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highvern · 1 month

Text

Waited

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+)

warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung

Length: ~4.2k

Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.

Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.

You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that.

The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.

He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off.

You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you.

The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.

The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news.

But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass.

He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical.

“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.

Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”

Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.

And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.

The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation.

You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.

But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you.

“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.

Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”

Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his.

“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”

It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision.

“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.

Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.

He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery.

Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.

You missed him.

He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.

“Stay?”

Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”

The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place.

Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).

The news comes from your mom.

She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.

He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline.

Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.

Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…

Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it

You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.

So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch.

Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.

He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.

Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.

He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.

You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.

Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.

Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy.

The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on.

Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him.

“Fuc–Yoongi!”

Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.

“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.

He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits.

You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.

It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.

Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?”

His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.

A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.

Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.

You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.

“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.

Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”

“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.”

“Finger it for me,” he drawls.

Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.

“Come here.”

Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool. “You come here.”

“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.”

Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.

His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.

“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.

In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing.

Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.”

“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.”

The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.

With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.

The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.

“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.

Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out.

Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!”

“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.

“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.

He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.

Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position.

“Oh my god, Yoongi.”

You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.

Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.

Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.

He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.

Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.

“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”

Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.

The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.

Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi��s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.

The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—

“I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”

Well that's new. “Oh.”

“It was an accident but—”

“What’d she say?” You cut him off.

Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.

“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy.

“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.

He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.

“Is that what you want?”

The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it.

Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.

“That’s what I want.”

Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”

Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.

“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.

“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”

“Yeah?”

You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”

“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again. “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”

“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?”

You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off.

“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.

“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”

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fleur-bbyy · 1 year

Text

I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE

playlist

⭒pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader.

⭒wc: 4.8k

⭒warnings: SEX (MINORS DNI), continuation of the porn!au, characters are aged up to 21+, reader is not of a certain skin color, use of names like ‘bunny,’ daddy kink, spanking with belt, live camming, mentions of; onlyfans, pegging, plugs, fingering (f! receiving), cunnilingus, slight breath play, small part of m! receiving oral, degrading, if I forgot anything I will update this later on!

⭒author’s note: y’all the amount of times I had to change the fake usernames to not accidentally tag someone is crazy. will scream, cry, and throw up if I still somehow managed to.

part one.

“you still wanna go through with it?”

“fuck yeah. show that fucker what he’s missing with us.”

it’d been a few months since you and katsuki had professionally filmed together for the first time. watching the opportunity for a decent cash flow get even bigger after more and more sick bastards wanted to see the two of you together. becoming a little more than professional acquaintances as you filmed together more and more.

it felt like the two of you could only keep growing until that douchebag that calls himself a director publicly shit on both of your names. calling the two of you ‘unprofessional’ and a slew of other names, even going as far to say he could’ve ‘done it without the both of you’ whilst he basked in the glory of his first successful porno. your ranks and ratings didn’t drop that much, but it was enough to piss the two of you off.

so now here the pair of you are, about to prove to that dickhead director that you didn’t need him, he needed you.

“it’s just been a while since i’ve cammed live. I feel like i’m back at the beginning again.”

“i bet. we’ve all come a long way though.” he stood up from where he was sat at the laptop perched upon your desk, angled towards the chaise lounge in your room. everything was set and ready with a timer counting down from five minutes. for some reason you were nervous about camming again.

maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t done so in so long.

or maybe it was that you didn’t know what the hulking blond standing over you had in store.

“we still have four and a half minutes left,” he rough hand stroked your soft cheek, “wanna let me get a little taste before you start, bunny?” his free hand cupped your cunt covered with white lace.

“nuh-uh. don’t spoil yourself now or you’ll have nothing left in you in a few.” you pushed him off and walked over to where the laptop was set up to check the countdown once more. making sure to shimmy your hips as you walked to show off your cute ass to him.

he already felt quite feral just looking at you. body clad in skimpy, white lingerie with cute little bunny ears on your head and a cotton tail attached the the back of your thong. the thigh-high socks squeezed the fat of your thighs so perfectly his cock was already straining against his jeans.

“have it your way, princess, but remember who’s in charge today. no shitty scripts to follow, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” you didn’t know whether you should feel more aroused or terrified at the thought. you’ve seen his videos from when he was amateur. unscripted, he was ruthless. fucking whoever was with him in the most insane, body-contorting positions, having them drool all over themselves. you weren’t ashamed to admit that you had touched yourself many times before to the sound of the filth that he spoke into the mic.

“it’s almost time, bunny. c’mere and sit with me.” he beckoned you over to the lounge with a wiggle of his index finger. he was shirtless with his chest lightly oiled. you eyed the way his pecs and stomach glistened under the light every time he shifted. he switched out his jeans and boxers to just a pair of grey sweats with nothing underneath. you loved the way his trail of wispy, blond hairs started just below his naval and disappeared below the waistband.

he had you sitting with your back to his chest. he held you tightly, already copping a feel on your chest. kneading and pinching the fat of your breasts. he had your legs placed over his spread ones, making you completely open for the camera. your little thong barely covered a thing and was getting eaten by your lips. he used his other hand to slide down your body and gently rub your clit over the cloth.

you almost forgot what you were about to be doing until you heard the familiar pinging sound from money being sent in. this little cam show was pretty well advertised on both of your socials and even by some of your friends in the industry, so it was really not surprise that people were already sending tips in. you soon heard bakugo pipe up. his voice moderately loud so the microphone could pick it up.

“awh, bunny, hear all those horny bastards that already are spendin’ shit on you? we’ve barely done anything yet” you quickly nodded your head, wiggling your hips to try and get his hand to move faster.

“where are your fuckin’ manners?” he took the hand that was kneading your tits and brought it up to your neck, fastening his thick fingers around and lightly squeezing. you let out a small ‘thank you’ which you thought wouldn’t be enough. thankfully, bakugo had mercy right now.

he kept toying with your cunt, continuously growing wetter and wetter. your arousal now seeping through your thong and spreading onto your plush thighs. also dripping down onto bakugo, leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“already makin’ such a mess. you want it bad, don’t you?” he lightly slapped your already sensitive clit, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and do your core.

“yes. so bad.” you felt like a virgin that couldn’t make a complete sentence and your cheeks started to burn. it was kind of hard to feel embarrassed when you’re in your industry, but the way he toyed with you flipped a switch inside.

“yes what?” he stopped touching you and roughly pinched your nipples, eliciting and piercing whine from you.

“yes daddy.” his cock twitched beneath you at the sound of your voice.

“good fuckin’ girl. why don’t you turn around and show them the pretty little ass of yours?” he unhooked your legs from his and brought them together so you could stand. you slowly got up, making sure to not lose your footing since your legs already felt like jelly. you heard the pinging start up again when you turned around and bent over slightly, wiggling your hips back and forth causing your ass to shake.

“come sit back down on me. daddy’s gonna play with you too, yeah?” you straddled his still-spread legs and his hands instantly found place on the fat of your ass. kneading, pulling, and squeezing every inch. you could feel his hard-on pressing right against your clit and you dared to start grinding down on him. because of that action, you were met with a harsh slap to your ass.

“who the fuck said you could grind on me? needy fuckin’ slut.” he roughly slapped your ass again and tips started to roll in at the sight of the bright red hand prints now adorning your backside.

“oh fuck, think these bastards are gettin’ off to the sight of you gettin’ punished, huh? who wants to see some more?” he was wearing the charming smirk on his face as he soothed the burning, red spots with his hands. rubbing circles on you and tilting his head to kiss and nip at your neck. the pinging sound that rolled in again signified that people did want to see more.

“alright, little bunny, all fours f’me.” you rolled off of him as he stood up, the obvious tent in his pants making your mouth water. he sauntered his way behind the lounge as you got in position. you could see out of the corner of your eye that he had picked up the belt he was wearing half an hour ago, striking the sides of the belt together to make a loud slapping sound as he approached you once more.

you felt his hands run over the spot where your lower back curved as the fabric of the lounge dipped down behind you. he caressed your smooth skin for a few moments more before he spoke up again.

“you’re gonna take ten of these yeah?” he leaned down and gripped the sides of your chin, turning your head to look towards him and the camera. “and you’re gonna count, lose your place and we start over. don’t fuck up and you get a reward. got that?” you furiously nodded your head and he cocked a warning brow at you. he let go of the death grip he had on your chin and lightly patted your cheek two or three times. you heard the leather of his belt slap against itself one more time before it was striking you.

your legs and cunt were both quivering as he delivered each blow to your sensitive skin. every strike was met with more pinging sounds as money was sent you way. your ass was covered in red spots and sore to the touch. he wasn’t entirely a monster, though, rubbing each area he hit with the palm of his hand after you struck you. despite the challenge, you didn’t lose your place and even thanked him afterwards. after the tenth was delivered, he pressed his soft lips to the spots most red and placed feather like kisses on you.

“so good f’me. so fuckin’ good f’me. daddy’ll give you what you want.” and with that he pushed your panties to the side and plunged two of his thick fingers in your wet heat. rapid fire fingering your aching pussy as he used his free hand to continue soothing the hot spots left on your ass from his belt.

the sight of your cute tears leaving mascara tracks down your pretty face in the screen of the laptop was enough to make him want to bust in his pants. the moans and whimpers that left your parted lips sounded so sweet, delicious even. and the feeling of your slick running down his middle and index finger was enough to make him lean down to lick your juices from the source as he replaced his fingers with his long tongue. his fingers found purchase again on your swollen clit, aching to be touched and he tongue-fucked you.

his movements were skillful. rubbing circles on your clit in a way the stimulated your nerves in just the right way. he worked his tongue oh so perfectly inside you, causing you to writhe under he touch. his free hand fisting at the fat of your ass.

he could tell that you were getting close by your moans increasing in volume and the way your pussy fluttered and clenched around his tongue. the pinging sound had slowed, pissing him off a bit.

“you wanna see this slut cum? pay the fuck up. we’re not doin’ this shit for free.” you whined when he pulled away from you, getting whatever the female equivalent of blue balls was. you dropped your top half down to the lounge, just leaving your ass in the air. you wiggled it a bit for the camera and for the blond staring at you through the laptop screen.

“shit, 15,000¥? these motherfuckers really are desperate. 20,000¥ and i’ll make this slutty bunny squirt.” he lightly ghosted his fingers over your pussy before deciding he wanted your panties that were still pushed to the side off. the strength of the explosive blond before you made you gush another bout of wetness as he tore them at the hips and pulled them off. even though you were desperate, you quietly whines at the loss. you really liked this lingerie set.

“oi, heard that shit. quit your bratty bitchin’ or you won’t cum until I do.” at that, he looked to the laptop and saw that someone had sent in the amount he requested and smirked.

“make sure to say ‘thank you.’” he dived back in your pussy, one hand on your clit, two fingers back in your cunt, and using his tongue to drink up any of your dripping slick. it wasn’t long before you felt that familiar pressure in your stomach and your hole started to twitch. shit, you were right there.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck thank you.. fuck.” your speech was slurred and words were jumbled together as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. he growled at the way your cunt gushed for him and all over him, drinking up as much as he could.

“shit, that’s my good fuckin’ girl. stand up f’me and show them your drenched pussy.” you did as he said, already feeling so fucked out to disobey. he held you by your hips as you stood, steadying your balance. using one of his big hands to spread your cheeks apart to show off your fucked hole, groaning at your reflection in the camera.

“d’you bastards miss when she was a cam slut? because i sure fuckin’ do.” he rubbed the side of your hip and ass as he pressed little kisses to your skin. it wasn’t long before the chat was beginning him to take his dick out and for you to take your bra off.

“awww. they want you to get naked too.” you teased, ruffling his blond hair.

“‘m sure they just want my cock out because that means i’m closer to destroying your insides.” he teased right back at you, softly smacking your backside.

you felt gracious about him giving you a little breather. you loved your work, loved making people feel good, but you hated how everything was go, go, go once the camera started rolling. sometimes having to just stay in bed the next day so the poor spot between your legs could take a break. when you felt ready, you tapped his shoulder and gave him a quick nod when he looked up.

you straddled his lap once more and pawed at his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. you just wanted him to stuff you full and you were willing to act out to get it.

“needy little whore arentcha? not fuckin’ you yet. on your knees.” he patted your face once more and got up with you to get you closer to the camera. only his lower half was in view, but your face and still-covered chest was on full display. you were visibly excited when he tugged his sweatpants down enough to free his rock hard dick. taking it into his hand and pumping it a few times before slapping your cheek with it.

“be a good bunny and open wide f’me.” as soon as you did so, he was shoving his cock in your mouth. fucking your face for true audience you’d garnered. you thought all you’d be getting was a rough face-fucking until he pushed his length all the way in. the tip of your nose was touching his groomed, blond hairs that grew from his pelvis. tears once again started to stream down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe through your nose.

“you want this bitch to breathe? 5,000¥. simple enough? ‘m lowballin’ because the slut seems desperate already.” he punctuated his last few syllables by lightly thrusting back and forth in your mouth. it still wasn’t enough for you to get a deep breath, but enough for you to not pass out.

as he looked at the screen, a specific ping of a donation caught his attention.

105,000¥ - fuck her now.

he pulled out and leaned down to where his face was in view. he gave you a moment to sputter and catch your breath before he was gripping you by the jaw to look at the camera.

“see how much they wanna pay for that sloppy cunt? whad’dya think?”

“mmmm, 20,000¥ more. my pussy’s worth it.”

“you fuckin’ heard her, pay up, bastards. or i’ll just fuck her off camera.” he finished his last word with another slap to your ass. his rough hand still had you by the jaw as he showed off your messy face. makeup smeared and mascara stains running down your hot cheeks. you smiled into the camera when you saw the notification come up that someone had sent the remaining amount of money.

“thank you, baby. bet you wish it was you here and not him. you’d treat me nice, right?” bakugo’s gaze bore into the side of your head as he listened to you flirt with whoever threw money your way. anything word you spoke that sounded remotely suggestive was like a buzzword for more tips to roll in. “mmm you want him to take my bra off? you’d better ask him nicely.”

he fixated his gaze off of you and onto the comments rolling in in the monitor. another 10,000¥ rolling in with the nice request that he strip you some more.

“you bastards are so fuckin’ desperate. bet you’re all touchin’ yourselves right now. waiting for her tits to be out before you bust.” he was standing behind you, unhooking the clasps on your bra and letting it drop to the floor. you were fully exposed for the camera now. the only thing remaining from your costume lingerie were your sheer thigh-highs and the bunny ears atop your head.

he reached around you tweak your hard nipples and play with the fat of your breasts, eliciting little moans from you.

“so fuckin’ pretty. she’s a pretty, pretty girl isn’t she?” his hand traveled down to your pussy and he ran a finger through the slit to assess if he needed to prep you or not. you were practically still dripping from earlier, slick running out of your needy cunt and spreading onto the insides of your thighs.

“time to make their money’s worth, bunny. ride my fuckin’ cock.” he sat back down onto the chaise lounge and beckoned you over with the curl of his index finger. the sight of him comfortably sprawled out with his sweatpants just lazily pulled down enough for his cock to be out made the ache between your legs throb even more.

“d’ya bitches wanna see her ass or tits bounce?” he kept you from sitting, rubbing up and down the side of your hips as his eyes focused in on the chat. responses were mixed with people who wanted to see either. a few comments sprinkled in about yours or his looks.

“looks like they can’t decide, we’ll do both.” he pulled you towards him and you straddled his lap in regular cowgirl. he rubbed the tip of his angry, red cock up and down your soaked slit. the look in his eyes was enough to make you gush another wave of arousal as he slowly eased in you. the stretch of him was welcomed by your warm walls and he bottomed out rather quickly from how horny you were. his tip lightly brushed your cervix, marking you squirm above him. he grabbed your hips and you kept an agonizingly slow pace.

“if you want him to split me open, i’m gonna need a little more from you, babies.” you looked over your shoulder and winked. your reflection in the screen was pretty, beautiful even. one of his hands was lazily placed on your hip and the other placed behind his head. the sight of him slowly disappearing and appearing again was a spectacular sight to see. the way his heavy balls lightly slapped your ass was heavenly and the taut muscles flexed on his spread thighs was probably enough to make someone cream in their pants.

the pinging had begun once again and you increased your pace each time a donation came through. he eventually was gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to thrust into you, hard and fast. your moans were already pornographically loud when you were at a slow pace, but now they filled the room with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“shit bunny, this cunt is so fuckin’ good. i can’t wait for you to make a mess on this dick.” you clenched down on him every time he spoke the filth that had gotten you off so many times before. your legs were beginning to tremble and your pussy was twitching in a way that told him you were close, right there even.

“fuck yes. cum on my cock.. ride that shit. show them how much of a dirty fuckin’ slut you are f’me.” his words coupled with his rough thrusts to punctuate the syllables sent you over the edge. your stomach felt white-hot as you creamed on him. he removed the hand from behind his head to spread your pussy lips and watch the glistening arousal flood his dick. the ring of your cum gathered on the base. that and your tits knocking together in his face made him slow himself to keep him from cumming too.

