to be kind to the man who just publicly embarrassed me.

{Vox}: and the man who publicly pleasured you.

{You}: just take it down.

{Vox}: yes ma’am.

You groaned and turned your phone off. Throwing it to the floor and laying down fully. Pulling the covers over your head and closing your eyes. Sleeping the anger and annoyance off.

—

Your alarm buzzed in the morning. You groaned and woke up grabbing your phone from the floor and turning it off. But not before you saw the message from Alastor.

“You’re a virgin?”

That fucker didn’t delete the segment!

You dashed around your house putting on an outfit and doing your make up the fastest you had ever. Your shoes were on in seconds and out the door you went.

You called a cab and got in, instructing them to take you to the Vees tower. Of course you know the consequences of this.

Everyone would assume you were going to see Vox in a different way. When in reality his ass was going to get a fist in his screen.

The cab dropped you off and you paid them before getting out. Marching up to the front of the building. A few people looked over. Snapping pictures and videos. You rolled your eyes and pressed the buzzer on the door.

“Who is it?” Voxs voice played through the small speaker.

“{Y/N}.” The second you said your name the doors opened. You smirked slightly and headed inside jumping as the doors closed behind you harshly.

“Vox! Where the fuck are you we need to have a talk!” You yelled walking around the lobby looking for any sign of him. Footsteps echoed down the hall and there he was. A smile on his stupid flat screened face.

“Ah {Y/N} So nice of you to stop by-” You grabbed him by his suit's flaps and slammed him against the wall. A groan escaped his lips and his screen displayed a loading circle before his eyes came back.

“You asshole, I told you to take that segment down!” You screamed in his face without giving a second to think. “Do you know who the fuck I am?! I will end you!” You leaned into his face. Your spit landing on his screen. He glared at you but on the inside he was loving the attention.

Your hands on him was enough to make him melt. But he had to be sure not to display it too much. Or you’d let go and call him weird.

“You can end me anytime you want.” His words were smooth and flirtatious. He obviously did not understand the gravity of the situation he was in.

“You do not wanna fuck with me Vox.” You warned re-shoving him against the wall. He grunted and grabbed your arms. “You know I would love to fuck with you.” He chuckled, eyeing you with a smirk. “You little-” Your grip tightened on him getting ready to shove him again.

“{Y/N}!” He yelled his right eye widening as he used his mind control on you. You froze your eyes going wide. Your grip on him faltered as you shook your head. The daze wears off.

“Why don’t you calm down?” He offered, pulling your arms down from his suit. “Don’t use that fucking mind control shit on me.” You pulled your arms away from him. He sighed and rested his hand on his hips. “Yes ma’am.” His voice was full of annoyance now.

“Delete the segment. That’s all I want. I’ll leave you alone and you do the same.” You held out your hand. “Deal?” You tilted your head, pink fire appearing around your palm.

“No deals. I just promise I will. I’m no idiot. I know how you pull strings.” He pushed your hand away, the fire disappearing. You groaned and pulled your hand back.

“Very well.” You nodded even though a part of you knew he would never take that segment down fully.

“I’ll go delete it.” He fixed his tie, closing his eyes. “Good.” You said before a ding came from your phone. You held it up. “At Voxs darling?” Alastor had texted. A part of you hated Charlie for getting him onto this phone kick. He was so against technology until he was told he could text you whenever.

Vox opened one eye as he heard the ding. He eyed you and read the text. The words Darling and Alastor made his circuits spark. Why in the hell did that old timey prick have your number?

“I better leave before everyone in hell assumes we're seeing each other. I do not need that in my life.” You shoved your phone in your pocket. Looking up at Vox whose face had a rather.. Concerning smile displaying.

He let out a laugh though it glitched. He stepped closer to you. His hand grabbed your arm pulling you to him. “Why the fuck is the radio demon texting you?” His voice deepened. Eyes squinting as he grabbed your phone from your pocket.

“Hey!- what the fuck.” You squirmed in his grip. A tsk tsk came from him as he used his eye to unlock your phone. Reading you and Alastors messages. Anger surged through him as you both had been sending jokes about him. His grip on you tightened and he squeezed your phone in his other hand till it shattered into pieces.

“Vox what the fuck!-” You watched as he broke your phone, your attention being snapped back to his face as he slammed you up against the wall this time.

He laid his arm next to your head on the wall and his other hand gripped your neck.

“I’m not taking the segment down. You wanna talk shit about me to that damn radio demon go ahead. I'll say whatever I want about you. You are nothing to me.” His words were low and strung out. His eyes were wide and red drool dripped from his mouth. Though his grip on your neck was tight it wasnt hard enough to really choke you out.

That was one thing he did not want to do.

He was pissed off but not necessarily at you. The idea that Alastor got more of your attention than him is what pissed him off. He knew it was such a stupid thing to be mad over.

But he wanted you. Even if he had to pretend he didn’t.

Your eyes squinted and you squirmed under him. Truthfully he didn’t scare you. This position didn’t make you feel threatened, it made you feel.. Other things.

In a dark and twisted way his anger really made you think of that shoot. How his hands gripped your sides and he’d moan before glitching out.

“If you wanna scare me you’re gonna have to try harder than this.” You grabbed his face. Your hand pulling him closer. “Cause all I can think about is you glitching out before you cummed inside me.” Your words made his screen display a light shade of red.

“I-”

“You want that again hmm?” You kissed his screen. “Want to feel my tight pussy as you said? I guess since it was the best I’ve ever had you’d think I would’ve been begging you for more.” You whispered, making your voice low and seductive. His grip faltered as his screen turned red. His eyes drooped as you talked to him sensually.

“Too bad I wasn’t.” You cooed, kicking him in the crotch. He groaned and keeled over. Holding his crotch in his hands. “Fuck fuck fuck..” He groaned in pain as you stepped over him.

“You owe me a phone.” You spat on his withering form and walked out.

–-

Safe to say he gave you a new phone. That part of the segment was erased. To your knowledge from the general public of hell. Knowing Vox he probably cut it from half the people's memories and kept it in the other to confuse them.

What an ass hole.

Today you were off to Alastor's radio tower. He wanted to have you on this new segment he was working on. Whatever that meant.

You had made it to the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie showed you to Alastors tower. You thanked her and headed inside. He greeted you and showed you the different buttons and the mic. Getting you accustomed to the technology before having a seat with you.

Not having a camera in your face was both relaxing and strange. This seemed more like a conversation you were having with a friend that just so happened to be recorded.

“Today I am here with my dear friend {Y/N}.” Alastor spoke into his mic. Smiling your way as you said hello.

“So why don’t you tell everyone what it’s like to be the fashion overlord?” He handed you his mic. Urging you to introduce yourself further.

After the basic introduction was done he began to ask you questions. It slowly became clear to you what he was doing.

“What is your opinion on Vox?” He smirked and leaned your way. That question made you groan.

“That man? Come now Alastor. You know he isn’t something to talk about.” You leaned back in your chair and your reply made Alastor chuckle.

“Go on dear. Just tell us about him.” He leaned the mic closer to you.

“Fine.” You took the mic and leaned up.

“Vox is something. Not the kind of something you’d want either. He is terrible in bed.” You snickered at the idea that Vox would be listening to you. “Oh is he now? I do believe we all saw that video dear. It seems the opposite.” He eyed you a shit eating grin on his face.

“That’s what a script is for.” You sneered.

“There's a theory you went off script. After all that Valentino did post it.” He checked his claws smirking.

You groaned as Alastor was just doing this to stir drama. He hated Vox but loved to mess with you. So he was playing both ways.

“Anyways, besides that he is a prick and snoops on everyone. He is fucking insane but I suppose that’s why he’s here. If you are thinking about trying to get with that man please do so he will leave me alone.” You handed the mic back to Alastor. He was holding in his laugh. “Thank you dear for your lovely insight on that clout chasing mediocre video podcasts.” He ended the broadcast and sighed.

—

About 4 hours after the broadcast a ding sounded from your phone. Either it was Alastor or some random person.

You checked the message and groaned as the name displayed on your screen.

Vox.

Of course.

You slid open your phone and sat down on your couch to answer him.

{Vox}: doing a broadcast with the radio demon to degrade me? Really. After you begged me to delete your segment.

{You}: what's the matter? Thought you liked being degraded

{Vox}: I'm not doing this. I’m gonna have to make you understand.

{You}: oh really? Why don’t you just face that you suck in bed and you suck even more as a person.

{Vox}: I suck in bed? Oh sweet heart. I don’t believe that's what you truly think.

{Vox has sent a video}

You pressed play, wishing you didn’t as a clip from the porno played. You were riding him moaning his name and begging him to go faster. His fingers digging into your sides as he rammed into you on your command.

{You}: have to give the audience what they want.

{Vox}: oh yeah? What if there wasn’t an audience?

{You}: then none of that would’ve happened. I’d be as quiet as a mouse.

{Vox}: we’ll see about that.

{You}: what's that mean?

:seen 3 minute ago:

“Bitch.” You turned your phone off and laid down on the couch. Letting your mind wander back to the shoot. Perhaps you did enjoy him a little more than you’d like to admit. But you’d never tell him that. Or anyone for that matter.

It’s bad enough there were more theories going around on you two. How the hatred was an act so you could keep things private. How it was fake or just a stunt for money.

You’d let the public guess and argue over it. You had no intentions on stating anything as of yet.

So not thinking much of anything you turned on your tv and sat back.

You sat up a little as you tv went to static. A blue glow came from it after a moment and a shock wave burst from it. The room went black and then the tv turned back on. Vox stood in front of you. Blocking the tv from view.

“What the- Vox what the fuck!” You sat up all the way as Vox stepped closer with a smile on his face.

