#emotions to yourself and bottling everything up is not good for her

[freedomfireflies]

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you. 

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal. 

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort. 

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away. 

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.” 

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are. 

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer. 

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

 He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?” 

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.” 

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would. 

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit. 

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.  

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek. 

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand. 

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs. 

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer. 

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you. 

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers. 

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open. 

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask. 

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination. 

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess. 

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales. 

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace. 

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm. 

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him. 

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles request #harry styles concept #smut #concept #friend!harry #harry and kitten #open relationship!harry #soft dom!harry

[beforeimdeceased]

hey bae! if you’re still taking requests could i please have something fluffy with mean! ellie and sensitive/soft! reader. it can be whatever u want, loving the pink theme btw 🎀⭐️!

CRYBABY! - (E.W)

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: you’ve had a seriously bad day, and now you’re stuck with the shittiest person you’ve ever met while you wait for your friends to get home.

a/n: thank u for acknowledging the theme! it took so long to put together 😭. also i really hope this fulfills your request. would you guys want a part 2 w/ smut this time?

“crybaby, crybaby. we need to cry. and if we do, i know that would be alright.” — edit

masterlist.

ellie fucking williams was an exceptional singer, guitarist, and had incredible stage presence. but more importantly: she was an asshole. a complete fucking dick, and not just the usual “too good for everyone” cocky. she was crude. she was vulgar and she knew exactly how to push people, you specifically. sometimes you thought that she walked around asking for a fight to prove herself to people. now, you think it’s so she can finally feel something. even if it’s a mind spinning jab at her face.

you did your best to stay away from her, despite you sharing friends; jesse and dina. you knew exactly how she was and you knew you couldn’t handle it. no matter how many times you tried to let her little remarks brush past you, you always found yourself wanting to go lower. and each time you were around her it got harder to bite your tongue.

today was a bad day. a shit day. one of your worst. you found fraudulent activity on your bank card, got hit with a frustratingly large and urgent bill, and your washing machine broke. all in the span of an hour. the customers at your job had been extra rude and to make matters worse, your manager yelled at you for a mistake you didn’t even make.

all you wanted to do was go over to dina & jesse’s and eat brownies while they treated you like the child they’d yet to have. dina rubbing your back and reassuring you that everything will be okay while jesse threatens to beat all your enemies bloody. you use the spare key you have to their apartment to messily trudge in, kicking your shoes off at the door and smiling as you open the fridge to find dina’s special 1,000 hour brownies.

“i keep telling her she should put weed in those.” echoes behind you, causing you to pause mid bite. there she is, leaning against the counter. eyes smudged with her signature stage eyeliner, sweat glistening on her skin, a tank top and her stage cargos sagging on her waist. gargling down a plastic water bottle that had definitely seen better days.

“where are dina and jesse?” you furrow your brows closing the fridge. you grab a napkin to place the brownie on, and move further back near the door away from her. just in case.

“they went to go grab some groceries, but they told me to stay here and wait for you.” she answers, finishing the bottle off.

fuck. how long were they going to be gone? you couldn’t imagine spending more than 2 minutes alone with this loose lipped devil. her eyes narrow as she looks you up and down before smiling. here she goes.

“bad day? cause it looks like it.”

“well it definitely isn’t going to get better with you around me.” you snap back.

“ouch. i’m hurt.” she laughs. deviously. a hand over her chest as she pushes off the counter to chuck the empty bottle into the trash can.

you move over to the living room, sitting yourself on the couch. maybe if you ignore her she’ll get bored and leave you alone? maybe she’ll get so bored she’ll actually leave. god, please get the fuck out of here.

she follows you though, sitting way too close for comfort and turning on the tv. you pull your phone out, immediately opening tumblr and mindlessly scrolling. hoping that dina and jesse will be home soon.

“d tells me you stopped showing up to gigs because of me. is that true?” she breaks the silence between you two. you shrug her off. “you’re not the easiest person to be around, williams.” you state.

“so what’s wrong with me? i’d love to hear it straight from the horses mouth.” she scoffs, scooting closer. when you attempt to ignore her she pulls your phone out of your hand. staring into your eyes with her very own. piercing through your soul for a response. “is it because i called you an idiot?”

“among other things, but it doesn’t surprise me that that’s all you remember.” you reach for your phone but she pulls it back. this causes you to pinch her, and she smacks your hand away still holding your phone back. “remind me then.”

you feel her taunting tone. her want— need to push at you. to push your buttons and boundaries until you break. it’s like a game to her, and you certainly weren’t in the mood for it today.

“can you give me my phone so i can find out when dina and jesse are coming home?” you sigh. her behavior reminded you of a customer you’d had earlier who’d treated you like garbage because you weren’t smiling. you felt tears welling up but pushed them down. you never cried in front of ellie. because of her, maybe, but never to her face. you’d never live it down.

“can you answer my question? so i can apologize or whatever. d is really on my ass about it.”

you scoff. “ofcourse you aren’t genuinely sorry. you probably don’t even remember all the fucked up shit you say and do to people. half of the time you ignore me and the other half you treat me like i’m a burden. do you remember when you guys had your first real show? i told the security i knew you and you pretended like i was a stranger.”

“jesse was sooo pissed you didn’t show up.” she laughs. “did he yell at you?”

“yeah. thought i was lying because you told him i was. called me a shit friend and a liar until i showed him proof. why am i the only one you treat like this?”

“you’re definitely not the—“ you reach for your phone again, but she’s quicker than you. pushing you away and laughing at your lockscreen, which was a picture you’d taken of yourself. one you felt incredibly confident in. all of that confidence was withering away slowly and you could guess it’d only been 10 minutes. “only one.”

“that’s so much worse. seriously, i don’t have time for this today. i’ll just go home.” you sniffle and fail to hide it. the tears were in the back of your throat and you felt like her personal rag doll all over again. what you’d finally gotten away from the last week was haunting you all over again. her taunting, her rudeness. she knew what she was doing and she didn’t even care.

“are you gonna cry? am i making you cry?”

you gulp, biting your lip to fight the shakiness in your voice. “just give it back.” is all you can muster up. her arm stretches up and as you reach for it she tucks it in her back pocket and sits on it.

you feel the tears begin to spill out of your eyes and you quickly turn around and lean into the couches arm. hands over your face as you pathetically attempt to calm yourself. you feel a hand on your shoulder and you push it away before realizing it’s ellie handing you back your phone.

it takes you a couple blinks, convinced the tears have obstructed your vision. the very same ellie who’d tripped you in front of a crowd of people last month, was being nice? her face has softened, genuine concern replacing the taunting gaze she previously had. she places a hand on your back and shushes you.

“i’m sorry. i’ve never made you cry before, i’m sorry.” she speaks softly. she almost seems…confused? is this what it takes to get her to realize that what she does actually fucking hurts you? for you to break down in front of her? for her to get a peek at the silent nights you’d spent sobbing over another one of her “jokes”? all this time?

you wipe your eyes and begin to laugh, which startles her and causes her to lean back. “you’re such an ass, ellie. god, you’re such a fucking dick.” you shake your head and breathe. she doesn’t respond, just stares at you with concern. brows furrowed as she concentrates on your body language. the way you’re leaning closer towards her.

“today was such a bad day.” you cry out in frustration, dipping your head into her lap. you just lay there, sobbing. she doesn’t move you, but instead rubs your back. shushing you. whispering that it’ll be okay, and you’d never admit it because it was coming from her, but you really needed it in that moment.

she pulled you in closer to her, turning you onto your side so she can rub her thumb across your cheek. wiping some of your tears away. you begin to cry even harder, but she doesn’t push you away. even when her pants are soaked and snotty. she lets you lay there, and cry into her.

#bunnie can speak? ☆ #ellie williams #・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #bun’s asks ꕤ #bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 #mean!ellie #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #williams ellie #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x f!reader #lesbian fanfic #wlw imagine #wlw fanfic #tlou headcanons #tlou fanfic #modern au #modern ellie #rockstar!ellie #ellie williams smut #ellie x you #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader

[perlelune]

Happier Than Ever | Rafe Cameron

Loving Rafe was a rollercoaster you could never get off of. Sometimes thrilling, but mostly terrifying. And some way, somehow, he always found a way to draw you back in for another ride.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Drug Addiction, Drunk Driving, Kook! Reader, Toxic Relationship, Abuse, Emotional Blackmail, Suicidal Talk

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

You smile as Marissa tells her story once more. No matter how many times you hear it, it never gets old.

“Who does that? I mean he didn’t even have his driving license. I was so embarrassed-”

The rest of the girls in the circle you formed in the living room gasp. You nurse your beer before taking another sip. You take a bite of the birthday cake, humming in appreciation of the cinnamon and pineapple undertones. For a minute, you soak it all in. The soft pop pouring from the speakers in your friend’s living room. The casual chatter between friends.

You fold your legs beneath yourself, enjoying your cake in a corner of the couch.

It’s been a while since you’ve been able to enjoy a night like this. Quiet and calm. Not since your breakup. Spending time with your friends always fell to the wayside in your previous relationship, your ex finding issues with how much time you spend with them instead of him. It wasn’t uncommon for you to drop everything whenever he called. Girls’ night outs. Sleepovers. Even birthdays, like today.

He was the sun around which your entire life orbited and he couldn’t stand anything or anyone stealing your attention away. It took you a long time to leave. More than you’re comfortable admitting.

It’s not like things were bad all the time. In fact, most of the time, they were good. Not just good. They were great. So great you easily forgave and forgot. Forgot about the tears. Forgot about the rough hands on your skin. Forgot about the cruel words. Forgot about the screaming and nights lying awake, wondering what you did wrong for him to be so angry at you again.

He was a magician. With the right words and that twinkle in his ocean gaze, he could make all the hurt vanish. Like none of it was ever there to begin with. The same eyes that made you feel small could make your stomach flutter. The same mouth that would praise you could tear you down as easily.

Your heart was never at rest, as you never knew which version of him you’d get on a particular day. The sweet and kind version. Or the paranoid and volatile one.

So many little things could set him off. A throwaway comment from his dad. An argument with his sister. Some stranger's gaze resting on you half a second too long. 

Nothing you did could ever get that chip off his shoulder. No amount of care, patience or love could ever reassure him enough. It was exhausting, which is why you left. Well, more like…ran away. Avoided his side of the island. Ghosted him. Hid away really. 

It’s been a few weeks now. You are slowly retrieving some semblance of peace in your life. It’s easier when he’s not around. Easier to breathe. Easier to move around.

Marissa turns to you.

“I’m so happy that you could make it.”

You beam at her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She pauses, her fingers tapping the side of her beer bottle.

“You did last year,” she points out. 

You tense. Last year. You never even told her what that was about. You were dressed up and ready and he stopped you on your way out, questioning why you were looking this good for “just some chicks’ get-together”. You shudder as the memory flashes through your brain. Needless to say you never made it to your friend’s party.

“Yeah…sorry about that,” you mumble, scratching your arm.

She smiles in reassurance, squeezing your arm.

“It’s okay. But no more missing my birthday, okay?”

“Okay, promise,” you reply, nodding.

The conversation is halted by the buzzing of your phone. Your chest clenches at the sight of the familiar name across the screen. Marissa steals a glimpse from across the couch and tilts her head in disapproval. The two of them were oil and water, never getting along. In fact, she got in his face quite a few times. And he seemed to enjoy riling her up even more.

“Don’t answer that.” She nudges your shoulder. “I already told you, you need to block him.”

In theory, you know you should sever all ties. But you haven’t found the nerve to cross that bridge yet. Sending him straight to voicemail and leaving him on read is the height of what you can achieve right now. Besides, you shudder to think how he’d react to you blocking him. He damn near broke your door down the day after you texted him that you two were over.

“It could be important…” You get to your feet, stepping away from the couch and your friend’s critical stare. “I’m just gonna tell him to stop. I’ll be right back.”

You head to the balcony. You inhale a lungful of courage before swiping to accept the call. 

“Hey, angel. Miss me?” Rafe slurs drunkenly. 

Your brows knit. “You shouldn’t drive when you’re like this, Rafe.”

He barks out a derisive laugh. “You hear this shit, bro? Acting like she cares about me all of sudden.”

Your chest twinges, his words hurting more than they should.

Another familiar voice faintly echoes in the background. 

“Is that Topper?”

Your frown deepens. They both sound too inebriated to be driving anyone home, let alone themselves.

As you ponder if you should call Sarah or Ward, a crashing sound echoes through the phone, the boys’ laughter dying. Your stomach drops. 

“Rafe?” you call. 

You frantically text him. When you get no response, you try Topper. He doesn’t pick up immediately. 

At least twenty minutes slog by in terrifying silence.

Chewing on your thumb, you wait for the call to reach him.

When you finally hear his voice, relief seeps through you. If he’s fine, then Rafe must also be, right?

But your hopes are swiftly pulverized when he informs you that Rafe is being transported to the hospital. Panic flutters through you. You don’t want to care. You and him aren’t together anymore. It’s not your problem…Except it is. You can’t quell the worry pooling in your gut, the racing of your heart at the thought that Rafe could be hurt. Or worse.

Anxiously rubbing your hands, you head back to the living room. Marissa won’t like what you have to say, but dread has wrapped its fist around your heart since you heard that horrifying sound on the other end of the line, and hasn’t eased up since. The not knowing is worse than anything.

Noting the contrite pinch to your face, your friend heaves out a deep exhale.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to see him,” she says.

You chew on your lip. You know how this looks. Like you’re that girl who picks a guy over her friends again. Still, you remind yourself it’s not like the other times. You aren’t together anymore. You’re over him. You’re way past that. You’re just making sure he’s safe.

“I think something happened. Something really bad.”

Marissa shrugs and takes a swig of her beer. You try to ignore her and your other friend’s pointed stares. Their quietness speaks volumes, the weight of their judgment bearing heavily in the room.

“He always does that. Who knows if he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You mean crashed his car on purpose? Marissa, come on…”

She tosses her head backwards, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Whatever. I’m used to you bailing.” She glances at her freshly painted nails. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Her accusation aches but you shove it aside. You bid everyone goodbye and grab your keys from the lobby. 

The entire drive your heart is in your throat, your clammy hands tight around the wheel.

The worst scenarios keep playing in your head like a horrible nightmare. The picture of Rafe, a white sheet draped over his unmoving body, won’t stray from your raging thoughts. Why do you feel like this is your fault? He always had troubles with overindulging in liquor and other party favors. It’s something the two of you often argued about. But he had gotten better about it lately, before the breakup. He’d thrown away the drugs, eased up on the drinking. He was better. It’s part of why leaving felt okay.

Your eyes well up with tears. You wipe them in frustration, focusing on the dark road ahead. 

Sucking a wide breath, you remind yourself. You’re not responsible for Rafe. None of this is your fault.

Still, as you pull into the hospital’s driveway, guilt lingers within you.

Thanks to Topper’s instructions, you find Rafe’s room quickly.

You’re a breathless mess when you arrive, having raced through the white corridors. Sarah and Wheezie hug you as soon as they see you. You return it, having missed them in the last few weeks. You had come to think of the youngest of the Cameron siblings as the little sister you never had. You often went out to have ice cream while she told you of the gossip from her school. As for Sarah, the two of you go way back. While not the closest, you’ve been in the same circles since kindergarten. The puffiness of her brown eyes doesn’t escape you. While there’s no love lost between her and her big brother, she seems as shaken as you are.

Ward greets you with a nod. Meeting his gaze is difficult. He always told you you were a good influence on his son. A good girl from a good family. That you were exactly what Rafe needed to set himself straight and finally grow up. You can tell from the way his blue eyes are trained on you that Ward is a little disappointed, that he expected you to stick it out through the storm with his son. The people-pleaser inside you shrinks a bit at that.

Rose at least appears to empathize with your plight, flashing you a quick smile. She too seems to have cried, which stuns you the most. It’s no secret she and Rafe have never gotten along.

The Camerons make space for you to tiptoe further inside the room.

You take shaky steps towards Rafe. It hurts seeing him like that, hunched over at the edge of the bed in a hospital gown. While he’s not attached to tubes and wires, your chest seizes as you note the sling around his left arm, his busted lip and the long cut running across his brow.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Ward says, gesturing at his daughters to vacate the room.

Silence hangs for a while after the rest of the Cameron clan leaves, giving you and Rafe privacy. Eyes clinging to the floor, you girdle your breath until he speaks.

“You came.”

You look up, Rafe’s cool tone startling you. You approach him.

“Of course I came.”

The muscles of his jaw clench.

“You didn’t have to,” he says curtly.

You cup his cheek, “Rafe-”

He slaps your hand away, his eyes rolling back as he unleashes a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” he snaps. He sniffs and chuckles but it lacks humor. “I don’t even know why you’re here. You don’t give two shits about me.”

Disbelief strikes you. How could Rafe utter such words after everything you’ve been through together?

Your brows furrow as you graze his arm, whispering softly, 

“That’s not true, Rafe and you know it.”

“Do I?” He taps his temple with his healthy arm, stammering angrily, “C-Cause I had so many thoughts in my head when you left…”

“Rafe-”

“I know we weren’t perfect but I thought we were pretty happy, y’know?” 

A surge of tears presses beneath your lashes.

“We were.” You pause and take a deep breath. “Sometimes. But you weren’t…” Your lip quakes as you’re hit with the remembrance of how bad his mood swings were. You rub your neck, the phantom sensation of Rafe’s fingers squeezing it tight sizzling your flesh. Your voice comes out small. “We weren’t good for each other, Rafe.”

He bites his bottom lip and slowly releases it before sneering, “Bet you’d have preferred if I died tonight, get it all over with.”

“What? How can you even say that?” you say, your pitch spiking with shock.

“Y’know maybe I should…Maybe I should just get my dad’s gun, blow my fucking brains out and stop being such a burden to you.”

He mimics the gesture of shooting a gun through his skull and tears spill over your cheek.

You cradle his face.

“Don’t say things like that, Rafe. Please…” you sob.

“What else am I supposed to say, huh? You left me. Bet you think I’m a fuckup too. Just like my dad.”

“I don’t think that.”

“I wanted to die.”

“Rafe.”

His watery gaze dives into yours.

“When you left, I wanted to fucking die.”

Your breath falters.

“Being without you is hell, angel.” Desperation oozes from his voice. “I just wanted to feel…I don’t know, anything else.” He buries his face in his hand, mumbling under his breath, “I-I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.”

Your heart sinks. You never imagined breaking up with Rafe would send him in such a state. A wave of guilt consumes your insides. Perhaps it was selfish, taking your distance the way you did. 

You place your hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know things were this bad for you. I’m sorry.”

He snorts. “I mean, how could you? It’s not like you answer when I call.”

The air chills around you. Your lips clamp shut at that, your head lowering. You did ignore all of Rafe’s calls. And now you find yourself wondering if there were cries for help, if he was drowning and needed you to pull him ashore. If you had picked up, just once, maybe he wouldn’t be here right now. 

The doctor comes in and you step back. Rafe is thankfully cleared, presenting no concussion or major injuries besides his broken arm. You meet Topper outside and are relieved to find him in much better shape than your ex. Outside of a nasty scrape on his cheek, he’s completely unharmed. 

“Were you drunk too?” you can’t help but ask him.

“I…Yeah, but I wasn’t the one driving.” Topper hesitates, nervous as his eyes meet yours. “Rafe, he…he took some other stuff at the party.”

“I figured,” you sigh.

“He just kept driving faster the more he ranted about you.”

Your chest clenches. You glower at him.

“You’re supposed to be his friends, you and Kelce. You’re supposed to look out for him.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

Your gaze darts around the hospital corridor.

“Where’s Kelce, anyway?”

Topper scratches the back of his neck.

“He…passed out in a bush at the party.”

Your shoulders sag. Typical Kook shenanigans. Not one of those boys could actually behave responsibly. All they ever do is enable each other and egg each other on to do stupid shit. Then they let someone else clean up their mess. Fatigue settles over you. You’ve been here before. 

You glance at your phone. It’s beyond late. You walk up to Ward.

“I should probably go back home now. I only wanted to check on Rafe, make sure he's okay."

Crossing his arms, the Cameron patriarch astounds you when he utters, “Why don’t you stay at Tannyhill tonight?”

You flash a nervous smile.

“Mr. Cameron, Rafe and I-”

“I know you two are broken up, and I get that.” He heaves out a weary sigh as he considers Rafe. “I know my son has…issues, sweetheart, but he always did better around you.” His piercing gaze travels from Rafe to you. “He hasn’t been doing well since you left him.”

You recline into silence. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Rafe look this defeated. It worries you. You have no desire to give him the wrong idea but you also don’t see yourself just going home after hearing the things he shared with you. While you don’t plan on getting back with him, you can’t just abandon him.

“Okay. But just for tonight,” you specify. 

Ward beams at you. “That's all I ask, sweetheart.”