“hope y’got another one in ya. turn the fuck around and sit again.” you quickly got up and whined at the loss. katsuki growled at the sight of your hole already gaping for him.

you let out another whine of pleasure as you sat back on his cock again. your knees and shins were placed on both sides of his thighs and his arms were wrapped around the front of you to play with your tits as he started thrusting again.

he was rougher this time, removing one of his hands from your chest to move back down to your hip to keep you close to him. his feet were firmly planted in the carpet below you to keep up his pace without fault.

“play with your tits, sweets. show them how horny you are for daddy.”

“shit.. i love when daddy fills me up… fuck fuck fuck.” you brought your hands up to your chest to play with yourself and he brought his now-free hand to toy with your swollen clit. you loudly whimpered at the sensitivity when he was touching and fucking you at the same time.

“i feel you clenchin’ my shit. already gonna cum again? you really are a desperate slut for the camera.” he started slamming his hips into yours harder and you began to bounce at a pace that met his thrusts. he felt impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy squelched and gushed around him. he was now focused on your reflection in the screen. his eyes moved back and forth from the monitor to the real you. he loved being able to see your expressions whilst also being able to watch the way your peachy ass rippled and bounce as you met his rough thrusts.

“tell me.. fuck.. tell me how bad you want it.”

“daddy please I want it to badly. I need to cum and I need to be filled with yours.”

“oh, slutty bunny wants me to breed ‘er, that’s it, yeah?” you whimpered and nodded your head as he began to thrust even harder and deeper. hitting that special spot inside you that made your whole body feel like it was on fire. the crescendo of your moans and your pussy once again tightening on him told him you were almost over the edge, he was glad because he didn’t think he’d last much longer with the sight to behold in front of him.

after a few more rough thrusts and his cock dragging against your g-spot, you were once again coating the man in your release. squirting once again as he continued to ride you through your orgasm. your juices slid down his muscular thighs and onto the fabric below the both of you. you heard his growls get louder as he used your body to chase his own high. practically losing himself at the sight the clear liquid spewing from you.

“fuck bunny, y’gonna let me cum in you? fuck i’m gonna fill you up.”

a little ‘please’ was all you could get from your lips as your spent brain wasn’t thinking too clearly. he gripped your sore hips one last good time before he was spilling the contents from his balls into your overused hole.

“‘m cummin’.. fuck baby, god you feel so fuckin’ good when i’m flooding this pussy.” your body shivered as his words and the shallow thrusts he continued to pump into you. you felt impossibly empty when he slowed and lifted you off of him. that feeling soon being subdued by his thick, calloused finger tips collecting the cum that had leaked out and pushing it back into your cunt.

“know you’re fucked out, but bend over ‘n show them how pretty that pussy looks filled with my cum.” although tired, you gladly obeyed his request. standing up on wobbly legs to turn around and bend over like you’d done earlier, holding onto the edge of the lounge for stabilization.

“mmm, bet you guys wish this was yours stuffed in there, yeah?” you giggled and waved your ass back and forth as the pinging increased for a final time. katsuki grabbing your face and showing the audience how debauched and fucked out he had made you. you finished off the stream with a flirty ‘goodbye babies’ and a seductive wink before covering the camera with your hand and ending the stream.

you both watched the screen go black and light up again as the total revenue flashed across the screen. both of your eyes widened as you saw the number. you both expected into six fugures, you didn’t expect to be that well into six figures. it was more money made in a single stream than the two of you would made from a few pornos. the two of you decided the split the money equally as it made the most sense and was only fair.

the screen blackened again, this time the transcript of the comments lit up the screen. you decided to sit and read whilst the blond got up to redress.

“hey kats, they want me to peg you!” you say in front of the laptop, still naked as the day you were born minus the thigh-highs, and read through the comments. a lot of them complimenting the pair of you or offering you guys money for sex. sometimes you came across comments that made you audibly laugh, this being one of those moments.

“fat chance. most that’s been in my ass is a plug.”

“I could change that.” you wiggled a brow at him and he dramatically rolled his eyes. he stood in the corner of your room and you watched him tug a white compression shirt on.

“adventurous thing, arentcha?”

“adventurous is my middle name.”

“yeah, okay dumbass.” it was your turn to rolls your eyes as you went to your twitter to tweet about the success of the stream, definitely showing up the director that dared trash yours and bakugo’s names. after tweeting, you decided to scroll your feed a bit to see if anyone had said anything yet. if the money you guys make didn’t show the success of the stream, the slew of people tweeting about it sure did.

@better-luxe-next-time: made more in one stream with @.officialdynamight than that slimeball has made in his whole career <3

@.officialdynamight: wanna see my POV with @better-luxe-next-time? unlock the videos on my onlyfans @.dynamight.

@.alien.queen.pinky: wettest i’ve ever been from watching a stream. 3some? @better-luxe-next-time @.officialdynamight

@bigredriot: I couldn’t tell who I wanted more 😫

@chargeboltt: she could step on me and i’d say thank you!

@chakoraka i’d kill an elderly woman to be sandwiched between them.

@sticky-sero: not even gay but i’d suck his ween ngl

you smiled at the tweets your fellow stars had posted. it some sick, weird way it warmed your heart that they all had your backs and watched the stream to help you prove a point. you even noticed some of them donating their own money. the smile that grew on your face slowly drooped again once you saw another tweet posted 7 minutes ago from dynamight himself.

@.officialdynamight: 50 retweets and we’ll stream weekly. @better-luxe-next-time

“seriously, katsuki? 50 retweets?”

“i’ll take any excuse to get inside you. got the sweetest cunt i’ve ever fucked.” you took the bunny ears off and slid your stockings off your legs as he handed you his t-shirt. it fell right at your mid-thigh and swallowed your torso whole. “and trust me, i’ve fucked a lot.”

“me too, we’re in the same business, y’know,” you let out a light giggle at his exaggerated eye roll, “but yeah, best dick i’ve ever had.”

“so we can agree, one retweet?”

“sure, kats, one retweet.” his vermillion eyes darkened and his lips contorted into a cheshire cat-like smile as he opened his twitter app and turned the screen to face you. the tweet already have over 100 retweets and it’d only been up for 10 minutes.

“looks like you might wanna start getting comfy with me, bunny.”

part one.

3K notes · View notes

hyyukas · 25 days

Text

lovesick!jun <3

smut mdni

warnings: IGNORE THAT THIS IS OVER 2 MONTHS LATE, readers gender is not talked about and neither is their specific genitalia, not proofread, penetration, praise, tiniest bit of degradation ? yeonjun comes early, this drabble is a little softer than the rest, probably shorter too.

"jun you promised !"

"I-i know, baby ! but i just love you s'much," your boyfriend panted out as he whimpered above you, eyes squeezed shut while his teeth had a firm grip on his puffy bottom lip. "can't get enough of you- fuckk"

It was only meant to be cock warming. yeonjun swore on it. but of course all promises and "cross my heart"s had gone straight out the window as soon as he felt you clench around his tip. and after a few minutes of begging you were quickly flipped onto your back while your boyfriend pushed his hips into yours at a pathetically shaky pace.

"you feel s'good" he slurred, hands tightening around the bedsheets whilst you watched him rut into you with a shit eating grin plastered across your face. "wanna— MMm ! wanna be like this forever hah~ "

"yeah ? better keep going then pretty, you wanna make me feel good don't you ?" you taunted and clenched around him, knowing full well that in a minute he'd be slobbering into your chest and you'd be the one moving his hips for him.

yeonjun nodded eagerly, whines and whimpers passing through his shiny lips as his hips trembled. "yes, yes ! want to— wanna make you feel good ! love you s'much I always wan' you to feel good !"

you chuckled and let your head drop back against the pillow, letting yourself appreciate the irregular rhythm yet pleasurable sensation of his thrusts. "mmm fuck,, just like that." you encouraged him. loving the way his swollen tip nudged against your gummy spot.

as he kept up with his motions you couldn't help but grind your hips into him, your breath jumping with every touch he gave you. it only took a few more minutes until his elbows were wobbling either side of your head.

you cooed, traces of fake sympathy lining your tone. "tired out already ? c'mon, you can do better than that. I know you're not this pathetic, jun."

"sorry, 'm sorry ! love you s'much ! you jus' feel s'good wrapped around me—!"

you felt his breath hitch against the skin of your neck, he whined at the way you squeezed his cock so nicely as he jerked his hips for the last time, high pitched mewls filling your head as he came inside of you.

you lay still for a few moments before looking down at yeonjun's fucked out face. "did you seriously come already ?"

with no answer from him you laughed softly.

"turn around and lay on your back. 'm gonna ride you."

despite how far gone he already looked, your words had him scrambling to roll onto his back. and when you sunk down onto his dick he swore he almost came again, balls tightening as he whimpered out curses and clenched his fists.

"you good, pretty ?"

"fuck— please move ! you're so tight 'nd warm, baby." he begged, his warm hands landing on your waist for something to grip. you smiled, starting to bounce lightly on top of him as he stared up at you with his glossy eyes. so pretty.

"I can feel you twitching 'nside of me, jun. you gonna come early again ?" you spoke through pleasure filled sighs, ignoring the way he squirmed beneath you.

yeonjun let out a dry sob at your teasing. his hands gripped your waist tightly, fingers digging almost painfully into the fat around your hips as he watched himself disappear inside you over and over again.

"gonna— gonna c-come ! love you ! love you s'much !"

series mlist

©hyyukas

tag list, @miukuui @zzstar @mini-mews

#© hyyukas #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #choi yeonjun hard thoughts #choi yeonjun hard hours #txt drabbles #yeonjun drabbles #smut

589 notes · View notes

sweetsbfreex · 10 months

Text

who loves you

summary: a four month long situationship with Ari goes south when you see a text you shouldn't have

pairing: college!hockey player!ari x situationship/fwb!reader

warnings: none?

Fuck. You felt refreshed and blissed out as you sat up and stretched. Watching Ari’s bare, fit body disappear into his bathroom.

It always surprised you how he showers without his phone because that meant he showered with no music. You couldn’t imagine taking a shower without music, how else would you fulfill your popstar dreams. But alas, Ari was different from a lot of the guys you’ve previously been with.

You drop back against his bed, smiling at the ache between your legs. Ari was a lot of things and a sex god was definitely one of them.

The incessant buzzing from a phone..his phone jerks you from your blissed out state.

Bzz-bzz

Ignore.

Bzz-bzz

Ignore.

Bzz-bzz

Okay, what the hell?

You grab his phone beside you, it comes to life when you lift it.

Joy ;)

—Meet you in the parking lot after? My place?

—I’ll wear the special panties with your number on them

You squint as more texts roll in. Special panties? Her place? The fucking winky emoji by her name?

What. The. Fuck.

You stare in disbelief for who knows how long, feeling a little hurt and naive.

“Why is my phone in your hand?”

Ari stands at the end of his bed. A towel wrapped around his hips as he runs another through his shoulder length hair. Your eyes can’t really help to worship the droplets over his chest.

“Who’s Joy?” You push out the question.

You can see something change in Ari as he walks over and takes his phone from your grasp. “None of your business, why are you snooping around”

You scoff, “I wasn’t snooping! It kept buzzing and I thought it was an emergency or something. Who’s Joy?” you question again, annoyed at the way he’s avoiding your question.

“I don’t appreciate you looking through my phone. And she’s none of your fucking buisness, so drop it”

You stare up at him, subconsciously lifting his sheet to cover your bare chest.

“You’re having sex with other people?” you accuse, and deep down you're confident you know the answer, but that naive part of you is hoping it’s all a misunderstanding.

“And if I am? We’re just fucking around too. Are we not?”

Your breath stutters at his admission. Although the two of you have never stated terms of this…relationship, his actions have always spoken louder than words. Everyone thought the two of you were together. Even though he’s never formally asked you to be his girlfriend, you always had an inkling that he would at some point.

Your stomach flips thinking of his protectiveness over you, the way he’d always pay if he was there, and the way he goes out of his way to check up on you after his practices. Or the way you’re always there for him at every game, his number and name on your back as you cheer him on.

Shit, even the sex was anything unlike a pair of friends. It always felt intimate between the two of you. Your toothbrush stood next to his in his bathroom, and yours, for Christ sakes.

“Are you being serious right now?”

Ari shrugs. Fucking shrugs at your question.

“Y/n, I don’t understand why you’re upset. In no way have I ever committed myself to you.”

That stings.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” You mutter, trying to blink away the tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t.”

“Fuck you, Ari.” You seethe, dressing yourself with speed. “Have fun with Joy.” You tell him, buttoning your jeans, and gathering your shoes in your hand. Anything to get out of this humiliating scenario.

You shove your way past Ari’s confused figure. Which stops you as he grabs your elbow, “I’m not understanding what the big deal is? You’re telling me you haven’t been sleeping around.”

You remove your elbow from his grasp, “No. I haven’t. And if I did, I’d at least have the decency to let you know.” And with that, you’re out of the room.

Ari stands there for at least a minute, disgruntled and confused with what the fuck just happened. He shakes his head trying to figure out whatever the fuck he was missing.

“You’re a fucking idiot, a moron if you will. Maybe a dodo would fit better?—” Ransom laughs to himself as relaxes in his spot in the frats living room, snacking on his favorite biscuit cookies.

“Ran,” Steve interrupts the way Ransom isn’t helping. Softly shaking his head in reprimandment. “Now isn’t the time.”

Ransom only shrugs, and looks back to the television.

“I hate to say it, man. But Ransom is right, the only answer was in front of you the whole time.” Sam tosses in his opinion, clapping Ari on the back.

“Well what the fuck is it? Why is no one saying what I’m missing?”

“She likes you, Levinson.” Bucky answers, walking through the living room and out the door, his key to his motorcycle swirling around a finger. He didn’t need to know the full conversation to know what exactly was going on. He would’ve stayed to watch the aftermath, but he had a certain spicy redhead waiting for him at her apartment

Ari doesn’t mean to sound dramatic, but he quite literally feels the world tilt on its axis at the discovery. He’s admired you for a while, but never in his mind did he think he was the right guy for you. He’s seen the guys you’ve dated before and they were the complete opposite.

Intelligent, brainy, in tons of clubs, they wouldn’t do stupid shit like fighting on ice skates because it’s fun. They were guys who any mother would love.

Fuck. He can’t believe this, there’s no way.

“What—“

“Dude, you can’t be so blind, to not see how in love with you she basically is,” Ransom says around a mouth full of cookies. “The sex is probably great, but you think a chick like her is gonna wanna be around you without an ounce of admiration.”

“I think what Ransom is trying to say is: there’s a lot of telling that y/n has feelings for you, and I’m pretty sure her getting offended that you’re sleeping with other people is a big one.” Steve says.

“Fuck.” Ari groans, running his hand down his face and over his scruff.

“How would you feel if y/n told you she was screwing someone else?” Sam asks.

“Livid.”

Sam snaps his finger pointing at the dark look already on Ari’s face. “There you go.”

“Fuck. She’s not even answering my calls. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Give her time to cool. If anything, maybe she’ll be at the game?” Steve offers.

“Maybe,” Ari mutters.

But you never picked up a single call and for some reason, even picked up that Ari thought of swinging by your apartment. You had texted him to leave you alone.

And then Saturday rolled around…

“How long have you been into hockey? I’d never take you up as a sports girl. Sorry that sounded terrible—“

“It’s okay, Jake.” You laugh. “Not until this year, you’re right I’m not really into sports at all. What about you?”

“I really got into it with my dad, we used to watch every game together if we could,” he smiles at the memories.

“That’s really sweet,” you smile back, placing your hand over his.

Jake Jensen is a computer science major you befriended over your French class last semester. But the both of you basically ran in the same social groups, leading to you guys staying friends.

When talking about the upcoming game, you had let it slip that you passed the deadline to donate your ticket, and couldn’t find anyone to sell it to. Leaving you to go to the game alone or getting a strike.

Jake was kind enough to let you join him. You would’ve joined Natasha and the others, but it felt too weird to you and you wanted no chance running into Ari. Especially since you weren’t wearing his jersey like you usually do.

You haven’t spoken to him all week, minus the small text you sent, and you refused to. Even though he had tried non stop to run into you on campus.

“Have you—“ Jake starts, but is interrupted by the commentators introducing the team. Everyone stood up and cheered at the sight of the school’s players.

Ari skates out with a smile on his face, lifting a hand in the air as he waves and joins the line of his teammates. As he does so, he tries to find you, but it’s hard to distinguish you among the wave of people in the stadium. Especially since you weren’t seated in your undesignated-designated seat closer to the rink.

But he shakes it off, putting himself in the right mindset for the game.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our favorite time of the night: THE KISS CAM!”

Some players skate and others like Ari, watch the Jumbotron during the brief break.

The first is an elderly couple, then a pair of random strangers who kiss under the playful pressure, two pairs of students, parents with their children who dramatically gag. That makes everyone chuckle, including himself.

They go around the stadium one last and he cannot fucking believe it. His hand becomes around his stick.

He can feel his teammates staring at him in sympathy. But Ari cannot look away from the Jumbotron.

The first thing he notices is your flustered smile, that you came to the game sans his jersey, and the most noticeable of all is the dork sitting next to you with his arm behind your seat, looking just as bashful.

He’s livid. You’ve been avoiding him all week, probably doing who knows what with this guy.