“We don’t have an audience here.” He leaned down looming over you as. Leaning back into the couch you slowly smirked. “Oh is that so? You wanna see if you can really work your magic on me?” You teased him watching as his face grew more annoyed.

“Yes I do.” He put a finger under your chin and lifted it up. “I wanna prove to you that going off the script was because I am good at what I do. Not because you wanted to promote your bullshit brand.” He chuckled and moved you down on the couch to a lying position.

“Oh you really wanna prove a point? Then I'm gonna make mine. I bet you can’t make me make a single sound.” You snickered as he threw his hat off to the ground.

“Fine but I'm gonna make you eat those words.” He leaned down and kissed you. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth.

He slid his tongue inside your mouth. You closed your eyes and let your tongues tangle together.

His hand slid down your sides and grabbed your jeans. You didn’t make a noise, the only sound was your pants rubbing together as Vox began to grind against you.

A part of you just wanted to give in. Let him take you and win. But the bitch inside you wanted to win to shove it in his face every day. So you suppressed your moans and pulled back from the kiss.

He stared down at you and smirked, “Come on.. Just a little peep.” He groaned and made a quick upwards motion with his hips. It felt good you wouldn’t lie.

You shook your head and smirked though earning an annoyed groan from the man above you. “Good thing we just started.” His voice was low as he undid your pants and yanked them off with a swift movement.

You stared up at him and smirked. He slid off his blazer and undid his tie. The only thing left was his striped shirt.

You sat up and pushed him down instead. He looked at you confused before smirking. He liked this and he didn’t care if you didn’t care in the moment if you didn’t like him how he liked you. Any form of attention from you was good.

The feeling of you sitting on his bulge made his screen glitch as a low moan escaped him. He wanted to hear your approving moans as well but you weren’t giving it to him. You just moved against him with the best poker face he had ever seen.

“F- fuck..” His voice buffered as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off him slightly. He didn’t want this to be over too soon.

“I’m gonna break you. Just you wait.” He clawed at the sides of your underwear. Breaking the thin fabric, grabbing them as they fell down. He tossed them to the side and looked at you.

You blushed. Thanking Lucifer a blush didn’t count as a noise. That action was pretty hot. The desire in his eyes shone through. He slid off two of his claws. Just as he did for the shoot.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and licked them. Red saliva littered them. You anticipated the feeling of them inside you. Trying to prepare yourself so you didn’t moan.

But he didn’t just slide them in. He circled his fingers around your clit.

Smirking as he saw you twitch. Biting your lip before going back to a straight face.

“Oh come on. I almost got you.” He laughed and slid one finger in. Pushing it in and out before adding the second and curling them inside.

He kept pumping them in and out at different paces trying to make you moan. Anything really. A small gasp or groan.

He wasn’t given the pleasure.

You just closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling. You hadn't met a man who could finger this good. He sure was something and you would love to keep this up. But his fingers just weren’t like his dick. Which was under you twitching and leaking pre cum.

Just waiting for it’s turn inside. So you grabbed his wrist and he slid out his fingers.

“Come on.. I’ll only give it to you if you beg.” He smirked and slid his finger down your slit teasingly. You shook your head.

“Come on!” His voice statticed and he shoved his dick inside you. The amount of force you had to use to suppress your moan was astounding.

He groaned as he noticed you didn't make a sound.

“Fine, but I'm still gonna give you a damn good time. So you can’t say im shit at this.” he pulled out of you and flipped you over. Pushing you down under him. He wrapped your legs around him and slowly slid inside you again. Leaning his head back a quiet moan escaping his lips.

You grabbed his shoulders and bit your lip. With each steady thrush the feeling of giving up echoed in your mind. It was starting to hurt holding in your noises. His eyes were squeezed shut, teeth bared and red drool dripping from his mouth. Blue static came from him as soon as he picked up his pace.

“F-f-fuck.. I fucking hate you.” He slammed into you and a quiet moan escaped your lips.

His eyes shot open and he looked down at you. Your face was red and sweaty. You covered your mouth, a smirk displayed on his face.

“What was that?” He taunted and slid all the way out of you then back in. A quiet moan escaped your mouth again.

“Yeah that's right, I knew you couldn’t last forever.” He chuckled, his cocky attitude back. He kept his thrush gentle and slow. You gave in and let your moans fill the room. Vox loved the sounds. All your attention on him every moan, grunt, and whimper from your mouth was for him. It made his dick even harder. “Vox..please.. Please I'm.. I’m almost..” You stared into his eyes on the verge of orgasm.

“Go ahead, we’ll do it together darling.” He slid his hand down and circled your clit and thrusted into you on more time. His cum filling your inside as yours too gave way and hit your orgasm.

His screen glitched out and his voice buffered as he moaned your name.

After you both came down from your highs you looked into his eyes.

“I hate you.” You glared at him.

“You may hate me but I know you love him.” He chuckled as he slid his dick out, rubbing it against your slit. Earning an annoyed groan from you.

“This was fun. Good to know you enjoyed it.” He winked and stood up. Putting on his clothes. He walked down your hall. You groaned and looked down at the cum on your couch. Annoyed now.

He came back with a damp towel. He pushed you down gently and cleaned you up. Then rubbed the excess off the couch.

“Gotta keep my toy clean.” He pinched your face before sliding his claws back on.

“Least you have decent manners.” You scoffed and sat up.

“Of course.” He smiled and glitched out. Disappearing into the tv. The room went black before the lights turned on.

You got dressed and sat on the couch. Embarrassingly repeating the way he moaned your name in your head over and over.

Why did you let him win?

—

Today was your and Alastors photo shoot. You were modeling Sinfully Gorgeous but just a few of the modest outfits. With Alastors old time camera it made things look more classy. So he had agreed to do a small shoot in your studio.

He had arrived about an hour ago. He was all dressed up just waiting for you now. You had gone for an old timey style of makeup and hair.

Walking out of your dressing room he looked over. His eyes widened and a pleasant smile erased the plain one.

“You look lovely darling.” He titled his head. “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.” You complimented back, gaining a chuckle from him.

“Shall we do this?” He stood up straight. “Yes.” You replied back heading over to the backdrop. It was plain white but it made the photos show up better.

You did a few different poses and outfits. Some silly and others professional.

“Wait, I have an idea.” You smirked and Alastor looked at you with a confused smile.

“Voxtek is sponsoring this shoot. Part of a contract deal after that shoot with Valentino. I made Vox sign a contract to sponsor whatever I want when I want since I had to.. Fuck him” You rolled your eyes.

“Right.” Alastor chuckled. He knew better. You and that tv headed fucker for sure had something going on. But you were his friend so he wouldn't say his true opinion. Though he sure as hell did back at the hotel.

“I know just the way to tick him off.” You smirked at him and he instantly knew what you meant. Loving the idea of pissing off Vox for fun.

—

You did a few poses. Holding each other. Alastor dipping you and finally the ones that would piss Vox off the most. You knew Alastor wasn’t one for these types of things. Though he agreed he did not mind if it was just to piss off Vox.

You had ordered your helpers to set up a chair. They did as asked and Alastor sat down.

“Go head darling. I wanna see the look on his face when he sees these.” You both laughed as you sat between his legs.

Alastor gripped your chin and turned your face to his. His smile on his face. Though it was a more intimate one. He sure played this well. You look into his eyes with as much passion as a smirk displayed on your face.

The photo was taken and you stood up. Slinging your legs over Alastors lap, your assistant changed the camera's angle to get a side view. Alastor looked into your eyes. “Excuse me if I am not good at this.”He chuckled and you smiled. “It’s okay.” You both had a short laugh before getting ready for the photo.

He closed his eyes and you leaned in. Pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back but he wasn't hesitant. He just wasn’t sure how to move his lips. You pulled away the second the photo was taken.

“You aren’t terribly bad.” You joked, gaining an eye roll from him.

The last photo was one of you both standing. Alastor kissed you one last time but in this one his eyes were looking at the camera. A bigger dig at Vox.

—

“Thanks for helping me.” You thanked Alastor as you had gotten the photos ready to be sent out to Voxtek. “It’s not a problem. Anything for an old pal.” Alastor smiled as you both walked out of the studio.

—

Vox sipped on his coffee until a ding came through on his screen. He flicked his finger and sent it to one of his monitors. He opened the email and sifted through the photos your team had emailed him.

He groaned as it was you and Alastor. Pissed off that the radio demon was getting your attention now.

His anger was pretty controlled till he got to the attachment labeled ‘surprise.’

A part of him hoped it was some sinful photos of you in your outfit. Though to his dismay it was not.

He opened up the file with a smirk on his face only for it to be erased in a meer second as his eyes landed on you and Alastor kissing. He gripped his desk claws digging into it. Leaving a mark.

He groaned and looked at the next photo. Alastor kissing you and eyeing the camera with that smug grin tugging on his lips. He screamed and slammed his fist into the monitor, cracking it and causing the screen to glitch out.

The monitor turned off as he kept punching it. His screams and groans of anger echoing through the room.

“The fuck is your problem?!” Velvette asked as she slammed open the door.

Vox turned around to look at her. A deranged smile on his face as his eye twitched.

“Set up my showroom. If this bitch wants to play dirty we’ll play dirty.” He pulled his hand out of the monitor watching as his blood trickled down his arm.

#vox #vox hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox x fem reader #vox smut #vox x reader smut #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #ima keep this story going #enemies to lovers #enemies

310 notes · View notes

bangchansgirlsblog · 3 months

Text

Bending over back

Warning: kissing? A bit of angst, it’s not traumatizing I promise

Pairing: Chan x reader

Summary: Basically your in love with him but your his assistant.