You end up getting into a car with Ward, Rose and Rafe. Wheezie trails behind Sarah, as you let her borrow the keys of your truck to drive Topper back home. She promises to return them to you in the morning. A heavy quiet coats the air as you share the backseat with Rafe, his stepmom sitting in the front with Ward. He’s not even looking at you, his blue eyes glued to the window. Dejected, you twine your hands in your lap. You’re used to that, Rafe ignoring you when he’s upset. But tonight it stings even more, fueling the guilt simmering inside you.

As Ward’s car pulls into the long alley of the Cameron’s mansion, nostalgia tugs at your heart.

Tannyhill was practically a second home to you this past year. Your parents travel a lot for work and Rafe used to coax you into staying with him most nights, just so you’re not alone.

You don’t even think as you follow Rafe to his bedroom, your feet carrying you absently since you’ve done it so many times before.

You inspect the room. Nothing’s changed since the last time you were here.

He grimaces as he struggles to remove his clothes while wearing the sling.

“I can’t get this fucking shirt off,” Rafe grumbles.

You trudge up to him.

“Let me help you.”

Rafe observes you, falling strangely quiet while you slip off his shirt for him. Your cheeks heat when you do the same for his pants. 

When you’re done, you try to head for the door.

Rafe’s hand clutches yours, halting your departure.

“Stay… please, angel? You can wear one of my shirts like you used to.”

A forlorn expression decorates his features. Despite your best efforts, it tugs at your heartstrings.

You gnaw on your lip. “It’s probably best if I stay in the guest room.”

His thumb sweeps over the inside of your palm.

“I won’t try anything funny, I swear…if that’s what you’re worried about.” His brows draw together. “I’m just in so much pain, and I can barely move my arm.”

You unleash a resigned breath.

“You promise to stay on your side of the bed?” When a playful smile creeps on his lips, your tone sharpens. “Rafe, I’m only here as your friend. I’m serious.”

His gaze narrows, suspicion sneaking in his tone. “Why? You’re like seeing somebody now or some shit?”

“No, I’m not.” You pause before adding cheekily, “And even if I were, it’d be none of your business.”

His cheek pulses.

A flicker of jealousy ignites his gaze, indicating that, in Rafe’s opinion, who you're seeing now is still very much his business. But his features smooth over quickly, his voice mellowing.

“I’d just feel better if you slept next to me, angel. I don’t feel like I’m asking for much, am I?” He pauses before sneering, “Or do you hate my fucking guts so much that I can’t even ask for a little favor?”

“I don’t hate you, Rafe.”

He cocks his head, hope lacing his deep timbre.

“Really? You don’t?”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” you admit.

A wide grin blooms on his face at that. He curls his hand around your waist, pulling you a little closer. 

“Then prove it. Stay with me tonight.”

His blue eyes are honest, pleading. Your resolve thaws like ice in the summer heat. 

“Fine,” you yield. You gear yourself to leave, announcing, “I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

The hand on your waist tightens as he teases, “Why not here? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

“Rafe,” you scold, prying his fingers off your waist.

He snickers, lifting his hand. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

A pang of melancholy pierces your chest when you pick one of Rafe’s shirts to wear in bed. It feels a little weird sharing a bed with him when you’re not together anymore.

When you step out of the bathroom, you steal a glance at him. The blanket only covers half of his body, exposing the bare, suntanned muscles of his chest. You ignore Rafe’s smirk as he catches your lingering gaze. Averting your eyes, you make your way to your side of the bed.

You slip under the covers, reassured that he’s respecting your wishes by giving you space. But it doesn’t last.

In the middle of the night, you’re forced to berate him for breaking the boundaries you set.

His good arm snakes around you, his broad chest draping over your back.

“Rafe…”

He nuzzles your neck from behind, humming as he basks in your smell. “Please, just let me have this,” he begs.

You sigh. You don’t have it in you to deny Rafe tonight. Not when he could have died. Not when you feel some responsibility for that. 

“Okay, but no wandering hands.”

He nods and snuggles even closer to you. You can’t help but grow a bit dizzy as the familiar scent of Rafe’s cologne clogs your senses.

You close your eyes and drift into sleep.

In the morning, you wake up to Rafe dragging his fingertips along your cheek, an entranced expression etched on his features.

“I missed waking up like this,” he rasps.

For a while, as you get lost in how bright and blue his eyes look in the soft morning glow, you forget. Remembrance settles over you however when Rafe’s thumb travels to your bottom lip. This is the kind of thing you can’t allow anymore.

Clearing your throat, you sit up and remove his hand from your face.

“Well don’t get used to it.”

Rafe’s brows crumple. “Ouch. When did you get so mean, angel?”

“I learnt it from you.”

He actually seems taken aback by that, speechless as he gapes at you.

His surprise allows you to make a beeline for the bathroom.

“Dibs on the first shower,” you chime, slamming the door closed before he can make another comment that sends your heart in a frenzy.

You use Rafe’s time away in the bathroom to focus on another task. A very important task. One you call the post-bender sweep. It’s a little tragic that you even have a name for it, or that you’ve had to do it so often. So you roll up your sleeves and begin rummaging through all of Rafe’s drawers. No corner of the room is left unchecked.

It’s how he finds you as he steps out of the shower, damp blonde locks grazing his forehead, the towel hanging low on his tapered waist. 

Confusion fills his cobalt eyes. 

“What are you doing?”

“I know you weren’t just drunk last night Rafe. Topper told me everything.”

“Fucking snitch,” Rafe hisses. He inches closer to you. “Look, I’m gonna get it together, alright?”

You crouch near the bed and reach under the mattress. Rafe’s face goes taut as you feel between the wooden slats. “Angel-”

Your fingers dislodge a plastic bag between the slats. You examine its insides. 

“Coke, expected. Well that…is new. Is that meth?” you list sourly. You wish you could say you were disappointed. Instead, you’re just exhausted and vaguely angry. This is a step back. A huge one. “This is poison, Rafe.”

You get to your feet and dash to the bathroom. As you empty every ounce of powder, crystals and every single pill into the toilet bowl, Rafe grips the side of his head. Panic flickers on his face.

“That’s 10k down the drain.”

“Well, Barry can go through me. I’m not letting you do this to yourself again.”

You flush the toilet and meet his eyes. Their intensity has you shifting in discomfort.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

His lips slowly curve upward.

“You still care about me.”

Your heart skips a beat. You blink and shuffle away from the toilet. False hopes, you recall, you weren’t supposed to give them to him. You decide to steer him away from that line of thought.

“Of course I do,” you reply. “You’re my friend.”

Rafe’s smile vanishes. His tone becomes clipped. “Friends, huh? Okay.”

Your plans to only stay the night are thwarted at breakfast. After sharing a copious meal with the Camerons, Ward pulls you aside, practically begging you to prolong your presence at Tannyhill for his son’s sake. 

“You and I both know he needs you, sweetheart.”

At first, you’re hesitant. This wasn’t the plan. You’ve fought so hard against the instinct not to put Rafe’s needs and wants before your own. Tooth and nail quite frankly. The first week after your breakup, not picking up when he called made you physically ill.

You wept about it for days, and almost ran right back into his arms. Without your friends, you probably would have.

Now, your life’s back on track. You can breathe again. You’re happier. The crippling fear of what Rafe would say or think does not hover over your every move anymore.

When Sarah returns your truck’s keys, you consider driving yourself back home and never looking back. Your fingers curl around the keys. It’s right there beneath your palm, your freedom. But there’s just one tiny issue. Rafe’s misty eyes catch yours across the table. And in less than a second, you don’t belong to yourself anymore.

So you remain at Tannyhill much longer than you’d like, taking care of Rafe and spending nights in his arms. The ambiguity of the situation fosters doubts in your mind, threatening the fragile equilibrium you found.

So as soon as Rafe’s noticeably improved, you elect to go back home. One morning, you rise with the sun and start collecting all the things you left behind in his room. It’s imperative to create some distance between you and him again. After all, you’ve gone above and beyond. Initially, this was about checking on your friend. A blind man could see that Rafe wants more than that however. You fear things will spiral to a point of no-return if you don’t leave now. You did so well these last few weeks, getting over Rafe. Or trying to at least. Now all that hard work is on the rocks.

Displeasure paints Rafe’s features as he watches you shove as many of the stray objects you scattered in his space inside your bag. You ended things so abruptly the first time that you never bothered coming back to collect everything you left in Rafe’s room.

“Come on, you could stay a little longer,” he pleads.

“It’s time for me to go home, Rafe.”

“Then just stay the night. You can leave tomorrow.”

“Rafe, it’s been well over a week.”

He sucks his teeth, sniggering meanly, “That excited to be rid of me, huh?”

Your forehead creases.

“It’s not like that.”

Rafe scoffs, “Nah, I get it. You’ve moved on and you never want to see me again, right?”

“Rafe…”

His fingers thread through yours, drawing you back to him. Towering above you, he whispers, “It's just one night. It won’t be different from the other ones. I just want to be able to feel you one last time.”

You purse your lips. You could never say no to anything Rafe asks when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his lifeline, the only thing keeping his head above water. 

It's probably not a great idea. Rafe’s been getting handsier than you’d like these last few days, and you didn’t have the heart to push him away. But what’s one more night? You’ll be gone tomorrow anyways.

“Okay,” you concede.” But I’m really leaving tomorrow.”

A victorious grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course, angel.”

At first, your last night at Tannyhill does indeed seem like the others. You slip under the covers next to Rafe, as you’ve done every other night. His light snores fill the room, his arm finding its way around your waist. Like always. You’ve gotten used to this. You don’t protest, finding comfort in the knowledge you’ll be done with everything Rafe Cameron the next day.

So you let him get close once more. His heat encases you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck. You don’t even give much thought to the thick bulge poking the small of your back. This is Rafe. He grows hard half the time when you cuddle. Usually, you get him to back off with a frown and a light shove on his chest.

But tonight’s different.

He starts rubbing against you, his hand sneaking below the shirt covering your body.

“Rafe? What are you doing?” you whisper, your voice high-pitched from shock.

“Shh, quiet, angel,” he hushes, trailing sloppy, heated pecks along your neck and shoulder.

“Rafe, you can’t…” Your voice dwindles to a gasp when his digits creep between under your ass, teasing your folds through your panties. He pinches your clit, rolling it between his fingertips. You bite down a sharp cry. 

“I said I wanted to feel you one last time, angel.”  

He shoves a finger inside your panties and sinks between your walls. The embarrassing squelching of your cunt echoes in the room, Rafe beginning to pump inside you at a steady pace. Naturally, he knows exactly how to move his fingers to turn you into a panting, shivering mess against him. You try to resist it, ignore the fire rising in your core, but your skin is easily set ablaze by Rafe’s familiar touch. Your belly knots. Tingles bloom on your flesh. He sweeps along your tender spots and you choke on your spit.

Heat gathers in your face as you grow slicker beneath Rafe’s hand.

He tugs on your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Rafe shifts position. He places himself above you and shimmies out of his boxers. Alarm bells ring inside your head when his thick tip prods at your entrance.

“Rafe…”

Words wither on your tongue as he buries his cock inside you in one blunt thrust. A quiet scream flies from your mouth, your chest heaving.

“Don’t be like this,” Rafe grunts, arrogance dripping from his lustful timbre. “I know you’ve been missing how my fat cock feels inside that tight little pussy, right?”

“We’re broken up, Rafe,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as your walls strain at his size.

“So?” He pulls out of you, only to sheathe himself inside your wet heat again. Your eyes roll back, your fingers clutching weakly at the sheets.

Rafe’s half-lidded gaze darkens as he drinks you in, his tone getting possessive.

“You’re in my bed, wearing my shirt. I’d say that makes you mine.”

The protests on your tongue evaporate, your thoughts dipping into a tailspin as Rafe slams his cock inside your dripping cunt. Desperation and lust marks each of his deep, pointed thrusts. Your head tosses over the pillows.

Stars fill your sight, pleasure swirling through your limbs. Air dwindles in your lungs as he stretches you out deliciously. His thick cock brushes against your sweet spot repeatedly and your lids flutter. Rafe’s own breaths grow more ragged. His throat bobs, his hard muscles clenching with his motions. He balances his arm above your head, looming over you as sweat dots on his brow.

His warm breath grazes your face as he chuckles.

“It’s like coming home, right? Like I never left.”

“I’m gonna get my shit together. I swear to you, angel.” He rests his forehead against yours. Rafe’s masculine scent floods your senses and your mind spins. You keen as he snaps his taut hips into yours, helpless as Rafe cages you with his frame. “Just don’t leave me again, okay? Please, I need you.”

Over the next few weeks, while his arm is healing, you and Rafe relapse into old habits. First, it’s that night at his house, the one that stirs your unease for a while. Then it’s a quickie in the back of his truck after he offers to drop you off one day. Progressively, it becomes more than that. Dates and late night calls, like before. 

Rafe complaining to you for hours about Sarah or the weight of his dad’s expectations. Rafe sending flowers to your doorstep. Rafe making butterflies swarm in your stomach when he tells you that you’re the only one who understands him.

The walls you erected crumble day by day, shattered by his persistence to win you back. He showers you with gifts and attention on a near daily basis now, even going as far as planning the most romantic evening for Valentine’s day. Though you had plans with your friends, Rafe is so adamant to have you all to himself that you ditch Galentine's day cocktails to be with him.

Slowly but surely, the Cameron heir weasels his way back into your heart. 

Most of your friends aren’t thrilled with your decision, of course. Marissa in particular.

“Guys like him don’t change,” she tells you one night as he’s blowing up your phone with texts inquiring about your whereabouts. You fervently disagree. He’s just worried about you, you convince yourself. That's how much he cares.

Of course Rafe has changed. He’s earning your trust, one day at a time. He has his temper in check. He’s better now. He’s proven it several times.

Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

Besides, though you struggle to admit it, there’s something intoxicating about being Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend. A feeling so heady and electric. One you shamefully kind of missed.

You trust Rafe. Those are the words that keep playing in your mind as you wait for him downstairs. You fiddle with your solo cup, taking a tiny sip of your beer. Techno music blares from the speakers in Kelce’s living room. The girls next to you gossip about a crush on some guy you don’t know. You feign interest, giving a dull nod and a smile every now and then. Lavish, hedonistic Kook parties aren’t exactly your scene anymore. Rafe practically had to drag you here.

The initial plan was to meet with your friends tonight. But Rafe closed off when you told him that. He then pleaded with you to come. You caved in, because refusing him has been incredibly difficult since the accident. So you’ve stopped trying to argue with him. 

You go along with most of what he asks, even if it stirs your discomfort at times. 

You glance at the time on your phone. 

Rafe said he needed to go to the bathroom earlier. 

That was nearly thirty minutes ago. Your brows draw together. Taking a leak shouldn’t take that long in theory, right? Or are you this paranoid now?

Still, you can’t quell the dread tickling your insides. A sense of deja vu seeps through you.

Your feet carry you upstairs, guided by your urgent need to find Rafe. 

Kelce’s house is huge and you nearly get lost multiple times. Your cheeks flame as you stumble upon a couple in one of the guest rooms. You hastily apologize and slam the door shut, resuming your search. It takes you a long time of blind wandering through endless corridors before you find him. 

He’s indeed in a bathroom. At least that, he didn’t lie about…unlike the line of coke he’s snorting above the sink.

“Rafe?” you call, frozen on the doorstep. “What are you doing?”

A brief glimpse of panic flits across his face before he bursts out in laughter.

He makes his way to you and tilts your chin upward.

“It’s a party, I’m just having fun. You should try it sometime.”

You scowl at him. “That’s not the point. You promised...”

Rafe sniffs, wiping the remnants of white powder beneath his nose.

“Come on, just relax.” He crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of you on the door. It slams shut as Rafe presses his body against yours, his voice sinking to a lewd rasp. “Why don’t you and I get into the hot tub downstairs and…”

“No,” you assert. “You promised, Rafe. No more drugs.”

When he tries to cup your cheek, you shove his hand away. His jaw clenches.

“Why do you always have to be such a stuck up bitch?”

An astonished breath leaps off your throat.

“I’m sorry?”

Instead of apologizing, a broad grin stretches on his lips, “I’m just saying. Maybe you’re the one who needs to loosen up.”

You note the hollowness in Rafe’s eyes and the sweat glistening over his bare skin.

Tears rush to your eyes. You’ve learnt to recognize the signs. Empty promises, like always. Why did you expect things to be different this time?

You jump back from the door, slipping beneath Rafe’s arm. Wiping irate tears, you glare at him.

“This was a mistake. My friends were right. You’re never going to change.” 

You are such a fool. The depth of his deception didn’t hit you until you saw him bent over that sink. You caught him this time. Who knows how many times Rafe lied right to your face?

Once more, you allowed him to drag you into his spiral, offering no resistance and believing every sweet word and promise.

Closing your eyes, you suck in a deep breath. You think back to the last few weeks, to every time you surrendered an inch and Rafe took a mile. And you just let it happen. You land on a decision. This is the last time you let Rafe Cameron puppeteer his way back into your life.

You make a beeline for the exit. He impedes your path, towering over you as he stands before the door.

“Get out of my way, Rafe,” you hiss.

Rafe squints at you, taking slow, threatening steps towards you.

“Why? So you can leave me, again?” Something lurks in Rafe’s gaze, turning his blue eyes almost black. Chills crawl over your spine. You shrink, retreating as far as the restricted space in the bathroom allows. “No way, you’re not leaving me.”

You chew on your lip, a surge of adrenaline spiking through your veins. You try to run past him but he grabs your wrists and slams you harshly against the bathroom wall.

Your voice comes out a quivering sob.

“Rafe, don’t you dare…”

As you try to wrestle out of his hold, he bangs your head against the tiles. Sharp needles of pain pierce through your skull. You grow dizzy as your legs start shaking. Rafe uses the momentum to push you onto the floor. 

“Dare what, huh? Take what’s mine?” he snarls. His broad body drapes over yours. You taste the liquor on his tongue as he steals your lips in a rough, possessive kiss. A sick laugh leaves him when you bite his lip, drawing blood. A metallic taste fills your mouth. Through your hazy sight, you watch with horror as Rafe unbuttons his pants. 

He reaches under your dress, tearing your panties with one tug of his hand. Fear floods your veins. You writhe underneath him as he guides his length to your entrance.

“I think you’re forgetting, angel. You’re nothing without me.” His taunting whisper sears into your skin like a hot knife. “I made you, little Kook princess.”

Your mouth opens, a scream building in your throat. But it never makes its way past your lips, Rafe wrapping his hand around your neck as he impales you on his cock. Helpless whimpers roll off your tongue as he sets an unforgiving pace right away, ignoring each of your tearful pleas for him to stop. His scalding breaths ghost over your face. Beads of sweat drip from his skin to yours. Sobs shake your frame as you writhe beneath him, left with no other choice but to be the vessel for his anger and lust.

“I need you, just like you need me,” he mumbles hotly, trailing bites and kisses alongside your neck. The room dims around you with each painful stab of Rafe’s cock inside your bruised core.

The hand around your neck tightens, Rafe’s wrathful baritone edging on a roar.

“Don’t you ever try to leave me again. I won’t be able to take it, angel. In fact…” His lips skim over your earshell as he whispers, “I’d rather fucking kill you and myself before letting you walk out on me again.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #kook!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader

[stargirllanaa]

୨⎯ “I don’t smoke”- R.C

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, heavy drinking, violence, mentions of drugs, mentions past d/v, Rafe’s a narcissist, emotional abuse

Summary: based on ‘I don’t smoke’ by Mitski (you don’t have to listen to understand but I still recommend. You drink to much and everything goes so wrong.

A/n ✎: surpriseeee, I was taking a break but got randomly motivated lol, thank you for 300 followers!!! Ily all sm! My inbox is open btw, also pls reblog and comment if you enojoyed!! Also I recommend listening to the song while reading!! Tyy

Wc: 2.8k

18+ minors dni!!!

As you took a long drag of your cigarette, you thought about your night, how you ended up on the balcony of the Cameron house with a tear-stained face and a cigarette in hand.

You never smoked except for after you and your boyfriend got into it; nicotine’s supposed to relieve stress and calm the nerves, right? I mean, you weren't addicted, just a stress relief.

It made you laugh how almost every fight with your boyfriend was so stupid, usually a misunderstanding or him taking out his anger for something that had nothing to do with you.

You questioned why you always stayed with him; how could you be so in love with someone who mistreated you?

You laughed to yourself, taking another drag of your cig before inhaling, the warm breeze making contact with your slightly damp face, reminding you of why you were even out here; the sad realization brought fresh tears to your eyes, and before you knew it you were bawling again, sitting on the ground, knees brought to your chest, sobbing into your lap.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ Earlier that night୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

You and Rafe had ended up at a random party, some kook that Rafe knew from high school. Believe it or not, you enjoyed going to parties with Rafe. There was always an excuse to get as drunk and high as possible, and if you were faded enough, your thoughts would stop, and you finally felt at peace. It was honestly sad, but being in a relationship with Rafe, it was so hard to feel ok… to feel normal.