“You know what you gotta do,” teases the commentator. You laugh behind the back of your hand. Jake sits beside you just as flustered, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb.

In no way is he against kissing Y/n, but he also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“C’mon folks!”

You stare at Jake, shrugging a shoulder in question. Jake only smiles back before sitting up straighter. The both of you go to lean in. Your lips press softly against his until a loud smack of temper glass breaks it up.

The two of you jolt away at the sound of a disgruntled voice. You look to see Ari, “hey!” His voice booms. “Back the fuck off my girl!”

“What— who is he?” Jake’s eyebrows knit together as he points towards the enraged giant pointing a menacing finger towards him.

“An asshole who doesn’t know what he wants.” You answer, shaking your head towards Ari before you place a kiss on Jake’s cheek.

You watch as Ari stands behind the plexiglass. And even though you’re about eight rows back, you can see the confused and upset expression on his face. A pinch in his eyebrows and a pitiful glare in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry about that, Jake.”

“It’s nothing, don't worry.” He smiles, “Do you want popcorn or anything?”

“Sour patch kids, if that’s alright.”

“No problem.”

You look at anywhere but Ari during the rest of the brief intermission.

Ari 🏒🦁

—Meet me outside the locker room

—Please?

You sigh as you grab your stuff. Just before the two of you reach outside the stadium, you gain Jake’s attention.

“I’m really sorry to cut our hangout short, but I had a lot of fun. I just have to handle something really quickly.”

Jake tries not to show the disappointment on his face, “I’m gonna rightfully assume it has something to do with that ‘asshole who doesn’t know what he wants’?”

“Unfortunately,” you smile ruefully.

“Okay,” he nods his head. “I hope everything goes well. I’ll see you around?”

“Definitely,” you hug him before you make your way outside the doors of the locker rooms, with no trouble which you can guess is because of Ari.

You smile awkwardly at the glances of Ari’s teammates. You hate that everyone has seen that happen and you assume most of his teammates know the intimate details of what’s gone down between you two. Which only adds another layer of unnecessary awkwardness. Time passes before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, looking up to see Steve at your side, a timid grin.

“The locker is all cleared out, he’s in there waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Ari?” You walk in to him tying his sweatpants.

He turns around with a mournful look on his face. His sweatpants low enough that you can see the bands of his Calvin’s; he’s shirtless so his six pack is on display and glistening from his shower; his hair is disheveled, but the ends still curl at the ends; and he has a towel thrown over shoulder.

You can ask any women how they could not be hung up on a guy as attractive as him.

“Hey,” he sends a small smile, making his way towards you.

“Wait—“ you interrupt, “We cannot have this conversation if you’re shirtless.”

He won’t argue, but he does as you’ve said and throws on some ratty t shirt in his locker. He sits on the bench in front of his locker, patting the spot next to you.

You sit beside him, making sure to keep some distance between you two.

“I see you’re not wearing your jersey?”

The audacity of men will always surprise you.

“Your jersey and is that really the first thing you want to talk about?”

“You’re right…” warily his hand grabs yours and when he sees you won’t retract from him, he brings it his plush lips. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. Seriously.”

“What you said Sunday was totally uncalled for and spiteful— and where do you get off announcing to practically the whole state that I'm your girl? And You embarrassed poor Jake for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothin’ and the douche will be fine.” He staggers at the fire in your eyes. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“That seems to be the only thing you can say,” you huff. You turn to him, needing to know the answer to this. “Are you really sleeping with other people?”

He notices how small your voice is as you ask.

He sighs and looks down for a little, before tightening the grasp of your hand. “I was.”

You stand up while trying to get Ari to let go of your hand. The last thing you want is for him to see the tears begging to fall.

Ari stands with you in haste, bringing his other hand to palm your cheek as he looks down at you. Those piercing blue eyes saying so many things at once. “Was. I was. Listen, I haven’t slept with anyone else other than you since last month. It was a moment of weakness and you can’t be mad at me for it. We’ve never made anything official, baby.”

“Do you even care about me? At all.”

It feels vulnerable and desirous, but you’re unsure how you can continue without asking.

“What? Did tonight not show you that?”

You go to argue, but he cuts you off before you can start.

Both his hands cup your face while his thumb draws circles on the apple of your cheekbones.

“I love you.”

Your breath picks up at his admission.

“It’s been months coming, but you gotta know since our first night together I haven’t slept with anyone other than Joy and that was only once. And I didn’t think I could tell you because.. I’m just not the guy you typically go for, Y/n. But I guess that was my own insecurities playing a part of that. I’m rambling and i probably sound like Steve after he takes one hit. But I promise I’ve admired you for so long and it has never been just sex to me. I don’t want my stupid mistake to get in the way of us trying correctly this time.”

You swing your arm over the back of his neck and pull him in a kiss, your other hand fists his shirt.

He lags at first before his brain catches up and he’s kissing you back harder. He tilts his head just a smidge like he always does and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head. You feel his other hand cup the side your body. His hand roams up and down before he’s slipping it behind you to squeeze your ass. You moan into him, pressing your body closer to him.

Both your breaths pick up and you know you need a breather. So you pull away in a blur.

“I love you too.”

He smiles at your admission. One of those adorable, rare smiles not many get to see from the broody man.

You smack his arm and he grabs it with a questioning look.

“But I’m still really pissed at you and I’m not letting you off easy.”

“Even if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He snakes his brawny arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he ducks to kiss your cheek.

“Even then,” you giggle, turning his head for a kiss. “And that’s a yes.”

a/n: it's been so long, hi!!! sorry i disappeared

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback 💗

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avatar-anna · 8 months

Note

I was thinking you could do a “5 times y/n told Harry she was pregnant” for the young!dad series !! That would be so interesting especially since in the last piece you mentioned that Harry already had a feeling she was pregnant before she even told him

The Thing About Having Six Kids

so i got this ask and a couple others that were kind of about the kids' birth/pregnancy a while ago, and went with five different instances about each kid in the youngdadrry universe. it's all surrounding their birth, finding out about pregnancies, etc. enjoy!

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

Simone

(a text conversation between Harry and Y/n)

Y/n: i'm pregnant

(one day later)

Y/n: Harry?

Harry: Are you sure?

Y/n: i'm sure

Y/n: i have four different pregnancy tests to prove it

Harry: I don't know what to say.

Y/n: the 24 hours it took you to respond kind of told me that

Harry: I'm sorry about that. It's just...a lot

Y/n: it's fine i guess. at least you finally responded.

Harry: Did you think I wouldn't?

Y/n: honestly? yeah. it's not like we're married or in love or anything. you don't even live in the same country as me

Harry: What are you going to do?

Harry: I know but I wouldn't just like disappear on you

Harry: I was just shocked that's all

Y/n: idk. i'm still trying to figure out a way to tell my parents

Harry: Shit my parents!

Y/n: that's kinda where i'm at right now

Y/n: but i think i want to keep it

Y/n: the baby

Y/n: fuck that sounds crazy to say. i have physics homework due tomorrow but let me stop and make a life altering decision really quick about whether i want to have a baby or not

Harry: I'm sorry. You know...

Y/n: for getting me pregnant? knocking me up? putting a bun in the oven?

Harry: It seems too early to joke about this

Y/n: it's keeping me from freaking the fuck out at the moment

(ten minutes later)

Harry: I want to talk about this properly and figure this whole thing out but I have to go

Y/n: please don't feel obligated or anything. this was just a courtesy

Y/n: i don't expect anything from you. i get it if your management wants you to delete my number and never see me again. i just thought you should know.

Harry: What are you talking about?

Harry: Y/n?

3 missed calls from Him <3

Collette

"Let's have another baby."

Y/n was close to nodding off, so it was very possible that she was dreaming. She looked behind her. It was dark in the bedroom, but Harry was close enough that she could see him, could see that his head was propped on his elbow so he could look down at her.

"What did you say?" she asked, because she needed to be sure.

"I...I want another baby," he said, voice soft even though they were the only two people in the room. Simone was fast asleep in her own bedroom, tuckered out after a long day of playing at the park and eating ice cream and fingerpainting with Harry. Now that One Direction was officially on hiatus, it was just the three of them—Y/n, Harry, and Simone. Y/n thought it would take some getting used to, living a relatively normal life. But their little family actually fell into it quite easily.

Perhaps a little too easily.

"Say something."

Y/n hadn't realized she failed to respond, but to be fair, that was a pretty big bomb her husband just dropped. Her husband. They'd been married for a few months now, but it still felt surreal, which was probably why the idea of having another baby felt too far from reality to comprehend.

"I just...I don't know what to say," Y/n said honestly. "I—I'm not sure we're ready for that."

"We weren't ready the first time," Harry said when Y/n finally flipped on her other side to face him. This seemed like a conversation he really wanted to have, so she thought facing him would probably be best. "I just think this might be the time, you know? I don't have an insane schedule anymore, there's no more management to say that we can't, and I've always thought about giving Simone a sibling. Don't tell me you've never thought about it."

"I...I have," Y/n said.

She did think about more kids. As young as she and Harry were and as impossible as their relationship seemed at times, Y/n couldn't help but think about wanting more. She loved Harry, and she'd been loving these moments they'd been able to share as a proper family recently. Harry was right, if they wanted to have another baby, now would be the time.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said as she felt more than saw his hand push some hair away from her face.

"What happens when you start working again?" Y/n asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, H," she said. "And I love you. Everything about you. And one of the parts that make you who you are is the music. This...this little bubble we're in, I love it too, but I know you'll want to go back to it someday. And then you'll go on tour for ten months, and I'll be alone to raise two kids by myself for a majority of the year."

It was harsh, but she trusted him enough to take it. This was the thought that always held her back. Y/n thought about the possibility of expanding their family on more than one occasion, especially in recent weeks when things have been practically perfect. But the reality was that Harry would want to go back to work. She knew, maybe better than anyone, the desire he had to make his own music, to create and write in ways he couldn't while in the band. And perform. Harry loved to perform live. Y/n knew that this time spent with just their family was fleeting, and she cherished every minute of it, the same way she knew Harry did. It was only a matter of time before he went back to work, and she wasn't sure she could raise Simone and a newborn without him.

"That's...That's all over now," Harry said. When Y/n tried to protest, he continued on. "What I meant to say was, the ridiculous schedules, the strict rules about when we can and can't spend time together, the separate hotel rooms. Mama, things can be different now."

"But management—"

"I bought out my contract," he said. "I haven't really given it much thought in a while because I just want to be present with you and Simone, but I've got a few people in mind for new managers. People who will prioritize our family."

This was certainly news to Y/n. It was hard to talk about Harry's management or the harsh thumb they pinned him under, so oftentimes it was a topic they avoided. Hearing him say this now, knowing how much money it would've taken to buy out his contract...that was a huge deal. As far as she knew, the other boys were just sticking with it until the contracts were finished. But Harry went and did what Y/n didn't even think was possible.

"Our family," Y/n repeated, and for a moment, she could see it. The three of them becoming four. It was crazy to think about, to think so far ahead into the future, but Y/n wasn't scared by it.

"Let's have another baby," Harry said again.

Looking at him, Y/n's heart squeezed in her chest. He'd been growing his hair out for a while now, and it was long enough that it reached just passed his shoulders. She loved it, thought it made him look older, more mature. And okay, hot. And Simone loved it too. She loved braiding it and putting bows and flowers in it or just twisting it around her finger. His shoulders were broad and lean, though he'd put on a little muscle in his arms from doing handiwork around the house, something he claimed he loved to do even though Y/n had heard him curse from another room while he worked on his latest project.

She looked at his face, the one that looked so different yet so similar to the one she'd met when she was seventeen. She wondered what those teenagers would think of the people they'd become, of the things they'd seen and experienced.

She thought about it. The baby-to-be. It would have Harry's eyes and smile, her nose and hair color. If it was a girl, she could wear matching outfits with Simone, if it was a boy...Well, they could maybe still match. Y/n thought about all the baby clothes—the adorable little onesies and shoes and mittens to keep the baby from scratching their face while they slept. She didn't let herself think of the late nights and sore boobs and dirty diapers. In this moment, she just thought about all the good feelings, every perfect moment that could be.

"You promise things will be different? I can't—I can't do it alone," she said, needing to hear him say it again.

Harry didn't try to kiss her, he didn't put his hands on her waist or pull her to his chest—all tactics he would normally use to distract her. This conversation was too serious, too important, and she loved him all the more for understanding that.

"I promise, Y/n," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I will never make you regret living this life with me."

"That's not what I—"

"I know, but I just...I needed to say it."

He needed to make that promise to her, to himself. Life had not been easy, and Y/n knew Harry blamed himself for a lot of the hardships they faced.

"I don't," she said, kissing their joined hands. "And I won't. Ever. "

Harry grinned, and Y/n could tell even in the dark that his gaze was a little watery. Still, he inched forward and said, "So...?"

Y/n leaned forward and kissed him, her leg slotting between his. "Let's have another baby."

Maeve and Jules

"I'm sorry, did you just say twins?"

"I did. I'm seeing two heartbeats here. See?" The doctor said, pointing at the monitor she'd been observing closely the last five minutes.

Y/n couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. It was one thing to be pregnant (again), but an entirely different one to be pregnant with twins. "That's—"

"Amazing," Harry breathed.

Y/n turned her head away from the monitor to look at her husband, whose eyes were glued to the screen with a look of wonder in them. As she'd begun to process her own feelings about housing not one but two babies in her belly for nine months, she hadn't really considered how he might feel about it.

Looking at him now, she could tell he was ecstatic.

Y/n was still panicking a little, but seeing the elation on Harry's face was comforting. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it hard, needing to feel the warmth of his palm to ground her.

"Hey," he said softly, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "This is a good thing. Unexpected, but good."

"I know," Y/n said, letting out a shaky breath. "I know it's just...a lot. I mean...twins?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, kissing her cheek.

His confidence was reassuring. Maybe he was freaking out on the inside and not letting it show for her sake, but Y/n felt better about the situation at hand and was ready to continue with the appointment.

To the doctor, she said, "Are they healthy?"

The doctor smiled warmly. "They are. It looks like one of them is about a week behind, but that's nothing to worry about."

"Really? They're twins. That doesn't seem possible," Harry said, his brow furrowing adorably.

"It's rare, but it is possible. Fraternal twins can be conceived as much as twenty-four days apart," the doctor said.

Y/n understood perhaps a split-second before Harry, but when he did, he turned as beet red as she felt. The doctor didn't seem to mind their embarrassment, though she'd probably seen all sorts of couples and situations. Y/n imagined there wasn't much that the doctor hadn't seen before.

The appointment wrapped up pretty quickly after that. Harry snuck out of the hospital through a separate door while Y/n set up her next appointment. She met him in the staff parking lot, where he was standing by the passenger door to help her in. Harry gave her a quick kiss before closing her in and walking around to the driver's side. As he drove, Y/n was thinking about a number of things—twice the amount of clothes, twice the amount of crying, twice the amount of diaper changes. She was excited at the prospect of having a baby. It was a conversation she and Harry had before they started trying, but the idea of twins was a lot to wrap her head around.

She looked at Harry, wanting to ask how he felt now that they were alone, but she stopped herself.

Harry had one hand on the steering wheel, the other covering a wide grin. He was blushing a little too, and Y/n couldn't help but ask what had him smiling like an idiot.

"I'm trying to figure out which times," he said.

"What do you mean which—Are you kidding? Which times we conceived the twins?"

"Aren't you curious?" Harry asked. "Twice, babe. I put a baby in you twice. I mean, one of them had to be when we were on the yacht, right? I always feel good after we have sex, but I feel like we really outdid ourselves there. Clearly."

Y/n just looked at her husband in shock. "You are..."

"What? It's cool!" Harry insisted, but he was laughing too. "And it takes the edge off a little. Come on, you try."

So he was more nervous than he was letting on. That was comforting in its own way too, but Y/n appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood. They could have a serious conversation later, but for now it was fun to just forget all of that. Just for a moment.

Y/n gave him a dry look, trying to appear like she wasn't impressed until she eventually rolled her eyes and smiled. "Mm...I agree with the yacht, and...when you came back from London."

"Really?" Harry asked, more curious than surprised.

"Yeah," Y/n said with a little sigh as she remembered the night in question. "That was a good night."

It was one of those rare occurrences where Simone was in her own bed and Collette managed to sleep for more than a couple hours. They'd spent the whole night catching up and giggling like idiots and kissing and enjoying the pleasure of being truly alone with each other. Y/n loved those moments with Harry, where everything was just so simple and easy and it was just them having a little fun. They definitely should've been catching up on sleep while they could, but neither of them wanted to, so they stayed up with tired smiles and slurred movements until they heard Collette's cries through the baby monitor.

"It was. We should do that again sometime," Harry said. Taking Y/n's hand, he kissed the tops of her knuckles.

"You just want to go for triplets," Y/n teased, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.

"I'm not that crazy," he said, but his smile told her he was thinking about the possibility. Maybe just a little. "I'm excited for this."

"Yeah? What do you think? Boys? Girls? A boy and a girl?"

Harry shrugged. "Our track record would suggest girls, but..."

"You never know," Y/n finished for him.

Geneva

"We have some pretty big news to share."