-A/N: i don’t know how I wrote this, it’s quite boring idk. Prolly gonna do a part two. I don’t like this one. HELP.

"Chan?" Her footsteps followed quickly behind him trying to keep up with him as we walked into the dressing rooms.

"Yeah?" He replied dryly as he sat into the makeup artists chair after saying a quick hello.

"You have a meeting with Eunwo and the PR tea-"

"Y/n honestly I don't have time for this right now. You see I have a show in a few minutes and you decide to tell me all this now?" He scoffed and looked up from his phone.

"No Chan it's just that-"

"Just that what? Look your a great assistant and all but your sometimes so uncoordinated. Do you really expect me to remember all the meetings I have?" He glared up at her.

She was wearing her usual knitted sweater, tight pencil skirt and some lofers. Her hair was up in a bun and she held her IPad and Chan's bag one in each hand.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she hung her head low and looked at the floor.

"Good, now go sit on the couch and sit there looking pretty," he stated and went back to scrolling on his phone.

Y/n was so confused because he would be so nice to her and then be the worst person to her at the same time. It was so confusing-

"oh and for God's sake Y/n what do I say about your sweater? It's ugly, I can't have my assistant walking around in such. Get rid of it. You know what, I'll even take you shopping,"

There it was, his sweet and sour side. Y/n was slowly getting tired of the abusive but at the same time she really didn't mind because she had the biggest crush on her boss. The biggest crush ever since she had join JYP and she walked into their first rehearsals as stray kids.

She basically watched him grow up and her feelings grew even more because of all the time she spent with him. Same hotel, same flight, same car, same house, same office. They were together 24/7 and not once did Chan ever try to make a move on her. He just became more and more bratty and even though she was okay with it, it hurt because she thought that maybe one day he would see her as something more but-

"Y/n get me water please," she heard his voice call for her.

Nope. He wouldn't see her as anything more. She accepted it and she was getting exhausted.

The rooms were all lit and they all had different people in them doing different things so it was very confusing for her to note where what was.

The crowded hallways and the lack of space was slowing her down from completing her task and it was frustrating her. Everyone was busy doing their own thing and wasn't bothering to help her out at all. It was almost like she was invisible.

"Can someone please show me where the water dispensers were set?" She asked anybody that could possibly hear her. No one dared to respond so she finally gave up and went into the other guys' rooms hopeful to find that they had accidentally set all of them there and low and behold a whole box of water was sat in Hyunjin's room.

He was getting his makeup aswell so she quickly slipped in then out. Making sure not to distract anyone and she run down the corridor and back to Chan's room where she found him done with his makeup and was now dressing up.

"Thank you love just drop it over there," he instructed. "Can you go pick up one of my friends from the backstage entrance. Her name is Min-Ji. Giver her this so they can let her in," he passed her another backstage pass with her name on it. His smile was very visible. Was this his new girlfriend?

Who was she? Was she pretty?

These thoughts run through her mind as she walked down the same corridors once again until she made it to the backstage door. She gave one of the body guards a high five with a bright smile and handed him the pass.

"I'm here to pick up Chan's friend," she smiled as she told one of the popular and most familiar guards.

"Oh, Chan has a new friend now?" He teased.

"Yeah I geuss, I've never met her before. Do you see her anywhere out there?"

"I'll have to make a call, one second," he Smiled and made his way back outside making sure to lock the door behind him for safety purposes and after what felt like hours but were actually 10 minutes, he came back with a girl. A really really skinny, pretty girl. Her eyes were perfectly shaped, he body was shaped like an hour glass, her skin was made of glass, her lashes were long and she had such beautiful lips.

She was dressed in a two piece and really looked/smelled good. Y/n was comparing herself so hard. The way she dressed was no way compared to the way this girl was dressed and her beauty was no way near the way this girl looked. Her heart was beating at a fast pace and now she knew that she had no chance against her. She knew Chan would never go for a girl like her when he was right next to whoever this was. It made her sad thinking about it.

"Hey! You must be Chan’s assistant," ouch, assistant? Was that all she was? "I'm Min-Ji but everyone calls me Jiji," she smiled and put out her hand for a shake.

"I'm Y/n. The assistant," she shook the hand quickly and led her to Chan's changing room.

"This is really such a big place," Min-Ji commented as they where making their way down the corridors.

"Yeah it is,"

"How long have you been working for Chan?" She asked trying to make conversation.

"About 6 years,"

"Do you have any advice? You know...for me?" That made Y/n start to slow down her pace because what was she trying to say?

"What do you mean?"

"Well you know...I have a big crush on him and he invited me here tonight. Do you know how i can be different? Like catch his eye?" Her cheeks were red from all the blushing she was doing. Probably thinking about all the possible ways her and Chan could be together.

Oh.

"Well, I don't know really. Just be yourself I geuss," Ofcourse such a hot girl like her wanted Chan! It was Chan after all! Ugh! The hot tears started to build as she thought about the situation over and over again.

"Chan she's here," y/n knocked on the door and slowly pushed it open.

"Ahhh, great! Min-Ji! Hey love," he smiled and moved away from the stylist to give her a hug,

"Hey Channie! Long time no see," she giggled.

"How are you? Please take a seat, I still have a lot before I get ready. Y/n please, get her a drink," Chan said.

"Ofcourse," she smiled through her teeth. Deep down she wanted to die as she watched the two interact and be all touchy. That should be her but..

She's just an assistant.

The show was great, everyone was happy with the outcome. Everyone had fun! Everyone enjoyed their time there and now it was wind down time. One of the trickiest parts of the day because everyone was shutting down so everyone was everywhere.

"Y/n you can go now, wait for us outside," Chan said shooing her away. She was shocked at this action. He wanted to spend some alone time with Min-Ji and it was so obvious. The both of them had been whispering and giggling with eachother for the past 30 minutes. It made sense for him to want her out. She wouldn't be surprised if they fucked.

The pain that she felt in her chest turned into anger and the tears that threatened to leave her eyes were not making it any better. Why? Why did she have to go and fall in love with her boss? Why her?

"Y/n!" Someone yelled for her making her jump a little, "what are you doing outside?! Get Chan and let's go!" One of the managers yelled as he walked up the corridor towards her.

"Sir? Sir he’s in there with someone-"

"Did we hire you to be standing around all day?! I told you we're on a tight schedule! We should be in a bus right now because we have a flight in less that 4 hours," he run a hand through his hair as he continued to yell at the poor young girl.

"Sir I tried to tell him, but his with-"

"Get him in the bus now. I don't want your excuses," he shoved past her making sure to hit her shoulder. Her hand automatically rub the area. Her feelings were now even more emotional than before.

She had tried warning Chan but instead of understanding Chan yelled at and now she got yelled at again. Was anyone going to actually be nice for once?

She quickly knocked on the door and prayed that Chan wouldn't be pissed off. Maybe he would be in a good mood to be rushed.

"Chan we really need to go! Please just come out," she begged.

"5 more minutes!" He replied.

"Chan we need to go! Mr-" the door swung open and cut her off. Min-Ji came out with her hair a mess and her lipstick everywhere. Her cheeks were flustered as she quickly made her way out and past her. Seeing her like that was the last draw for Y/n as tears slowly started to roll down her cheeks. She looked back inside the room and saw that Chan was fixing himself.

The tears wouldn't stop as she looked at him, analyzing him and trying to find some type of reason to run away and hide.

"Hey, do you think that..." he trailed off as he turned to look at his assistant. Worry quickly filled him as he made his way to her. "Hey? What's wrong?"

Why did he care? Y/n thought.

"Did someone do something? Why are you crying?" He looked down both sides of the corridors and saw that no one was there, so what was really going on?

"N-nothing," she shrugged his hands off her body and made her way inside but was stopped by a hand grabbing her arm.

"I've never seen you cry before so something has to be wrong-"

"I'm just your assistant," she sobbed. Chan was taken back because yes she was his assistant but that's not what she was to him.

"What do you mean?" He asked. His feelings now getting worked up but he couldn't help but ask why? Why was he getting so worked up after seeing her upset.

"Chan just let it be, we're going to be late," she wriggled her hand out of his tight grip and put her iPad inside her bag. She grabbed everything and made sure everything was left in place before grabbing his bag but was quickly stopped again.

“Y/n, love. Tell me what the matter is, I won’t tell anyone,”

The tears were heavy as they fell but nevertheless she still had shit to get done and Chan was shocked as to why she was still able to get shit done when she was having a mental breakdown. He felt bad.

"L-let's go," she breathed. Her chest pumping up and down at a high pace.

"Can we talk about what's made you upset?" Chan asked softly.

"Chan not now, please..."

"Later?" He asked hopeful and he got a head shake in response but he was satisfied with it.

"Can you atleast calm down for me? Just breathe," he took a few steps closer until he was towering over her. His hand land by her arms and he rubbed them trying to calm her down. It was working but the intense eye contact he was holding with her was scaring her. Her brain was foggy as she silently got lost into his eyes. Little did she know he was also getting lost in her eyes. He slowly analyzed her facial structure….he found her beautiful? The tension grew as he kept whispering encouraging words so she could calm down

until she did it.

She got on her tippy toes and kissed him he instantly kissed back and when she realized what she was doing she pulled away. Adrenaline run through her body as he looked at her shocked.

“Woah,” was all he was able to say to her.

Embarrassment grew in her chest before she knew it she was running out with door. She run to fast that she couldn't hear Chan's calls for her.

She entered the bus and sat in one of the empty sits and covered her head with her hoodie and pretended to sleep.

What the hell was that?

389 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 8 months

Text

more of the one where Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones, yes including the supervillain one:

"I don't know why people keep doing this," Superman sighs as they stop in the air high above the cloud cover between them and the Lyon lab.