You guys had been at the party for about an hour, and you were already crossed, taking every drink offered to you in a heartbeat and even smoking with your boyfriend and his friends, but you could still feel, and you didn't like that, so you stumbled over to the drinks table, praying that there was at least enough left for a shot. Your vision was already spinning, and you were practically tripping over yourself, but you just wanted the pain in your heart to stop; that's it.

After what felt like a lifetime pushing through people and saying, ‘Excuse me,’ you finally made it. You reached for a bottle but didn't even read what it was; you were just desperate for anything. Your gut told you to stop drinking; you were nauseous, dizzy, felt heavy, and could barely walk straight, but your heart told you to keep going, so you did.

You poured yourself a shot, shaky, uncoordinated hands spilling a good amount on your fingers and the table. You drank the alcohol, tossing your head back as the bitter liquid made contact with your tongue before slightly burning the back of your throat. Your face scrunched up, looking around for a chaser but unable to find one.

As you stumbled around looking for your boyfriend, you bumped into at least five people, even causing one girl to spill her drink on herself; everything felt like it was going so fast yet so slow, and the world was spinning; you hated, but you loved this feeling, you were numb to your problems but also felt sick.

When you made eye contact with your boyfriend, he was sitting on the couch; you could barely make out the color of the sofa or who else was even on it; that's how fucked up you were.

You sat down next to him before even realizing what you were doing. You practically fell into him; before you knew it, you were lying on his shoulder and falling asleep.

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“Y/n!” you heard your boyfriend's voice echoing through your head before even opening your eyes; you kept them closed. You were still tired and wanted at least five more minutes of sleep.

“She's knocked out, man.” you heard another man who wasn't your boyfriend say, most likely one of his friends.

“Y/n!” Rafe shouted, now shaking you awake.

You were genuinely confused when you opened your eyes—three blurry figures standing before you. When your vision evened out, you saw Your boyfriend was staring at you with his fist clenched to the side, clearly angry, as his two friends stood beside him, but you were laying on Rafe, at least you thought you were, but when you lifted your head and looked to your side to see who you were laying on, it was some random guy.

You immediately jumped, scooting yourself away from the random blonde. You had never seen this man before, and when you layed next to him, you could have sworn he was your boyfriend.

You quickly stood up, still tired and still drunk. Your heart was beating rapidly, and the look on Rafe's face didn't help; he was arguing with the man you had been lying on; you heard the name ‘Evan’ slip from his mouth.

"What's your problem, man?" Evan questioned, his tone challenging; he kept his spot on the couch as you hid behind your boyfriend and his friends, still able to get a clear view of the altercation.

“I've seen the way you've looked at her before.” Your boyfriend drunkenly spat, referring to you; he talked with his hands aggressively. That was a bad sign, and it worried you; you just wanted to explain to him this was all an accident, a drunken mistake.

“Listen, man; Your girl was all over me.”

Evan replied, words laced with venom as he stood up from his spot on the couch.”Maybe control your bitch next time-”

Without another word, Rafe lunged forward, his fist connecting with Evan's jaw.

The force of the blow sent Evan stumbling backward, crashing into a nearby table, sending drinks flying in all directions, causing everybody around to stop and look.

Evan recovered quickly, launching himself at Rafe.

The two boys wrestled with each other; trading blows amidst the chaos of the party; a crowd formed around them as phones were being taken out to record.

You were horrified, wide eyes watching as Rafe pushed the other blonde to the floor before punching him repeatedly. You knew this was your fault, and you felt horrible. How could you have made such a big mistake?

Your tears spilled, and your hand covered your mouth as you watched Rafe's friend's topper and Kelce pull him away from the kook on the floor, finally separating them. Rafe looked so angry. He was breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, but when you looked at the bloody blonde on the floor, you gasped. You regretted even looking at him; blood covered his face as he rolled over slightly, coughing more blood up; you even heard someone mutter, “Call 911.”

When Rafe's friends finally let go of him, he didn't go back for more; he honestly seemed satisfied, and when he grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you away from the now-dead party and to his truck, clearly trying to avoid the police you were honestly shocked, You had never witnessed rafe hurt someone that bad, I mean he was going crazy, you couldn’t get the image of Evans blood covered face out of your head. And the more you thought about it, the more grateful you were that Rafe had never caused that much harm to you. I mean, sometimes he would slap, chock, or grab you, but he had just shown you how much he was genuinely holding back.

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You had finally arrived at Tanneyhill after what felt like hours of complete silence as Rafe dropped his friends off. He refused to talk to you, ignoring you as you tried to explain to him that it was an accident and that you were just really fucked up. You were still drunk, not as drunk as you were when you originally made the mistake, but drunk enough to keep trying to talk to Rafe.

The thing was that you would rather argue with Rafe than be ignored; you hated when he punished you with the silent treatment; it made you want to curl up into a ball and cry, and you also didn't know how long he would keep this going, sometimes it was days, sometimes it was hours, you would much rather him just hit you and get it over with.

“Why would you even bring me here if you're going to ignore me?” You questioned Rafe, voices pleading for a response as you found your place on his bed.

He didn't even look up at you; instead, he rolled his eyes as he focused on his phone, scrolling through whatever social media app he was on.

“Are you fucking serious?” You recklessly said as tears started to brim your eyes; his breathing halted for a moment at that. “I said it was an accident! What the fuck do you want me to do?” You choked out, throwing your hands up.

Rafe continued to ignore you, slightly laughing at something on his phone; he wanted you to feel as guilty as possible, and he knew making you sit in silence and think about what you did would be the best way to achieve that, so he had to be strong. He wanted so badly to respond and put you in your place, but he also knew you would prefer that to this.

“Rafe!” you shouted, wanting so desperately to be heard, but you got no response, not even a look in your direction.

“RAFE!” You repeated even louder this time, but still, he kept eye contact with his phone and ignored you; it made you so angry and sad, so many emotions you didn't want to feel. This was the fucking worst.

“I fucking can't.” You cried, tears blurring your vision as you left Rafe's room, slamming the door behind you as you made your way to the balcony. You grabbed your chest, trying to slow your fast and deep breathing, but you couldn't. Rafe was treating you like shit, and it was so frustrating.

The blonde didn't stop you from leaving his room; he knew your little routine and that you would return to his bed in at least ten minutes.

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The following day, you woke up to muffled yelling from outside Rafe's bedroom door; you didn't even remember falling asleep or returning to his room last night; your last memory was bawling on the balcony as the smell of your cigarette filled your nose.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, noticing the pounding sensation throughout your head. You drank way too much last night, you thought to yourself before being brought back to reality by the muffled voices behind the door. Their voices were tense, filled with bitterness, and you couldn't help but feel a twitch of worry knotting in your stomach.

You glanced around the room, searching for clues or signs of what might have sparked the disagreement, but it was nothing new for Rafe to get into it with literally anyone.

The morning light filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your familiar surroundings, but your attention remained fixed on the heated exchange just beyond the door. But before you could even form another thought, Rafe's bedroom door swung open and slammed closed behind him as he breathed in and out fast and placed his hands on his head.

You exited his bed, swinging your feet out from under his blankets before standing up and walking over to him. You just wanted to comfort him and try to make him feel better. Even though you and Rafe didn't necessarily get along all the time, he's still your boyfriend, and you didn't enjoy seeing someone you love so upset.

“Rafe.” you calmly mumbled, touching his back. “Calm down,” you said, rubbing it. You could tell he was still distraught by how he was breathing.

His breath was rapid, his jaw clenched, and his first balled to his side.

“Take some deep breaths.” you calmly mutter, still trying to calm him down, but you knew you had triggered something in him when you saw the way he turned to you, eyes narrowed and dark; you didn't understand why what you said upset him, but you knew that all his anger would now be directed towards you.

“Calm down?” Rafe repeated, tone harsh and aggressive. “Deep breaths?” he hissed, taking a step closer to you as you took one back.

“Do you hear yourself?” The kook tapped on his temples as he stared you down, jaw clenched as he leaned on his dresser.

“You sound just like Sarah.” he tisked as he crossed his arms.

You didn't know what to say, but at this point, you were on the other side of the room; you knew you were playing a dangerous game, even being in the same room as Rafe when he got like this.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Rafe? I-” You looked down before being cut off by the sound of glass hitting the floor after your boyfriend knocked over serval objects that were sitting on top of his dresser in one clean sweep.

You flinched, closing your eyes as the abrupt noise of objects breaking filled your ears. You were grateful he took his anger out on his random trinkets rather than you, but you couldn’t stop your breath from speeding up as you held your chest, trying to lower your anxiety.

“I want you to be fucking quiet for once.” Rafe fumed angrily, now stalking towards you. “I want you to stop getting shitfaced just to embarrass me.” he spat, referring to last night.

As he stalked towards you, you made a run for it, successfully reaching the other side of the room, but this pissed him off even more you could see the way his jaw clenched even from where you were standing.

“Yeah, because the whole world revolves around Rafe!” you sarcastically nodded with a fake smile. He was fucking delusional if he thought you would purposely get drunk just to fall asleep on another man and embarrass him.

He rolled his eyes in response, jaw ticking again.

“I'm at least happy you got your anger out on someone other than me last ni-” Your words were cut off by empty glass being thrown directly at your face; luckily, you dodged it, falling to the floor and covering your head immediately.

Thankfully, the glass was thick enough that it didn’t break. What the fuck. If that would have hit your face, Rafe could have fucking killed you. You didn't know how you went from trying to comfort your boyfriend to almost being killed by him so fast. He was so unpredictable it was scary, and since you were so lost in thought, you didn't realize he was now right in front of you.

“You know why I hurt you, don't you?” Rafe questioned, voice now calm… scarily calm as he kneeled in front of you, brushing a hand over your hair.

You didn't respond; you were shaking and now crying. You were too terrified to even look up at him, too scared of what was coming next.

“Look at me.” Rafe sneered before tightening his once soft grip on your hair and using it to pull your head back and make eye contact.

You groaned at the feeling, more tears falling from your face as the pain intensified every second. You regretted even trying to make him feel better in the first place. Fuck, you regretted even meeting him.

“You know why I hurt you, don't you?” Rafe questioned again. This time, his voice was harsher, and his eyes grew darker the longer you didn't respond, but you didn't care you weren't answering that stupid fucking question; Rafe had no excuse to hurt you no matter what you did, and you weren't about to validate his reasoning.

“This is exactly why.” Rafe scolded, grabbing more hair as his grip tightened further. You screamed out in pain, but he quickly covered your mouth with his other hand as he continued. “You’re disrespectful.” he critiqued as he spoke through his teeth.

You were sobbing into his hand, tears soaking his fingers as he looked down at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. Rafe wanted to hurt you; Your boyfriend wanted you to feel exactly how he did when he entered his room in the first place.

“You’re kinda pathetic, you know.” Rafe looked you up and down, grip still tight on your hair.

“You're already crying, and I barely even touched you yet.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #outer banks #outer banks fic #obx fic #dark!rafe x reader #dark!fic

[babywriter]

Janine liked to go to school diapered. It turned her on. It also took quite a bit of courage to do so as she was terrified anybody would find out her little secret. There had been a few close calls, but by now Janine had grown comfortable with her choice of underwear. She had also grown complacent and less worried about hiding it. So what if someone she didn’t know would see the waistband of a medical diaper? This was college and she was free. It did become more problematic when someone she did know ended up seeing it.

While Janine was picking her books up, she carelessly showed the tip of her padded underwear to Brenda. Brenda was not a friend. In High School, she had been a mean girl who had gleefully spread rumors about Janine. Of course, Brenda bursted out laughing when she saw the diaper.

“Oh my god. This is-WOW. You are such a baby, Janine.” A little too loud perhaps as people wondered what was going on. Janine looked troubled when she stood up.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh I think we need to talk.” said Brenda. She grabbed Janine’s hand and led her out of the class.

“What are you doing? Let me go.” Janine remained steadfastly calm as she didn’t want to provoke the other girl.

“I know what I saw.” said Brenda. “You didn’t need diapers before.”

“So what if I didn’t?”

“I’m just saying. It would be a shame if others found out…”

“Please don’t.” asked Janine. In hindsight, this was a terrible reaction as Brenda now held all the cards.

“Oh I shouldn’t, should I? Why not, huh? There’s nothing to be ashamed of by being a little miss pottypants. You know, what I’d love to do? Change your little diaper butt!”

“You won’t.”

“Yes, I will. I should probably check if you’re dry right now…”

“No, stop! Get away from me!”

“My, my. Baby has wet herself. We are definitely going to your place.”

Obviously, this wasn’t really optional, and Janine only begrudginly accepted so that Brenda would go away afterwards. Janine had an apartment to herself, which meant that she could openly indulge. A baby bottle in the kitchen, a few toys scattered here and there, a ridiculous amount of stuffies. Subtle signs that gave it away. Brenda looked at her victim with glee.

“Oh this is much better than my dorm. You must love it here. No mommy to tell you to clean up after yourself.”

The worst part was when Brenda went through Janine’s closet. Onesies, footie pyjamas, loads of diaper packs with adorable prints, little dresses and skirts.

“This is all so cute! I didn’t know you were such a cute little baby! We should tell everyone, don’t you think?”

“Brenda, please. You’ve done enough. Can’t you act like an adult and start minding your own business?”

“I need to start acting like an adult? I’m not the one pissing myself, baby. In fact, I think I should inform everyone.”

“NO!” Janine stomped her foot and laid down the law. This was not going to happen.

“No? YOU don’t get to say no, baby girl.” Brenda wrestled Janine’s pants away from her and put the girl on her lap, spanking her well-padded bottom until she started to cry. Pain was only a small part, there was also the humiliation and a surprising amount of excitement. This strange and contradictory mixture of emotions is what made her cry.

“If you act like a good little girl.” said Brenda. “You will be a very happy baby, but if you make mommy mad, you will NEVER live it down. Is that understood?”

Janine nodded while sobbing.

Brenda immediately moved in to become Janine’s around-the-clock caregiver. And just as quickly, Janine was forced into the 24/7 lifestyle she had fantasized about. Everything was done for her and an extreme set of rules was also put in place. Like wearing diapers and baby clothes at all times or only being able to “make cummies” if mommy deemed her diaper sufficiently dirty. And she had to beg for them while showing off how used her diaper was. The cummies were mommy’s business too. Only mommy could use the vibrator on Janine’s diaper. While Janine was forced into this lifestyle, she still went about her daily activities. Brenda had wanted them to go on. Thus, Janine went to school diapered and wearing a short girlish dress that barely covered the padding. In the front and in the back, there was a noticeable bulge, revealing that Janine perhaps wasn’t wearing normal underwear.

In the hallways, Janine was forced to hold Brenda’s hand. Not only that, she was constantly flushed from the looks she was getting. She did not relax until she was seated in the massive auditorium, where she could have some privacy by sitting in the back. Yet, when she felt she needed to go, she did not hesitate for one second as Mommy had trained her well. It is unfortunate that after the class, a friend of Janine came to see her. The diaper, well-used, now sagged just under the dress.

“Hi! How...are you?” said the friend.

“I-” Janine began.

“Baby, put your thumb in your mouth. She’s doing super well!” answered Brenda in her place.

The friend nodded and went away immediately after. Whatever this was, she wanted no part of it.

Naturally, Janine began to cry, thumb in her mouth. 

“Do you need your diaper changed?” asked Brenda, loud enough for any passerby to hear. The woman put her hand on Janine’s butt and squished it. “Yes, you do!”

Whispers of “what’s wrong with her” could be heard. For some reason, this broke Janine. It was all in the open so why resist?

“Mommy, I wanna go home.” she said. Teary, her whole thumb in her mouth, raising her dress with the other hand so everyone could see her diaper.

Janine’s reaction was marvelous as far as Brenda was concerned. Now, the girl was all hers.

“We can’t leave yet, baby. You haven’t done your cummies.”

“Please mommy, no…” Janine was absolutely desperate to avoid at least that.

“No, perhaps it’d be better in front of your parents…”

Under this thinly veiled threat, Janine began to rub the front of her diaper with great vigor. The first and only time she had been allowed to touch herself, even if through her underwear. The thick padding made it especially challenging. So did the crowd of onlookers. Perverts in their own rights for watching, and filming, Janine. Finally, she moaned loudly.

“I made cummies mommy!” she nearly screamed in a high pitch lisp.

“Good job, baby! I won’t bring you here again, I promise” Brenda said with a grin.

Indeed, Janine never went to college again. Instead, she was kept at home. Forced to use her diapers, she grew dependent on them. Forced to ask permission to make cummies, always while wearing a used diaper and often in public. Truly, a baby that was shown off at every opportunity. And all that humiliation just kept making Janine hornier.

#ab/dl caption #ab/dl girl #ab/dl community #ab/dl #ab/dl fiction #diaper captions #ab/dl stories #diaper stories #ab/dl babygirl

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {6}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The aftermath of Lando's outburst is a messy one with more consequences than they thought there would be. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst, vomit WC: 2.1k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5

Charles’ cheeks hurt from the smile that split his face and his chest heaved with elation as he screamed into his helmet. He had risked everything to overtake Checo in the last corner of the last lap and his team had been against the move, but he showed them why he was Ferrari’s golden boy. 

Pulling up into the space beside Max’s car, Charles leapt out of the cockpit and rushed over to his team searching for you and Lando. He had been told you were both back from the hospital but he couldn’t find you as he scanned the area. “Xavi! Where are they?” Charles asked over the noise. It was almost deafening how loud the cries of congratulations were.

“They’re fine, just go get weighed - the car is waiting,” he said with a nod to the Rolls-Royce that would take him, Max and Checo to the post-race interviews at the Bellagio. 

Max had already been weighed and dumped his helmet on his stand, replacing it for his water bottle. His face was redder than usual and he squeezed the bottle, gulping down the heavy electrolytes with a look that set Charles on edge. 

“Go,” Xavi urged when Charles failed to move. 

His excitement and happiness was still at the forefront of his mind but in the back of it he wondered what had happened. He assumed it was regarding Lando’s injuries, that seemed the most obvious thing, but since he had been released from the hospital it can’t have been too bad. 

“Stay calm,” Max said as they saddled up beside each other in the back of the car. 

That was not what Charles wanted to hear. “What the fuck is going on?” 

Checo looked out of the window and kept to himself as he waved to the crowd. 

Max was never one to cower from pressure and he held Charles' eyes as he broke the news GP had given him a few laps before the race ended. “Everyone knows that Y/N is pregnant, and that’s why she lost her seat.”

Shock, fear, anger. All of those passed across Charles' face before he looked away and swallowed. “Is she safe?”

“She’s in the McLaren garage, she’s safe.”

Charles’ heart slowly began to recover but the pulsing of its beat in his head still thumped. “How?” he choked, as he broke away from the bright lights of the city and faced the man he considered his brother-in-law. “How did they find out?”

Max winced, though he knew this was where the conversation would head before it even started. The car was pulling into the front of the hotel and he knew that he was running out of time. There was no way that any interviewer would be able to resist asking Charles about the news, despite his titillating overtake on the last turn. 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Max started and immediately Charles' stomach dropped. “Lando was on strong painkillers and didn’t know what he was doing.”

Charles was glad the car came to a stop and he didn’t wait for the valet to open the door before he was out. The air seemed too thin to fill his lungs as he worried about your safety, it was always his biggest concern. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder, snapping him back to the present and Max gave it a squeeze. “Come on, mate. It was an accident. Pull yourself together and let’s get back to them, okay?”

He nodded numbly, pushing back his emotions because like on the track they would do no good going to the interviews. He had been trained for this, for the press, and he would try his best to stay calm. Max could see Charles struggle, his knuckles turning white around the microphone that he clenched from the moment he was offered congratulations. Though he wasn’t comfortable, Charles’ smile was genuine when he said how excited he was to be a father and start a family. 

“Please respect our wishes for privacy over the winter break,” he handed the microphone back, ending the line of questioning for him and Checo graciously stepped in to take the attention. Charles felt like a caged animal as he stalked off from the balcony and found an assistant with an iPad. “Do you have the video?”

She didn’t need to ask what video he meant as she found the clip on every news agency’s website. Charles felt sick seeing Lando on the gurney, an IV in his hand and his eyes vacant. Pain pinched Lando’s forehead and his head lolled to the side drunkenly as he spoke to you, the words imperceptible before he spotted the camera. 

“I’m going to be a father!” Lando screamed joyfully before sinking back into the pillow. Your shock was clear and he didn’t need to hear your voice to know what you were saying when you shook your head. 

Charles sighed and handed the iPad back, raking a hand down his face. He was angry but it didn’t feel fair to be angry at Lando. Charles had crashed enough times to know how strong the painkillers were. Now more than ever he was happy there was only one race left, one more public outing before he could sequester you away for the winter. He needed this winter to hurry up so he could breathe easier in the remote regions of northern France. 