Once a month, the Styles family held a Zoom call with their friends and family who were scattered across the globe. Since lockdown began, there was a lot of adjusting—online school, not being able to go to the park to play, being at home all day. It was a lot for everyone, but Harry and Y/n did their best to make the adjustments smoother. And when they needed a break, they set up the monthly Zoom calls.

They were mostly just to catch up. Once all the children went to sleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up late talking to other adults about everything and nothing, maybe even played a different drinking game or two to round out the night before they went back to being parents. Tonight was a special night, though.

Multiple faces looked at Harry and Y/n expectantly through their computer screen. Both of them were sporting big smiles as Y/n leaned on Harry's side, one of his older sweatshirts covering her body and the almost imperceptible bump that was beginning to show now. Today was the first day she'd begun to show, and Harry nearly lost his mind with excitement. Finding out Y/n was pregnant had been somewhat of a surprise, but when she told him, he was over the moon. He's started to suspect, having recognized some of his wife's symptoms by now, but they'd been waiting for the right time to tell their families and friends, and tonight was the night.

"What's going on, darling?" Anne asked.

Neither Harry nor Y/n could barely contain their excitement, which probably gave away the news before they actually said anything. However, in their own eagerness to share the news, neither of them saw a few people on the call sporting knowing looks.

"We're having a baby!"

Cheers went all around as everyone congratulated the couple. Questions were asked about due dates and how far along they were and what they were going to do about the lockdown situation. Everything was just as Harry had hoped it would be.

And then things took an interesting turn.

"Who won?" Jeff asked.

"Won? What do you mean—"

"If my math is correct, which I'm pretty sure it is, I believe it goes to Gem," Sarah said, looking down at her phone. "She went with three and a half months. Glenne narrowly missed with three. No one had four so it goes to Gemma."

A collective groan went throughout the Zoom, leaving Harry and Y/n very confused.

"Did you place bets on us?" Y/n asked, sounding more astonished than offended.

"When lockdown became permanent, we knew it was a matter of when not if we would be getting the announcement," Jeff explained. "Someone has a physical copy of the pool somewhere."

"And all of you did this? Mum?" Harry said, brows raised higher than Y/n had ever seen them. When Anne nodded sheepishly, Y/n had to stifle a laugh. "So none of you were surprised?"

"I love you, dear, and I'm so so happy for you, but since you were seventeen, anytime you've come to me with big news, it's been about having a baby. For my own sanity, I've just come to expect it."

Harry looked down at Y/n, who was grinning behind her hand. For her husband's sake, her gaze softened as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "I mean, they have a point. Even you guessed it before I told you."

As the shock finally wore off, Harry smiled. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world. So, he and Y/n were predictable, even though they hadn't really been trying this time around. They were in love and had a lot more time together currently. Things were finally back on track for them and their relationship troubles seemed behind them now. They were happy, and as long as his family was happy, some light teasing and bet placing seemed harmless.

He did pin everyone on the screen with a mock glare before moving on, though. "You guys made a whole pool. Really?"

"Yeah. Can you believe Jeff thought it would take eight months for you to get pregnant?"

"It was for the adjustment to lockdown period!"

"Eight months?"

And on and on it went. Harry just smiled and rested his hand over Y/n's belly, thinking about how much it would grow in just a few short weeks.

Natalia

"I want Mommy!"

Harry sighed and pulled his only son into his lap, pushing the curls away from his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I know you do, JuJu."

Harry and the kids were waiting to hear from Y/n's mother, but he hadn't gotten so much as a text. He was anxious, worried that something was wrong, but Julian's crying served as a good distraction for the time being.

Julian continued to cry, still not understanding why he couldn't see his mother when he'd become so used to seeing her everyday. Harry would've been with Y/n had it not been for the little boy's crying, and he made the split-second decision to stay home while Y/n delivered the baby with her mother as support. He'd never missed any of his children's births, but for this, he could stay behind.

"She'll be back soon, bubba, I promise," Harry said, kissing Julian's cheeks and holding him close. "Should we go play with your Lego set? I know you've been excited to build it. Maybe we can build something to show Mummy when she gets home."

Julian shook his head and continued to cry into Harry's neck. Realizing his son was content to be miserable, Harry didn't ask again. He sat with Jules for a while, holding the boy to his chest and running a hand through his hair until his sobs turned into sniffles, and the sniffles into long, slow breaths. He waited a few extra minutes before taking Julian up to his room and setting him on his bed, making sure to place his favorite stuffed animal in his arms before leaving him to sleep off his troubles. As he walked away, Harry sort of wished he could do the same.

Every birth had been different. When Y/n had Simone, it hadn't been extraordinarily long, but it was extraordinarily stressful due to their young age. Collette was a fairly quick birth, perhaps a little too quick, seeing as Y/n barely made it to a hospital bed before the baby started crowning. The twins came early, which was apparently common for twins, but that didn't make it any less surprising to Harry and Y/n, especially because Harry was at the grocery store and Y/n was at the park with Simone and Collette and a nanny who was also there had to call an ambulance. Even still, Geneva's birth was probably the scariest, only because of all the rules and regulations brought on by Covid. Y/n's mother quarantined for two weeks so she could stay at the house while Harry and Y/n went to the hospital, as Y/n could only have one person in the room with her.

And now a year later, they were doing it all over again. Harry had been confident that this birth would go off without a hitch, that everything would be just fine, but the lack of word from his wife or mother-in-law made him nervous.

Later that day, Harry was still waiting. He'd gotten a text from Y/n's mother, which let him know that Y/n still wasn't ready to push but that they were getting close. That was an hour ago, and Harry had to believe that it was all happening now.

And he was missing it.

He knew being here with the rest of his children was important. That they were worried about their mother and probably found Harry's presence comforting. He just wished they could all be there in the waiting room instead of at home and fifteen minutes from the hospital. The not-knowing was killing him, and he was pretty sure his kids could sense it.

"Daddy?"

Harry's eyes flicked to where Collette was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She was in her pajamas, a shirt and matching pair of bottoms with her favorite cartoon on them. Harry had been pacing around his room, his phone gripped tightly in his hand as he waited for someone to call him, but seeing his second daughter standing there, squinting at the light from his bedside table lamp told him he was up a little later than normal.

"Hi, peanut. What are you doing out of bed?" he asked.

Collette shrugged, her hair catching the light. She wiped at her nose and stepped further into the room until she stood in front of him. "Mommy always braids my hair before I go to sleep."

"She does, doesn't she?" Harry agreed. "She's kind of the best, huh?"

Nodding, Collette turned toward his bed and climbed up on it, looking at him expectantly. Even after having four daughters, Harry wasn't an expert at braiding hair. The girls always went to Y/n before school, and she did each of their braids or ponytails or pigtails happily. Harry always made sure to watch with a keen eye, and practiced on Y/n when she let him. He supposed now it was time to put all his practice to work.

The braiding didn't take long, and Harry didn't do half bad, in his humble opinion. Collette was just going to sleep in it anyway, so he wasn't too bummed by the few loose strands that he'd somehow missed.

He'd finished rather quickly, though Collette didn't slide off the bed to go back to her room. In fact, she nestled under the covers on Y/n's side of the bed, mumbling, "Night Daddy," before falling asleep. Harry didn't really mind. It wasn't the first time one of the kids stayed in his and Y/n's bed, and tonight, he figured he could use some company.

What he wasn't expecting was all of his children to stumble into his room. First it was Maeve, then Jules, then Simone, and finally Harry went to get Geneva, just so it was a proper sleepover. No one fought for space—which was a first. All the kids just found their spot and went back to sleep as if they were in their own rooms. Harry resisted the urge to take a picture so as not to wake anyone up with the flash of his phone's camera.

He hadn't planned on falling asleep. One moment he'd been watching a football game with the volume off, and the next he was blinking his eyes open as the sun began to stream in through the curtains. All of his little ones were still fast asleep, though Harry knew that would change soon. Maeve and Simone woke up early to watch morning cartoons, and Geneva would want her bottle within the hour.

Harry began to shuffle around and prepare for the usual morning routine—brush teeth, ok prepare the bottle, make breakfast for the early risers—when his phone rang. Startled, Harry rushed over to where his phone was plugged in, a huge grin splitting his face when he realized it was a video call from Y/n.

"Hi," Harry whispered, careful not to wake anyone up. "How are you? How's the baby? Is everything—"

"I'm fine, H. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect," Y/n said, a sleepy smile on her face.

Hearing that helped his heart stop racing, but only a little, as excitement flooded his veins. Y/n called him, which could only mean that—

"Wanna meet your daughter?" Y/n said, and even through the phone, Harry could see tears line her eyes.

Harry nodded, too overwhelmed with love and anticipation to form words. Quickly, he found an unoccupied spot on his bed and carefully sat down.

Y/n passed the phone to her mother who angled the phone so that Harry could see the baby, whose face was just barely visible through a pink blanket. He immediately felt tears well in his eyes, his throat going dry as he looked down at his daughter. Even through the phone, he felt every emotion he'd ever experienced when meeting his children for the first time. It was the most unique experience, Harry always thought. He'd seen and done so much, yet he still thought there was nothing like looking down at his newborn baby for the first time.

"Is that baby sister?"

Harry looked behind him to find Julian peering over his shoulder. Jules looked at the sleeping baby curiously, taking in his sister's little nose and tiny fingers and pouted lips. Then, he said, "Is Mommy there too?"

The camera panned up to Y/n, who was smiling and blowing kisses to Julian. "Hi JuJu, my love. I've missed you!"

"Mommy!"

"Mommy?"

"Mommy's home?"

Now everyone was up and crowding around Harry, taking turns talking to Y/n and baby sister, who had yet to be given a name. No one seemed to mind, though. If anything, they were more concerned about when Y/n and the baby would be coming home so they could have a party.

"Soon, my loves. The doctor wants me and the baby to stay one more night to make sure we're healthy. You think you can be good for Daddy?"

There was a chorus of yeses before everyone said their goodbyes, the novelty of a new baby sister wearing off when there were cartoons to be watched downstairs. Harry kept Y/n on the phone while he got Geneva's bottle ready, wanting to stay on the phone as long as possible.

"I know you must be tired," Harry said an hour later. He was in GiGi's nursery and watching her toddle around and play with her toys while talking to his wife.

"I'll hang up soon. I want you to get as much screen time as possible before I go," she said, turning the camera to where the baby was sleeping in the bassinet beside her hospital bed.

"Have you given her a name yet?" he asked.

Y/n shook her head. "I know we decided on one, but I wanted you to be with me when I said it for the first time."

"I love you," Harry said as his heart melted to mush.

"I love you too," Y/n said. She lifted the baby out of the bassinet, cradling her head with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years. Looking at Harry through the phone she said, "You wanna do the honors?"

Laughing out of pure bliss, he nodded. With all the tenderness and care he would've used if he'd been there in person, he said, "Welcome to this crazy, crazy world, Natalia Styles."

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n

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thepastdied · 1 year

Text

Some Fun

eddie munson × fem!reader smut

Summary: You are Dustin's cousin and meet Eddie for the first time. Things get hot.

Loud laughter erupted from the dining room, echoing throughout the Henderson home and up the stairs.

Your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

"What the hell.." You murmered.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched. It was just about 6pm, though still fairly bright out on this summer day, and the sky glowed a beautiful orange that poured through your bedroom window.

You'd just gotten back from college over on the East Coast. Every summer you come back to your aunts house, where you will stay for the next few months before returning back to your university. She was like a mother to you. And Dustin, Dustin was like a brother.

You kicked the covers off of you and swung your legs off the side of the bed before slumping over to your dresser. You'd regretfully overslept, your nap only meaning to be a couple hours, and now felt more tired than you did after finishing those chores this morning.

You changed out of your sweaty clothes and pulled on some pajama shorts, a tank top, and fixed your hair. More laughter came from the first floor, and you scrunched your eyebrows. Mike is so obnoxious..

Your feet padded against the hard wood floor of the hallway as you made your way downstairs.

"Hey." You threw an effortless greeting at the kids without looking up.

You sighed and went into the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard. Your eyes flickered over to the dining room, the table half in view, to see the boys who've grown up far too quickly chuckling with one another.

Lucas so happened to look over and smiled as he gave you a small wave. Mike noticed, and so did Dustin, causing them all to turn around.

"You look like a fucking zombie." Mike cringed at you.

Your jaw dropped as you scoffed and shook your head.

"Well, I did sleep for literally 4 hours." You pointed out.

"Thought atleast one of you little shits would have woken me up so I could get you dinner". You added in annoyance before moving to the fridge.

You rummaged around before finally retrieving the lemon you'd been looking for and moving back into the boys' view.

"Well, Eddie already ordered us pizza since you were too busy sleeping," Dustin said.

"Child neglect." Mike just had to throw at you, causing you to mouth a 'shut the fuck up' in his direction.

"Wait, who?" You raised an eyebrow at them as you grabbed a knife from the drawer.

A head appeared out from behind the wall, scaring the living hell out of you and causing you to almost throw your knife.

"JESUS FUCK! You scared- oh, wow, hi" You stared at the brown eyed boy who had a silly grin on his face and instantly blushed. 'oh wow' Really!?

He snorted out a laugh as he stepped forward, a heavily ringed hand sticking out in front of you.

"I, my lovely maiden, am Eddie. Eddie the Banished." His eyes flickered down at your body before locking back onto yours. "My last name is actually Munson.. not Banished."

The boys began to talk with one another again and you were grateful, considering you were making a complete fool out of yourself.

You reached forward to grab his hand as you shyly laughed.

"I'm.." You blinked a couple of times. His eyebrows raised and disappeared into his fluffy bangs in anticipation. You somehow forgot your name.

"-y/n." You blurted out.

He grinned widely, revealing his perfect teeth and deep smile lines, head lightly bowing as he held your hand before letting go.

"Well, we were just about to throw a movie on - if you wanted to join." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and puffed his chest out.

You slowly nodded a few times, the gears in your brain having trouble working properly.

"This is a scary movie we are talking about, I hope?" You tilted your head in question.

"Is Children of the Corn scary enough for you?" He leaned his tall frame against the wall, one leg crossing over the other coolly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Scary movies never really got to you. But if you get to sit next to him then.. suddenly, you find this movie terrifying.

"I should be able to hold myself together." You smirked up at him.

You turned around to go back to your task of cutting up the lemon for your water. Eddie didn't move an inch and instead raked his eyes down your body. You glanced over to him, his eyes fixated on your bare thighs. You cleared your throat.

"I can meet you guys in the living room?" You spoke without looking at him. You didn't want him to feel flustered about you catching him staring.

"Y-yeah, sure." He clumsily scurried to where the kids were.

You released a long breath and held your aching chest as he disappeared into the other room.

Eddie gave the kids pizza while you went to grab blankets for everyone. The larger couch in the living room has a pullout bed where the three boys stayed huddled together with the large pizza box in the center. You found it adorable, just like the old days.

"You need help up there?" Eddie calls up the stairs.

Your tongue sticks out from between your lips as you stretch your arms as high as you can to reach the top shelf of the closet.

"I'm- shit..!" Your fingers graze the corner of the blanket before your toes give out, and you slumped back onto your feet.

Eddie reaches the top of the stairs just as you slap your hands to your side in defeat.

"Please.." You sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckles and (unnecessarily) walks behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he easily grabs the blanket and tosses it over your head. You flail your arms and bunch it into your chest, sending him a playful glare, your hair messy and in your face.

"Eddie the Banished is about to really get banished." You lean forward and narrow your eyes as you blow the stray hairs out of your face.

"You are gonna banish me? Sweetheart, I'd like to see you try." He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, what does that even mean?" You slap his arm at his supposed dirty remark.

He holds where your hand made contact and throws himself against the wall, sliding down until he is a heap on the floor.

"No- no! Please! Don't banish me- I'll do anything!" He pleads as he grabs your ankle.

Your hand covers your mouth as you giggle at his over the top theatrics. He is fucking insane..

"Eddie.. get off the floor." You shake your head in disbelief.

"That's what you want me to do? I was hoping it would be something more like... you know-" He pauses his pleas and whispers.

"Wha- Eddie, get up!" You reach down and grab his arm, as if that will do anything.

He wears a mischievous smile as he stands and shakes his hair. You close your eyes and breathe out before walking past him to go downstairs. The boys didn't seem to notice either of you were gone and as you rounded the corner to the living room Eddie grabbed your arm.

"Hey, you should sit with me." His eyes flicked between yours, nervous that you'd say no.

You nodded your head and continued to the living room, blinking a few times as you see each of the boys already had their own blanket.

"Where did you get those?" You pointed to each of them.

Dustin looked at you as if you were stupid and pointed go the door on the opposite side of the living room. "The closet."

You stared blankly as they continued their conversation and looked at Eddie. His tongue was in his cheek as he stared back smirking and patted the cushion next to him on the empty couch. A wave of anxiety hit you as you approached him and slumped down. Eddie came upstairs after you. He must have known the kids already had blankets. You stilled when his thigh touched yours as he spread his legs.

Dustin shut the lights and started the movie, the entire room being enveloped in darkness.

You looked down at Eddie's legs and felt your heartbeat thump in your chest.

And Eddie, he was looking at your crossed legs and didn't miss the way they were clenching together.