"Stealing your DNA?" Match asks.

"Kidnapping a sixteen year-old," Superman says like he thinks it's some kind of correction. Match frowns.

"Superboy is two," he says. And closer to physiologically eighteen at this point, even accounting for the temporary stall in his aging process. Definitely not sixteen by either count, though.

"I–well, yes," Superman says uncomfortably. "But you know what I mean."

Match doesn't, actually.

"It won't be difficult to crack the lab," he says instead of admitting that. "Security won't be prepared for an external assault from your full powerset."

"Because they think I wouldn't come," Superman says, sounding resigned.

"Yes," Match confirms.

"Because of your reports?" Superman says.

"Yes," Match says. "And you never did before, either."

Superman frowns, sparing him a confused glance.

"Why would I have come before Superboy was even here?" he asks.

"I was here," Match says.

Superman's frown deepens. He looks over at him again. Match isn't sure why; the lab is the current concern.

Maybe he assumes that he's lying about the security. Or that he's going to tell the Agenda that he's here. Those would both be fair assumptions.

"The Agenda thought I might come for you?" Superman says.

"The theory was presented, initially," Match says. "But you didn't, so external security in the newer labs is less intensive."

"Why did they think I'd do that?" Superman asks.

"Superboy and I only exist because of you," Match says. "And the Agenda knew he'd reported my existence to you."

"I wasn't actually involved in either of your creations, though," Superman says, still frowning. "My DNA was stolen."

"Yes," Match agrees, tilting his head. Did Superman think he didn't know that? "Because you made your DNA valuable."

"What?" Superman frowns at him again.

"Your DNA was stolen because it was valuable," Match clarifies. "Because you demonstrated it was valuable. You don't use science or tricks or magic or owe any gods or countries or labs any kind of allegiance. You just exist on this planet and you're the most powerful thing on it just because you're here. You can do anything you want, whenever you want, and no one else can stop you. Not even if they kill you."

Superman doesn't say anything.

"And you told everyone that," Match continues. "You told everyone that you were the most powerful thing on this planet just because of your very valuable DNA and the fact that we happen to be revolving around a yellow sun. That you can't even die. That you'll always do whatever you think needs done, no matter what anyone else thinks or who tries to stop you from doing it."

Superman still doesn't say anything.

"So Superboy and I only exist because of you," Match finishes, and then looks back down at the lab below through the cloud cover. Thirteen is down there right now. Or he should be, at least.

Maybe he's already escaped.

That's a very Thirteen kind of thing to do, after all.

"That's how you feel?" Superman asks, all careful-voiced again.

"That's what I know," Match corrects. "Would you prefer to go straight in or should I provide a distraction first?"

". . . I'll be the distraction," Superman says, still watching him with an absolutely indecipherable expression that Match doesn't understand the purpose of. "Find Superboy and say my name when you do. Then I'll get you both out."

"The Agenda will want me back, though," Match says with a frown, not understanding.

"Do you want to stay with them?" Superman asks.

Match has absolutely no idea how Superman can even ask him that. It's not a choice if he stays with the Agenda.

It's never been a choice.

"They made me," he says. "They own me."

"That isn't true," Superman says. "You don't have to stay with them just because they made you. Not if you don't want to. Superboy didn't stay with the people who made him, did he?"

". . . Superboy lives at Cadmus," Match says, more than a little confused by that statement. "He works for Cadmus. He's a field agent."

"He–what?" Superman blinks.

"Did you not know that?" Match asks. That really seems like something Superman should've known. Especially since it's something the Agenda knows. "They're under new management. But it's still Cadmus."

"I–he's still there? I thought that was just . . . why would he still be there?" Superman asks, looking troubled.

Match really, really doesn't understand Superman as a person.

"Because he requires food, shelter, and financial support," he ticks off on his fingers. "Also presumably other resources. And he has no legal identity or legal guardian to either obtain or provide said resources. Therefore: Cadmus."

Therefore: the Agenda.

It really doesn't seem like something that should need explained, to him.

Superman looks at him for a very long moment.

"Find Superboy," he says, finally. "Then say my name."

"Understood," Match says.

#dc match #clark kent #kon el #superboy #superfamily #superman #rinfic #long post #wip: clark panic-adopts his teenage clones

427 notes · View notes

strawberrymatchawhore · 9 months

Text

exbf!jungkook x exgf!reader

“you wrap around me and you give me life… and that's why night after night i'll be lovin' you right”

summary- after seven long years of the breakup between you and jungkook, he randomly decides to show up and tries to prove that hes really a changed man.

warning/s- DUBCON. rough sex under the influence (both sides), hesitant y/n, choking, fingering, messy sex, lovebomb/confession, nutting inside (a/n also sorry for not posting for a while n this was kinda rushed soo i do apologize in advance LMAOOO)

you loudly groaned and smacked your hand around the couch to look for your phone, who the hell calls at this hour ? you took a hit of the joint youve been smoking for the past few minutes and then clicked the answer button.

“hello ??” you lazily say and roll your eyes and take another hit.

spam callers are so fucking annoying.

“y/n…” the voice says, it was deep and husky… even almost sounding like..

“huh ?!!! jungkook ??” the call abruptly ends until a loud knock can be heard from your front door. you get up confused and take a peak through the window and see your ex boyfriend leaning against the porch chair.

fuck what now

you open the door and take a second to figure out what to say.

“what are you doing here ?” you said in a monotone voice, trying to hide your interest as to why he decided to show up after so long.

“i need to talk to you y/n.. please.” he slurs gently pushing you aside to go inside your house, the smell of alcohol and expensive cologne accumulating from his body.

“jungkook..” you tried slowing his pace down and pushing his chest but he wouldnt budge.

“jungkook !! you cant just randomly show up to my house like this and expect me to welcome you with open arms !!” you dragged him to the couch and made him sit down you stood in front of him and examined his state.

“y/n you smoke now ?” he picked up the joint and tossed it back down.

“yeah that doesnt matter right now, why are you here ?”

“look.. i just wanted to say.. i just wanted to say that im sorry for everything that ive done to you in the past. i know words cant fix the damage ive done but after all this time i never forgot about you and i realized all of my faults.. i really really have changed for the better, and i hope you can let me back into your life again y/n.” he slurred, it was almost funny how desperate he sounded. like the roles of the past were now reversed.

you tilted your head, jungkook was never one to own up to his mistakes or even apologize. the sinking feeling in your stomach rises when he briefly mentions the past. but even drunk, maybe he really has changed. it has been 7 years. you stood in silence as jungkook made himself at home on your couch.

“look jungkook, its been a while im gonna have to think about it. and youre drunk, just lay there and i’ll get you some water. you can spend the night.” you softly said, damn it. he was good.

he nodded in response and you went to the kitchen to get water and meds, this also gave you time to collect your thoughts. you said you would think about forgiving him but could you really believe that he’s changed after the relationship you were in with him all those years ago ?

you put the stuff for him on the coffee table and sit down near him, trying to keep a distance. closing your eyes and opening slowly feeling the high more. you look over to jungkook and laugh. this didnt feel real at all.

he then sits up and scoots closer to you, leaning his body onto yours. his mouth was now near your ear and you could feel his hands gently massage your waist. he pulls you to his lap and you let out a low gasp from the sudden movement.

“jungkook. we really shouldnt be doing this…” you say using his thighs to try to get up. the grip he has on your waist tightens, almost bruising even. you wince and move around his lap more to try to get free.

“what do you mean ?” he lowly says he keeps one hand on your waist and massages it his other hand makes it way up to your neck and squeezes.

“you’re basically grinding on me.” he chuckled, you could feel his bulge pressing against you. you whine and dont respond. only the music playing from your tv could be heard. what situation did you just get yourself into ? he lets go and his hand slides down to your pj shorts touching the wet spot on your panties.

“s-stop.” you moan, sounding extremely unconvincing. the both of you knew that you were just saying bullshit, your legs basically open wider for him to continue further. his pushed your panties to the side and gently rubs your clit, and teases it before dipping a finger into your pussy.

“you sure you want me to stop ?” he adds another finger and speeds up, his palm stimulating your clit. you moan and grab his hand.

“…your pussy is just so fucking wet.” jungkook whispered in your ear. you know you shouldnt be enjoying this but you honestly missed him and wanted more. not that you would admit it. even though he most definitely knows by now.

“fu- all f’ you.” you mewl biting your lip, it felt too good.

“yeah all f’ me ? does it feel good baby ?” he teases nibbling your ear. you moan incoherent words and close your eyes.

“course it does just listen to how youre taking my fingers.” you could hear the wet slick sounds of his long skinny fingers going in and out of your pussy. his rings adding more to the package. you could feel yourself about to cum and jungkook slows down.

“you gonna cum ?” you whine and nod yes grinding on his hands to try to get back the lost stimulation. he removes his fingers from you and roughly shoved them into your mouth, you automatically suck and swirl you tongue them licking them clean of your juices. seems like you still have some muscle memory.

he guides you off his lap and maneuvers you face down ass up. giving him a full view of your ass, he gives a few hard smacks before you feel him move his tip up and down your pussy. already antsy and wanting more, you try to reach back and put it in yourself but he grabs your arms and pins them to your back, forcing you to arch it even more.

“uh uh youre not allowed to touch, just lay there and be a pretty little thing for me.” he says before pushing his dick inside of you. your mouth opens into a silent o and you push your hip against his.

“ah-h feels so good kookie.” jungkook leans forwards and uses your arms to thrust faster and harder. your ass bounces from the force.

“fucking missed this pussy.. missed you. ah- fuc-” he breathily whimpers, your moans synching with his.