“You good?” Max asked as he clapped him on the shoulder after the water fountain finished its special something or rather. He couldn’t say he paid any attention to it, it was far from his mind when he stood before it.

“Fine,” Charles muttered quietly. “Can we go now?”

Back in the garage you watched the post race interviews and rubbed Lando’s shoulders. Jon had almost called for an ambulance when clarity returned to your boyfriend and he realised what he had done. Thankfully someone from the team had cleaned up the mess he made when he vomited from all the worry. Jon thought he had a concussion, but it was just guilt. 

“You’re going to make yourself sick again, babe. He’s not going to kill you.”

Lando looked up from the seat he slouched in, his bottom lip pressed out with the occasional quiver. “What if he hates me? Oh fuck, he’s going to break up with me, I know it.”

“No one is breaking up, ever,” you growled as you cradled his face and forced him to look at you. “I’m not letting this little one grow up without her fathers.”

“You’re angry too.”

“Yes, I’m angry, Lando, but I’m not going to break up with you because of it, neither will Charles. You were as high as a kite and the cameras shouldn’t have been anywhere near the medical centre.” 

A commotion in the crowds drew your attention away and you nodded your head to the stage that had been erected on the grid while the post race interviews took place. “They’re back,” you said as you stood up. “Come on.”

“My ribs hurt,” Lando complained as he refused to move from his seat, holding his hand up to show his hospital wristbands as proof. 

“Lando…” you could see he was being stubborn so you huffed and went with guilt tripping him instead. “Well I’m going to watch the podium…in that big crowd…where everyone is pushing and elbowing…while I’m carrying your child…”

“Fuck, fine,” he growled as he stood up, curling an arm around you protectively like you knew he would. “But we are staying with the mechanics.”

“This seems like overkill,” you muttered as extra security guards arrived to walk you and Lando four garages down to Ferrari. 

“I’m not taking any chances,” Lando said with another guilt ridden glance. “It’s my fault anyway.”

You took his hand and stepped into the protective forcefield that was over half a dozen black-suited guards. It wasn’t the first time having a security team, it was quite common with Red Bull and the hate they received, but it was different this time. The protection wasn’t for you and from the amount of people waiting outside the McLaren garage you were grateful for the extra arms. Like a well oiled machine the men fell into formation, creating an arrowhead that speared through the crowd, carving a path for you and Lando to follow. 

“Breathe before you pass out,” you warned Lando when you reached the archway that opened into Charles’ garage. He started to freeze but you tugged his hand and pulled him inside.

“I’m trying, but I think I’m going to be sick again.”

He did look a little pale as you spotted Xavi, who tapped Charles’ shoulder. Charles turned and you watched as the worry and fear faded from his green eyes, before worry returned. 

“Mon cher,” he murmured as he stepped closer. Lando clutched his stomach at the sound and folded in half, hurling the blueberry pancakes he had nibbled on all over the floor and Charles’ shoes. “Mon Dieu!”

The acrid smell of bile made your stomach turn but you were grateful you never had the morning sickness most women complained about. Still looking pale, Charles caught Lando as he swayed and you grabbed the closest chair to put him in. 

“He’s been making himself sick with worry,” you explained in a rush. “Just tell him you’re not going to dump him so he can stop imagining it.”

“What?” Charles’ eyes widened as he looked at Lando, his blue eyes watery and downcast at the mess he had made, again. “I’m not going to dump you, mon cher. How could you ever think that?”

“Because he is more dramatic than the two of us combined,” you offered with a smile that softened the words. “But we love him for it.”

Charles brushed away the tears on Lando’s cheeks and went to kiss him before thinking better of it. “We are a family, we will adapt - you already got more security I see.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Oh I am,” he admitted, Lando’s eyes snapping up at the lilt in his tone. Dipping his head to Lando’s ear, you chuckled as you saw a smirk grow as they whispered a promise. “And your ass is going to feel it for days.”

Round Twenty Three - Abu Dhabi 

The apartment in Monaco was quiet without Lando and Charles. From the penthouse the noise of the street barely carried to its height and the only sound came from the TV. Martin Brundle was making his way down the grid, trying to interview any personality he could name over the raucousness of the crowds and engines.

You longed to be with them, standing above the pitlane watching the chaos unfold. Unfortunately, because of Lando’s untimely announcement, the UAE had cancelled your visa. They could turn a blind eye to your unconventional relationship when it was behind closed doors but with the public knowledge of a baby, and both men taking fathership status, they could no longer accept it. The options were to stay at home or go and risk deportation, or even being arrested for adultery. 

Neither seemed like fun. 

You placed a hand on the small bump that continued to swell more each night. Lando said she was the size of a bell pepper this week. That seemed to create more questions for you than a fruit should, especially since the bell peppers you had seen were the same size as an avocado but the bump was certainly bigger. 

“Just you and me, jellybean,” you murmured as the grid began to empty so the formation lap could begin. “Guess I should get used to this.”

Doctor Turner had advised against flying anywhere once you reached 8 months, but that would be right after Australia. You would definitely miss the Grand Prixs in Japan and China before she was born and then Miami and Imola after. All going to plan, your jellybean would make her first public appearance at Charles homerace. 

As you had found out in Vegas, the best laid plans meant nothing in reality and only time would reveal what would eventuate. For now, you were going to focus on watching the last race of the season and get ready to enjoy a peaceful winter with your family.

You cosied into the couch, bundled in the pillows as if they were the two bodies you had missed for days, and turned the volume up as the formation lap ended.

Lights out and away we go.

Click here for the next chapter.

#lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic

[anzulvr]

What do you think Karma would be like with a calm/chill reader who's easygoing and effortlessly charming personality sometimes turns completely 180 when they feel strong emotions? Like they can go from sweetly comforting Nagisa to yelling oddly detailed threats at Terasaka while chasing him with a metal bottle for eating her food. (Maybe mix in some passive aggressive sarcastic sass when Korosensei's being annoying?)

Karma x Chill(..but actually really passive aggressive) reader 🤗🤗 Ty for the request!! (Sorry took long)

— You don’t argue often and you are also very good at listening to everyones perspective and ideas even if they’re different from you. People view you as very understanding so seeing you actually getting into a heated fight it’s surprising at first.

— Karma is so surprised when he sees you angry for the first time like he didn’t know you had it in you to say the things you did.

— He TRIES to get you pissed off just to see you react, since you know he’s kidding and dating him gives you a soft spot for him it’s basically just him failing to annoy you.

— This one time Karma scribbled over your paper to bother you and all you did was frown for a second and erase / re do anything he messed up. (He felt bad and helped you when he realized you weren’t going to fight 😭)

— then in a group project with Yoshida (also Isogai and Rinka) Yoshida scribbled a little bit on your notes (not nearly as much damage as Karma made) but it pissed you off so badly you grabbed a marker and started scribbling on his face

“I’ve been working on those notes for days you actual dumbass”

“Hey- I’m sorry!! I’ll rewrite them— get off me your using permanent marker it’ll be hard to take off!!”

“GOOD.”

— “Damn [name] that mad?” When you hear Karma mention how you reacted you stop so fast

“I wasn’t actually mad. We we’re just playing right Yoshida?”

Only out of fear he agrees “Right..”

— You’re tolerance for everything is way higher for Karma because you like him too much to get mad, that doesn’t mean you never get mad at him it just takes a little more to.

— Some of the things you respond with are shady in the way people expect Karma and it’s just so confusing cause it feels so out of character for you.

— but it’s definitely one of the things Karma likes the most about you because 1. It’s funny 2. Hes glad to see you stand up for yourself once in a while because he’s usually the one telling people off for you.

— passive aggressiveness would come whenever Korosensei or really E class is too pushy about certain topics.

For example before Karma confessed to you theyd push you to do it first and come up with crazy plans to make things happen.

— they full on locked you in a room together and instead of waiting it out you found a way to break the doorknob (together #romanceisreal)

Angry you and happy Karma is a mix end class fears because he’ll be constantly hyping it up😭

Like you’ll be be hitting Terasaka with a notebook because he said something stupid and Karma will go:

“[Name] wait— Use this one it’s way thicker!!”

(took inspo for ur original request lollol)

Karma will support anything you try and honestly rile you up more to see what you do

Angry you and Angry Karma is definitely the worst mix of all

hell on earth

! but it hardly happens since you usually reel each other in

Just tell him to chill tf out😭

Having strong emotions isn’t all bad, you’re empathetic, kind and care for everyone in class— even Terasaka no matter how much of a pain he can be.

mom friend-ish?? (Awe yeah Mom friend definitely)

They don’t actually mind it and are grateful for the times you stand up for them bc they know you love them

Especially Karma even though you’re prone to getting into arguments like all couples do it’ll work out fine because you both care to much about eachother.

If you’re the type to remind people you love them after arguing it’s another thing he loves about you, since he himself has trouble saying he’s wrong first it’s helped him swallow his pride and apologize faster.

(Literally so cute my fave relationship dynamic)

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane headcannons #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #assasination classroom #assassination classroom #assclass

[yourlocallyneysimp]

well... if no one wants it, I thought I would like it again, please don't get tired of me (TwT)

The reader and Lyney are lovers, but the childhood friend and bully of the reader who is jealous of Lyney starts beating the reader a little more than before?And no matter how hard the reader tries to hide her beating from Lyney, Lyney sees what's going on...

(I have very different fantasies, right🤭😔)

Bruises. ♡

Lyney x Reader

A/n: I won't ever get tired of you. ♡

Warnings: Abuse, injuries

Everyday.

Every day you would be wearing more clothing than the day before.

Lyney didn't mind at all. You could wear a chicken suit and he would still consider you beautiful.

But what worried him the most was when you would cover yourself up, even when it was well over 100 degrees outside.

"Are you sure you want to keep that on, m'lady? It's really warm out here you know.."

"Yes, I'm fine."

You clearly weren't. You were sweating and clearly out of breath, but Lyney didn't push the topic any further. He still made sure to find shade and hand you a cold water bottle though.

It has been going on for a while now.

Ever since you've became good friends with Lyney, your childhood friend clearly held distaste for him, but you at first ignored it.

He would talk bad about Lyney and spew random insults, explaining why Lyney was the worst. You would uncomfortably shift in your seat as you should listen to him talk.

You tried telling him to stop multiple times, but this caused him to roll his eyes and proceed to trashtalk your friend.

Now, your childhood bully.

He moved back to Fontaine, and ever since he did, your days have become worse and worse.

You didn't know him that well, all you knew was that he was good friends with your older brother.

As a child, you remembered that your bully and your brother would team up and 'play fight' with you.

It hurt, it really did. But they always just said that they were playing.

But now that your bully was back, it didn't seem like play fighting anymore. The hits were more aggressive and they hurt.

It is only when you get hit in the face that Lyney notices what's going on. That bruise on your face was not easy to hide.

"Y/n, who hit you?"

You tried playing it off like you accidently ran into a pole, but Lyney was not buying it. You knew that Lyney was serious since he called you by your name.

Usually, he calls you "m'lady" or "princess," but right now, it was different.

"It's nothing really. It was just a simple accident.."

Lyney only sighed as he swiftly took off your sweater, causing you to try and grab it back, but Lyney held it up.

"..Were these an accident then?

Lyney pointed towards your bruises. At that point, you couldn't help it anymore. All the lies and emotions you've been bottling up for so long finally came out.

You burst out crying as you explained everything to him. About the way your childhood friend talks about Lyney, the reason why you've been hiding your bruises and, most importantly, your childhood bully.

Lyney for the most part kept calm, but he was still upset.

Lyney gently hugged you, making sure not to put any pressure on your injuries.

Kissing your forehead as you sobbed into his shirt, his eyes furrowed.

"Stay here, I'll be right back."

Lyney smiled at you, but the smile was unsettling and made you worried.

"Don't worry, just wait right here."

Lyney picked up his hat and left you alone in the room.

As Lyney walked through the halls of the building, his smile faltered. He would make sure to conflict pain on those who did the same to you and will turn them into a sea of cards.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney angst

[insanermin]

Hey i just read your fanfic "and still i answer your call when she doesn't answer at all". and i loved it, i wonder if you could maybe make a part 2 if you have time, And if you want too. And ofcourse, you dont have to do it or rush it

hi! thank you sm <3 yes ofc i can, haven't written in a hot minute so;

and still i answer your call when she doesn't answer at all, part 2

pairing: ellie x fem!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, cheating, nsfw, curse words, soft?? ellie but highkey salty, not proofread yet again, lesbian sex <3, and also first time writing smut plsplspls have mercy on me, xoxo

word count: 3,9k

summary: you visit ellie again to thank her for comforting and taking care of you, but things take a different course when your 'girlfriend' texts you. or; ellie eats you out.

as warm tones start to set into the blue sky, february doesn't seem so cold anymore.

all your worries were washed away, all thanks to ellie. after you stormed to her place at the most vile hour, ellie took good care of you, the two of you watched your favourite movies until you fell asleep and she prepared you some breakfast before you had to leave for work. guilt resides in the pits of your gut, your gratefulness has never left the four walls of your mind, it is time you finally thank ellie for everything she has done for you these past few days.

you spent the whole day in bed, sulking away while thoughts of your girlfriend cross your mind. you reach for your phone, no message from her.

as you take steady steps to your closet you realise that there's no turning back now. you've made up your mind, it is over. but you needed good advice from a very good friend, surely ellie would have all the answers to your questions. flicking through all the clothes in your closet, memories of your girlfriend start to occupy your mind. the dress you wore on your first date, the hoodie she bought you on a rainy november day, the graphic tee you wore the first time she made you cry, and all the other clothes that witnessed you being miserable because of her. it had to end, now.

all dressed up now, you wash your face, washing the smudged mascara from yesterday's crying away. lately your emotions have been all over the place but you told yourself it is better to feel them rather than bottling everything up.

ready to leave, you text ellie a simple 'i'm gonna stop by your place' shortly regretting that you didn't text her earlier. but to your luck she replies almost immediately.

'sure, have you eaten?' the words circle your mind. you don't know whether you're impressed by the fact that she answered so quickly or that she potentially knew you haven't eaten a single thing yet.

'no' you reply, slipping your phone into your pocket while fishing out your keys that you mindlessly put in your pockets before locking the door.

you step outside and cold wind is blowing your way. the sky has already lost itself in complete darkness, but the clouds haven't shied away, surrounding the moons light.

ellie is just as nervous as the last time you were here, although now she had something to keep herself busy with: cooking.

keeping it simple, because she's too scared to mess up, but not too boring, ellie doesn't want you to think that she can't cook.

a dilemma she might never escape, because she knows you don't overthink any of your actions towards her. but should she really be thinking about this right now? ellie tries her best to feel somewhat content that you're coming over. however, knowing that she is one-sidedly overthinking her actions, caring for your needs and, well, liking you, she can't help but feel like burning this entire kitchen down instead of cooking a nice meal for the two of you.

"shit," ellie groans as she feels the blade digging into her fingertip. this for sure wasn't part of the cute scenarios she just made up nor was it part of her plan to burn this kitchen down. ellie rushes to find a plaster, a bandage, anything to put on her finger.

the door rings, ellie rushes to the door, heavy footsteps echo and bounce off the stairwell walls. the sound of you felt like a mixture of butterflies and sour lemons in her guts.

and there you stand, right in front of her. something in the fresh evening air must've altered your brain chemistry, because why do you feel her eyes linger? and why do you want them to? your emotional imbalance is surely to blame, you most definitely lack attentiveness and consideration. ellie lightly clearing her throat interrupts your almost driving you to insanity monologue, your eyes now drawn to her body.

has your friend's arms always looked this big? she's just wearing a plain white t-shirt, but you can't seem to stop yourself from tracing the strokes of her tattoo with your eyes. soft hello's were exchanged before ellie offered to take off your jacket. the outfit you picked out today and deemed too light for your own comfort suddenly became ridiculously warm.

"how have you been?" ellie asks, making her way to the kitchen as you awkwardly stand in the hallway trying to cool down.

"better? uh, do you mind if i change?" your voice breaks a little, you lightly chuckle to cover your discomfort.

ellie shakes her head, her whole attention directed towards the plates she's trying to decorate nicely with the food she has just made. truth is, she's trying her hardest not to think about you changing, about your bare, soft skin, about—

"oh my god," it emerges from ellie's bedroom, ripping ellie out of her mildly inappropriate thoughts. she was so sure that she cleaned her room well, even checked multiple times and every corner, what on earth did you find? she fiddles with her hands as she walks towards her bedroom, door slightly open. the auburn haired woman doesn't believe in god, but on this very day, she is making all kinds of prayers, hoping for the best. ellie opens the door and seeing you sit on her bed with your phone in your hand is surprisingly disappointing.

you watch her stand at the doorframe, her arms crossed, flexing her buff arms. you can't ignore her furrowed eyebrows, but when ellie notices the concern written all over your face she mouths a low 'what happened?'

you turn around your phone for ellie to read the text message your girlfriend just sent you.

'hey baby, can we talk? i'm really sorry' ellie reads in her head. she definitely prayed for all the wrong reasons, because this is exponentially worse than anything she feared just a minute ago.

"why are you showing me this?" she asks, her voice low. she's still standing in front of you, looking down on you. her gaze on you makes you feel things you haven't felt in a long time. but your girlfriend just texted you and is apologising for her actions, you need to focus. but something about the way her eyes are locking you in is making it a little harder to breathe.

you take a deep breath, you need oxygen to clear your head.

"well, i came here because i needed advice—" you carefully watch ellie approaching you slowly.

"—i wanted to end things with her but—" you thought you were attentive enough but you're taken aback by ellie's big hands resting on your thighs, her face dangerously close to yours. you steal a small glimpse at her tired eyes piercing you through before continuing. her being so close causes your breath to shorten, you're hoping your all that she can't see your chest lifting.

"—she apologised now, so we're good," you say. ellie's eyes widen in disbelief, slightly tilting her head.

"are you serious?" she scoffs, her eyes shut close before searching for answers in yours. you nod and watch ellie drop her head in disappointment, followed by several scoffs and sighs.

"no you're not," she says under her breath, disappointment slowly spiralling into exasperation. ellie can't tolerate this any longer. whether it is your dumb decisions or your inability to see your worth, she won't take this anymore. and it might be selfish to get angry at you for not seeing her more than just a friend, but she did decide on a whim while cooking that this is the day where she finally tells you. however the manner things are progressing for now seem to be reaching a dead end.

"i have to reply though," you mumble, but ellie's furrowed eyebrows insinuate you to feel insecure about your decision.

"you don't," ellie says, as an auburn hair strand looses itself from her split ponytail. her arm reaches for your phone, but you hold it up by reflex, you didn't expect her to grab for your phone. however, you forget that you're the one sitting and she'd just have to stand up straight to get your phone, so you rapidly throw your back onto the mattress, arms far away, she surely won't be able to get your phone now.

"fuck, you can't be—" ellie hesitates, and you smile triumphantly, until you feel something weighting you down. your eyes widen in realisation, did ellie just climb on top of you? your body's brush now and then against each other while she's trying to reach for your phone. you're about to turn to the side when you feel ellie's strong hands hold your wrist down, making it impossible for you to move. for a minute, you forget why you wanted to turn away as you loose yourself in her sage green eyes. and that's when realisation hits you, you're under her, at the mercy of her big, strong arms. ellie doesn't keep eye contact for long, her eyes are fixated on stealing your phone, your eyes are focused on her jaw line. you're being held down, her knees restricting your upper body from the sides, her chest alarmingly close to your face. your grip around your phone softens, your too distracted by her presence pressing and holding you down.

you hear ellie whisper a 'finally' before you're eye to eye again. ellie was too busy taking your phone away and only notices now how close the two of you are. your chests lightly brush against each other, ellie still pinning you down to the bed. her grip tightens around your wrist as she thinks about the way you're still so caught up with your girlfriend, but the fact that she has your full attention for once overrides all the anger she bottled up. you gulp down and break away from her gaze, looking to the side, where she's holding you down.

"what happened to your finger?" you finally break the silence, earning a low chuckle from ellie. she's breathing right onto your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

you watch ellie's lip move, form words, pressing against each other softly.

"you sure you wanna text your girlfriend?" the last words pull you out of the daze her lips put you in, she surely must've said something important. you need to focus. you have to ignore that your body is screaming to be held, to be touched.

the thought of ellie touching you has never crossed your mind until... now. this very thought makes you want to adjust your lower body, arching your back slightly.

ellie can't help but notice all the movement happening below her. she's never been this close to you. and knowing she has your undivided attention all to herself, she can't hold back any longer.

her chest bumps against yours as she slightly moves up, her hand reaching for your chin, holding it in between her thumb and bandaged index finger. you're forced to hold eye contact with her, her breath tickling your face. your chest doesn't even rise anymore, only falling lower and lower until the movement travels to your lower back.

it's hard to breathe and it's hard to think, you feel your eyes wander from her green eyes to her lips.