The past thirty minutes have felt like an eternity. You were practically dripping into your shorts.

Your eyes shot down as Eddie moved one of his hands to his thigh and rubbed his palm against his rough jeans, slowly working his fingers toward you. You jumped when his fingertips barely grazed the outside of your thigh. He turned his head to look at you as he did it again, watching your chest rise as you took in a sharp breath. You let him put his whole hand on your thigh and leaned your leg into the touch. His hair tickled your shoulder as he grazed his lips against your ear.

"Is this okay, sweetheart?" He rubbed his thumb in circles and moved his hand slowly toward the inside of your thigh.

You silently nodded and moved the blanket onto your lap, spreading your thighs just a little.

Eddie hummed as he sat upright again and looked over to where the kids sat. Your fingers grabbed his wrist before they were able to meet your pussy. He quickly looked at you, understanding your knowing look.

You sat like that for the remainder of the movie. His hand on your inner thigh and both of you excruciatingly horny, though unable to go further for obvious reasons.

"Welp. We're gonna go for a bike ride." Dustin stood up and stretched, the others following suit as he flicked the table lamp on. They began to grab the empty soda cans from the side table.

"A bike ride now? It's going on 8pm -"

Eddie ripped his hand from your leg and stood up, discreetly fixing himself in his pants.

"We can clean up here, shoo shoo. Be back in an hour so we can watch another movie, the night is still young my sheepies!" Eddie shooed them away with his hands and pushed them out the door, each of them giving eachother puzzled looks.

You stood from the couch as Eddie came back into the room and began throwing the trash away while he moved the remaining pizza to the kitchen. There was so much tension that it was unbearable.

"So.." He started. Geez.. now it's even more awkward.

You really, really needed him. Anything from him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he moved to sit on the couch again, roughly patting his lap. "Come here."

You shifted on your feet and rung your fingers together. The way your legs rubbed together made you want to moan- that's how desperate you were.

He spread his legs out and licked his bottom teeth as you stood in front of him. You put your hands on his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

"Fuck.." He breathed out as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you tighter to him.

You turned your head in embarrassment of the situation.

"Hey-" He moved one hand to your jaw.

"Look at me." Eddie's voice was soft. You did as he said.

"Would it be cool if I like.. kissed you?" He asked before he pursed his lips and scrunched his eyes shut. As if you'd say no?

You giggled at his bashfullness as your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest.

He opened one eye to peek at you and then shut it again to shake his head in a giddy manner.

"Eddieeee.." You whined.

He opened his eyes and lightly laughed before leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. You smiled when his breath touched your lips, causing him to laugh. He mumbled an apology before moving one hand to the back of your neck and drawing you into a soft kiss. You pulled apart for only a second before he roughly pulled you flush into him, your gasp being silenced by his mouth.

Eddie's fingers raked down your back and to your ass, gripping you hard and moving his hips up into you. You moaned and rolled your hips. He tore his mouth from yours and let his head fall back, his hair dangling over the back of the couch as you sat up.

"Holy fucking s-shit" He moaned with an open mouth and then clenched his jaw as he groaned.

You throbbed when you saw his neck muscles tense up. His chest was hot under your hands as you trailed them down to his pelvis, where you snaked your fingers under his shirt. Your hips ground into him, his jeans giving just the right amount of rough friction to throw you over the edge. His fingers tightened on your ass when you leaned down, tits pressing against his chest, as you latched your mouth onto his neck. You moaned as you felt your slick gush against your panties.

"Woah that.. that's f-fucking good." Eddie shivered as you licked and sucked up his neck to behind his ear.

His dick was rock-hard under you as you rolled your hips against it. Eddie moved his hands in between your bodies as you continued to devour his neck, his breath quaking while he fumbled with his belt and undid his jeans.

Only the thin layer of his boxers was keeping his raw dick hidden from you. You sat up and wiped the saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand. Eddie's head remained on the back of the couch as he rolled it to the side to look at you. His hair was pushed back on one side revealing the dark marks you left on his neck. He probably has no idea. You smirked.

You palmed him through his boxers and could feel the wetness of his precum seeping through. He groaned from his throat and bucked his hips up into your hand.

"Please.." He breathed out, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You quickly stood up and removed your shorts, keeping the panties, before sitting back down. Eddie's mouth hung open while he watched your every move.

You positioned your clothed pussy over him and lightly dragged it along his boxers. You sighed in pleasure as the warmth of his dick met your pussy. You felt your slick slide between your folds as you pressed into him, letting your head fall back as you moaned his name.

"Y-you're.. oh god, you're so wet. You're gushing I can f-feel it." He pulled his head up and looked down where your bodies met. Your juices were seeping out of your panties and onto his covered dick.

"Wanna cum on you.." You mumbled, entire body heating up.

Eddie laughed from his throat and frantically nodded.

"And you will, baby. You're gonna fall apart just f'me, huh?" He put one hand back on your ass and another down to your pussy, running his fingers along the outside of your panties. "Fucking soaking.."

He held his hand in front of your face, sticking his glistening fingers together and separating to show the strings of your slick. Both of your breaths were hot and shallow as you continued to grind into him.

"Mm.. never tasted pussy before." He brought his fingers to his mouth and stuck his long tongue out, licking a long strip along his fingers as his dark eyes bore into yours and he moaned at the taste.

"Oh my god-" You choked out a moan and your nails dug into the skin of his waist as you began to roll your hips faster.

"Shit shit shit shit-" Eddie gasped and sat up, holding you by your waist and meeting his hips with each of your movements.

He mouthed at your collarbone and shamelessly moaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. His teeth grazed your skin before he lightly bit down and messily kissed a trail up to your mouth. You bit and licked into eachothers mouths.

"Fuck yeah, just like that." He moaned into your mouth as your fast pace brought both of you closer to cumming. "Wanna-" He grunted as his movements stuttered. "Wanna come with you, sweetheart."

"Mhm.. mhm I'm close. R-really close." You kissed him deeper as he got more sloppy, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while another hand came to grab your face. His tongue was almost down your throat, not that you were complaining. You tore away from him and babbled incoherently, head falling slack to your shoulder as your hips jerked against his as you reached your high. A loud cry rang throughout the room as you arched your back and fisted his hair tighter, legs beginning to shake with over stimulation.

"Okay.. woah that's hot -kay.. okay, okay, okay- FUCK." He let out a long guttural moan as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

Spurts of warmth spread from underneath you, both of your juices mixing together. Your chest heaved as you looked him over. He panted as he looked at you, his hair wild and splayed out across the back of the couch, some sticking to his cheeks, and his face flushed and sweaty. He gulped and wiped his face with the sleeve of his Hellfire shirt.

"C'mere.." Eddie motioned you closer, smiling like a complete dope while trying to catch his breath.

You layed on him and breathed out a relaxed sigh as he kissed the side of your head.

"Next time.. maybe we could go in my room?" You speak quietly against his chest, his heart thumping loudly in your ear.

"Next time!? Goddam.. you'll be the death of me, baby. Of course." His chest vibrated at he spoke, belly shaking when he laughed.

You sat up enough to look at his face.

"So you liked it then..?" You leaned in and pecked his lips.

"Seriously?" He grinned widely, just as he did when you first met only hours ago.

"That.. was fun. Shit."

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #perv!eddie munson

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ineylesian · 11 months

Text

MIGUEL’S GIRL.

PETER B. PARKER/ MIGUEL O’HARA X FEM! READER

— AO3 | NAVI

— WORD COUNT | 1k

— WARNINGS | smut, masturbation (m), voyeurism (??), majorrr jealously, kinda cheating but not really, dirty minded peter.

— SUMMARY | it should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. you were miguel’s girl.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | remembered a cod fic inspired by jesse’s girl and had to bring it to atsv. also peter b parker is such bee keeping age 🤭 crazy for him

Being dragged into a different universe sucked.

Peter’s head was pounding, his back aching, growing stubble itching at his chin. His foot tapped as Mayday rocked around on his lap, babbling about something he wasn’t paying attention to.

“MJ and I are on the rocks again.”

Yeah. You paused at his answer, looking back with your mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Your response was quick, tones of guilt ridden underneath. “Uhm- how old is May?”

“She’s one.”

He sighed, slotting his fingers against his upper jaw. You were rambling about how pretty she was— his daughter, eyes shining, lashes batting at her teasingly. It’s almost as if you’d totally forgotten about what had just happened.

He’d put it lightly. MJ had called it quits (for the 5th time this year) the night this whole ordeal started. She found out about your, as she called it, “little tango with Peter Parker”, which was years ago and frankly over. You didn’t need to know that, though.

“You want to hold her?”

You excitedly walked over, scooping Mayday— his daughter, into your arms. Peter watched as you swung her around, happily responding with her incoherent babbles with nonsense of your own.

It was years ago, when you and him were together. Nothing much became of it; you dropped in from another dimension, he was single.. and bored.

Nothing much, Peter sighed; he’d know you for merely a month. Fell for you in merely a month, too, recalling the way you’d broken his heart, and his yours, as you headed for home.

That mere month he knew you was perfect. You were the girl of his dreams, he’d thought he’d escaped that.

But damn, you still looked good. Especially with his kid in your arms.

“Peter.”

Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Peter.”

His eyes snapped open, looking up to see Miguel standing over him, Mayday held firmly in his hands.

“She needs to be changed.”

“You’re such a dad, el diablo.” You snickered, earning a glare from the man beside you. Miguel handed Mayday back to him before turning to you, effortlessly hoisting you onto his shoulder with a single arm. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you. I hate it.”

“Miguelllll.”

Your whine echoed down the halls, settling coldly in his ears as Miguel took you away. A frown had absentmindedly settled on his face the moment you disappeared, following him to the bathroom. The moment he looked into the mirror, he saw it, forcing him to smile down at Mayday as she tugged on his pant leg.

“Just my luck, huh, kiddo?”

Peter knew he’d heard this sound before.

“Miguel, what if people hear?”

You’d asked it, over, and over. You were always a cautious person, but you always gave in too quickly for your own good.

He’d also heard the same whine buzz from your throat. The same one you’d do when he’d leave hickeys on your neck. The same one that he’d do to you— except he wasn’t, Miguel was.

Shit. He could’ve picked any other hotel tonight. Any other that wouldn’t have him staring at the ceiling, listening to you get ruined by another man. Any other that wouldn’t possibly have Mayday waking up to the sound of his ex getting fucked in the room above him.

Just his luck, indeed.

Why was he bothered, anyway? You weren’t together anymore, that was in the past, completely. You didn’t love him anymore, and he had a kid with another woman. Albeit, a woman that he couldn’t stay with for more than two months at a time. And, you did look really nice holding May.

…shit.

Seconds passed. Your moans grew progressively louder. Peter could feel his face flush, deep, spreading erratically to other parts of his body. Every nerve in his system was struck, listening to you make noises like that— noises that only he should be pulling from you.

Before he knew it, Peter was palming himself through his suit, aggressively, listening intently as your voice began to run a little hoarse. Miguel must have already make you cum once, then. He imagined himself in that position, spreading the embarrassing amount of precum that had gathered at his tip along his skin as his hand slipped further underneath.

Peter could almost remember every detail from your nights together. He soaked in each reaction, how your face would scrunch up when he fingered you, the way your eyes would roll back when he bottomed out. Your chants and pleas of his name echoed faintly against the shabby motel walls, contrasting with his in a disturbing symphony.

“Miguel.. ah— Miguel— don’t stop…”

It should’ve been his name you were crying. Peter’s strokes grew faster as he tried to block Miguel’s name out, violently fisting himself at the thought of you under him, hot and streaking with tears of pleasure. He could nearly feel the soft curves of your thighs that he would gently trace, choking out a moan at the way you would look at him while he was lapping up your sobbing pussy.

It should’ve been him. Should’ve been you he fucked his kid into. The thought had him grounding his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes brimming with tears as his abdomen began to tighten. You were outright wailing now, begging Miguel to let you cum.

Peter imagined that you were whining his name, just as you did before, eyes glossy, lips swollen and puffy. You cried one last time as you came, and he felt his own cum leaking onto his hands, along with Miguel’s quiet praises. He swore, burying his head into the pillows when he began to console you.

It should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. You were Miguel’s girl.

In this universe, at least.

#arqhms #arqhmsthirst #arqhmsspring2023 #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara smut #peter b parker x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #across the spider verse x reader #across the spiderverse

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

Text

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty.

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension.

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees.

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said –

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen.

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him.

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part.

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all.

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine.

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?”

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin.

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.”

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed.

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.”

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?”

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has.

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.”

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.”

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat.

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod.

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places.

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway.

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him – running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night.

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense.

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips.

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win.

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest.

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet.

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest.

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates.

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper.

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you.

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough.

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.”

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass.

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command.

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you.

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall.

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing.

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need.

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks.

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him.

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?”

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh.

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.”

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs.

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!”

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles.

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life.

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh.

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.”

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks.

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more.

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.”

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing.

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all.

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in.

If you just –

“Come for me.”

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot.

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck.

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again.

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down.

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely.

But that is something he is not capable of right now.

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse.

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them.

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days.

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open.

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off.

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest.

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.”

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission.

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands.

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again.

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you.

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to.

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you.

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.”

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end.

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him.

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips.

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick.

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you.

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,”

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.”

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips.

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb.

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls.

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning.

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs.

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth.

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth.

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?”

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.”

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.”

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s.

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted.

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open.

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week.

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you.

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release.

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.”

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking.

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted.

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his.

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken.

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels.

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake.

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away.

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek.

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change.

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs.

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles.

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock.

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.”

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you.

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession.

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?”

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck.

“Not at all.”

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while.

Noonan is annoyed.

Murphy is not.

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.”

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.”

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix #this is my first time writing sex pollen did i do okay?

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wileys-russo · 7 months

Text

childhood sweethearts (5) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one part two part three part four

and as we await the fate of our two main protagonists eventual kiss. its time to find out what really happened six years ago. childhood sweethearts (5) II a.russo x reader

"do i need to pick you up tomorrow then?" your older sister lily asked as she pulled up outside the russo household, drumming her fingers on her steering wheel as you unbuckled and shook your head.

"no i'll probably stay the full weekend and just go to school with less on monday." you shrugged, reaching around to grab your bag off the backseat. "what about your uniform? books? your bag?" your sister frowned as you opened her door.

"i've got a spare uniform here, i can borrow a bag to put my stuff in and i've already got my books with me, i have to study." you patted your overnight bag as the girl rolled her eyes. "of course you do, does your brain even know what a weekend is or do you mentally go to school 7 days a week?" she jeered as you mocked her and flipped her off, closing her door as her window rolled down.

"some of us have aspirations to graduate lilian." you smiled, your sister having dropped out early to pursue a career in cosmetics which had lasted all of three months. "have a shit time dickhead!" your sister called out after you as you made your way down the driveway, flipping her off again without turning around.

"none of that here thank you young lady." your face flushed red as carol opened the front door for you before you'd even arrived, having seen you through the window. "sorry carol." you smiled guiltily, giving her a hug as she let you in with an amused smile.

"lessi's just showering sweetheart." the woman explained as you hummed, leaving your bag by the lounge and following her to the kitchen, you'd been wondering why the girl hadn't responded to you on the way over here and now it made sense.

"shortstack! i saw your hot sister dropped you off." gio wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before pulling you into a gentle headlock as you rounded the corner. "urgh you're like my brother gio thats so weird!" you gagged at the comment, wrestling to try and remove his arm to no use.

"oi get off her!" his grip disappeared as alessia entered, bottle blonde hair pulled up into a damp bun on her head as she punched her brother in the ribs, immediately pulling you into a protectively tight hug as gio let you go with a loud groan of pain.

"mum!" the boy huffed in complaint, your girlfriend rolling her eyes and mumbling an apology as the older women told her off. "i wish you'd fuck off back to jordan." the boy sulked, grabbing an apple and heading back upstairs to his room as carol yelled after him for swearing.

your girlfriend had only just gotten back yesterday from a week away at a junior lionesses tournament which had been held in jordan. as much as you'd missed her dearly you couldn't have been more proud of her or the two goals she scored, getting her rightful start in the final game. you'd only wished you were able to be there but you didn't have the luxury of a national call up as an excuse to miss a week of school.

"we'll be in my room mum." alessia announced, arm slung over your shoulder as the woman hummed and waved you off, head buried in a recipe book making you smile as your girlfriend lead you away, stopping to grab your bag for you, silencing your protests with a very quick peck to your lips after she'd triple checked no one else was around.

the pair of you had been seeing one another officially for almost two years now however no one but each other actually knew that, and just assumed you were best friends, forever thick as thieves and inseparably close.

neither of you had any idea how no one had caught on yet, maybe it was because you and alessia had always been so close and so affectionate nothing seemed out of sorts to the average eye.

you'd always loved alessia in one way or another. but when it was just the two of you behind a closed door and your lips were pressed together, cold hands roaming one anothers bodies, murmuring everything and anything you loved about the other, you were absolutely infatuated with her in a way so intense it was almost scary.

and that was one sort of love you both agreed you weren't ready to share with anyone but each other just yet.

though both of you did need to often stumble through pools of awkward lies and ramble quickly made up stories as you'd be called out by your friends for the occasional poorly placed or forgotten about hickey.

this was normally your problem. ever since she'd figured out how sensitive your neck was the taller girl utilised every and any opportunity to capitolise on that.

riled on by the whiny begs for her not to stop as she hungrily attacked and devoured your neck late at night, silencing you with a hand pressed over your mouth and a gentle warning in your ear that if you weren't quiet she would stop.