“youre the only one that makes me feel like im enough and i- fuckkk- im sorry.. oh my- god.” he rambles and moans completely pussydrunk, your cream forming rings at the base of his cock. disappearing and reappearing with his thrusts. he lets go of you and rest his hands on your hips, guiding them towards his big cock.

“you got nothing to say y/n ?” he mocks knowing that youre fucked out, your head rests on the couch cushion and drool covers your chin. you could only moan in response, tears filled your eyes as you felt yourself about to cum.

“no-gonna cum ahh!” your eyes squeeze shut and you grip the couch, your body starts to shake and you expect jungkook to slow down. but no, this man is evil. in fact he speeds up and fucks you through your orgasm.

“jungkook.. jungkook thats too much !!” you whine and reach back to push on his abs. but he chuckles and grabs your arms again. lifting you up against his chest with one arm. the other wipes your tears and rests against your neck.

“gonna fill you up nice n deep.. wanna see that shit leaking from your tight pussy.” he squeezes your neck, if his arms werent holding you up. youd fall right down, the pleasure he was giving you was intense. he was fucking you stupid.

“fuck jungkook, please cum inside please please.” you could feel your second orgasm come when jungkooks first arrives with it. his thrusts gets sloppy but he tried keeping his pace. you were met with a warm sticky feeling inside you when jungkook gently lets you go.

“so pretty all filled up with my cum baby.” he coos and drags his leaking cum back inside you with his fingers. you whined from the overstimulation and he laughed in response. making sure all of it went back inside you, he leans next to your figure and brings you into the little spoon position.

“i love you so much y/n i promise to never hurt you again.” he kisses the top of your head and cuddles into you tighter. you dont respond and just lay back feeling your high come down. this was gonna be a long and hard night of thinking, who the fuck did you let back into your life ?

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #seven #seven jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #smut #jungkook fluff #angst #ex to lover #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #oneshot #jungkook oneshot #jungkook angst #jungkook au #au

1K notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 3 months

Text

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her.

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her.

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love."

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out.

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours.

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints.

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive.

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know."

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything.

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute."

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler.

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall.

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face.

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room.

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful."

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself."

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird."

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself.

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place."

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass.

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable."

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track.

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this.

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his.

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up.

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college."

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look.

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls."

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly.

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'."

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety.

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me."

"Then, that's what I'll do."

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you.

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in.

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one.

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?"

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down.

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery.

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting.

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art.

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck.

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen.

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to."

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting.

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness.

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says.

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods.

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him.

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think.

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd.

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh.

"He is."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone."

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email."

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years."

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands.

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters.

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you.

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process.

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree.

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours.

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks."

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick.

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #i fucking love this

173 notes · View notes

rafestar · 1 year

Note

I have this idea and I gotta tell someone, so yk those push pop candy’s. Well y/n eats one and takes the whole length out and sucks it and Rafe looks or drew and they think of their divk. And get horny so uh idk after like bang bang they do that and uh idk

TRY ME | Rafe Cameron

WARNINGS: +18 smut, oral sex (female receiving), sex without protection, hair pulling, dirty talk, etc

SUMMARY: reader teases rafe with a candy during dinner with their families.

A/N: thank you for the request love, i hope you like it. english isn’t my first language, if there’s any mistakes i will gladly welcome any advice or help, enjoy♡

"Choose one"

After finishing dinner at the Camerons' house, we all stayed at the table talking. While our parents were arguing about their things, Wheezie was handing out candy to me and Sarah.

“This one looks tasty.” I pointed to the strawberry push pop.

"It is! I'll take one too” exclaimed little Cameron. "You can also take some Rafe"

Rafe.

He on the other hand was in his own world, probably high, drunk, whatever.

“I'm not 13 years old to keep eating that shit” Even though he was looking down, clearly using his phone, I could see him rolling his eyes.

“Rude” I spoke.

Rafe, who was in front of me, for the first time tonight glanced up at something other than his phone or his food.

His intimidating look made me shift in my chair.

I never had any kind of contact with him, despite the fact that i was always at his house since Sarah is my best friend and our parents are also very good friends.

I could see from his look that he was throwing daggers at me. "No one was talking to you”.

And before looking down again I could see how he articulated "whore" before continuing on his phone.

Ignoring him, I continued my conversation with the two sisters while we sucked on our candies.

"I really don't know what to do, Topper is a good boy…”

“We already know you like Jo-“ Sarah covered Wheezie's mouth as I laughed.

"Wheezie!" Sarah whispered-screamed.

The three of us laughed until I noticed someone burning me alive with his eyes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Rafe's eyes were riveted on my lips. A smile gross on my face and I decided to try something.

I foolishly licked the top of the treat, carefully running my lips over the tip so only he would notice. I pushed the long candy until it was all in my mouth.

Meanwhile, I was still deep in conversation with Sarah, but I could clearly hear Rafe complaining and sometimes I'd side eye to see him squirming in his seat.

Until suddenly he pushed his seat back and got up hitting the table and knocking over a couple of glasses. "Shit…"

One of the drinks that fell was Sarah's. "What's wrong with you!"

"Fuck off Sarah." Rafe left the room without giving another backward glance.

"Words!" Rose yelled after continuing to drink her wine. "This kids…"

Everyone looked at each other strangely, less clearly me.

"Maybe he has an emergency," Ward justified.

Yes, an emergency.

Hiding my smile, I turned to continue my conversation, as everyone else did.

It took a while until everyone decided to go to the tables outside, since the weather was very good to be in the garden.

While my mom and Rose went on about their business, Ward and Dad talked about their jobs. Wheezie, Sarah and I were just laying on the floor looking at the stars.

The breeze got cooler and my skin got goosebumps since I was only wearing a sundress.

“Do you mind if I go upstairs to get a sweatshirt in your room,” I asked Sarah.

"It’s okay”.

I gave them a smile before getting up and brushing some of the grass off the skirt of my dress and headed inside the house.

I closed the door behind me and everything was pretty quiet. I made my way to the stairs until I felt a tug on my arm that took me to the kitchen.

Before I was going to scream, Rafe turned me around and covered my mouth with his big hand.

My eyes looked at him terrified, since from his look, he looked quite furious.

Looking sideways at the curtain-covered window, I saw our parents share a few laughs.

Rafe grabbed my jaw hard to direct my gaze to him.

"W-What do you want?" I whispered.

Rafe ran his tongue up the inside of his cheek before letting out a mocking laugh. "What do I want?"

Rafe grabbed my waist to lean me against the counter, and that's when I felt it. Against my stomach, I could feel how hard he was. My eyes flicked down and I saw how big he looked behind his jeans.

"I have something for you" my eyes widened in surprise.

Rafe rummaged through his pockets until he pulled out the same candy I was eating an hour ago.

“Thank you but I already ate one…”

My body was still trapped between his and the counter. His hip pressed hard against my stomach to keep feeling him. I watched as his long fingers removed the plastic from the long candy before taking it to his mouth. I saw how a trace of saliva was left on the candy when it came out of his mouth.

I felt like I had a pool inside my underwear. I couldn't help but get turned on by it. My cheeks turned hot pink as my gaze moved from his lips to his eyes. I guess he sensed my arousal, since with his free hand, he grabbed my waist for stability. My knees were shaking and if it wasn't for his touch, I'd probably be on the ground by now.

A lopsided smile appeared on his face, and his eyes sparkled a light blue.

He directed the sweet towards my closed lips, and outlined them inside. “Stick out your tongue”.

With his hand holding the candy, my tongue ran over the stick. His head tilted to the side and his eyes darkened as he followed my movements.

For a moment my movements stopped when Rafe introduced all the candy into my mouth.

"Push your lips against it and don’t let it fall" I did as he told me and his hands fell to my thighs.

He pushed me up onto the counter, squeezing the bare skin peeking out from under the skirt of my dress.

His hot breath felt against my face as he moved closer to me, looking closer into my eyes.

"I'm going to fuck you with that damn candy in your mouth."

My pupils dilated with desire, and I didn't take my gaze from him.

His hands trailed up the hem of my dress to my underwear and ripped it open. My eyes widened in shock and my hands clenched against the counter.

Rafe brushed my hair back and began to kiss the exposed skin of my neck. My head fell against the wall and my back arched. His cold hands ran over my neck and arms, caressing me gently. He slowly lower the straps of my dress until my breasts were exposed.

His hot kisses went down to one of my breasts, licking and biting through the center of my areola. Not leaving the other unattended, he massaged my nipple into a squeeze that made me jump to the edge of the counter.

He did the same steps with my other breast. His kisses trailed down my thighs, taking small bites and leaving marks on my sensitive skin. His big hands gripped my thighs, and I began to feel him kiss my core. His kisses were soft and his licks were soft.

He sucked all the folds in my core, before inserting his tongue. My legs trembled at that, and I could feel him smile against my intimacy. His tongue came out and went back to licking softly over the rest, before taking my clit between his teeth.

Saliva dripped down the side of my mouth as I clenched the candy hard.

I was near my peak of arousal until Rafe came back up. "Even sweeter than that fucking sweet."

My frown showed my frustration and he smiled at that.

His hands unbuttoned his pants and lowered his boxers a little, and the great bulge of him finally came out. My eyes widened at the size of him, and saliva kept dribbling from my mouth. His thumb wiped me clean before taking his hand to himself and massaging it a few times.

Without warning he entered me and my eyes squeezed shut. My whimpering over the candy and his growling were silent, since the only thing that separated us from our families was a simple window.

I opened my eyes and couldn't flinch at the image in front of me. Rafe's head was thrown back as his bare arms held the kitchen counter to the sides of my body.