"do i have something on my lips?" ellie asks, while looking down on you.

"no?" you're confused, finally pulled out of trance. she tilts your head to the side, at which you sharply inhale.

"you're staring," ellie whispers into your neck, the sensation insinuates you to hold your breath. you see a smile creep up her face from the corner of your eye, your heartbeat must've dropped to your abdomen at this very sight. all your morals and values must have left you on this night, because you want nothing more than ellie. she always directs you to make the right decision, so you want to believe that she will stop you from pursuing your inappropriate thoughts. with your free hand you reach for the hem of ellie's t-shirt, holding onto it desperately.

"ellie," you say out of breath. something about the way you called for her name made her lose it all, the breathlessness, your voice, the feeling of your body under hers.

her narrowed eyes fill with desperation, hunger, and lust. the sight of you underneath her tingles on her fingertips, ready to roam your body.

ellie takes a deep breath, lifting your face by your chin. she observe your lips carefully as she traces the outlines with her thumb.

"can i?" ellie finally asks, her eyes nervously looking for a place to rest on. you look up to her through your lashes, your grip tightening on her t-shirt. she makes you feel so needed, so incredibly wanted. your mind tells you to put an end to this but the feeling growing in between your thighs can't be ignored any longer. you shut your eyes close, then take one more look at ellie.

her arms could hold you up without struggling, her hands look so sturdy, she could touch you just the way you need her to.

sharply inhaling, you nod, and a smile creeps up her face. and you still feel said smile as she presses her lips against yours.

you didn't know that such a gentle kiss left you eager for more, and you find your hands entangled in her hair, frantically holding onto ellie.

the way your hands speak for what's going on on your mind makes ellie's blood rush through her veins, the soft fabric of your top rubbing up against her arm drives her insane as your skin is exposed every now and then.

ellie's hands glide over your body as her lips devour you impatiently. the sensation of her fingertips linger and you can't keep up any longer. she wants more of you, sloppy kisses emphasise that her attention has shifted from your lips to your body.

you can't help but notice her t-shirt riding up every so often, abdomen exposed.

"fuck," ellie groans, your bottom lip tugged in between her teeth. her hands finally have found a place to rest, a little under your chest, cupping your breasts. her gentle eyes meet yours, pressing her lips to a thin line before speaking.

"can i take your shirt off?" ellie's voice is slightly raspy and it's just enough to worsen the pressure in between your thighs. you squeeze them tightly, earning raised eyebrows from ellie.

"only if you take yours off too," you shoot back, because you can't be doing the wrong thing one-sidedly. however, didn't you want to end things with your girlfriend? she was practically an ex by now, you would've told her soon enough.

ellie sits up, her inner thighs pressing against your waist.

"oh? then, take your bra off too," ellie says, as she trails kisses on your neck, hot, slow and wet. you slightly arch your neck while biting down a moan. this is getting too heated for your own comfort and you can see yourself making noises only a few instances away, this needs to stop.

but ellie keeps on sucking, biting and licking your neck, making it impossible to keep quiet. and to make matters worse, she pushes her thigh all the way up against your aching spot, resulting you to softly moan.

"shit, didn't know texting your girlfriend back included moaning for me," ellie spits, the bitter taste of her fury still hasn't left her tongue. you're taken aback by her words but the sensation on your neck is keeping you in a trance you can't break away from. ellie's had enough of waiting, so she switches position with you, making you sit on top of her lap. she lifts your t-shirt, every inch of exposed skin is followed by hungry kisses until the shirt is off of you. you don't necessarily like sitting on top, too many vulnerable spots to be explored. ellie's rough hands glide down the sides of your upper body until they comfortably rest above your hips. her fingers graze over your body making breathing impossible, you feel it all the way down your lower abdomen.

and as if her big sturdy hands roaming over your body wasn't enough, she reaches for your back, undoing your bra with one hand.

you watch her smirk cockily as the straps of your bra fall to the sides, exposing your shoulders, and more importantly your chest. ellie bites down her lip as she cups your breasts, giving them a good, firm squeeze before locking eyes with you.

"you're tits look so fucking perfect," she groans, letting the palm of her hand brush against your hard nipples while ellie feels your hips tilt to the back at the touch of your skin, back arched for a moment only. she then pinches them and teases you even more, so you try to stop her and you reach out for her hand. however, you mistakenly grab her tattooed forearm, grasping it firmly to push her away from you. ellie chuckles at your unfortunate attempt to break away from her.

"you want them inside of you?" she teases, while breathing hot air onto your nipples. your eyes widen in surprise, when have you implied that? you suddenly feel heat creep up your neck, panic written all over your face. in response, ellie points to the forearm you've been digging your nails into.

"oh," you say, rapidly drawing your hands in.

"no, it's fine," she says while putting your arms around her, lifting you slightly up to lay you on her bed. her fingers are hooked on your waistband while taking your pants off. you've never seen anyone look this hot taking pants off, loose hair strands covering her face, you can't tell her facial expression.

all you see is her muscular shoulders and arms flexing while she undresses you.

you realise that wearing grey underwear will be the death of you as you hear ellie laugh lowly. you sense her blowing hot air against your clit, oh god is she a tease, you think to yourself.

"so fucking wet and i haven't even touched you? would love to hear your girlfriend's opinion on this," ellie scoffs, while observing the hot mess you are.

"ellie, for fucks sake i'm—"

"you're what?" eyebrows raised, hands resting on your thighs. you take a deep breath. talking about this while you're about to do it is not just incredibly anticlimactic but also immensely nerve wrecking. her eyes are like a ticking bomb, the longer you keep her waiting the more the disappointment grows, her gentle eyes turning tired.

"i'm ending things with her," you finally say.

"you surely will after today," ellie responds, her fingertip firmly pressing on your clit, only fabric separating her from your skin.

you gasp and your stomach rises almost immediately at the pressure you feel, causing you to squeeze your thighs tightly together. however, ellie slips her rough hand in between them, mouthing an 'open' towards your direction which you deemed useless since ellie opened your legs forcibly on her own. she holds one of your thighs down while pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your throbbing, wet clit. she holds two fingers out, gliding them over you to moisturise them before sliding them inside of you. the sensation of her fingers inside of you causes you to arch your back, throw back your head and dig your nails into her scalp.

"easy, love," she whispers, her fingers curved inside of you. ellie starts off slow, with every thrust you exhale shortly, until they turn into soft moans. her unexpectedly breathing against your clit makes you go insane, you feel the sensation give you goosebumps all over you body.

your body leaves ellie mesmerised, the way you move at her touch worsens her need to keep you all to herself, to devour you. she never imagined you to be this gorgeous, this attractive. she wants more of you and desperately wants the taste of you on her tongue. and not a second later, ellie made up her mind, she adjusts herself and pulls your panties further to the side, having full view of you.

"gorgeous," she mutters before crashing onto your clit, letting her tongue slowly slide to the top before making her way back down again. you pull at her hair in reaction, your other hand gripping her bed sheets. ellie moves the tip of her tongue up and down before tugging your clit in between her lips softly, sucking it in.

your moans become shaky and her sucking becomes more intense. you feel your whole body tense up as she presses her parted lips lightly around you, her tongue slowly flicking your clit inside of her mouth. she then lets go of you, you hold your breath.

you're numbed by the sensation and can't tell what's going on, you either feel her fingers pump inside of you or her tongue absolutely devouring you. you can't keep up any longer and ellie doesn't even leave space for a moment to breathe or think, you only feel, and that deeply.

all you hear are the wet noises you make against ellie's tongue and her grunts that unexpectedly turn you on. nails digging into her hair, back arched to the ceiling and your mind so far gone that all your responses to ellie's teasing questions are mindless moans, you feel her push even harder inside of you, causing you to jolt. ellie grins onto your clit as she notices your throbbing take on a slow, rhythmic pace, your insides clasping around her fingers in said rhythm. your hips move in circles, you desperately want to come, you've never felt this good.

and ellie keeps her thrusts consistent, just as the movement of her tongue, only increasing the speed of it. the taste of you sends her to another dimension, she already knows that this will leave her hungry for more. and so your back shoots up, forcing your hip all the way down and clutching around ellie's fingers, a sharp, but loud moan escaping your mouth. content with her work, ellie plants a kiss on your clit, your body shuddering in response. she slowly removes her fingers, your body shivers once more.

you're still in a haze, but ellie hovering over you pulls you out of it, her glistening lips are mesmerising. you see her lose strands sticking to her forehead, a few pearls of sweat on her well built arms. ellie observes your eyes, the way you look so gorgeous in the dimmed light worries her that she might do more.

"good job," she whispers into your neck, goosebumps spreading across your skin. you mutter a 'thank you' which makes you realise you're thanking her for all the wrong reasons. she lays down beside you and holds her right arm out, suggesting you to rest your head on it. you scoot closer, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathes.

"thank you for... the past few days," you say quietly into her chest. ellie scoffs shortly, raises her right arm to the back of your head and pats you. only now you notice that she has taken her shirt off, you don't recall that happening but you surely don't mind the view. you then feel ellie reach out for something, your phone in her hand.

"now text your girlfriend back and make sure to let her know that i'm here."

a/n: hello sorry for taking so long to update, was busy with exams, i was on renee rapp's concert as well (she's so attractive oh god) and yes. enjoy my first attempt at smut :)

#ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem!reader #ellie x reader #ellie one shot #ellie smut #smut #ellie fanfic #ellie fic #ellie williams smut #lesbian #lesbian smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #soft ellie

[javarium]

written in fine print | r. sukuna

moving to japan to get a breath of fresh air was supposed to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. it still may be, but now you’ve got a problem and you don’t know what to do about it. the problem? ryomen sukuna, one of the wealthiest men on the planet, being… enamored with you. you’ve come fairly far with him as “friends” while keeping him at bay, but after you both spend christmas together, you know that things have changed. and come the first day of the new year comes a surprise that forces you to face your bottled-up truth.

[ Ryomen Sukuna Masterlist ] | part three

w — slowburn, age gap, modern au, older man/younger woman, fluff, mild? angst, this time we get reader’s pov bc it’s time ;3, insecure! reader, self-indulgence, A KISS (but just one for now sorry y’all), reader and sukuna lay their feelings on the table (I’m sorry I couldn’t help but finally get to this part), sukuna gets kinda prose-y lmao, slightly unsatisfied with this fic but I hope y’all enjoy anyway, sprinkle of bittersweet at the end

God, have mercy upon my soul.

The dozens of text messages from your cousin have you sitting on the edge of your bed in absolute disbelief. You haven’t even had any coffee yet, or any sort of something in your stomach. It’s sheer willpower keeping you from throwing up the stomach acid in your belly.

But you do need something. You make your way into the kitchen and nab the biscuits you made yesterday from the bag they were in. You shouldn’t, but you eat all four of them anyway. Then you drink something.

You were wondering why everything was going too good, why life had been so… easy as of late. Now you understood why. It was the calm before the storm. It was the universe allowing you to have some semblance of peace before it decided to throw you into the pit of mental and emotional turmoil that you’d been so great at avoiding.

Why in the world did the universe decide to put Ryomen Sukuna into your life?

That’s the question you have been asking yourself over and over again ever since you decided to take him up on the offer of a first date six months ago. Even worse, why did you even think it was a remotely good idea to get involved with someone over ten years older than you? Universe aside, you should’ve had the good judgement to keep Sukuna away. Your good intuition was something you’d always prided yourself on, so why did you decide to even let Sukuna keep coming around?

You go back to your room and get the phone, rereading over the messages. One in particular your eyes stay on:

A benefactor has paid for nana’s care and set her up in a really fancy, upscale care and rehabilitation facility here. They came and got her this morning to transfer her. When I asked about it, someone from registration said it was a gift for you. Who the fuck did you meet in Japan? 5:16 am

And you know, deep within your soul and in your gut that Sukuna was behind this. There’s no one you know that has the money to pull off something like taking your grandmother from where she was to a facility where she’s going to get more constant help, cleaned, proper rehabilitation. No one else but him.

The coffee maker suddenly beeps, beginning to brew a fresh pot of coffee. You almost jump out of your skin from it. You wait until it’s done before digging out one of the banana nut muffins Shoko brought over two nights ago to pre-celebrate the new year.

You truly don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure about everything. Coming to Japan to get a breath of fresh air from the strain your old life was supposed to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made. But now, all it’s become is a whirlwind of even more, even deeper emotional confusion.

Meeting Yuuji was great. Meeting his older brother? The entire source of the emotional confusion.

You lean against the counter and gaze outside. The snow has finally ceased and you’re sure dozers are out clearing the roads. You can’t help but fall into your thoughts.

For awhile, you’ve had… feelings. You’re not quite sure what they are, but you know that they revolve around the older, rich man you’ve befriended. You know that whenever he’s around, you feel more… open, lighter even. You know he makes you feel flustered, to which you’ve learned to seal said fluster inside of a bottle and remain indifferent in his presence. Every time he looks at you or speaks to you, it makes you feel… giddy. Happy, dare you say it.

And it’s something you swallow down and hide every time it bubbles to the surface, fearing that it’ll be nothing more than the same story as your mother: a heart broken by the letdown of not ever being enough, not being what the man actually wanted, and not being genuinely cared for.

The mug of coffee in your hands grows hot, almost scalding against the skin of your palms. It brings you out of your own mind, just in time to hear your phone vibrate with more text messages, all still from your cousin.

Because apparently fate dropped a man in your lap that was more than ready to give you anything and everything you’ve ever wanted: unconditional love on a gold platter; fate decided that you finally deserve a break from strife and grief, that you deserved to stop eating humble pie, because lord knows you’ve done choked and damn near suffocated on that shit; that you deserved to be cherished and loved and made to be someone’s number one in their life.

You know. You fucking know what Sukuna does to you, how he makes you feel inside. You also know how he wants to treat you and the things he wants to do to you. And perhaps with you, if your gut instinct is right and he wants more than a body to warm his bed.

Who are you kidding? You know you’re right.

But it’s unfortunate for you that all you’ve learned to do is bottle up your feelings and act like they don’t exist. Because you’ve never been loved, not romantically anyway. Especially not like this, from someone like this.

How were you supposed to love? What did it really mean to be in a relationship? You’ve never been in one. Not one that ever really was going to go as far as this. Was what you were feeling all temporary? And if you did get into a relationship, what if he didn’t like you when you got comfortable? What if he didn’t like it when you laughed too hard, or any of the habits you have? What if he was just wanting to play savior and ended up leaving you a few months from now?

You toss your head back and groan. Why? Why was this happening to you?

You opt to spend the day inside, rather than go out like you had planned. You have to text Shoko and Utahime, letting them know that you’re not going to be able to participate in their plans of going out and visiting shrines for the new year. The latter is reasonably mad, but Shoko calms her down in the group chat. Although she does make an innuendo about spending the day with someone else “cozied up in bed” rather than them. You send her a side eye emoji in return on her personal thread.

You change out of your pajamas and into some casual clothes — a dark red long sleeve and some black sweatpants, switching to house socks to regular socks — despite not intending to go out for the day. You do end up on the couch for most of the day, switching your attention from the TV and the messages on your phone more than you care to admit. You hardly eat, and don’t realize it until you can feel your stomach against your spine each time.

All day is basically wasted in front of the television, trapped in your own mind. Trapped in the whirlwind that Sukuna has made of your heart and emotions.

You graze through your entire stock of sweets in less than a day, uncaring if it was unhealthy. Dusk settles on the horizon before you know it and you’re anything but tired. In fact, you’re wide awake.

“What do I do…?” you ask into the open air. You feel stupid doing it, but apparently fate has a response for you.

It’s 9:18 at night when several strong knocks rap at your door.

It’s 9:20 when you decide to finally answer the door.

It’s 9:24 when you realize you’ve got a guest at the front door, the very same man who’s been making you question yourself and your whole life ever since coming to this country.

It’s 9:30 when you question to yourself why you let him in. You didn’t think it through, that much you’re sure of. How could you be when he’s thrown your heart all topsy-turvy and mushed it into goo?

Just looking at him from his back floods your mind and makes your heart race, something you hope you’re able to hide by what you hope is a face of indifference and calmness. You can see the tattoos peek out from his turtleneck, and you have to gulp down your nervousness.

The large mug of fruity tea you’ve poured has now chilled, the ice just barely clinking in the glass. You quickly open the cookie jar on the counter and shove two snickerdoodles in your mouth to stress-eat being prepared for what was coming next.

“I…” you begin, and embarrassingly realize you have to swallow the cookies to talk. “I wasn’t expecting you to… show up.”

Sukuna’s silent for a moment, then replies stoically, “Neither was I.”

You gaze at him longer than you intend to. Your attention is mostly on his tattoos, the little bits that are peeking out from the deep crimson of his form-fitting turtleneck. You watch him readjust the watch on his wrist, partially revealing the tattoo inked onto his wrist. To your surprise, Sukuna actually doesn’t like showing off his tats. He used to in his younger years; he’s still proud of them, but he isn’t as much into flaunting them to the world nowadays.

Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through the air. “Have you… gotten my gift?”

You bite your lower lip. You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yeah… If you mean the one involving my grandmother, then yes.”

“I do apologize if I crossed any lines doing such a thing,” he says. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I can imagine you don’t,” you reply, knowing full-well that him regretting anything was a very rare occurrence. “But… Why? Why would you do that? Go through such trouble to help me… and my family? Just… Why?”

His ginormous frame turns to face you to look into your eyes and answer with nothing short of honesty, “Because I want you to be cared for. I’ve seen happiness in your eyes and I want to keep you happy. I want to be the one making you happy.”

“Buying my love will only get you so far,” you say.

“I know. I want to do more for you. I want… to be more for you. Not just… this. Whatever we have going on,” Sukuna admits casually, crossing his burly arms over his chest. But he doesn’t make eye contact. In fact, he keeps his eyes to the floor, away from your gaze. “I know what I want, although I’m not quite sure how to describe everything I feel… when I’m with you and when I think about you. It’s… I know what it is, I’m pretty sure, but at the same time… I don’t.”

“It’s new for you,” you mumble. Surprisingly, he actually hears you and nods. He doesn’t lie. Not with you.

“I’ve been with many women over the years, all for the same reason. I’ve never felt like falling in love or that it would ever matter. I know lust, I know what comes with that. With you, it’s anything but. At first, yes. But your immediate rejection, you continuing to keep your distance from me and your distaste known made me stop and think.”

You raise your brows. “All it took was a girl with some strong boundaries to make you realize you can’t live off being just horny for then rest of your life?”

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. A bright smile crosses his handsome face as his shoulders shake with laughter. He tries to cover it up with a hand, but all it does it muffle it into loud chuckles. It takes a good couple minutes before his chuckles finally fall into a simple smile of amusement. That’s when you admit your own truths. If you were going to be hurt, you might as well get it over with.

“In a way,” Sukuna admits. And then he admits even more, opening his heart and putting it on his sleeve. “You’ve reminded me that there is more to life, that I can be genuinely happy beyond office walls and red light districts. You have made me remember what feeling excited, what being on my toes feels like. You make the air lighter… happier, every time I see you. You… I care for you.”

Sukuna’s last words of admission are watered-down and you both know it. Then again, he says he is new to these kinds of feelings. And at this point, you believe him. You wonder if he knows that you’re just like him — exactly the same: that you’re new to the feelings of love, what it means to be in love. It’s confusing, really. You’re not sure where to begin when it comes to saying the things that Sukuna has seemingly had no problem admitting to you. You can’t just say, “Ditto” and make out with him.

Well, you could, but that’s beside the point.

You swallow the frog in your throat and look at him. He isn’t looking at you but at the ground, almost like he’s unsure of himself.

“You’ve made yourself a cozy place inside me, too,” you speak softly. Your hands don’t leave the mug as you set it on the counter. “We’ve only known each other for barely half a year, you know? You make me wonder if what I’m feeling is love, most of the time. I enjoy you; I enjoy your company. I enjoy the thrill you bring into my life. I… enjoy how weightless you make the world feel. I… I like the thought of being… prioritized. I’m just… confused on whether or not these feelings are rooted in love or something else entirely.”

“And I apologize for making you feel that way,” he replies. “That isn’t my intention.”

You’re quick to your words before he can continue. “Don’t apologize. Please. It’s not your fault. I… I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what love is or what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve never been loved, and I’m not quite sure how to reciprocate it. I’m afraid I’ll fuck up. Say the wrong thing, not do something right.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow. “There is no right or wrong way to be in a relationship — just yourself.”

“I’ve heard that, just as much as I’ve heard otherwise.”

Silence fills your apartment. You tap your nails against the glass mug, little tinks! resounding. You can’t look at Sukuna now. Not after just admitting to having never been in a romantic relationship. Now, you must seem more of your age than you ever have in his eyes.