"hi." you breathed out with a grin, looking up adoringly at the striker once the two of you were finally alone behind the safety and security of her locked bedroom door. "god i missed you." alessia sighed, pulling you into a bone crushing hug as you reveled in one anothers touch.

"we spoke every day lessi!" you laughed into her shoulder, alessia having been told off both by her roommate ella and her coach for the hours spent on her phone when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.

"we could be together every minute of every day and i'd still miss you." the blonde pulled away with a cheeky smile as you rolled your eyes playfully. "don't wish that on me please, what a nightmare!" you groaned teasingly as your girlfriend scoffed, holding a hand to her chest in mock offence.

"lessi!" you squealed as she tackled you down onto her bed, hovering over you. "that's baby to you, thanks very much." alessia pouted as you laughed, thumb stroking her cheek affectionately. "there is also something else i missed that we can't do on the phone." the blonde smiled suggestively, cocking her head to the side as her hair fell around you both like a curtain.

"mmm...nothing comes to mind." you looked off into the distance as if deep in thought, hand coming to stroke your chin as alessia playfully shoved your head. "kiss me then star girl." you smiled softly, tugging at her shirt.

as your eyes met, the world seemed to fade away. you felt her hand gently touch your cheek, slender fingers tracing a line down your jawline. hearts raced as her lips met yours, soft and gentle at first, then with a growing intensity as she poured into the kiss just how much she had missed you.

if you were sentenced to death the next day and were allowed one last day to do as you pleased, you'd be sure to spend it kissing alessia.

every single time felt just like the first. the same nervous butterflies would flutter around inside you, lips would tingle as if you'd just smeared them with popping candy, your heart grew five sizes to the point it felt it might burst in your chest.

each kiss was full of tenderness and passion, a dance of two hearts in perfect harmony as the girl who you trusted with your heart and your life drowned you with her love.

you felt her arms wrap even tighter around you, pulling your bodies close as you lost yourselves in the moment. the world around you ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in a sea of pure unbridled emotion, two hearts beat as one.

her lips always slightly chapped melded against yours perfectly, kissing you with just the right amount of firm pressure to have your stomach in knots, and yet each touch felt so soft and so tender that your brain went fuzzy at the sensation.

her hand would always reach out to tangle in your hair as your own gently carressed her cheek, thumb stroking her jawline, feeling it clench at the featherlight touch.

and then suddenly your lungs would scream for a reprise and you'd pull away, collapsing into the mattress as both of you lay on your sides, eyes locked as chests heaved and alessia leant forward to brush a few flyaways behind your ear.

gone were the afternoons of her kicking a ball at your head, smearing mud on your face as the two of you wrestled and rolled around in the dirt like steam rollers.

your afternoons now were spent wrapped up in the others arms, sharing kisses as you filled one another in on the seemingly more mundane parts of your day the other hadn't been present for, you and alessia only sharing two classes in your final year of school.

on the days alessia trained after school you studied, often at her house in her bedroom eagerly awaiting her to return.

the striker would have left her boots outside at her mums strict request, trudging up the stairs with an exhausted sigh as you'd perk up hearing the squeak of the infamous stair the two of you learned to avoid when sneaking downstairs for a midnight snack.

she would shoulder open her door and dump her kit bag on the ground, making a beeline for her bed and belly flopping normally on top of you, face buried in your neck as she clung onto you tightly with a mumbled greeting hello.

sometimes you'd wind her up and tell her you wouldn't kiss her until she showered, dodging her attempts as you teased her for smelling terribly which normally ended in her trapping you in a bear hug beneath her until you tapped out on her back and gave in, allowing her lips to finally meet yours.

other times she'd have been told she wasn't starting next game and her head would hang low from the moment she entered the room. you'd immediately sit up and brush your books to the side, opening your arms for her to melt into. carding your fingers through her hair and slipping a hand up her top you'd hold her tightly, rubbing circles on her back, lips lingering on her sweaty forehead.

as you'd always known, you loved alessia, nowadays in a way much more intimate and tender than you'd have ever understood in your youth.

"you're so beautiful." the taller girl spoke softly as you lay side by side, words melting you like butter as you couldn't help but blush, no matter how often she complimented you it still had you swooning.

"why are you so shy? it's very cute baby but we've known each other like our whole lives." alessia laughed as you hid your face in your hands, the blonde prying them away and attacking your face with kisses only making your cheeks heat up further.

her leg nudging yours as you lifted one, allowing hers to slot in perfectly, your limbs tangled up as your foreheads pressed against one anothers.

"il mio bel bambino." (my pretty baby) her lips moved to gently kiss your fingertips, hands held captive in hers.

"you learned more italian!" your face lit up in pride as alessia eagerly nodded, beginning to ramble about how she had made it her mission to continue her online lessons even while away.

"alessia mia teresa russo studying in her free time? has there been an doomsday i wasn't aware of? are you feeling okay?" you gasped holding the back of your hand to her forehead, squealing as her fingers jabbed sharply at your sides.

"yeah well unlike school work this is something i actually want to learn!" she rolled her eyes and you grinned, kissing her nose and swooning as she scrunched it up adorably.

"hey. can we talk about something?" the blonde asked hesitantly, eyes dropping down to avoid yours, messing with your fingers as you nodded, eyebrows knitting into a curiously concerned frown at what was to come.

"okay but i don't know how you'll react so we have to do the thing." alessia decided, looking to you for confirmation as you hummed, the two of you sitting up and spinning around suddenly.

you shuffled slightly so your back was pressed against hers, hands finding one anothers and intertwining your fingers as your heads slumped onto one anothers shoulders, eyes closing.

"what's on your mind lessi?" you asked softly, squeezing her hands supportively as she let out a long sigh. "well. when we were away a few of the girls were talking about their...well their first times, with their boyfriends." alessia started quietly, her heart hammering away in her chest with every word.

"and i guess it just got me thinking about it." she spoke a little quicker now, clearly nervous for your reaction to her words, squeezing your left hand to signal she was done talking for now.

"some of the girls at school have been talking about it too." you confessed. "are you thinking about...wanting to do that?" you asked gently, not wanting her to feel as though you were judging her in any way. "maybe? does that make you feel...weird, or anything?" she asked slowly.

"no, definitely not weird." you promised, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment. "i guess i think i'm ready? to do that. but i don't want you to feel like...pressured into anything. we can do it soon, we can do it later, we can never do it if you didn't want to." she assured, starting to ramble as you squeezed her hands, grounding her into silence again.

"i want to do it with someone i love and someone i trust and you're the person i love and trust the most lessi. i think i'm ready too, whenever it happens." you spoke softly, unable to see the blush creep up your girlfriends neck at your words.

and it did happen. it was a couple of months later when you had your house to yourselves, your parents having taken your brother away for the weekend for a cricket tournament and your sister disappearing around to her boyfriends house.

the first time it was awkward, nervous, weird and clumsy of course, neither of you had done anything like this before and you'd have been lying to one another if you said you both hadn't tried to do some...research on your own to try and best prepare.

but despite that, it was with alessia.

you felt safe and you felt comfortable and loved the whole time, it didn't quite have the ending either of you expected (that sort of ending came a few weeks later and boy oh boy...no amount of research could have prepared you for the feeling) but it only strengthened the trust between the two of you, and was yet another first you'd experienced by one anothers loving side.

they always say your first love is a little foolish, some may even say there isn't something called first love. but what makes those initial feelings of love most beautiful are it's innocence.

when you fall in love for the very first time, that innocence inside you, that's a precious thing. it feels like you give your whole heart to someone, and as if you wouldn't ever know anyone else to treasure and care for it.

which is why it was all too easy for alessia russo to be both your first love, and your first heartbreak.

it all started the day you got the letter.

your mum had found it first, fighting her every urge to rip it open and read your fate, instead leaving it neatly on your pillow for you to find when you returned home that afternoon.

you'd spent the day with the russo's, thermos of her dads famous hot chocolate in your hand, bundled up in a hoodie with your girlfriends jersey tugged over the top. you sat shoulder to shoulder with her brothers in the stands, watching your favorite blonde play in one of her final games of the season.

you didn't pretend to understand half the rules of football much as alessia had dedicated years of her life trying to teach you, and so her brothers knew to hit you with running commentary throughout. but the one thing you would always understand was the sense of utter euphoric pride which rushed through you watching her play, especially when she scored.

her arms would shoot up into the air and her eyes would always find yours, pointing up at you and her family with a lopsided grin, sprinting to celebrate with her teammates as you all screamed out encouragement, drowning her in whistles and claps before play resumed.

coming away with a 4-1 win meant they were in pole position to finish top of the table, and so alessia was unable to wipe the shit eating grin off her face as she emerged from the change rooms afterwards, waving goodbye to her team mates and jogging over to where you all waited for her.

she'd always hug her dad first, your girlfriend was the true epitome of his girl, and mario reveled in teasingly holding that over carol. you were always last, alessia always saved the best for last, picking you up and spinning you around off your feet as you'd laugh and sing her praises, the two of you hugging tightly.

"i love when you wear my jersey." she mumbled in your ear, sending you a soft smile as you bumped your shoulder into hers and the two of you made your way back to the car, her brothers talking her ear off about the game as you stayed stuck to her side, watching on with a quiet amusement, not understanding most of what was said but feeling nothing but pride for the taller blonde beside you.

luca had driven himself and gio as they waved you both off and headed across the lot, you and alessia slipping into the back of her dads car. her mum would always fuss over the two of you, throwing a blanket over your legs and ignoring alessia's insistence that she was still warm after running around for two hours, carol always winning out as your girlfriend rolled her eyes and gave in.

but the blanket gave the opportunity for your hand to grab hers, squeezing softly as you looked at her in admiration, her head falling tiredly to your shoulder as the two of you chatted along to her parents, waving them off as you pulled up outside your house.

you promised you'd give your mum a hug for carol, hugging them both goodbye. normally her dad would warn he'd be out the front no later than eight since you both had school the next day, but now graduated there wasn't a reason the two of you couldn't spend the next few days together if you wanted, likely flittering from house to house as you often did.

appeasing your mum with small talk for a few minutes you grew impatient, tugging on the back of alessias hoodie with a longing look as the girl would make an excuse, the two of you hurrying off to your room.

"why do you always make me end the conversations. i quite like chatting with your mum!" alessia rolled her eyes as you closed your bedroom door. "because she loves you more and she actually listens to you. and because i haven't properly congratulated you yet for winning!" you grinned as your girlfriend sat on the end of your bed.

"mm that so?" the blonde smiled, arms settling themselves around your waist as her chin rested on your stomach, your own hands playing with the baby hairs on the nape of her neck.

you were about to lean down and kiss her, when your eyes spotted it.

alessia noticed your frown right away, squeezing your hips to gain your attention as you shook your head, stepping away from her and making a beeline for the letter.

"shit is that-" "i think it is." "well, open it!"

"i'm scared. what if i didn't get in?" you admitted, biting your bottom lip nervously as alessia sat right by your side. "you're the most intelligent person both intellectually and emotionally that i've ever met baby, and you got phenomenal marks in our GCSE's. open it!" she knocked her knee against yours and you nodded.

"oh for god sakes." alessia huffed impatiently as you fiddled with the corner, peeling it off painstakingly slow as your girlfriend plucked it out of your hands, ripping the letter right open.

"no you read it." you shook your head as she tried to give it back to you, alessia nodding as her eyes scanned over the paper, face unreadable as you nervously bounced your knee.

"we regret to inform-" your body crumpled at that, flopping back into the mattress as you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. "only joking baby. you got in!" alessia pounced on top of you with a grin as you shot upwards, accidentally smacking your head into hers.

"oh my god i got in?!" you breathed out in shock as the blonde clutched at her throbbing head. "oh god baby i'm so sorry!" you squeaked out as she waved you off with a wince, opening her arms expectantly.

"i am so fucking proud of you. my pretty, smart, funny, kind, gorgeous-" the older girl kissed you with every word, the grin unable to be wiped from your face as your mum burst in, alessia very quickly jumping away from you as you filled her in on the news.

and as you jumped up to embrace her, your sister next to run in to congratulate you, alessia couldn't have possibly been any prouder.

but she also couldn't help but allow her mind to drift back to the box sitting in her wardrobe, signed four year scholarship and enrollment papers filled in and ready to be sent off to the states.

she knew she needed to tell you. but the thought of doing so punched a hole in her chest, and so she put it off as long as possible.

well, as long as she could until you found out yourself.

it was around a couple of weeks later, you were spending your usual friday night together, movies loaded and armfuls of snacks spread out on the bed awaiting consumption.

"lessi baby can i have a hoodie please?" you kissed your girlfriends jaw softly, the girl humming and pointing her foot toward her cupboard, engrossed in a video on her phone.

"yeah thanks, such a gentlewoman." you muttered, smacking her thigh as the girl whined and shoved you away. with a roll of your eyes at her lack of attention on you, you thrust open her cupboard, hunting around for your favourite hoodie which you knew she'd hidden, no longer wanting you to steal it as it was also her favourite to wear.

with a victorious grin you spotted the sleeve poking out from a pile of jumpers in the corner, rolling your eyes at her poor attempt at hiding and yanking it out. you frowned as a box lay hidden beneath the material, UNC on the front.

curiousity getting the better of you, assuming it was likely a new pair of trainers she'd bought and hidden from her mum as to not be told off for her spending habits, you opened it.

god, how you wished you hadn't.

your stomach leapt into your mouth as your eyes scanned just the first few words of the letter sat atop a bright blue sweatshirt.

"less. what's this?" at first she only hummed, attention still fixated on the video. "alessia. what is this?" you spoke louder now, the girls phone dropping from her hand as she looked up and saw what you had in your hand.

"baby-" "why the hell have you got a four year american football contract hidden in your wardrobe?"

"i wish you hadn't found that." she sighed, burying her face in her hands as you advanced toward her. "were you even going to tell me?" you whispered now, her head shooting up at the sudden change of tone.

"of course i was! i just...i didn't know how." she admitted guiltily, standing and trying to come toward you but you held your hand up in warning for her not to. "you didn't even tell me you were thinking about something like this, we tell each other everything." your voice cracked and with it so did alessia's heart at the look of utter betrayal splayed across your features.

"love-" "stop. don't fucking coddle me, explain." you forced out, letter still gripped tightly in your hand as you took another step back. "it's a four year scholarship to go play in the states. so long as i play with their junior team i can go to classes, live on campus and get my degree for free, and i get a hell of a lot of experience with a completely different style of football." she explained, a smile tugging momentarily at her lips, wiped right away at the look of disappointment on yours.

"i knew you wouldn't want me to go, or you'd try to talk me out of it." alessia admitted quietly, refusing to meet your eyes. "you what?" you managed out, shaking your head in disbelief. "i-" you started, trying to find the words.

"alessia i have always been your biggest supporter. i don't even like football but i go to every match, i make sure your kit bags got everything in it before you leave, i wear your jerseys, i let you kick balls at my head for years! you adore football. why on earth would you think i'd try to stop you from following that passion?" you frowned, shoulders slumping in defeat at her lack of faith in you.

"because it means we'd be apart for four years. don't even try to tell me you wouldn't have had an issue with that!" you were caught off guard at her sudden shift of tone, this one much more abrupt and sharp.

"don't try to project your guilt for not telling me into me being the reason why you didn't. that's not fair!" you shot back, alessia only shaking her head with a laugh. "you shouldn't have even been snooping around in the first place!" she snatched the letter off of you with a glare.

"snooping? i can see that offer is signed alessia, were you even going to tell me before you sent it off?" you asked with a hard stare, face falling as guilt flashed across her face momentarily. "you've already sent it." you realized quietly, her head hanging low all the confirmation you needed.

"wow." you breathed out, moving to sit down on the edge of her bed as you tried to come to terms with everything, feeling her sit down a few feet away from you. "when do you leave?" you whispered, feeling her eyes pierce into the side of your head but not having the heart to look up from the floor, the room starting to spin.

"two weeks."

your head did shoot up at that, alessia wincing at the anger, hurt, betrayal and disappointment clear as day in your features. "two fucking weeks. you didn't tell me and you leave in two weeks?" you breathed out, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes.

"i was going to i promise but i just...i thought it would make everything easier if we didn't-" alessia struggled with her words, tripping over herself as her fingers twitched and she rubbed her palms against her sweats.

"make what easier?" you caught on right away to what she meant, the room starting to feel awfully small as your chest tightened. and meeting your eyes alessia knew you knew what she meant. "everything." the blondes own eyes welled up with tears as you wiped at your face with the back of your arm.

"were you even going to tell me?" you asked, scarily calm as you stared her down, watching her wither underneath your piercingly angry gaze. "no." she admitted after a moment, burying her head in her hands, body wracking with quiet sobs as she began to break.

your legs buckled at that and your body fell to her floor with a small thump, your knees tucking into your chest as you curled into a ball. "so you were going to just leave and what? expect me to just...be okay with that?" you asked, unable to even wrap your head around any of this.