"Jesus christ… how can you be so fucking tight Y/N” he sighed, before pulling out of me a bit and resting his forehead against mine.

My eyes looked at him and with my hands I grabbed his waist and pushed him back into me. His moan rumbled inches from my face.

His hand moved up to my hair and he squeezed hard before beginning to thrust hard and fast. We had both grown used to each other's size.

His onslaught made our skins crash against each other. Rafe brought his head to my neck as he gasped. Tickles turned my stomach.

"Your walls were made for me," he murmured against my neck.

His other hand gripped my thigh tightly as his thrusts followed the same quick, hard motion.

My walls began to contract against him, and my lips were sore from pressing against the sweet. Rafe came out of my neck and with the hand he had wrapped in my hair, he grabbed the candy and tossed it to the side.

Our lips immediately collided kissing hard.

His kisses were wet and passionate. Continuing with his thrusts, his fingers quickly massaged my clit.

Rafe contracted inside me without stopping to move. “Shit, Y/N…”

Hearing my name come out of it in such a pornographic way, was what made me break.

We both got to touch our highs and euphoria ran through our blood as he came inside me.

His thrusts ceased but his kisses never stopped. Our tongues were still tangled and our breaths felt rough.

Rafe leaned his forehead against mine as the kiss broke, both of us trying to catch our breaths.

I opened my eyes and Rafe was already looking into mine. Before we broke apart and helped me down from the counter, he kissed me again, but this time was in a sweet way.

He helped me clean up and walked me back to the garden where our families were.

I expected him to stay, but he didn't even say goodbye and he just walked out of the garden before getting on his bike and driving off.

Does he regret it?

It was just sex, but still. A bit of guilt coursed through me as I sat down next to Sarah.

I just fucked her brother.

My best friend's brother.

Sarah snapped me out of my thoughts. "And the sweatshirt?"

"Oh um..."

♡

taglist: @cecespeach @poguesworld @fullkookrafe

tell me if u want to be added ♡

925 notes · View notes

thankskenpenders · 7 months

Text

And now for something new

So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!

Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.

If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...

Number one: Why?

Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?

And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.

Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?

NO!!!!!!!!!

Okay but prove it

To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.

If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!

This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.

It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.

(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)

Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!

I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.

I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.

(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)

Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.

So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.

Look forward to goofy shit like this

#tkp post

382 notes · View notes

mysicklove · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 // 𝐒𝐔𝐁! 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀 𝐱 𝐃𝐎𝐌! 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Warnings: Brat taming, biting/marking, fingering

Toga, for how adorable she is, is an absolute nightmare to dominate. But you should have know that the second you got involved with her.

She loves to push every button, loves to see how far you will go, loves to see your face contort when she's gone too far. She wants every ounce of your attention to be on her, no matter if its positive or negative.

Thus, you have to be strict. She needs someone who will watch her every move. Almost every word that falls from your mouth is command. “Stop.” “Keep going Himiko.” “Enough. Hey! I said enough.” “Cmon love, beg for it.”

She doesn't have any room for leeway. You give her an inch and she goes a mile. So, it's easier for her to sit back and obey, her mind seems to wander if she doesn't. Goes back to ways to get more and more attention.

She bites. It's a huge problem the two of you are working on. Marking problem, she's too possessive for her own good. Even with the commands she somehow always manages to get you covered with hickies and bite marks. The league always made fun of you for it.

You wince as she digs her teeth into your shoulder while she sits on your lap. For the last couple of minute you have been ramming your fingers into her cunt. Moans and high pitches whiles escape her lips, and she's stares at you with hearts in her eyes. She had that look in her eyes, you should have known something was coming.

“Himiko, did I say you could bite me?” You pull your fingers out and she whines, loud and dramatic.

“But it's so pretty! I love seeing my things all marked up!” She squeals with a massive grin on her face, a blush coating her cheeks. She begins rocking her hips to try to find your fingers again.

You sigh and run your other hand over the mark. Another scar most likely, but at least there was no blood this time. You look away from her, not giving her the satisfaction of your watchful gaze. “Did I say you could bite me?” You repeat, your tone more stern.

Silence. She shakes her head, smile dropping ever so slightly as she tries to make eye contact with you. She craves it.

“Speak, Himiko.” You scold, instead focusing your attention on your fingers caressing her neck.

“No…But-” At the hint of complaint you begin to slide her off your lap and her smile falls completely. This has happened many times before, but everytime it plays a massive effect on her.

She tries to scramble back into it, but you stand up completely, not looking at her. She kneels naked on the couch, eyes wide and panicked. “I don't play with girls who whine and complain. Who dont listen to simple commands.”

When you begin to walk away she clutches at your wrist. “Sorry! I’ll be good. I won’t whine and complain, I'll listen! Please just touch me!” You raise your eyebrows and turn back to her.

She has to hide her smile when she meets your eyes again, the blush is not hidden though. You can see right through her.

But even so, you can't be upset. She always seems to be improving. The first time you turned your back on her she tackled you and threatened to murder you with a knife pressed to your throat. She realized very quickly that this tactic doesn't work, considering you aren't scared of her and are just as strong as she is. You refused to touch her for a couple of weeks after that.

Begging and apologies work. You give her a second chance, and that's it. She can toy and press your buttons, but after the first warning, she learns quickly that if she wants to feel good she has to listen.

So, you sit back down. Giggles and squeals come from the girl, which you don't even question anymore, as she crawls back into your lap. Your finger finds her hole again, and begins the repetitive motion of moving in and out. Maybe you were too forgiving, maybe you should have made her beg for it. But alas, you were feeling nice.

She shivers and rubs her forehead against yours with that wide almost eerie smile. You bring your other hand to her mouth, and she opens it for you. You run your thumb over her two sharp canines. “You are a lot of work, you know that darling?”

She giggles, knowing your teasing always is affectionate. “You love me,” She murmurs whimsically, her speech distorted with the thumb still running over her teeth. She licks the digit and you pull away with a small disgusted frown, while she laughs again.

You other thumb fingers her clit and the laugh turns into a whimper. You continue the ruthless pace and she gasps, a feral smile still plastered on her face. Her gaze falls back to the bite mark and you sigh knowing what's to come. “Can I? Can I please?” She whines, pushing her hips back into your fingers.

In this state, it was hard to say no to her. She was so cute like this, only chasing her own pleasure. “No biting, no blood. Only hickies, do you understand Himiko?”

“Yes!” She exclaims with a moan, before latching onto your neck, sucking and kissing the skin until it's red and bruised. You shut your eyes and take the girls ruthless mouth, used to this..

“I thought we were going to work on the marking thing.” You sigh, rubbing her hair affectionately, while continuing the pace that makes her whine and cry.

“B-But you are mine!”

“Yeah I know, but does the whole world have to know?” You mumble, trying to hold back a wince when her canines accidentally (or purposefully) graze your skin.

She tears away from the skin, face flushed and sweaty from the antics of your fingers. She has that look again, the look of a pure villain. Her eyes hazy and dilated, her mouth spread wide as she brings her hands to her face like a schoolgirl. You pause your motions.

“Yes! Should show the whole world that you belong to me! All mine!”

You can't help but smile back at that strange grin, that seems to draw you in. You lean forward and press your lips to hers.

“All yours, my love," You mumble against her lips. She opens her mouth, and giggles.

548 notes · View notes

phyrestartr · 6 months

Text

Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up?

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do."

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–"

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago.

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it 12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st 9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone 12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it 12:32am i need you 1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while 7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–"

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up."

He called you again.

And this time, you answered.

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?"

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared.

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?"

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first."

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity.

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone.

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head.

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly.

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised."

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything?

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus.

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect.

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh.

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today."

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?"

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker."

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!"

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo."

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son.

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice.

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York.

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well.

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood.

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display.

"Yeah. I mean��maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know."

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy."

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over.

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.”

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.”

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.”

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.”

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.”

“Eh. I would.”

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him.

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way.

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art.

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though.

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him.

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.”

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face.

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either.

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks.

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.”

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place.

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained.

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–”

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed.

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah.

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself.

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right.

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.”

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.”

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.”

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open.

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch.

One minute passed.

Then two minutes.

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?”

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness.

Click.

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity.

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.”

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her.

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out.

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–”

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed.

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears.

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?”

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore."

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone."

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband.

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise."

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug.

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet.

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?"

"Eh. Sometimes."

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?"

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?"

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be.

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now.

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–"

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?"

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?"

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one."

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?"

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did."

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered."

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep.

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow."

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot."

"No truck?"

"None."

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck."

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked.

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark.

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–"

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth.

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out.

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture.

But you came home early.

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason.

Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you?

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you.

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly.

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded.

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered.

Something. Anything.

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together.

"How long?" You managed.

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?"

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?"

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep."

"Wait–"

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped.

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared.

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–"

"Miguel–"

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me."

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms.

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight, and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding.

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

And he believed you.

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning.

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi.

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store.

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms.

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?"

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too.

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong.

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?"

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess."

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara."

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after.

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh.

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never."

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him.

“Then come back with us.”

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.”

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him.

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–"

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise.

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle.

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart.

"I never did," he confessed.

"Then why did you say it?"

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it."

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'"

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly.

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again."

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–"

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years.

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up.

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?”

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel.

“Oh,” she whispered.

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do."

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep.

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.”

"Miggs, don't say that. I–"

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own.

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–"

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo."

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him.

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us."

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too.

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease.

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too.

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep.

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area.

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted.

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh.

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room."

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home.

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here."

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash."

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun."

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?"

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower."

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy.

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing."

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories.

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone.

But then, he spied a locked folder.

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed.