“Any insecurity you have is not invalid. I would never disrespect them,” Sukuna finally says, sheer conviction making you shiver.

The giant man stands to take his place not even a foot from you. Magnetism draws you to his face and you cannot look away. His hand comes up and brushes his large fingers across your cheek.

And like an open book, he reads you from the front cover to the very last word, reading off your exterior cover and the interior pages you’ve hidden away. “You’ve carved yourself from early maturity, into someone that your loved ones have needed you to be. You’ve never been able to truly be yourself, be free. You’ve always had to be the rock that everyone has needed, when no one has been for you. You desire to be loved, but not at the expense of heartbreak nor sacrificing the person you’ve molded yourself into for the people you love. You desire to be free above all else, not wanting to be loved unless there’s someone who can love you and give you your freedom at the same time.”

You gape, eyes almost as wide as saucers with your eyelids lined with burning tears. You dip your head and sniffle.

“I want that. I want that for you. I want to be the one to give that to you,” Sukuna continues. “The time we spent together not even a week ago, I want more of that. I no longer want to live the way I’ve been living. I want to live with you, do those kinds of things with you. That sounds corny as fuck coming from me of all people, but that’s the truth.”

You can’t help but laugh. His tone of exasperation at himself was just too funny not to.

“And what happens when you give me those things? Will you be done with me? Move on to the next person?” you ask. “Once you’ve played the part of the savior, won’t those feelings end?”

“I’ll never be done with you,” he answers instantaneously, like it was nothing short of law. “You’ve captivated me, all of me. I’ve already tried pulling myself away a multitude of times. But then one little word of anything about you and you’re all I think about for the rest of the day.”

You sniffle again and laugh. “Did you practice this? You sound like a poet.”

“I can be one if you’d like.” You giggle at that. It’s silly, but you feel like Sukuna would oblige you if you said yes. “But I mean it, every word.”

You nod and whisper, “I know you do.” Because it’s the truth. He’ll never not mean anything he says. Brutal honesty is apart of Sukuna.

The emptiness of your apartment is deafening, it’s silence almost palpable to the point where you feel like you might being to suffocate. But large, firm hands cup your cheeks and bring oxygen into your lungs again.

His hands are warm, so warm. The feeling of being touched like this, so intimately, makes all the blood flow to your cheeks to the point where you think you’ll overheat.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, tone quiet, voice deep and baritone that makes shivers roll up your spine. “At least once?”

You can’t help but bite into your lower lip. The suffocating feeling has returned, just for a different reason. But your instinct goes first — action taking the initiative over the brain — and you nod once more, mumbling out a small “yes” that you chastise yourself for being so meek.

Sukuna’s free arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you to your tippy-toes. You’re running on instinct, one hand resting on his chest, the other circling behind his neck, eyelids slowly closing as he dives in for the kiss you’ve allowed. And when his hand cradles the back of your head, his lips meet yours, and you swear to everything from heaven to hell that you’re about to explode and die in this man’s arms.

Everything feels like it’s on fire… until it doesn’t. That fire slowly simmers down to a gentle flame, one that brings a sense of contentment.

Sukuna tilts his head, moving your lips and deepening the kiss. You allow it, and it feels like the kiss has sunk to a new depth of desire. Dare you even think or say it be devotion. His lips are warm and sweet on yours; his kiss isn’t one of urgency, but perhaps the desperation of longing. It’s not slow and controlling, not greedy. Whatever this kiss is and all the emotions contained within, you know it makes you at peace and content.

Everything feels perfect.

You both part for air, lips slow to disconnect. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed being so out of breath, but hearing the slight heaviness of breath coming from the large man makes you feel less awkward.

“Thought you said you hadn’t been in a relationship before?”

Your reply is breathless, “Never have.”

“Then you must be a naturally good kisser.”

That makes you laugh. You press your head to his chest and giggle away, to which you hear what you think is a chuckle from his throat.

It’s 11:20 at night by the time you look at the clock again. It’s too late for Sukuna to go home. That’s the excuse you use anyway. He’s seemingly more than happy to use the excuse right along with you to spend a night with you.

Come morning, however, things shift back to the way they were before: confusing and lonely. The couch was just as empty as the apartment. Under you was not Sukuna’s body, but a stack of pillows from your bedroom.

The note on the counter about being called in for an important meeting doesn’t do his absence justice either, instead sending every one of your walls back up, twice as high and just as thick as they were before.

Your phone dings with new messages. Utahime and Shoko, both of which declare they’re coming over to drag your ass out of your apartment to go shopping like you should’ve yesterday.

You text them back, telling them you’ll meet them at the mall, that you’re going to get ready and this time you aren’t going to miss out.

You don’t know what to do or what to think. You don’t know if one night of vulnerability means anything more than just being open with another human being. All you know is that you need a break, from yourself, your confusion, from life, and especially from Sukuna.

You need the clarity of a shopping trip and good friends for company, because your hopes for what’s coming next are getting far too high and you’re beginning to really fall in love with Sukuna Ryomen.

taglist: (no longer adding)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @yuujispinkhair | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #modern! sukuna #modern! au #jjk sukuna #sukuna fluff

[overandundertarot]

pick a tattoo; message for you

pile 1; Queen of hearts, The Hermit reversed, Ace of swords.

Pile 1 I feel you are taking time to cultivate a specific state of mind. Stillness, being present while at the same time appreciating such intense aspects of human emotions and meeting them with kindness and love. Right now, you are considering pursuing a solo journey, it's not something everyone will understand or that you can even explain. This can be physical or mental; you want to incorporate a potent source of creativity and connection to source in your daily experience. Keep at it, you're still wondering how to go about it. It feels like a half formed idea in your conciousness but let it marinate. You will arrive at a conclusion soon. For some there is something to do with cutting it off with/reaching out to another person. I heard making the best decision for both of you; do what you know and feel is right.

pile 2; 10 of cups, Ace of cups, Ace of swords.

Wow Pile 2! Romance is in the air! You have a romantic prospect right now(or several!) and are trying to be discerning. If not one is coming towards you very soon. You want to protect your heart, but are a secret hopeless romantic! You want in your deepest of hearts to get lost in the feeling and go crazy with love; experiencing the joys and exhileration of being with another person. You hope your partner can be an escape from reality for you, if not a soothing balm to the exhausting end of your day. You want a partner, a family and domestic bliss. Message for you is to give them a chance; let them show you how good it can be. Say yes to that movie or that trip! It seems too good to be true, but it's all you deserve. Enjoy it. So much happiness in in store for you pile 2! Ahhhh I wanna hug you, my heart is feeling full with it.

pile 3; Queen of pentacles, 9 of wands, King of wands.

Pile 3, how're you feeling? It's important to check in with yourself every now and then. You're working hard on a journey but you need to give yourself appropriate time to rest. I'm hearing that you romanticise the suffering. Not to a toxic degree but to make it all the more bearable. You likely already know your message. Keep going. You're doing wonderfully. This pile reminds me of Victoria Monet's words at the recent grammy awards. To paraphrase she explained that her receiving that award last night was a process years in the making; she was growing roots, laying ground. And she's finally begining to sprout. It's the same for you. You are patient with yourself, tending to to your work that you know will put you at the top one day. You have this regal air about you, keep your head held high. Some of you are facing a decision, I'm hearing to go with the shocking option lol.

pile 4; 6 of wands reversed, Queen of cups reversed, Ace of swords.

Things are very much upside down for you pile 4. There's been a thwarted victory(or a hollow one at the very least). It left you feeling empty. I get the feeling like you're crying out to the universe for help but it seems like no one is listening. You're keeping all these things bottled up; refusing to open up. There are people in your life who want to reach out to you but you are not trusting them, very guarded though i feel like its not obvious. Many people may not even know that you are struggling; they think everything is going great for you. The message for you is basically what you just read; you didn't know how to pinpoint what you were feeling. Reframe the situation; are you satisfied with those conditions? That's a no, open up to the people around you, or find a channel to process these emotions. Let yourself bloom again. There's also a big theme of turning your pain into profit. Perhaps use your experience to create art or to find a new persepctive in your work. There are solutions available to you. Use them.

#overandundertarot #pac #tarot #divination #pick a card #intuitive reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot pick a card #tarotblr #pick a card tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a photo #pick one

[lisired]

keep on

pairing: johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, non-idol au, fwb!johnny, alcohol consumption, mentions of addiction/alcoholicism, daddy issues, mommy issues, unprotexted sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy!)

summary: All things love and commitment are feared upon by you. You keep a tight crew and let few people in, cynical of other’s intentions and leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake. If you break other people’s hearts first, they can’t break yours. And yet, it was all too easy falling for Johnny, digging yourself into a depthless hole of love. But he is no exception to your heartache games.

word count: 13.6k

a/n: this was a pretty quick write. inspired by keep on by kehlani, garden (say it like dat) by sza and off the table by ariana grande featuring the weeknd. have fun reading <3 feedback is appreciated!

Through the blurry lenses of your eyes, love was a synonym for heartbreak.

It happened everyday. People gave people their all and in return, they received nothing but brutal agony. You had seen it happen and experienced the heartache firsthand.

Like when your father left your mother. And thus, the baby they had brought into this world together. It stung like nothing else to watch what became of your mother, drowning her sorrows in liquor. She was never the same.

Perhaps she had passed her bad habits down to you. The apple never falls far from the tree, they say.

Irene’s house was your deemed safe haven for the night. It was Friday and you were having a girl’s night out, but given the gruesome work week everyone had, no one wanted to truly go out.

You strutted inside and collapsed against her island, dropping your purse on the surface. “Get me drunk,” you sighed, tired beyond imagination. Not to mention the text message creeping in your mind.

Yeri giggled and slid you a glass. She had already been drinking, you could tell. She got all bubbly when tipsy. She reached for a bottle, and said, “Irene’s getting the good shit. She’ll be right back.”

They got the bottles and poured the glasses. When they were empty, you didn’t hesitate to fill them up again. There was no doubt that the next morning would bring you a terrible hangover, though you wanted to drink like there was no tomorrow.

You wanted to forget everything. Forget men. Forget the way that they all hurt you. Fuck that, you didn’t even want to remember what hurt was or meant.

They were nothing but trouble.

As the hours ticked by, less and less of your sullenness was masked by your inebriety. It became evident that there was something plaguing your mind. You sat slumped on the couch, bitter.

Irene sat beside you when the coast was clear. The girls had either passed out or gone back home if they were sober enough. But you were seated on her sofa, reeking of depression.

“We can always talk about it, you know,” Irene said softly. She grabbed your hand and let you rest your head on her lap. “It might make you feel better to open up.”

You shook your head and quipped dryly, “And ruin your perfect girl’s night? I thought the point was to de-stress.”

Irene gave you a faint smile and patted your head gently. She was one of the few people who knew the extent of trauma you dealt with. Your every secret was kept under lock and key but she protected them with her whole heart. Irene cared for you, that was undeniable. All things considered, she was like a mother to you. But you depended on no one but yourself and you hated seeming weak. Even if you were.

Besides, there was a time and a place, and this was neither. Ranting about your daddy issues wasn’t the point of tonight. It was to clear your head. Nothing good came out of recalling the irreversible damage your father had inflicted upon your broken family.

I’m sorry. Let me make things right, the text you received read. It made you feel a fusion of emotion - anger, sadness, confusion, disgust. What he did, upping and leaving, was unforgivable. It was a sin.

He broke your family. There was nothing he could do or say to make things right, to mend the shattered pieces. If he wanted to leave then he should have stayed gone. He had no right to try to come and intrude years later. He didn’t get to pick and choose when he could be in your life.

Irene was firm when she told you, “I’m here for you whenever you need me. I know you like to think that you don’t need anyone, that opening up makes you vulnerable, but being vulnerable is okay. I’m not going to attack you for being human and having the feelings you push away.”

Right in the heart - that was where her words always hit you. Irene had a habit of always being right, even if the truth hurt. Even if you desperately wanted her to be wrong. And yet, she never was.

But your lips were sealed. It was too much. Irene could try and soothe you, but even she couldn’t always break you. She sighed, but had another solution.

Irene lifted your head off of her lap and stood, rummaging for her keys. You stared at her with confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to Johnny’s. No buts. If there’s anyone that can get you to open up, it’s him, and the very last thing that you need to be in this state is alone.”

Your eyes flickered with shock. It wouldn’t be the first time that a drunk you had been dropped off at his doorstep - and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last - but you always woke up penitent the next day.

Johnny didn’t deserve that. He deserved better than you.

“But…”

“Ah, ah, ah - I said no ‘but’s,” Irene wielded her dismissive weapon of a finger. Her motherly instincts were kicking in and it meant that her decision was final. “Let’s go.”

With no other option, you followed Irene to her car with a slight stumble in your walk. Given they lived in the same neighborhood, you were at Johnny’s place in a blink. For some reason, you felt nervous. That was how you always felt around Johnny, even if you knew deep down that you had nothing to worry about.

He keeps on taking me in, you thought somberly. He’s nice to me. Even when I don’t deserve it. And I don’t know why.

If you were sober, you might have felt more guilty. Scratch that, you would have felt like nothing short of a villain. And maybe you were. Maybe you were the bad guy, the wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing.

But that was because you couldn’t help but think everyone else was out to get you. Whatever much excuse you could bring yourself to give.

Irene walked you up to Johnny’s doorstep and rang the doorbell. It was late at night and Johnny liked his rest, but he was wide awake when he came to answer the door. And his entire expression changed when his eyes fell on you.

Johnny had seen you too many times too many in this state and just enough to know when you had spent the past few hours maintaining your friendship with alcohol. It was much more effort than you were putting into yours.

Irene squeaked in her soft voice, “Hi.”

He looked stone cold. It made your stomach twist, just a little. Although you knew Johnny was the warmest person there was. He stifled a sigh and said, “Come on, y/n.”

You shuffled right past him and through the doorway. By now it was routine, yet Johnny thought he would never get used to seeing you this way. He tried to help you, tried to get you to break out of your bad habits. And you were genuinely improving. For you to relapse out of the blue meant that you had been triggered.

When the coast was clear, Johnny shot Irene a glare, and snapped, “Why would you let this happen?”

Irene kept a straight face and took his harsh words in stride. If Johnny lashed out at her, she understood. It wasn’t easy dealing with you, loving you, and she could only imagine what it was like to be in love with you. “I know you’re stressed, but don’t antagonize me for her actions, Johnny. I can’t control what she does.”

“No, but you can enable her. And that’s exactly what you do,” Johnny barked.

“She’s one of my closest friends!” Irene shouted, tears brimming in her eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt her. All I want to do is help her. I’ve been trying. Trust me. I’ve been trying so hard, Johnny. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.”

Irene never cried. Much less in front of men. She was too busy being strong for everyone else to let herself be weak. She deserved to lash out, too. Being the calm friend, the responsible one, was hard. And she felt like she only got closer and closer to losing you everyday.

Johnny simmered down once he realized that she was right. All of this was unwarranted. He knew that doing this for you over and over again was only hurting the both of you, and everyone you loved, but he loved you too goddamn much to let you go.

It was frustrating. It made him angry - loving you. Being in love with you. Hearing his heart call out your name. And watching you use him just to dispose of him when you were done like he was some replaceable toy. What made him even more upset was that you were showing progress, and he thought that maybe something good could finally come out of it. Now he had to watch it all go down the drain.

Johnny rubbed his temple and sighed out, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Irene took a deep breath and exhaled. Johnny knew it wasn’t like her to lose her sense like that, but as long as you were hurting, so was she. “Just take care of her. Please. That’s all I ask.”

Johnny gave a nod of head and turned around. He was about to go inside and check up on you when he heard Irene call his name again.

“Please be patient with her. She’s trying.”

She loves you. Irene didn’t say it, but it was clear as day. Written all over her face, swimming in her dark eyes.

He nodded again, more reluctant this time, then pushed his door open and came inside the house. Glancing around, he didn’t spot you nearby. He called out your name, and when you responded, the sound of your voice led him upstairs to his bedroom.

You were now wearing one of his t-shirts, but it looked more like it was wearing you. Things had been like that since you were in high school. He towered over you with the skies above and yet he was filled of nothing but adoration. The memories of you wearing his clothes almost made him break into a smile. Almost.

Instead, Johnny sat down beside you and said, “Are you gonna tell me what happened now or in the morning?”

You frowned. People always wanted to talk, as if talking would make all your problems magically disappear. All you wanted to do was forget that they existed for as long as you could.

Without saying a word, you unlocked your phone, went to your messages, and handed it to him. Johnny gave you a confused glance, but read the text nonetheless. It was from an unsaved number, but the contents of the message gave away everything he needed to know. Clearly, it was from no one other than your father.

“Shit,” Johnny said, more to himself than anything else.

You pushed your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Yeah. Apparently he wants to make up for leaving his daughter and her mother when she was a toddler and driving the woman he used to love into substance abuse. Funny, right?”

Johnny sighed. No wonder you were beginning to sink back into your old ways. This was a trigger and you knew nothing else.

“How’d he even get your number?”

“My mother’s rash decisions or my cousin’s spite for me, who knows,” you shrugged, chuckling. Family reunions weren’t your favorite. At some point of becoming fed up with your family fiascos, you stopped attending. There was no way that you would see your evil cousin, your old-fashioned grandparents, aunts, and uncles, or even your mother. The only thing she and you shared was resent for your father, but you weren’t sure what she was capable of when drunk.

Johnny frowned. As much as it hurt to see you like this, he understood why you reacted the way you did. He was your best friend and your lover and knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew every bit of your trauma, down to the rawest detail - your childhood, all of the boys you once loved that weren’t him.

Part of him wished that you had given your heart to him first. He would have guarded it with a sword and fought off dragons for you. Instead, the boys you trusted handled it carelessly and shattered it into pieces. Now it was much harder to salvage what was left of it.

Johnny pulled you into his arms. He was angry. Angry at your father, angry at the world, even angry at you. But he wanted to be there for you, even if you took advantage of his kindness. When you felt his hands around you, you wept into his shoulder. He smoothed the palm of his hand against your back, and whispered soothingly into your ear, “It’s okay. Let it all out.”

You wept and wept, until you had no tears left to cry. God, you hated crying in front of other people. You hated being vulnerable, but it came naturally when you were with Johnny. Ever since you became friends in high school. And though Johnny never made a move to hurt you, he could have. That was the part you hated. Being vulnerable to someone meant trusting them not to hurt you the way everyone else had.

When you were done, you pulled away and noticed the damp patch on Johnny’s shirt. “Sorry,” you croaked.

“Shirts can dry,” he reminded, and lifted it above his head. “Let’s go to bed. You can talk to me in the morning when you’re sober.”

You nodded, then climbed into bed with him. To say that you hadn’t been in this position before would have been a lie, but you liked being so close to Johnny. He was your refuge from the world that liked to throw knives at you. And when you bled, he was always there to tend to your bloody scars. He made you feel safe, and that scared you more than anything.

Johnny kissed your forehead. “Goodnight.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. Safe didn’t even scratch the surface of how Johnny made you feel, but it would have to for now. You weren’t ready to unpack your feelings for Johnny. You weren’t ready to confront them.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Even in the dark, you saw Johnny smile. And beneath it he hid the storms of emotion induced by you that were killing him softly.

Between the pain of knowing Johnny was hurting because of you and the pain of your hangover, you couldn’t tell what hurt more.

It was a well-practiced routine. You woke up with a splitting headache, a bottle of water and Aspirin waiting for you on his bedside, and sometimes Johnny would be tucked into the sheets next to you. When he wasn’t, he was downstairs making breakfast.

And when you woke up, taking in your surroundings and realizing they were nothing like your bedroom, the regret settled in. You’re so fucking selfish, you chastised to yourself. Johnny was in love with you. That was positively the only reason he put up with your bullshit, but he deserved better.

And you were trying to give him better, to be the one that he needed. Given your habits of sleeping around to ignore the weight tugging at your chest when you thought of Johnny and drinking away your problems, you were trying to stop. Instead of drinking, you ranted to Irene or Johnny. Instead of finding someone to toy with for a night, you tried to be a good friend to Johnny.

It worked. Even the rest of your friends caught on to how much better and healthier you seemed. Then, your dad sent that stupid text and your whole world went crashing down. You didn’t know what to do. You were torn. Ripped and shredded to fucking pieces.

Maybe it was time Johnny accepted that he deserved someone better than you. For his own sake. You were a tainter that ruined everything you touched and rotted it to the core.

You popped the Aspirin and came downstairs. Johnny wasn’t there when you woke up, but judging from the delicious scent wafting through the air, he was downstairs cooking.

“Morning,” you whispered, sitting at the island.

Johnny shot you a glance over his shoulder and tended back to the stove. He was making pancakes. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”

You blushed and tried to hide it, asking coyly, “Momma’s recipe?”