"you're going to college here, i'll be over there. it wouldn't have worked for four years and we both deserve to be able to make the best of this next chapter, i thought i was making it easier if we never had to say goodbye." alessia admitted quietly, both of you refusing to look at one another.

"never mind the fact i'm in love with you. i've been your best friend since we were five less, and you were going to just...get on a plane and leave me for four years without even telling me where you were going." you whispered, barely able to get your words out as red hot guilt flooded the blondes body.

"i was trying to make it easier."

"for who alessia? for you? by avoiding having to even tell me anything and just leaving me without a word? you're a fucking coward!" you almost screamed those last four words, chest heaving as you struggled to hold back a sob.

her silence told you everything you needed to as you broke down, your body convulsing as you sobbed into your hands, alessia covering her ears unable to handle the noise, tears rolling down her cheeks leaving a bitter salty taste in her mouth.

"get off me!" you spat out, shoving her off as she moved to sit down next to you, trying to wrap herself around you in a hug. "get off!" you yelled again, voice cracking as she shook her head, holding you firmly.

eventually she let go, collapsing into herself as you stood to your feet, vision blurry with tears as you stumbled around trying to collect your belongings.

"stop!" you sobbed as she hugged you from behind, yanking your bag out of your hands and dropping it on the floor. "don't leave me, please." she begged, voice no louder than a whisper as her face buried itself in your neck.

"i'm not the one leaving." you pushed her away, the force causing her to stumble as she caught herself and managed to stay standing. "you know now. we still have two weeks!" she tried, almost begging now as you scoffed.

"oh so i have two weeks to wait for you to break up with me? lucky me!" you spat venomously, trying to pick up your bag as alessia kicked it away. "we have two weeks we can spend together before i go. please! i made a mistake, a huge mistake. baby please i love you so much but-" her hands balled at your top, holding you against her.

"if you loved me you would have never lied to me about this. you would have told me the moment you even starting thinking about it! we could have talked it out! worked things out together! now i don't have a fucking choice and you don't understand how unfair that is alessia!" you pushed her harder and harder with every sentence until she smacked into the wall, blue eyes welled up with tears.

"baby please don't go! not like this!" she grabbed you again as you tried, wrapping her arms around you as you fought her furiously, hitting her over and over as her body shook with silent sobs but she refused to let go of you, feeling her tears drip down the back of your neck.

"i would have been okay if we were able to talk about this. if i had time to process this, to make plans with you, to talk about what it could have looked like for us and what we'd be when you were there. i would have supported you and this choice if you'd given me the chance." you finally broke free, stumbling away from her as you gestured between the two of you before furiously wiping at your eyes.

"but you didn't and you weren't going to. you're a liar and a coward and i can't believe i wasted so much of my life trying to show you i care for it all to mean nothing to you in the end. if you love me less, if you ever loved me, then you will do as you planned. you will get on that plane and you will stay out of my life. you're not my girlfriend, not even a friend would do what you just did to me." you wanted to say more, you wished you could find the words, you wished you could hit her again and scream that you hated her and mean every single word you just said to her.

but you didn't, you couldn't, you wished you could, it would have made it all easier.

you didn't allow her the luxury of a response, far too afraid of how easy it may have been for her to talk her way out of this, to lull you into a false sense of safety and security with sweet words and gentle intimate touches. to shower you with affection and quality time and praise, only to rip the rug right out from under you in just two weeks time.

so you left her before she could leave you, and you didn't turn once to look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part six

#alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo #woso blurbs #woso imagine #engwnt #woso

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runningfrom2am · 11 months

Text

you’re losing me - r.c

summary: after standing, unwavering at Rafe's side while you took and lost the gold and the cross over and over again, you've finally had enough.

tags/warnings: angst, established relationship (rafe x reader), song fic (you're losing me, taylor swift), unedited, some swearing

wc: 1k

i feel like this is so shit bc i don't ever do oneshots but i had too bc this song is just too good- taylor swift has done it again ladies and gents

you stand at the front door of your boyfriend of seven years childhood home with an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. you haven’t been here in months, and it feels like forever. it doesn’t even feel like a home to you anymore. neither does he. you spent a long time contemplating whether to throw out everything you built together, or keep it. eventually you decided.

you take a deep breath as you bang your fist against the door, exhaling as you step back from the door and look up onto the balcony. within seconds, you see the familiar face of your boyfriend, peeking over the edge, a phone held to his ear and with his free hand he holds a finger out to you, signalling he’ll be down in a second. you nod as your eyes fall back to the door once he disappears.

“babe, what are you doing here?” rafe asks as he slings the door open, a nervous smile crossing over his face.

you step past him into the entrance of tannyhill mansion, turning to face him.

“you left me in guadeloupe, in a big empty house with nothing to do but wait for you to come back and you never did!” he freezes for a moment at your outburst before regaining his composure, shutting the door.

“i know, i’m so sorry, love, but i’m handling some business here for my dad- you know that.” he explains, reaching out and resting his hand on your shoulder.

“you’re dad actually sent me.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “and i see there’s not even a for sale sign on the front lawn, so really, what have you been doing?”

he rolls his eyes, simultaneously dropping his hand back to his side. “listen, i’m working on it, okay? there’s a lot to do, with the money and the cross and the gold and-“ you cut him off.

“stop!” you shout, louder than you probably intended but after weeks of hardly hearing a word from him, texts and calls going unanswered, you need him to hear you. to see you, again. you find yourself frustratedly holding your hands up next to your head. you open your eyes and look at your boyfriend, hardly recognizing the man in front of you as he stared back in shock. “enough about the stupid gold and that stupid cross! i just- i can’t take this anymore!”

“you weren’t saying it was stupid a few months ago when you helped me pull it out of the fucking ocean- and, and you didn’t say that when we got robbed at gunpoint by my sister and her stupid look boyfriend over that same gold. so don’t tell me, now, that you think it’s stupid. we almost died for that, y/n!”

“rafe, stop.” you say, calm even as he shouted back at you. at least he’s here. at least you’re talking. “you’re losing me.”

“what?” his voice is softer now, and the expression on his face tells you he’s reeling over this information. after everything you’ve been through together, everything you’ve risked and lost over this gold, he couldn’t lose you too.

“i can’t do this anymore.” you explain softly, shaking your head and looking down at his shoes. “what happened to us? we’re hurting people. i know that’s not right, but i was always doing everything for you. fighting only in your army- i just assumed we were always doing what was right but i saw the way those kids look at us. we’re monsters to them, rafe.” your eyes lock with his again as he shakes his head. “and you’re just ignoring me now. what we had is long gone.”

“no- no. i’m- we’re doing this for us. once i melt down that cross and sell it i’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. everything we’ve fought for, it’s yours. i promise.” he insists, grabbing your shoulders and rubbing them reassuringly.

“i knew you took the cross…” you chuckle, but it lacks humour. “don’t melt it down. it belongs to pope and his family in rights, we should just give it back.”

“you’re not hearing me-“ he starts, but you cut him off again.

“no, you’re not hearing me.” you say, shaking your head. “you’ve changed. i’ve changed. we were good people, and i can’t live with myself if this is who we are now. i can’t keeping hurting people because of you, over money. it’s so stupid.”

“i don’t understand…” he says, staring deep into your eyes, his own widening at what he knew you were insinuating.

“i know you don’t.” you smile sadly in return, reaching up to cup his cheek in your palm. “you are not the boy i fell in love with in middle school. and i am not that girl anymore either. i gave you all the best versions of me, i was always here for you, but you don’t reach for me anymore.”

“no- no you can’t leave me now.” rafe says in protest, his blue eyes welling up with tears. “it’s almost done. we’re almost done and everything will go back to normal.”

you softly sigh. “i don’t think it can. i’ve shown you signs for months now- that i wasn’t happy. and every time you gave me this same speech.”

“no, y/n, i love you. you know that.” he says, grabbing your hand now and pressing your knuckles to his lips, bruises there faded while your nails had been bitten down until they bled. until this last year, he had never seen you without a fresh manicure.

“i know.” you whisper. “but i just can’t.” you shake your head, pulling away from him and stepping back towards the door.

he stays silent, watching you as you stop before you grab the handle. “say something.” you say, refusing to look back over your shoulder. the air is thick with the loss of this relationship- and rafe’s never-ending indecision.

“i don’t know what you want to hear.” he mumbles his reply.

“i only wanted you to see me.” you reply, looking back at him now. “if you choose me, then we can talk.” you say, walking out and closing the door behind you.

rafe stands in the foyer, breathing heavily as he thinks about what he should do. what he has to do.

it’s you, or the cross.

#obv the next morning the cross is sitting at pope’s doorstep #rafe cameron #obx #obx fanfic #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader

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gh0stsp1d3r · 2 months

Text

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Part 1, chapter 1- who the hell did this?

Series masterlist

Warnings- mentions of blood, alcohol, and drugs but nothing bad (: just sum angst.

Summary: Rafe cameron dating Jj maybanks sister was not expected by anyone. You were left to take care of your dad- alone, when Jj left for months on end, causing the two of you to have a terrible sibling relationship. Your feelings are conflicted when you hear that Rafe, your boyfriend, was the one who shot peterkin- not John b.

“Jesus, dad.” You mumbled under your breath. You gathered all the strength you had in your arms, moving him so he was laying down, taking the bottle from his hands and placing it on the table with the rest.

You sighed quietly, staring at him laying on the couch for a moment before you went out into the backyard.

It was a mess, more bottles strewn across the ground, cigarette butts and joints carelessly thrown onto the flower garden you had enjoyed building with your brother as kids.

You hadn’t seen him in forever, probably off with his friends doing stupid shit again. Grabbing the plastic bag, you threw the bottles into it, then the cigarettes and joints. The flowers were dead, beyond repair at this point.

“Hey.” A quiet voice said from behind. Your movements paused, seemingly frozen in place. You whipped your head around, looking at him.

“Jj.” You spoke, surprised. Your eyes widened and you stood up now. He walked closer.

“How is he?” He asked, looking at the house, avoiding your gaze.

“He’s fine.” You said sharply.

“You’re angry.” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes now glued to the ground.

“No shit, jj.” You murmured, dropping the plastic bag that was in your hands. “You left him, you left us. He was worried sick.”

“I had to.” He said.

“Why are you here, Jj?”

“I just wanted to… to..” he hesitated.

“To?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. You both.”

You sighed, picking up the bag and entering the house. Jj followed behind, looking around. He looked at his dad, and the necklace around his neck.

The keys to the phantom.

You threw the small bag into the trash, along with the rest.

“It looks better in here.” He said, interrupting the tension.

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “I’m not looking after you and your fuckin’ friends now.” Your words were laced with venom, you didn’t feel bad.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be back. Make yourself at home.” You mumbled, going back out into the backyard, sighing heavily. You tried your best to ignore the tears welling in your eyes, leaning against the wall of the house.

Taking deep breaths, you opened the door to see Jj leaving already. He turned around once more, giving you one last glance before he ran into his friends car.

You weren’t shocked at your brothers disappearance anymore, instead you just looked at your dad, noticing the keys around his neck gone.

You furrowed your eyebrows, lightly shaking him awake.

“Hey, where’s your keys?” You asked him urgently, knowing that once he was sober he would be angry they were gone.

“Jj….” He mumbled, eyes still shut.

“Did jj take them?”

He didn’t answer. You grumbled under your breath, grabbing your own keys off the table.

“I’ll be back, dad.” You said, giving him a kiss on his forehead before opening the door and locking it.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The phantom was gone. Jj was gone.

“No, no.” You mumbled. “Fuck!” You shouted. You didn’t notice the two boys coming up behind you.

“Y/n?” A voice said. You turned around, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight.

“Rafe?” Your eyes widened, you went up to him, hugging him tightly.

“Jesus, Rafe, what the fuck happened? Who the hell did this?” You asked him, your hand cupping his face and your thumb tracing over his blood, wiping it from his face.

He didn’t answer, just looking at you. You panicked as you stared at him, trying to wipe the blood off his lip.

“Stop, stop.” He mumbled, gently pushing your hand away. “I’m fine. I just need you.. i just need you to listen, okay?” His hands cupped your face now, his eyes searching yours.

“Shit, isn’t that maybanks sister?” A voice behind him laughed, interrupting what Rafe was going to say.

You quirked an eyebrow at the man, looking at him now. Rafe’s hand dropped to his sides, remembering he was here. Rafe turned to look at Barry now.

“She doesn’t have anything to do with them, man.” Rafe was quick to defend you.

Barry looked at him and back at you.

“Shit, never thought I’d see the day where you were dating a maybank.” He laughed quietly, making his way outside. Rafe looked back at you, and followed Barry.

“Stay here for a second.” He spoke to you, holding a hand out.

“What? Why? Rafe-“

“For once, just fuckin’ listen to me!” He shouted. Pausing for a moment. “Please. Please, just stay here for 2 minutes.”

You just shook your head to yourself when he left, running a hand through your hair and pacing around.

What the fuck was Rafe hiding?

Why did jj need the phantom?

What was jj up to?

Where the fuck did he go?

A scream from outside a few moments later made you snap out of your head. Rafe walked in, his helmet in his hands.

“Where are you going?” You asked him when he grabbed your arm, practically dragging you out.

He didn't answer, once you were both outside he grabbed your wrist now.

"I want you to listen, okay? I- I really wanted to tell you this, but... It doesn't matter. I killed Sheriff Peterkin."

The words coming out his mouth made your jaw drop. You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly backing away when he tried to get closer to you. His grip on your wrist got tighter.

"My dad- He- She was going to kill him, baby. I really just- I had to tell you, I can't- I can't hide it from you, and I just really... I really need someone right now. You have to understand..."

"Rafe, what the fuck are you- You shot her? You're the one that..." you laughed, this had to be some sort of sick joke.

"I couldn't just let her..."

He wanted someone to listen, he wanted to justify his actions, he needed to.

His phone lit up with a notification. He glanced down at it and back at you, letting go of your wrist.

"If you come to Tannyhill later, I can explain everything." He said, putting on his helmet and hopping onto his bike.

"Rafe.."

"I'll text you, I swear!" He shouted, starting up his bike and driving away in a rush.

You were left, standing there in shock, confusion.

Your boyfriend was a murderer and was framing someone else for it. What the fuck?

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"What the fuck do you mean he's in police custody? For what?" You shouted, already grabbing your keys from the table.

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that that he helped John Routledge escape."

"Well, where is he?"

As soon as you were given the location you hung up the phone, and began to head for the door when your dad mumbled your name.

"Dad?"

"What's... what's wrong?" he slurred.

"Nothing, dad." You spoke, walking over to him. He reached a hand out for your face, making you flinch slightly, but he just wiped a stray tear that you hadn't even noticed. You relaxed.

"Are you sure?" His eyes were red and squinted slightly. He’d been smoking and drinking.

You lightly grabbed the bottle he held in his hand, nodding your head.

"You've had enough to drink. I'll be back soon, I promise," you said with a small smile before heading for the door and starting up your car.

Racing towards the place, your heart raced, it was a struggle driving through the rain and mud. A notification made your screen light up. You picked up your phone.

Rafe 🩷:

I need you. Please. I'll explain everything to you. I'm sorry. Come over.

You threw your phone back down, he would have to wait. As soon as you got there, you threw open the car door.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Some people guided you through the rain into a tent. Your eyes landed on the parents and their children hugging. Then they landed on Jj.

He stared at you, his eyes glossy with tears. You slowly walked to him, he threw his arms around you, and began to sob into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He cried out, it was quiet.

"Sh, sh. It's okay. I forgive you." You mumbled; his face buried into your neck as your own eyes welled up with tears. "I'm just glad you're okay."

———————————————————————

If this does well I’ll do a part 2 😭 😭 but basically the idea was that i wanted to see how rafe would be kinda different w a girlfriend (who he’s hopelessly in love with duh) and the gf being jjs sister is just so interesting idk why

If anyone does want a part 2 or to be added in a taglist lmk :3

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #jj maybank #jj maybank x sister reader

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soullumii · 9 months

Text

if my heart’s gonna break | joel miller x f!reader

part 1 (read part 1 before reading this!)

summary: a couple nights later, you head back to joel’s

warnings: 18+!!!! smut again. unprotected piv. fem!afab!reader. angst again don’t worry i’ll make a happy ending okay

word count: 4k

joel mod in gif is by speclizer (so fucking hot oh my GODDDD)

a/n: finally finished part 2 omg i’m sorry for the wait yall… i’m a perfectionist it’s lowkey debilitating. anyways… i hope u guys enjoy <3 tysm for the support on part 1 and tbh on all my other fics too… i can’t believe ppl like my writing that much. i am very grateful! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

im scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

i said we're in danger

sleeping with a friend

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You cant stop thinking about the kiss.

The kiss that honestly shouldn’t mean so much to you. You’ve kissed him, like, so many times. So many times his tongue has been in your mouth, been in your damn vagina. So why the fuck… why the fuck are you so worked up over this right now?

It’s just…it was so heavy. It felt like…like more than just a kiss. Like he was laying his life down for you, much like he does in patrols.