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities.

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away.

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again.

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better.

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–"

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me."

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him.

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places.

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background.

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back.

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo."

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect."

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good."

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me."

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back."

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?"

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble.

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little."

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss.

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself.

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight.

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?"

"No."

You chuckled. "Okay."

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me."

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.”

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said.

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--”

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease.

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut

184 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 10 months

Text

a tale of ice baths and hot sauce

See my full list of works here!

Placement: the day after 'a sizing mishap'

Summary: An effort is made to find out who your mystery boyfriend is during the Elementals challenge when some members of the staff see some marks on your neck that weren't there before…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: mango mention (no really i did that here lol); bit of insecurity from Reader if you squint

"You think anyone would notice if I just pinched a chip from the bowl?" you joked while setting up the table for the Elementals-themed challenge that a handful of the Soccer Aid players were going to voluntarily subject themselves to with Joelah, the host for most if not all the promo videos for this event. You raised an eyebrow playfully at her when she approached the table with a giddy little skip in her step, practically twirling in her outfit of relaxed fit jeans and a diagonal cut asymmetrical crop top. "Please tell me where you go shopping I'm in desperate need of cuter clothes. I mean, 'raiding the boyfriend's closet chic' is cute and all but…I also drown in fabric whenever I do it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Y/N, I think you're faring pretty damn fine if I do say so myself." She waved a hand at your current getup of a cropped loose olive green halter top and a black ruffle skort. "Players seem to enjoy it well enough," she mumbled with a lower tone, as if warning you that you were currently being ogled. "Oy! Eyes on the ball, you pervy lads!"

"Thanks," you told her with a smile, pulling your hair into a ribbon so that it wouldn't stick to your sweaty neck. "Now…do you wanna share with the class why you were skipping--"

"Bloody hell, Y/L/N, your neck!" she gasped, pointing at the right side of your neck and collarbone. "You didn't have that when I last saw you yesterday--Oh my lordy me, you hooked up with someone here! Is it one of the players? That social media star on the World team? One of the pros? Sam Claflin??"

"No on all fronts, Jo," you laughed off her questions. "My boyfriend's working the event, too. I was with him." Her jaw dropped to the ground with your revelation. "We're keeping things a bit…low key, you know?"

"Oh you and your secrets," she teased, still motioning toward your neck. "If that isn't a sign that screams 'Horny blokes step the fuck back', I haven't the faintest idea what is. Anyways, what were you asking earlier?"

"Ah, right. I was gonna ask why were you skipping on your way here like you were back in school and teacher just gave you a gold star?"

"Oh…Oh! Because I just got the players for the Elementals Fire and Ice challenge and Number 6 lit'rally up and volunteered to represent Team England." She made a motion fanning herself. "That godly bod dripping wet and clothes just clinging to him? Lordy me have mercy. And whoever put him in the teeniest jersey and shorts imaginable, I just wanna eurgh! Wanna grab 'em and thank 'em to the high heavens, y'know? Thank 'em for their service."

You are very welcome, you thought to yourself.

"Maybe if you leave an iced coffee on the table and go pspspsps they'll acknowledge your gratitude," you joked, once again pointing to the chips. "I'm taking a pinch. And trying out these sauces, I've been deadly curious since yesterday."

"You take the green one, I'll take one of the reds," she offered, already getting a large chip for herself and placing a few drops of the brighter red condiment. When you had placed a dollop of the green hot sauce onto your own chip, you clinked your pieces together before taking thing whole and bracing for the worst. "Fuck all that is hellish!" she mumbled around her piece, eyeing you incredulously while you just continued on chewing and letting the taste of the sauce linger for a moment or two. "How in the…"

You grabbed all the bottles and looked over the labels with a scrutinizing eye. "The green's deceptive. Makes you think you're getting the milder one but it's got the highest level of Scoville units. I feel sorry to whoever's gonna end up with that."

There was some motion from the corner of your eye, which you quickly realized were the camera crew and some other members of the staff carting around numerous 10 gallon bottles of water and 3 drums. And following just behind them were the six players slated to play this little trivia game. You gave them all a little wave and a courteous smile, making sure to hold eye contact with each of them, and saving Tom for last so you could allow yourself the indulgence of holding his gaze for a fraction of a moment longer, which he returned with a small wave and an obviously deliberate infinitesimal twitch of his two middle fingers.

"Goodness, Y/L/N," one of the staff members, Allen, bellowed. "What happened to--"

"My neck?" you finished for him. "Don't worry about it. My boyfriend thinks himself a vampire," you answered with a casual shrug, earning you a round of chuckles from the rest of the crew and the players. You motioned toward the water drums. "Should we get that all set up then?"

"Oh. Yeah, for sure." He waved his arm toward the drums as well. "Have at it."

"I could help you," Scarlette chimed in, already taking the end of the drum in front of you and jutting her chin in the direction of your neck. "I didn't see that on you yesterday when I picked up my uniform. I take it your boyfriend's somewhere in the building then?" She capped off her question with a cheeky wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Yes, and I'm not saying a single word on where and who he is. But I won't deny it if anyone guesses correctly. The only catch though…you only get two guesses each," you offered, looking at both her and Joelah.

"Claflin," Scarlette spoke immediately, causing the other one to make a motion as if to stop her but all too late.

"Aaaaand that's one wrong guess. Also makes you the second person in this place to for some reason think that I'm bumping uglies with Finnick Odair."

"I could've told you it's not Mister Clock App, or Claflin…or any of the pros," Joelah grumbled out. "We're down to three."

You two set up the last of the water drums, making sure that they were equidistant from one another, and after thanking Scarlette you moved toward the massive water bottles to start filling them up. "Let me help you," Tom spoke up, already placing his hands under the bottle, brushing his hands across yours before taking most of the weight of the bottle and leading you both toward the drum. "You reckon they'll guess me, darling?" he asked under his breath.

"Absolutely not," you answered, keeping your voice down. "I don't think they'll even consider it a possibility that I can pull you."

"Personally I think you pull me just fine," he shot back, smirking when you had to suppress a chortle from his words. "More than fine, actually."

"Menace," you hissed, trying to covertly take deep breaths while the two of you walked to the next bottle and repeated the process.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Okay you must be built all kinds of different, because I don't think I coulda kept my wits about me being that close him with the guns on full display, and in close proximity to…what was it the internet called it again?"

"The mango?" you prompted Joelah, causing you both to break out in stifled giggles while waiting for the camera crew to finish setting up.

"Yes! And I saw that little hand brushing, too I mean—how were you not absolutely swooning the second he walked up to the bottle? Hell, how did you even function?"

I have been under those guns on full display and touched more than just his hand, you thought to yourself, holding your words back and instead gave her a little shrug. "Worked with him before. You get used to it," you bluffed. "Besides, I've got someone, and I'm really happy and stupid in love. So there's that, too."

"We need a hand here!" Scarlette called out in your general direction, her and Bugzy already on their feet but pointing at Tom who for some unknown reason, currently had both feet sticking up and out of the drum and putting him in a position that made it exceedingly more difficult for him to get up and out of the drum.

"How in the actual fuck did he even get like that?" you started thinking aloud. A strangled noise slipped from your mouth the second his head dipped below the water and his hands lost their grip on the edge of the drum.

You knew that he would be able to find his way back up, but it didn't stop the way your heart caught in your throat. The way that your legs were involuntarily twitching as if taking on a mind of their own and urging you to make your way to him.

If he hadn't stuck his head back out from under the water just a few seconds later, you would have been more than ready to run to him and help him to his feet, check on him the way he often checked on you when he would see you short of breath on set. You wouldn't have given a damn about the cameras capturing your every move.

But instead you were frozen in place, watching as he ascended and took a big heaving breath, shaking the water from his hair and his eyes before finding your gaze. You were suddenly acutely aware of nearly every minute movement of your body trying to fight back every reaction you had to the excessively obvious bedroom eyes he was giving you, resorting to subtly digging what little fingernail you had into the palm of your hand to at least focus on something else until he looked away.

You moved the moment you clocked the excitement on the faces of Joelah as well as some female members of the staff, already undoubtedly about to speak up that they would gladly help him out. "Can we cut?" you hollered toward the cameraman, who responded to you with a simple thumbs up, pressing a button on his equipment that stopped recording. You quickly whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of Tom in the precarious position before you reached him.

"Really, Y/N?" he huffed, feigning exasperation but you knew that tone better than any other person around you at the moment. He was amused. And you would be in trouble later tonight. You even began to doubt if you could completely walk properly in the morning or if you would walk into the briefing area with a more than slight penguin waddle.

"Had to," you quipped, shrugging your shoulders and scrunching your nose at him reflexively before placing your phone back in your pocket and holding your arms out toward him so he could brace himself. "Tuck your feet back into the drum."

You heard the slightest grumble from him before he wrapped a hand around one of your arms, did exactly as you said, and then wrapped his other arm across your shoulders while he tried to find his footing in the undoubtedly slippery interior of the water drum. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered under his breath, pulling you closer as you gripped the towel that was handed over to you and making quick work to spread it out and use it as a cover from prying eyes and wild cameras once his feet were firmly planted on the ground again.

The heavily curious gazes of everyone around you gave you enough pause to not wrap the towel around his waist, realization quickly dawning on you that the gesture would definitely be seen as a show of intimacy. You avoided his gaze as he took the towel from you, opting instead to lead the way to behind the backdrop, picking up his cleats and bag on the way.

You felt the irrational bristling of your skin as the sound of women giggling and commending your boyfriend on his form throughout the drills hit your ears, your hands finding it difficult to grasp the small laundry pouch you'd packed in his bag and a fresh pair of socks from the near violent shaking. When a familiar ridiculously large hand appeared in front of your face, you looked up abruptly to find Tom standing above you, the smile on his face growing brighter when you placed your hand in his and stood up.