“You know it.”

That made you crack a soft smile. He was right - you did know. Part of you envied the relationship Johnny had with his parents: strong and healthy. That would never be you. You didn’t remember the last time you spoke to your mother and your father was self-explanatory.

You shook your head, and hopefully the thought away. It was too early. Instead, you focused on Johnny. He was still half-naked, and you caught yourself gazing at the details of his bare back. Damn, did he look good.

Then, you watched him cook, subconsciously trailing off into your own head again. I don’t deserve him. He went above and beyond for you, from making you breakfast to even letting you inside in the first place. He held you and listened to your rants and tried his best to aid you, but you threw that all away. And yet, here he was.

When Johnny was finished cooking, he fixed you both plates and sat across from you. Apart from giving him your gratitude, the two of you ate in silence. After a while, he commented, “I thought you weren’t drinking anymore.”

You stared at your plate, refusing to look Johnny in his eyes. That would kill you - seeing the pain submerged in his eyes staring back in you. It was obvious that you didn’t want to have this conversation, preferring to leave words left unsaid. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Maybe you already knew and you were trying your hardest to ignore it.

“Old habits die hard,” you murmured, fiddling with your knife and fork.

Your relationship with alcohol was typical. Although you weren’t addicted, it was still unhealthy. For the most part, when you drank, it was to forget about the feelings and thoughts plaguing your heart and mind. Escapism was your go-to coping mechanism. You weren’t strong enough to confront your problems head-on.

“You can’t keep doing this.” We can’t keep doing this.

“I know.”

Johnny sighed. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip. Of course, Johnny could tell when there was something troubling you. There was no hiding from him. He was the only one capable of coaxing you of an answer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up here unannounced expecting you to take care of me.” Just like you always do.

Johnny was quick. “It wasn’t unannounced. Irene texted me.”

“That’s not the point and you know it,” you said, finally looking up at him. The expression he sported was grim. It hurt to see the way he looked at you, but you knew that you didn’t deserve his beautiful smile. 

He sighed and glanced off, almost looking offended. “Then, what is your point?”

You shook your head. You weren’t ready to have this conversation and you doubted that you ever would be. “Forget it.”

“No. Talk to me. I just hate when you freeze me out,” Johnny urged swiftly. He hated it more than anything else. All he wanted was your love, but he was quick to realize that it was hard to thaw your frozen heart out.

Eyes drifting back to your plate, you shook your head and whispered, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Johnny softened up. For fucks sake, you were impossible, but he had too much sympathy for you. He understood why you acted the way you did, even if that didn’t ease the pain or validate your behavior. Most of all, he didn’t want you to follow your mother’s footsteps and become the person you swore you’d never be.

Last night hurt him, too. Patient was all he had ever been with you. He had been patient with you for at least ten years. He was so sick of waiting, but it was safe to say that no matter what, you would be his first and last love.

When the room got quiet, you spoke up again in a little voice, “He texted me Thursday night. I still haven’t responded. I don’t know what to do anymore, Johnny.”

“Do what you wanna do,” he told you, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s up to you. You don’t have to forgive him. You don’t even gotta respond. What he did was fucked up and he shouldn’t expect you to give in easily. But whatever you choose to do, your first priority should be letting go.”

Letting go. Easier said than done. All your life, letting go had never been your forte. Part of you was still scarred by your past lovers. Grudges ruined your life.

There were reasons why you came out this way. Of course, part of it stemmed from your childhood, though not everything and your identity was intricately layered.

In high school, you fell for Lee Jeno. He was the sweetest boy that you’d ever met - or at least you thought he was - and he almost instantly swept you off your feet. Jeno had all the girls swooning and the fact that he chose you made you feel a special type of bliss. Until you found him making out with a cheerleader in the locker room.

Then, in college, you decided to give romance a second try. It was Osaki Shotaro’s turn to break your heart. You remembered like it was yesterday and it was all so sudden. Out of the blue, Shotaro broke up with you and told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. He left you for another woman. You couldn’t imagine how many times he had been with her all while being with you. It made you sick to your stomach.

After that, you were scarred for life, scared shitless of love. Boys proved time and time again without fail that their only intention was to treat your fragile heart like dirt on the bottom of their shoes. They walked all over it, taking advantage of your blind love. Fed you lies and empty promises of forever.

That was why you kept your heart guarded and under lock and key. You intentionally kept your relationships short and discardable - no strings attached. You didn’t want to trust anyone else with your heart. They threw it in the middle of a busy highway and now it was in traffic.

Trust issues, they called it. Issues - that was your forte. And you had a variety. Trust issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues, commitment issues. Whatever the label slapped on them, they all controlled every moment of your life.

Johnny added, “I know that’s easier said than done, but promise me you’ll try. Will you?”

You nodded your head and fought back tears. Weak was the word you used to describe yourself in your head. It was far too easy to break you. “I’ll try, I promise. But I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I believe in you,” Johnny whispered, voice soft yet powerful. You were convinced that he had too much faith in you. Never had anyone believed in you this much. Never had anyone loved you the way that Johnny did and you didn’t know how to accept it.

Your heart was at constant war, unable to choose between two stances. Johnny wasn’t like the other men once in your life. Or maybe he was, yet hid it well. Maybe he was waiting for you to trust him to break your heart.

Both of you finished eating and changed the subject. It was a relief. Johnny hated making things awkward and you were grateful for that.

After a while, Johnny drove you back home. You hated leaving and Johnny hated watching you go, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t used to this cycle. You stood at your doorstep and said, “Thanks for breakfast.”

Johnny nodded. “Any time. When will I see you again?”

He liked seeing you. Just not after a long night of you disregarding your troubles with sex and alcohol.

“My schedule’s packed Monday through Friday, but maybe one of those nights,” you said. Often you found yourself making time for Johnny when there was none. And in return, he did the same. He showed you a good time and to your definition, that meant a night of relieving pent up stress. “If not, I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Okay,” Johnny nodded again. “Later, alligator.”

Before he could leave, you leaned on the tip of your toes and smashed your lips against his. Johnny seemed genuinely caught off-guard, but he wasted no time in kissing you back, stealing your every last breath like there was no tomorrow. You liked kissing Johnny. Apart from the warm feeling boiling in your chest whenever he pressed his lips to yours, he was just so damn good at making you feel like you were on a cloud.

You pulled back and caught your breath, smiling. “After a while, crocodile.”

Johnny grinned and walked back to his car.

You didn’t see Johnny again until the following weekend.

Not that you didn’t speak. You and Johnny were inseparable and spoke everyday if you could, via texting or phone calls when there was no chance of seeing each other in person. You told him that you needed time to yourself and he both respected and encouraged your decision.

You were busy thinking - an upside of Johnny’s influence. Most of the time you hated being in your head and avoided it at all costs. It was a dangerous place to be, but you were trying harder to not disappoint him once more.

In that time, your father sent you another message. He wanted to meet up with you and was unyielding. The ball was in your court. You could agree to hear him out or you could block his number and pretend it never happened, but it was no easy decision.

Saturday approached far too leisurely. Uneventful days of work and pondering led to the date of your friends’ betrothal party.

With a very Yuta-esque spin to it. The event was casual through and through. The dress code was loose and neither party held good relationships with their family, meaning most of the guests were close friends. It was a pool party and everyone would be in the backyard.

When you caught up to Yuta and Winwin, you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Okay, I’ll bite. Who did it? Who popped the question?”

Yuta fought a smirk and shrugged blithely. “Guess.”

“Winwin?”

Winwin shook his head. “Nope. Contrary to popular belief, Yuta’s quite the romantic. In his own way, of course. He even crouched down on one knee.”

It was somewhat believable. The Yuta from before he met Winwin wasn’t the Yuta that stood before you now. He had seen the light and became a man of all things love and cheesy.

Still, you teased, “No way. Can’t believe the main hoe of the town is settling down. What happened to being non-monogamous buddies?”

“Shit changes,” Yuta said, sighing blissfully as he wrapped an arm around Winwin. Then, he teased back, “Besides, we both know it was either me and Winwin or you and Johnny next in fate’s line.”

You blushed and spluttered, “Where’d you get that idea from?”

Both boys laughed like you had told the funniest joke. You narrowed your eyes, and Winwin answered for his future husband, “I know I’m the latest addition to the gang and all, but even I can see the sparks between you and Johnny. There’s obviously something there. I don’t know why you haven’t acted on it.”

Yuta exchanged knowing glances with you. He probably understood you the best out of everyone present. Your life’s weren’t carbon copy’s of each other, but he had lived the closest thing to your trauma. You weren’t ready. For a while, neither was he, but if he could let go and move on, maybe so you could you.

“There’s been sparks since motherfucking junior high. It’s always been a given that you two like each other and you’ll get together one day in the future. I couldn’t see it any other way,” Yuta said.

That should have made you feel happy, but all you could feel was dread and regret fused with yearning. All of your friends could see you together, but you weren’t sure if you could give him that. How selfish of you to be the one holding the two of you back.

You should have told him to move on and let you go. Instead, you avoided confrontation for as long as possible, craving every moment of his love and attention until the flame went out. You didn’t want to give him all of you yet, but you didn’t want to give him away either. Losing Johnny meant that he would never be yours. Maybe that was what it would take for you to open your eyes.

New guests caught Winwin’s eye and he tugged on his fiancé’s arm. “We’ll catch up with you later, we have to greet the other guests. Come on, Yuta.”

“You go ahead, babe. I’ll be right behind you in a minute,” Yuta dismissed. Winwin only nodded and went to greet their guests. Then, Yuta turned to you and quietly asked, “Everything okay between you and Johnny?”

“It’s your engagement party. Don’t worry about us,” you sighed, searching for the bar through the corners of your eyes.

Yuta was quick to retort, “And you’re my friends. I can worry about you whenever I want. Now, what’s up?”

You bit your lip. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you had in the middle of a betrothal party, but Yuta was adamant. You thought about the last time you had seen Johnny, how you felt when you kissed him. God, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. Whenever Johnny was near your side you wished that you could hit pause on time. It was funny how the most beautiful moments in life were the most short-lived ones.

Your voice was small when you said, “I’m not a good person, Yuta.”

Yuta glanced at you curiously, eyes urging you on. “What you do?”

“I let Johnny down. A couple of weeks ago I told him that I’d try to break out of my habits. And I was actually doing better. I stopped resorting to drinking whenever something inconvenienced me and finding one-night stands to forget about Johnny.”

Yuta nodded along. “And then?”

“And then, my dad texted me and said he wanted to make things right between us, and I didn’t know what else to do. I got drunk last Friday night and Irene took me to Johnny’s house. I don’t remember much, but I know I winded up telling him what happened and crying on his shoulder,” you chuckled sourly. “He made me breakfast the next morning and we talked about it. And I feel bad because he doesn’t deserve none of this shit. He deserves someone better.”

He deserves someone that isn’t afraid to love him.

“Are you gonna be that person?” Yuta questioned, tone genuine.

I want to be. You exhaled. You didn’t know the answer to that.

You blinked, feeling tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know. The worst part is he has so much faith in me when I’m not even sure about myself. He should have walked away a long time ago, but he’s still here, waiting for me.”

“He’s ready when you are. But you aren’t ready yet, are you?”

Shaking your head, you frowned. You were far from.

“Be better. Do better,” Yuta said assertively. “I know that’s harder than it sounds, but you gotta try. Figure that shit out with your dad. What you choose to do is none of my business, but you have to heal and let it go so that you can be a better person for yourself and for Johnny.”

“That’s practically what Johnny said.”

“Great minds think alike,” Yuta grinned.

You snickered. “You got engaged and got all wise and shit, huh?”

“You know the tale. My dad was a drunk and treated me and my Mom like shit. It was up to me to decide if I wanted to grow into him, or if I wanted to be better,” he spoke monotonously.

But you were scared. You wanted to do things the right way, but you weren’t certain if you knew how. “What if I mess up?”

Yuta didn’t hesitate. “The point of mistakes is to learn. We all fuck up once or twice. That way, you know what not to do so you don’t fuck up the third time. It sucks, but that’s the way life works. Don’t make the same mistake thrice.”

He spoke the gospel. Where your family lacked, you were at least glad to have supportive friends. They were kind and you knew at the end of the day, they were people you could confide in. Maybe you would do it more often.

“I won’t,” you told Yuta. You sounded firm.

“Good,” he replied, and scanned the crowd for Winwin. “Now I gotta go with Winwin before he beats my ass in front of everybody. You go find Johnny, alright?”

You nodded. That you would. It had been too long since you had heard his voice and felt his touch and you were craving a taste. With that, Yuta left to join his husband-to-be and you scanned the crowd for your own lover.

In an instant your eyes landed on Johnny and you could spot him in any crowd. He was at the edge of the pool talking to Ten, who you caught casting Johnny a wink before walking away once he noticed you coming over.

When you got there, you crouched down and sat next to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Johnny greeted, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist. “You look great.”

You blushed. This morning you had deliberately chosen the sexiest bikini set in your wardrobe. It raised the stakes and given how addicted Johnny was to your body, your chances at getting laid tonight. “You look the best.”

Johnny was also half-naked, obviously. And damn did he look gorgeous. You bit your lip. You were thoroughly convinced that the gods themselves had sculpted him. His body was to die for and you were offering yourself up.

Johnny joked, “I won’t argue with that.”

You snickered and nudged his side.

“How was your work week?”

Johnny groaned and you immediately knew the answer to that question. “I’m stressed and exhausted. I need an outlet for my pent up frustration.”

“Oh?” you stammered, mouth suddenly dry.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. His hand ran up and down your back and he leaned to your side, whispering, “Good thing I have you, right?”

There was a crushing weight on your chest that made it difficult to breathe. Whenever Johnny was near you, the pressure came back, and it only got more intense when he did things like that. The effect he had on you was strong and he had you tingling with lust.

“Yeah,” you murmured back, trying hard to keep your cool and avoid appearing anything other than indifferent. But he could see right through you. “Good.”

“What about you?” Johnny pressed. “How was your week?”

“I don’t wanna think about it,” you grumbled.

Johnny was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his body radiating your skin. Given the sunny weather, you were already hot, but something about this felt internal. It was like trying to breathe on the moon. Johnny parted his lips and suggested, “Kiss me until you forget about it.”

There was no need to tell you twice. You initiated the kiss, steering his lips to yours until they met with a clash. Johnny took control, arms still wrapped around you as he took passion to another level. It wasn’t long before you were sucking on each other’s tongues. You crawled into his lap for easier access, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Heat flared from your chest to Johnny’s and vice versa, spreading from bone to bone at the skin on skin contact. Whenever you made out, it was like you were floating in air or navigating through space with no gravity. His hands clung to your body and you were on a cloud, elevating and trying your hardest to refrain from grinding down on his crotch.

Johnny deepened the kiss, holding you tightly as possible and moving his mouth against yours fiercely. His heart was thundering against and threatening to leap out of the cage of his bare, burly chest. God, there was no greater pleasure than kissing you and feeling your warm body on his. But you both were putting all of your strength into resisting each other and it was too much. The feelings were overbearing.

When you both pulled away, you exhaled little breaths, hearts racing. You looked Johnny in his lustful eyes and heaved, “I like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You taste good as hell,” you flirted.

“Mm,” Johnny hummed, nodding his head. He pulled you square to his chest, face hovering hardly inches over yours. You gulped, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed. “What do I taste like?”

You pressed your palms to his naked chest, purring, “Strawberry champagne.” 

“Yeah, you missed the bottle popping,” he chuckled. God knows you would have loved that.

Faking a pout, you replied, “Bummer. I was too busy trying on different bikinis.”

“You wear this all for me?” Johnny flirted, ever the intuitive man. Unbeknownst to you, he had been eyeing you from the moment you stepped onto the scene. And the second he laid eyes on you in your bright red bikini, he knew that he had to have his way with you.

“Especially for you. I know blue’s your favorite color, but red suits me better.”

“You make short work of supermodels in anything you wear,” Johnny growled. He was looking at you from head to toe, as if he were going to swallow you whole.

“You’re just saying that because you wanna have sex with me.”

Johnny wasted no time in shutting you down. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Sex would be a nice bonus, though.”

You laughed.

“Come swim with me,” Johnny said, gently sitting you back on the edge of the pool before coming to his feet.

You hesitated. “Won’t Yuta be upset we ditched him at his engagement party?”

“That wasn’t a question,” Johnny added, lowering his voice. Which definitely did unspeakable things to you. “And trust me - Yuta doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as we join in when it’s time to gather around and shit.”

That was true. It didn’t mean Yuta had unsophisticated tastes, he simply just didn’t care for rules and formalities - untraditional by any means. Winwin was the opposite. Conventional to a fault, he was a man of decorum and the party was a clear mix of both of their personalities. Somehow, they both made it work.

Ignore the pace of your heartbeat, you muttered, “Okay,” and sunk into the pool.

Johnny followed suit with a tiny splash, swimming to your side. Being in the water felt good, all things considered. It was cold and gave your brain - and body - a quick refresh.

“You know, this reminds me of high school,” he started, pensive. “When Joy threw that pool party on the first night of summer break, and Jaehyun pushed you into the pool as a joke.”

The memory made you roll your eyes. In high school you were nothing if not a bunch of stupid teenagers. “He’s lucky I didn’t let myself drown and have my Mom sue him for everything he’s worth. Now that I think about it, I should have. Every penny to his name. Mommy and Daddy Jung would have killed him.”

Johnny chuckled. “Oh for sure. He would have been taking the city bus instead of high-end luxury cars and gotten a job at the nearest McDonald’s like the rest of us.”

“Damn nepo baby,” you shook your head and sighed. “Gotta love him, though.”

“To be born into wealth,” Johnny sighed dramatically.

You giggled.

Moments later, a thought passed your mind. A memory - the beautiful kind. You fought a smile and asked, “You know what else happened at that party?”

Johnny gave you a long, hard cook. It was practically inscrutable and noncommittal. If he had any idea what you were referring to, the only thing that gave it away was the slight smile on his face for a mere fraction of a second.

Of course, he knew. How could he forget? It was easily one of the best moments of his life, made even better because it was spent underneath the moonlight with you.

He shrugged, feigning oblivion. “What happened?”

“We made out for the first time,” you reminded, voice little. “We were each other’s first kiss.”

The memory was anything but vague. The both of you were a little drunk, and somehow found yourselves in each other’s embrace. And then, in each other’s mouths. For someone who had never made out with anyone before, then-Johnny kissed you like royalty. With every intention to conquer your mind, heart, and body.

In that sense, you guessed he had been successful. Johnny lived rent-free in your mind and had built a little home both there and in your heart, with enough room for the both of you. Not to mention your body. You were counting down the seconds until you could get him in the sheets right now. In your attempts to keep him out, you had simultaneously been giving him access to the most vulnerable parts of you.

To say nothing of himself. Johnny wished he could turn back time. Part of him wished that he could undo meeting you and falling in love with you, because he was beginning to lose faith in the two of you. The other part of him loved you too goddamn much to even begin to imagine a world without you in it. It wouldn’t be worth living.

“I remember,” Johnny assured, finally letting himself smile. He couldn’t control it. “Wanna know what you tasted like?”

You squinted. “What?”

“Guess.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “Your mother’s chocolate chip cookies.”

Johnny’s laugh was mocking. “You wish.”

Whining, you said, “Tell me! I don’t remember.”

He gave in - though because he wanted to and not because you told him to - and replied, “Tequila.”

“The cheap kind?”

“Nope. I’m sure Jaehyun stole that from Mommy and Daddy Jung’s liquor stash,” he quipped.

You snickered. It was a relief that he was good at directing conversation. For a moment, you thought that it was going south. God knows the past was a sensitive subject.

Although he said nothing, Johnny couldn’t help but think about it. For years, he had been in love with you. He remembered meeting you like it was yesterday - you were the new kid in school and Johnny was the one kind enough to be your friend. He showed you around, ate lunch with you, studied with you, and introduced you to his friend group. In no time, you were best friends.

You were his first kiss. Johnny knew he wanted you that night. When he pressed his lips to yours and felt his body elevating into the clouds above, he knew.

Eventually you became a series of each other’s firsts. First kisses, first times, first loves. You had been vulnerable to each other in ways that you hadn’t with anyone else.

And you, you were multifaceted. Johnny had seen the rawest sides of you and fell hard and deep in love with each one - the beautiful and the ugly. All of those things made you fall for Johnny, too, but you noticed it a little later than he did, once it was too late. Which hindered his progress.

By the time you realized you were in love with Johnny, you had already given your heart to the wrong people. That was why you couldn’t comprehend how someone would ever be able to offer you their love, and mean it. That was why you trusted no one.

Forget being your first. Johnny wanted to be your last and as the clock ticked, his chances felt slimmer and slimmer.

You stared at his lips, not even attempting to hide the direction your eyes were searching. “I want strawberry champagne.”