He… Joel… he usually never kisses right after sex. He recognizes in the post-coitus energy that things are different. They mean more. He has to know that. So… why now? Does he…?

No. You’re just in your head again. Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard. You’ve never had a friends with benefits situation before now. Maybe this… maybe this is regular.

But for your own psyche, you think you might have to set some ground rules.

There was always that main rule, that wretched, critical rule. The one you said to him on the first day of your strange exchange.

“Don’t go falling in love with me, cowboy.”

Well, to hell with that one, right? Pretty sure you’ve beaten that shit to death. Shattered all possible remains of it.

So more rules. More rules will have to do. Starting with:

No kissing.

Should be easy enough.

You’ll figure out the rest later. You have got to stop thinking about it, though, because you’re on the way to his house right now.

You knock swiftly on the door, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your pussy the moment he opens the door to reveal himself. A plain, black t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest, haphazardly tucked into a pair of plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. His graying hair is ruffled beyond belief, curling around his ears and falling over his forehead. In your fits of passion and desire a couple nights ago, you hardly realized it had grown longer. It looks nice.

This sleepy and soft Joel is not one you’ve seen in a while. Well, it’s not like you’ve seen him much lately anyway, with him having been gone and all. Still, it’s disorienting.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Um. Hi.” You try not to gawk. “Did…did I come at a bad time, or something?”

“No, not at all. I just got back from patrols… took a shower,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, strong arms crossing over his chest. There’s a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on his lips. “Need somethin’?”

You see it now, the water clinging to his hair, darkening it, beading at his temples like sweat. You follow a line of water trickling down his throat until it disappears behind his collar.

Rule 2: Don’t come over after he’s showered.

“I…uh, I can come back later if you want—“

You’re nervous to ask him what you want to ask him, which is honestly ridiculous considering you guys have been doing this for months now. You used to be able to just knock on his door and he’d pull you in, and it was that easy. Or you’d give him a look when in public, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Now, you’re painfully awkward. Curse him and curse your feelings.

He straightens a bit, his brows furrowing in slight concern. “What’s goin’ on?”

Heat spreads down your neck, embarrassment. Shame. It’s strange, how just a couple nights ago you let him finger you in public, and now you’re afraid to ask him for sex again in his house and for your panties back.

You should honestly just say something like:

I’m here for my underwear.

And you’re positive he’d say:

Want it back? You gotta earn it, sweetheart.

And your knees would buckle and you’d sink down to the carpeted floor in front of his couch and suck him off until he was coming down your throat, stroking back your hair and thumbing his cum on your plush bottom lip.

But instead you’re scowling at him and blurting: “I need a drink.”

How dare he leave you high and dry for three weeks, come back and fuck the shit out of you, make you realize you’re in love with him, and look this good?

God damnit, you need to get your shit together.

Joel’s eyes widen, surprised only slightly by your outburst, before he backs up to allow you inside his home. When he shuts the door behind you, his hand settles warmly on your lower back as he steers you toward the kitchen.

He immediately beelines for the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of red for you. A warm, tingly feeling stirs in your stomach at the fact that he knew you’d want wine. The frustration you’ve been feeling fizzles out.

“You know me so well.”

He gives you a light smirk, uncorking the bottle. The liquor gurgles as he pours it into a glass. “Think you’d kill me if I didn’t know after all this time.”

You laugh, “Sure, but the real test of friendship is if you knew how I’d kill you.”

“A swift kick to the nuts and then one of my guitars to my head.”

Your eyes widen on a guffaw. “You think I’d damage one of your guitars?”

“You care more about my guitars than my genitals?”

“Yes. Why would I ever smash one of your guitars?”

He rolls his eyes. “Kill two birds with one stone—my soul and my body. It’s effective. If you needed to kill me, I’d hope it was like that. Now how would I kill you?”

You hum in consideration. “Trick question. You wouldn’t—no, you couldn’t.”

“You know me so well.”

His words mirrored back at you so gently, with his brown eyes trained on you intently has the warmth in your belly spreading, making you drop your gaze.

His smirk grows and he hands you the wine glass and reaches for some homemade brandy. You watch the muscles in his arm flex as he pours, sipping daintily while your mind replays thoughts of filth. Of you dragging that arm between your legs, grinding down on it until—

“So, you really only here for a drink?” He asks with a playful lilt, taking a sip of his own beverage and effectively jolting you out of your daydreaming.

You lean against the island, wondering if you should tell him the truth. From the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and heated, like a lion ready to pounce, you’re tempted to.

But…you’re afraid. You can’t stop thinking about The Rule. The one you broke and the ones you just made. You wonder if whatever might happen between you two tonight will unravel them before you can even put them into place.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pursed around the rim of the glass. “Maybe, maybe not.”

His eyes darken, tongue darting out to lick his lips of sweet fermented wine. His gaze travels up and down your figure, comfortable and breathable in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy and cute like your sundress from the other night, because today you had to work. But Joel has never minded what you’ve worn, swearing you always look sexy in anything.

Which is something that also makes you question this friends with benefits situation you have here.

He sets his glass down and eases in closer, curling an arm around your waist to pull you into him. “How high’s the chance then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s the probability that you really did only come here for a drink?” he drawls, eyes following your lips as your tongue dips out to wet them. “Or was there another reason?”

The cold tip of his nose brushes along your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. You tremble in his hold. “Odds are in favor of the first option,” you breathe, “ran out of alcohol at my place.”

“And you couldn’t just stop by the Bison? Had to steal from my stores?”

“You know you have the good stuff.”

“You’re lyin’ but I’ll pretend like you ain’t.”

That makes you laugh, and more tumble out of you when one of his hands traces lazily over your stomach, fingers light and delicate and teasing.

“So why d’ya need a drink?”

Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I’m driving myself crazy. Because the universe wants to fuck me over.

You smile and your free hand skates up his muscled back, your fingers brushing along the stretchy fabric of his tee, your voice soft. “Just needed to destress a little. Work has been intense.”

He grins back, presses it into the spanse between your throat and your shoulder, before he lightly scrapes his teeth over it and lays a gentle bite that has you keening into him, pressing your body against his.

“Well, I could help you destress another way too,” he murmurs, palm squeezing the pudgy flesh of your waist, fingers digging lightly into your muscle.

“Mm… yeah?” you hum, your voice a low purr, back arching. Your breasts press into his chest, and Joel makes a sound deep in his throat in agreement.

He presses you into the island, caging you in with his hands on either side of you. He towers over you, a sweatpant clad leg sliding between yours.

He leans down to kiss you, and a flashing light blares in your mind — NO KISSING — loud and bright and distracting. You turn your head at the last second, his lips landing on your cheek. But Joel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t question you. He just kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, mouthing at you. Sucking your skin to leave little marks that will either fade or be covered by concealer.

It used to upset you when he left marks because they’re a pain to cover up. Then, you started to like it. You didn’t mind covering up the marks because when you took the makeup off and saw them at the end of the day, all you could think about was him. About the how he made you come. About the words he muttered in your ear. About the feeling of his hands on you—in you.

Now, you’re starting to grow upset again, but this time it’s because you want to wear them proudly. Want people to know he gets to claim you like this. But… you can’t. But you also don’t want him to stop.

You allow him to continue marking you up, his hand coming up to rest behind your skull, holding you in place. You press your body into his eagerly and with desperate, soft noises that he returns with placating moans.

And then he shifts, and his thigh ruts against your clothed core, and you moan lightly, airily, grinding your hips down against him, searching for any friction.

His hands curl around the hem of your white tee, and he peels it off your body. One skates behind your back to easily undo the clasp of your bra, and then your breasts are heavy and on display for him.

Joel stares down at you with heavy eyes. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Longing claws at your chest, and you look up at him coyly, your lip caught between your teeth. Joel groans like he’s in pain, and squeezes along the underside of one of your breasts before leaning down to close his mouth over the nipple while his other hand gives attention to the other, squeezing and pinching. Your hands find purchase in his damp hair as low moans tumble from your lips.

When he’s deemed one nipple adequately appreciated, he moves onto the next. Licking, revering, his dark eyes peering up at you while his peppered hair is fisted in your hands. The sight has slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

Eventually he pulls back and his hands clamp down on your hips. He guides you along the muscle of his thigh, your clit pulsing at the contact.

“Want you to come on my thigh, baby.” His voice is a ragged slur of words against your ear, warm and paired with a kiss to your cartilage.

“Fuck…yes, Joel,” you whimper, sparks flying through your nerves with each roll of your hips.

His fingers grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him as you rut against his thigh. He’s grinning, eyes heavy lidded and deep, dark like wet tar. They suck you in as if they were quicksand.

You’d let him drag you under a million times over.

Your best friend.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling yourself grow close. Standing at the cliff's edge. His eyes bore into yours, his grin slipping as he focuses on you. Focuses on making you shatter atop him.

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can come,” he says encouragingly, fingers stroking the skin of your hip. You feel tears prick your eyes as the waves crash, spreading from your throbbing clit along your muscles. Filling you with warmth, stronger and deeper than the buzz from the wine.

“Good job,” he praises gently. “Did so good.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

He laughs, and despite yourself, heat floods your body, throbs between your thighs. His words caress a deep, carnal animal inside of you, and the hunger takes over.

You frantically pull at his shirt until he has to tell you to slow down, and takes it off himself. Your hands run along his chest and stomach the moment they’re able to and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm his hardening cock through the soft, gray fabric. Joel groans deep and heavy, his lashes fluttering as he stares you down. His hips thrust into your palm automatically. Involuntarily.

God, that makes you light up like a firefly. Makes your nerves sing and your cunt flutter and your mind go numb.

He tugs down your shorts and underwear and sets you on top of the granite, but before he can strip the underwear from your ankle to no doubt pocket this pair like he did the other, you flick it off your foot across the kitchen. It lands somewhere near the door to the dining room.

He can’t steal all your underwear, or you’ll have none left.

“I wanted those,” he drawls, expression on the edge of a pout.

“Yeah, well I need them. It’s not common to come across a good pair of panties in this world.”

“But I’d give ‘em back.” He’s full on pouting now. It is, unfortunately, very cute, but you’re used to it.

“Sure… like the pair you took from me the other night that I have yet to receive.”

“How else am I supposed to get you to come over?”

“I dunno? Maybe ask?”

“Should I leave a note on your door? Is that good enough for you?”

“At least be classy. A letter delivered in my mailbox with a wax stamp, please.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Princess.”

He finally peels off his sweatpants, free of underwear beneath them, and you watch with barely concealed hunger as his cock springs free.

And while you like the idea of him fucking you on the counter, you’d much rather him fuck you against the counter, so you hop down and turn so your back faces him. Your hands curl around the granite lip of the counter top, and you push your ass out and back, peering at him over your shoulder.

This way, it’s easier for him not to kiss you. Easier for you to turn your head and deny your lips to him.

“Look at you…” Joel hums appreciatively at your show, at the wiggle of your hips as his palm smooths down your back and over your ass, squeezing at the plump flesh.

You moan quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken, watching you intently like you’re the only thing in the room.

His fingers drift down to your cunt and your slickness coats his fingers fully. You’re so wet for him. So ready for him to bury himself inside you and call you his.

It’s funny, you’ve lost all your heat from a few nights ago. All your sharp edged words. Now, you’re soft and pliant.

He swirls his soaked index and middle fingers along your clit, punctuating your sensitivity, before sliding them back inside you to the knuckle. You keen and push back, desperate for more. His fingers are so much longer than yours, thicker, and yet you crave more.

“That’s it, Joel,” you huff. “Fuck, feels so good. Need more.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

Shame lights your cheeks, but you push down the embarrassment. “Need…need your cock inside me.”

He lays a kiss on your neck. “Still a bit desperate aren’t we?”

“You’re the desperate one, Mr. Panty Stealer. You’re a fucking creep.”

He chuckles against your neck, but he squeezes your ass in retaliation. “Be nice, would you?”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

“Wanna see how much I like it?”

“If you’re willing to show me and get on with this, sure.”

He huffs in amused frustration. “God, you’re annoyin’.”

You just smile innocently at him.

Your legs tremble, slick running down your thighs when Joel pulls his fingers out. He replaces them with the hardness of his cock, of which he runs along your wetness, readying himself.

“I think ‘bout you way too much,” he says into your back, pressing a gentle kiss there. “D’ya think ‘bout me too?”

It’s an odd question. One you’re not expecting. One that has your heart stuttering in quiet confusion from this sudden switch in tone.

“Of course I do.” Obviously. You told him as much. Three weeks. Three weeks you thought about him.

“Good… wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A high pitched keen hisses through your teeth as Joel eases himself inside you with a long, slow stroke and a low moan. Your fingers white knuckle the countertop, gripping it tightly.

He presses in close, burying himself all the way in before he withdraws slowly, his cock sliding inside you torturously.

“Joel,” you moan.

“I know, baby.” He presses kisses to your shoulders.

Joel’s hand gravitates to the back of your knee, and he slowly pushes up to lift your leg until your knee is resting on the counter.

And then… with this new angle…he starts fucking you in earnest.

His hips snap against your ass, the sound deafening in the kitchen, and you crumple against the granite with a moan.

“Shit,” Joel grunts. “Yeah.”

Each of his heavy thrusts punches the air from your lungs, and your fingers slip on the countertop, scrabbling for purchase every chance you can get. He’s hot, thick inside you, warm as he folds over you, his hand on your tummy holding you upright, the other keeping your leg up to continue hitting you at that pleasant, delicious angle.

“H-holy shit—oh—“

He breathes heavily at your neck, low grunts and moans escaping his lips from his efforts. “Could spend eternity inside you, darlin’. Fuck, you’re mine.”

Your heart stutters, the words uttered in a lust filled craze, likely meaning nothing. But to your traitorous brain, to the hope lingering in your chest like a persistent cough, they mean everything.

“All…” you’re losing your train of thought, fucked into blissful nothingness. “All yours, Joel.”

It’s too difficult for him to kiss you from this angle, which you’re relieved about. But a part of you longs for it, longs for the feel of his mouth moving against yours.

Joel’s strong arm wraps around your chest, and pulls you up so you’re flush against his back as he pounds up and into you. Keens and whimpers and breathless pants escape you with every thrust.

“Please, Joel,” you cry, tears pricking at the edges of your swirling vision.

“What, baby?” He huffs. “Need’a come?”

You nod crazily. “Yes—need to—“

“Shhh okay… I’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the hand wrapped around your tummy inching down to circle at your clit steadily.

Your legs buckle beneath you but Joel keeps you upright as the pleasure soars through you, sudden and strong. He strokes you through it, groaning praises into your ear before he comes inside you a moment later.

The two of you hiss in tandem when he pulls out, but he smothers it when he lays his mouth over yours. You’re hardly coherent enough to remember your rule, and for a moment you let him kiss you. You kiss him back, chasing the heat of his mouth with your own, moaning against his lips when his tongue dips into your mouth.

Then, you remember.

You pull back panting, cheeks a flame, “Joel.”

“Hm?” He murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw before moving back up to pull you into another kiss. You move away before he can. His brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should kiss anymore.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Your eyes flit across the kitchen, catching on labeled jars and wooden spoons and spices, anything but his own. “It’s too intimate.”

It’s a lame excuse. Joel sees through it immediately.

“And my cock inside you ain’t?”

You sigh heavily, avoiding eye contact. “It’s different.”

“How? Enlighten me.” His tone has gone rougher. Hurt swirls in his eyes, and you feel worse than you did the other night.

Because you and I are friends. Because I don’t think I can pretend like that’s the truth when all I want is to call you mine. Because when I kiss you it’s like my world finally starts to make sense.

“Please, Joel. Just…I don’t want to do it anymore. Can you respect that, please?”

He runs a hand down his beard, his hurt expression hardening into a stoic one you haven’t been on the receiving end of in years. Fuck. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

You expect relief but all that comes is a deep longing and sadness that you try to push to the depths of your conscience. Though, like a buoy, it keeps popping above the surface.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

The cleanup is awkward. He watches you silently as you pick up your underwear and slide them and your shorts back on. He seems far away, here and gone all at once. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if what you just said was the biggest mistake of your life.

But you have to do this. You have to hold him at arm's length because if you admit to him…if you tell him how you really feel… maybe he really will leave you. He’ll realize you’ve gone and fucked everything up, and the friendship you’ve kindled, the trust you’ve built, will all be for nothing.

You can’t lose him, even if it means you can’t keep him close.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say eventually, when he’s walking you out the front door.

He smiles at you, faint and untrue. It’s like the one from the other night. Like that laugh he forced out for you. You feel like a Joel from the past has teleported to the present, with his thin smile and his hard eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“You okay?”

Joel frowns, shifts on his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “You need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum. A moth circles the porch light. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. He looks as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” is all that he says.

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling empty. A waif, a lonely white flag waving in the wind. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Night, darlin’,” he says, squeezing your arm, like he’s trying to be normal. It doesn’t work. His hand is cold. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Joel.”

It’s raining by the time you reach your house, and you curl under your blankets after a shower, your hair cold and wet against your scalp, listening to the droplets splattering against your window.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

part 3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #tlou #game joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #this is trouble

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