"You're shaking," he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Come here."

He caught you off guard when he tugged you into his arms, a small yelp escaping you before you could stop yourself that had you hoping that nobody on the other side of the backdrop heard it. "What're you doing?" you questioned him in hushed tones, holding back your giggles as he pressed the fluffy sleeves of the bathrobe that he wore to your face and neck. Your hands wrapped around his wrist when he started patting at the exposed skin of your chest. "Sweetie!" You couldn't hold back your giggles when he used his free arm to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

"You're wet," he said simply, continuing to pat at your dampened skin.

"Well I'm your girlfriend, it kinda comes with the territory," you quipped, letting out another barely muted squeal when he pulled his hand from your grasp and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. Almost immediately you melted in his arms, both of you smiling against each other's lips as you wrapped your arms around him. "Private--"

"This is private, goddess," he cut you off, capturing your lips in another soft kiss. "Public would be bringing you to the center of the field and marking you again with everyone as witness so that there isn't a shadow of doubt in anyone's mind that you're mine."

The sound of the camera crew calling out for him snapped you two out of your moment. "Give me a minute," he hollered out, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before loosening his hold on you and letting you step back from him. You offered him your hand to hold himself steady while he changed out the soiled socks from the challenge. "Did you take a look at the hot sauces on the table?"

"Of course I did," you quipped, scrunching your nose at him when his eyes flickered to yours. "Don't take the green one, it's a trap."

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, eyeing you with a smirk when he stood upright and you took his shin guards from him. "And what exactly are you doing, darling?"

You answered him with a playful grin. "Oh I'm sorry. Would you like to try putting these on through two layers of fluff?" He answered you with a minute shake of his head. "No? Well alright then." You proceeded to crouch down and place the shin guards under the knee-high socks, only stopping when you heard a shutter from above your head and looking up at him from your position with a bemused smirk. "Really, Tom?"

"It needed to be done," he said with a chuckle, waving your phone tauntingly in his hand. "After all, you do look so tempting from this angle. Let me just send this to my phone really quick."

You made a point to audibly snap the garter of his sock against his skin, making him jump the slightest bit and squint his eyes at you as you rose to stand upright again. "Give it back," you cooed, holding your hand out. Instead of doing just that, he grabbed hold of your hand and closed the distance between you, placing your arm over his shoulder as his hands roamed down your back before settling in your back pockets.

Before you could say a single word, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss and you could feel the weight of your phone back in your pocket. As well as his hand grabbing a handful of your ass before he pulled away. "I love you," he whispered, briefly brushing the tip of his nose across yours before stepping backwards, back to the set so that the World Team could have their turn at the ice baths.

"I love you, too." The sound of the crew calling out your name this time and telling you to come help in setting up the next batch was enough to wipe the smitten grin off your face and send you running in the other direction.

A/N: Starting off my 5-day weekend strong with a new Soccer Aid piece out! I have one more that I'm gonna focus on before I give Soccer Aid Hiddles a break from the page for a while to focus on…'relinquish the crown: plans & protestations'! 😳👀 It's been too long since I've written those two blorbos and I miss them so they're next 💖

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

280 notes · View notes

bangchansgirlsblog · 2 months

Text

The assistant.

"Chan?" Her footsteps followed quickly behind him trying to keep up with him as we walked into the dressing rooms.

"Yeah?" He replied dryly as he sat into the makeup artists chair after saying a quick hello.

"You have a meeting with Eunwo and the PR tea-"

"Y/n honestly I don't have time for this right now. You see I have a show in a few minutes and you decide to tell me all this now?" He scoffed and looked up from his phone.

"No Chan it's just that-"

"Just that what? Look your a great assistant and all but your sometimes so uncoordinated. Do you really expect me to remember all the meetings I have?" He glared up at her.

She was wearing her usual knitted sweater, tight pencil skirt and some lofers. Her hair was up in a bun and she held her IPad and Chan's bag one in each hand.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she hung her head low and looked at the floor.

"Good, now go sit on the couch and sit there looking pretty," he stated and went back to scrolling on his phone. Y/n was so confused because he would be so nice to her and then be the worst person to her at the same time. It was so confusing- "oh and for God's sake Y/n what do I say about your sweater? It's ugly, I can't have my assistant walking around in such. Get rid of it. You know what, I'll even take you shopping,"

"Y/n get me water please," she heard his voice call for her.

Nope. He wouldn't see her as anything more. She accepted it and she was getting exhausted.

The rooms were all lit and they all had different people in them doing different things so it was very confusing for her to note where what was.

Who was she? Was she pretty?

"I'm here to pick up Chan's friend," she smiled as she told one of the popular and most familiar guards.

"Oh, Chan has a new friend now?" He teased.

"Yeah I geuss, I've never met her before. Do you see her anywhere out there?"

"Hey! You must be Chan's assistant," ouch, assistant? Was that all she was? "I'm Min-Ji but everyone calls me Jiji," she smiled and put out her hand for a shake.

"I'm Y/n. The assistant," she shook the hand quickly and led her to Chan's changing room.

"This is really such a big place," Min-Ji commented as they where making their way down the corridors.

"Yeah it is,"

"How long have you been working for Chan?" She asked trying to make conversation.

"About 6 years,"

"Do you have any advice? You know...for me?" That made Y/n start to slow down her pace because what was she trying to say?

"What do you mean?"

Oh.

"Chan she's here," y/n knocked on the door and slowly pushed it open.

"Ahhh, great! Min-Ji! Hey love," he smiled and moved away from the stylist to give her a hug,

"Hey Channie! Long time no see," she giggled.

"How are you? Please take a seat, I still have a lot before I get ready. Y/n please, get her a drink," Chan said.

"Ofcourse," she smiled through her teeth. Deep down she wanted to die as she watched the two interact and be all touchy. That should be her but..

She's just an assistant.

"Y/n!" Someone yelled for her making her jump a little, "what are you doing outside?! Get Chan and let's go!" One of the managers yelled as he walked up the corridor towards her.

"Sir? Sir he's in there with someone-"

"Sir I tried to tell him, but his with-"

"Get him in the bus now. I don't want your excuses," he shoved past her making sure to hit her shoulder. Her hand automatically rub the area. Her feelings were now even more emotional than before.

She had tried warning Chan but instead of understanding Chan yelled at and now she got yelled at again. Was anyone going to actually be nice for once?

She quickly knocked on the door and prayed that Chan wouldn't be pissed off. Maybe he would be in a good mood to be rushed.

"Chan we really need to go! Please just come out," she begged.

"5 more minutes!" He replied.

The tears wouldn't stop as she looked at him, analyzing him and trying to find some type of reason to run away and hide.

"Hey, do you think that..." he trailed off as he turned to look at his assistant. Worry quickly filled him as he made his way to her. "Hey? What's wrong?"

Why did he care? Y/n thought.

"Did someone do something? Why are you crying?" He looked down both sides of the corridors and saw that no one was there, so what was really going on?

"N-nothing," she shrugged his hands off her body and made her way inside but was stopped by a hand grabbing her arm.

"I've never seen you cry before so something has to be wrong-"

"I'm just your assistant," she sobbed. Chan was taken back because yes she was his assistant but that's not what she was to him.

"What do you mean?" He asked. His feelings now getting worked up but he couldn't help but ask why? Why was he getting so worked up after seeing her upset.

"Y/n, love. Tell me what the matter is, I won't tell anyone,"

"L-let's go," she breathed. Her chest pumping up and down at a high pace.

"Can we talk about what's made you upset?" Chan asked softly.

"Chan not now, please..."

"Later?" He asked hopeful and he got a head shake in response but he was satisfied with it.

"Can you atleast calm down for me? Just breathe," he took a few steps closer until he was towering over her. His hand land by her arms and he rubbed them trying to calm her down. It was working but the intense eye contact he was holding with her was scaring her. Her brain was foggy as she silently got lost into his eyes. Little did she know he was also getting lost in her eyes. He slowly analyzed her facial structure....he found her beautiful? The tension grew as he kept whispering encouraging words so she could calm down

until she did it.

She got on her tippy toes and kissed him he instantly kissed back and when she realized what she was doing she pulled away. Adrenaline run through her body as he looked at her shocked.

"Woah," was all he was able to say to her.

Embarrassment grew in her chest before she knew it she was running out with door. She run to fast that she couldn't hear Chan's calls for her.

She entered the bus and sat in one of the empty sits and covered her head with her hoodie and pretended to sleep.

What the hell was that?

#skz channie #skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz drabbles #skz stay #stray kids drabbles #bangchansgfblog #bang chan angst #bangchan #bangchan angst #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader

361 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 5 months

Note

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think.

So maybe an idiot.

A very hot idiot, though.

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence.

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else.

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here.

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there.

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him.

The hell?

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded.

Bernard is mystified.

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell?

Weird.

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot.

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that.

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube.

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably.

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them.

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible?

That sounds amazing, actually.

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much.

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight.

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced.

And so is his belly button, it looks like.

Ngh.

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that.

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun.

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls.

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow?

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be.

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought.

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing?

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever.

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . .

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery.

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window.

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption.

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . .

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever.

“Uh–what?” Superboy says.

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?”

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him.

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . .

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it.

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway.

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife.

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.”

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead.

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?"

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one.

"What?" Superboy says.

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.”

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks.

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?”

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears.

. . . well, that can't be good.

#timberkon #timbern #bernard dowd #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: weird amnesia timberkon #long post #anonymous #rinfic

237 notes · View notes