Johnny tilted his head. He had x-ray vision when it came down to your intentions, though this game he wouldn’t mind playing along with. “Do you?”

When you nodded, Johnny took the bait and leaned in to kiss you. It was like magic. Every time felt as surreal as the first one. You just couldn’t believe that you were blessed enough to have him at your fingertips.

Johnny was the same. I love her. It was old news to almost everyone, though the realization hit Johnny the same way it had that night when he first tasted you. When he realized that you were the one and only love of his life.

Sucking on Johnny’s tongue and moaning into his mouth, soaking in all his little sounds was all you wanted to do. Maybe this was why Yuta said you and Johnny would be next in fate’s line. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t dreamt of having your daddy walk you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Though if there was anything that you had learned, it was that fate was an evil lady and she had it out for you.

Johnny soon backed off. He hadn’t had his fill, but you were driving him crazy. And as much as he wanted to be a good friend to Yuta, the urge to drag you away for a fuck was growing stronger. He warned in a low tone, “We’ll miss the rest of the party if you keep kissing me.”

“What’s so bad about that?” you purred, leaning closer to his face. You could feel each other’s breath on your skin. “We can have a party of our own.”

To your credit, you were dangerously skilled at tempting Johnny. It made him feel bad to think that you practically already were having a party of your own. Both of you were surrounded by people, but to him, it felt like there was no one else around you. The sound of your voice and laughter had been drowning out the sound of the presence of people.

With the last of his restraint and self-control, he said, “Mm, that’s tempting. But no. Be a good girl and be patient.”

Immediately, you frowned, but didn’t dare disobey. Johnny would give you what you wanted sooner or later because you knew that he wanted you, too. And though you had your flaws, you weren’t terrible enough to dip in the middle of your friend’s betrothal party.

“Fine,” you said exasperatedly, peeling yourself off of him. “But you better make it up to me later.”

Johnny gave you one last kiss to placate you a little, then whispered softly in your ear, “Don’t I always?”

That he did.

For the better half of the evening, both of you decided to interact with other people, including the ones being celebrated. Most of the time you and Johnny were incapable of resisting each other, and with the thoughts plaguing your minds, there was no way on earth that you would survive side to side without breaking your agreement.

You had a fun time, but you were more than relieved when Winwin announced that he and Yuta wanted some alone time. Everyone said their goodbyes and you raced to Johnny’s side.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine’s closer. Meet you there?” Johnny asked, though he already knew you would. You were practically careening to your car the moment he got the words out.

“Meet you there!”

Both of you arrived in turn, with you slightly ahead of him. You didn’t even wait for him to pull into the driveway before you were rummaging through your purse for the extra key Johnny had bestowed upon you long ago.

It was game over once he stepped out of his car and you were only alone for a split second before he entered, wasting no time in backing you against a wall and stealing a kiss. Johnny always kissed you like it was the last time he would ever get the chance. There was something eager in the way that his mouth moved against yours. It was heated, unchaste. He kissed you so hard that it was impossible to keep up with his pace.

“Someone’s desperate,” you teased through shallow breaths. Johnny nibbled at your ear and you sighed, pitching your head back against the plaster.

He ribbed, breath tickling your neck, “You’d oughta know a thing or two about being desperate. Seeing as you got to my house before me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Under any other circumstances, Johnny would have teased you and made you wait before he kissed you again. Though seeing as he had been waiting too goddamn long for this moment, all he could do was cave.

Goddamn, his lips were soft. In contrast to the rough manner he handled your body. Everything was escalating too quickly and you were being dug into the wall by the weight of his body. There was so much tension in the room that you could hardly even breathe through it.

Johnny nudged his knee between your thighs and stuck his hand down your bottoms, the other roaming your body. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Do something about it,” you whined.

Johnny sneered. Part of him was half-tempted to tease the living hell out of you and see how much you could take. The other was losing hold of his heavy load of patience much more quickly than he would have liked.

“Wanna fuck in the shower to wash off the chlorine? Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Just don’t let me fall.”

He smiled. “I would never.”

Before you knew it, he was lifting you up in his arms like you weighed nothing. You squealed when you felt yourself being hauled into the air, locking your legs around his waist and resting your head on his shoulder. It felt too right being in his hold. As if it was supposed to be this way.

Maybe it was.

Johnny carried you to his bedroom and you clung to his chest for dear life. While he went in the bathroom to run the shower, you began to quickly peel off your clothes. You were on the threshold of insanity, bursting at the seams with lust. 

When the water was hot, Johnny stepped into the shower and you followed suit. As soon as your feet hit the non-skid shower mat Johnny shoved you against the wall, and the noise you made was eaten by the force of his lips. Your palms rose to his wet chest and his mouth fell from yours to your collarbone, soft and plush against your skin.

He simply couldn’t stay away. He spread your thighs apart and slipped one of hands back between them, this time moving them inside of you. Much to your pleasure. “Johnny,” you whimpered, breathless.

The sound of your lips parting to emit his name was like music to his ears and a melody stuck in his head. Thoughts of you underneath him, crying out his name whilst taking his size kept him up late at night, wishing he could rewind time to feel you back in his arms again. Where you belonged. It took every bit of willpower he had not to beg you to stay.

“Think you’re ready for me?” Johnny asked, leering at you with the darkest gaze that made your stomach churn.

You nodded. Johnny was big, that was undeniable, but you had taken every inch of his ungodly combination of length and girth countless times before like a champ. It was almost nothing to you.

He removed his fingers from your cunt and before you got the chance to whine from the emptiness, your lips were widening to sigh at the feeling of his bare cock brushing against your folds. Every second felt like minutes and your patience was wearing more and more thin. You needed him and you needed him right now.

Then, Johnny finally pushed inside, taking his sweet time to fill you. You swallowed him in with ease, simultaneously sucking in the deepest breath you could take. His eyes fell on your chest, water trickling down the swell of your breasts as you inhaled and exhaled.

Maybe taking him wasn’t like nothing. You felt not an ounce of pain, but the pleasure of having him fill you to the uttermost was overwhelming. The stretch meant something.

The moment the head of his girth prodded your entrance Johnny had already felt you pulsing tightly around him and you only kept clenching the deeper he pushed inside. You raced to anchor yourself, clawing at his shoulders while he pushed you firmer against the wall and he caged you between his big arms.

Johnny kissed your neck, then growled, “So tight for me.”

“All for you,” you stammered through thick breaths. It was too hot to breathe. The water burned your skins and Johnny made you erupt in flames all over.

Johnny grinned smugly.

Through hooded eyes, you soaked in the sight of water cascading down his neck - where his muscles flexed - and chest. For the better half of your life, Johnny had been a presence, but you would never get used to how gorgeous he was. His beauty was so ethereal to the point that it felt forbidden to be able to touch him like this. He was sent from the heavens above, both a blessing and a curse to you and your body.

The chains of restraint that bounded him snapped and Johnny latched his mouth to your nipple, meriting an automatic sigh of pleasure from your lips. With how close he was, you wondered if he could feel the thud of your heartbeat. It was racing inside your chest, the feelings you had for him raining hail and begging for freedom. Your heart was bursting at the seams with your love for Johnny and it pleaded desperately for you to unlock its door.

“You’re so hot,” Johnny whispered, keeping himself occupied with your body. Your brain was going into autopilot.

From Johnny’s perspective, your body was a treasure, and he knew its map by heart. All of your weaknesses were on display in his mind and he could choose whichever one he wanted to use to his advantage. He knew what felt good and what felt earth-shattering, and judging from the way you throttled his cock, this was the latter.

Neither you or Johnny talked too much during sex. It was difficult to speak when you were being fucked divested of every little thought you possessed and your mouth was too busy producing other noises.

And all Johnny hoped was that his body could say everything that words could not.

He couldn’t think of anyone else when he was with you, and when you were with someone else, you were still thinking of Johnny. Given the amount of nights you had spent searching for one-night stands you were no stranger to sex, but Johnny made it feel different. The emotions were stronger and so was the yearning. The two of you fucked each other like you had never wanted anything so badly before in your lives.

Johnny struck you somewhere deep and you rasped, “Fuck, baby.”

Fuck, he felt good. Even though you were prone to running away, there was no doubt that you would find yourself coming back for more. Johnny was your home and your heart would always drag you back to him. He owned your body. Whatever he desired to do with you - to you - you would let him. At the end of the day, you were his. Whether he knew it and you accepted it or not.

It wasn’t a choice. It was a feeling.

Looking at the dazed expression on your face gave him deja vu. The first time Johnny had sex with you, he genuinely thought that his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He was nervous, but if anything, dedicated. He vowed to himself that he would learn the ways of your body and put your pleasure before his. Which he did.

It was college, months before you met your soon-to-be ex, and you were freshmen. Giving your virginity to one another was one of the most unsurprising things that you two had ever done. At least back then, you were thick as thieves and did everything together. Who better to give it to than the one you could always bet on?

He still remembered that night like it was yesterday. All of your friends were going to a party, but you snuck inside his dorm while his roommates were away. One thing led to another and soon you were writhing beneath him, calling out his name like it was the only word you knew.

His feelings for you only heightened.

Johnny could still remember how heartbroken he was when you got with another man again - and how angry he was when he broke your heart just like the last guy. The emotions were so prominent that he could still feel them now. How long would it take you to realize that the man meant for you was already right by your side?

Even if he wasn’t the perfect match for you, Johnny knew deep down that he could love you better, because he already had without even needing to be in a relationship with you. Maybe if those boys had treated you right, then he could have came to peace with the fact that fate wasn’t on his side and you weren’t meant to be. But watching you cry after other men treated you like nothing only fed his flame.

“You close, baby?” Johnny asked, aiming to take you over the edge. His number one goal was to drive you out of your mind.

You could only nod, willing yourself not to speak. The words that would have left your mouth if you did were unimaginable.

Johnny fucked you even harder, chasing relentlessly for your orgasms. And you were just as - if not more - eager. He fought a complacent simper as he admired the way you were maneuvering your hips against his, whimpering with every touch.

The look on his face made you run your tongue over your dry lips. Barely were you resisting the urge to smash your lips against his. That look alone made you want to milk him dry of everything he was worth.

As badly as you wanted to savor every last moment, you could feel it in your bones that your orgasm was approaching. Listening to the noises resounding throughout the bathroom was what finished you - the sounds of your moans and Johnny’s hips slapping into yours with every thrust drowning out that of the shower pouring down on you both. You convulsed with release, gripping Johnny’s biceps for dear life as you met your orgasm with a high-pitched cry of his name.

Johnny wasn’t too far behind you. He couldn’t even grunt at the feeling of your nails digging into his flesh - it was outweighed by that of the pleasure of you clenching tightly around him with orgasm. It triggered his own, and he held you bruisingly tight as he spilled inside you with the lowest groan he could muster.

“You okay?” Johnny asked the moment you both were in the clear to speak.

You nodded weakly. “Perfect.”

Johnny smiled.

The two of you actually showered once you had caught your breaths, occasionally interrupting the other with a kiss. When you got out of the shower and re-dressed, Johnny pinned you to his bedroom wall and enveloped your lips in the biggest kiss yet. It was noticeably different from the other kisses that you had shared as of late. They were lustful and impatient. This was slow and steady - like he wanted nothing more than to savor the very taste of you.

He pulled away and whispered adoringly, “I love you.”

Your brain immediately went into overdrive. Given that you were childhood best friends, of course you and Johnny had said that you’d loved each other before. That was indubitable and not to be questioned. But this was different. This was in the context of a post-sex I love you.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Johnny bristled. “I do mean it. I love you.”

Sighing, you walked off to his bed. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

He stared at you incredulously, and reminded, “I’m not them.”

It was obvious who them was. Your past lovers. The ones that had left you so heartbroken that you could no longer let anyone inside your glass heart.

You shook your head, voice small when you replied, “I don’t know that.”

Johnny was visibly offended and upset. “How can you say that?”

“I don’t want to fight, John,” you said, exhaling loudly. This had escalated far too quickly and everything was heading in the wrong direction. For as long as you could, you wanted to steer clear of this course. But deep down, you knew that it had been inevitable.

He ignored you, walking closer to you and pestering, “I need answers. Do you really think I don’t love you?”

“Johnny…”

He didn’t relent. “Answer me.”

Frustrated, you shouted, “I don’t know what to think, Johnny! I’m scared to trust people - you know this!”

“And do you think I deserve to be punished for that?” Johnny snapped, white-hot rage seeping through and his restraints falling loose. “You and I both know I’m not just ‘people.’ We’ve known each other longer than you knew them. I’ve been here with you, for you, for a goddamn eternity. When have I ever let you down, huh? Tell me!”

His tone made you flinch and you were given whiplash. Johnny rarely got upset and never did he ever yell at your face, even if you sometimes deserved it. He was patient with you. For him to finally snap meant that you had wounded him deeply.

“I’m scared,” you croaked, teary-eyed.

“Right, you’re scared,” Johnny groused, turning around and heaving a thick breath. “Forget it.”

Pain burned through your chest in flares much like the anger spreading like wildfire throughout Johnny’s. Goddamn, this hurt. Was love supposed to be so complicated? Was love supposed to ache like this?

It hurt so good to love Johnny.

You stood up and shook your head. “No,” you told him, demanding, “Get it off your chest. Everything you want to say to me - say it right damn now!”

It wasn’t for you. No, you knew that the following words to come out of his mouth were going to scar you indefinitely. It was for Johnny. You knew that he had been holding all of this back for a long time and now this was his chance to erupt his heart volcano.

Johnny stormed right back over and said, “You want me to be honest?”

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. He deserved it. You deserve it. You treat him like shit.

“Fine. I’ll be honest,” he seethed. You gulped, bracing yourself for his words to come. “You wanna know something? You’re so fucking selfish. You’ve been breaking my heart just because you’re trying not to get yours broken.”

That was true. You had been sacrificing his feelings in an effort to preserve yours and it was a futile plan - Johnny had already crawled his way inside your heart, yet you were still trying to keep him out.

“You have too much pride to show people your scars and that’s why every time I get closer, you push me away. Because all you know how to do is run like a coward. That’s what you’ve resorted to your whole life because you don’t know any better. But you can’t hide.”

You bobbed your head, willing yourself not to speak. Both of you needed this.

Johnny’s voice got lower as he said, “You think you can hide, but you can’t. You can’t fucking drink all your problems away. You can’t fuck them away, either. You can’t keep running to me and using me to dry your goddamn tears every time you realize all your problems are still there!”

“Johnny…” you called out through tears. As true as his words were, they stung. And guilt was eating at you from the inside.

“No. You fucking asked for this shit,” Johnny snapped, scowling. “I’ve been nice to you and patient with you, but all you do is take me for granted. And it hurt when you said you didn’t think I loved you, because I could have stopped putting up with your bullshit and cut you off a long time ago - but I didn’t. You know why? Because I fucking love you. And walking away would hurt as much as it does to stay.”

You told him softly, “I love you, Johnny.”

“Do you love me enough to stay?”

The room got silent. Did you? You knew that you wanted to, but damn was it hard. You were just so goddamn scared of hurt and betrayal. You had been left before and it broke you. It shredded you to the tiniest of pieces. But Johnny made you feel complete and whole again.

“Answer me. So I know if it’s time we move on,” Johnny commanded, impatient. “Am I just some booty call to you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“That I need you!” you screamed, the tension getting to your head - and your heart. It was too goddamn much. “I can’t live without you, Johnny. I can’t. I won’t. I’m scared because I don’t want to lose what we have. Losing you would be like losing the other half of me.”

Johnny got in your face again, but instead of yelling at you, he smashed his lips against yours. Just like that, you were relieved of the burden of all your fears and worries. He absorbed them and kept them somewhere safe, just like he did with all of your other secrets.

He kissed you with an emotion that was unmistakable - love. So much love. Maybe you had been blind to it before, but you could see it all clearly now.

Johnny was in love with you. And you were in love with Johnny.

“You’ll never, ever lose me,” Johnny swore in your ear once he detached himself from your mouth. He wiped at your tears with his thumb. “I promise. You’ve got me for life, alright?”

With a couple nods of your head, you crashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, welcoming your touch. This was where you were meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized after a couple of moments. It didn’t undo the pain you had been inflicting upon him for years, but it was a starting point for something better.

Johnny held you closer and kissed your forehead, then whispered softly, “I forgive you.”

He shouldn’t have, though you were grateful that he did. If it weren’t for his tenderheartedness, you weren’t sure what you would do.

“Let me be yours,” you sang.

It was tempting. You were offering him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter. Granted, it didn’t take much to satisfy him - all he wanted was you. But as much as he wanted you, he wanted the most authentic version of you.

“Not yet,” Johnny said. You gawked, but he finished before you could interject, “I want to be in a relationship with you, but you need to take care of yourself first. Start tackling your problems. For starters, figure out what you’re going to do about your dad. Okay?”

You exhaled a long breath, but eventually nodded. “Okay.”

Johnny fought a content smile. “I’ll support whatever decision you choose to make,” he assured, pulling you closer to his chest. Then, he glanced down and asked, “Now - are you gonna run away or are you gonna stay the night?”

“I’m going to confront my fears and stay with you,” you whispered, refusing to separate yourself from the warmth of his body. You weren’t sure how you had done it before in the past. Tonight had given you an epiphany.

“Atta girl,” Johnny praised and led you to his bed. You flopped to his side, snuggling to his chest. “I have to go to work in the morning. Promise me I’ll wake up to your pretty face for motivation.”

You giggled, your laughter ringing through his mind beautifully. “I’ll be there. I promise, baby.”

Johnny was beaming from ear to ear. God, you loved seeing him like this. Happy. And he was happy because of you.

He couldn’t wait to wake up beside you in the morning.

Given their engagement, Yuta and Winwin were to have plenty of parties and the betrothal party was only one of many. Today marked the day of the housewarming party.

Their engagement meant that their relationship had developed into something serious. With marriage rapidly approaching, they were certain that they wanted to spend every moment of their lives together. And thus, they decided to move in with each other.

Which was how their new home came to be.

Guests spread out and filled the house to its brim, most of the ones you didn’t recognize being associates of Sicheng. After a couple of hours, you got off of your feet and went to rest in the living room.

And when you saw two very familiar men approaching you, you knew that you would be doing anything but resting.

“Oh no.”

Jaehyun and Ten sang in harmony, “Oh, yes.”

Watching the two of them take seats beside you, you could only wonder what in tarnation they were up to. Jaehyun and Ten were individual wildfires all by themselves, so you weren’t sure if you were ready to face the aftermath of combining the pair. Part of you was certain something would blow up in flames.

Narrowing your eyes, you asked cautiously, “What do you two bloodthirsty leeches want?”

“Chill, babe. We just wanted to hang with our favorite friend,” Jaehyun said. Given the untamed smile on his face, you highly doubted that. Jeong Jaehyun was nothing if not sheer trouble. And his partner in crime, too.

Ten nodded his head in confirmation. “Right,” he smirked, then pointed to the cup beside you. “What’s that - Bacardi?”

“Ha, ha,” you responded, deadpan. “No, bitch. It’s water. Contrary to an oddly popular belief, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Jaehyun interjected, “Babe, I can’t tell the difference between you and an alcoholic. That’s a problem.”

“What he said. I can hear your liver screaming ‘Ten, help me. Help me. Please…’”

You snapped, “Did you guys just come over here to terrorize me or is there something meaningful you have to say?”

Jaehyun leaned and asked quietly, like he was telling you a top-notch secret, “It’s because of Johnny, right?”

You spluttered, “What?”

He smiled, adding, “Don’t worry - you can tell me. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, enough of the bullshit. Fess up,” Ten groaned in your other ear. Meanwhile you were thinking of ways to remove yourself from the Jaehyun-Ten you were between. “Something happened between you and Johnny. Something good.”

It wasn’t a question. He was saying that something happened and he knew it - he just didn’t know what. Yet.

You bit your lip. “Why do you say that?”

“Johnny’s been doing better lately, too. He’s been smiling more and in a better mood recently,” Ten replied, a spark of something raw and tender in his voice. “I like seeing him this way. It feels like I got the old Johnny back.”

Jaehyun nodded, all of the signs of jokes and games gone from his eyes. His expression was nothing short of soulful. “Me, too. There’s clearly been a shift. And whatever happened between you two, I hope it doesn’t shift back. He’s in a good place right now and so are you.”

Johnny had been happier lately. Everywhere he went he stood like a tall beam of light, radiating energy and warmth. And you two technically weren’t even together yet.

There was no way in hell that you would mess that up again. True to your promise to Yuta, you wouldn’t make the same mistake thrice. You had learned from your wrongdoings and decided that you were going to treat Johnny’s heart the same way you wanted others to treat yours. With caution and hypervigilance.

He deserved to be loved. Every bit of him. And you loved him to pieces.

“I won’t mess it up,” you assured them, confident. You knew what you wanted. And though you were still scared to go after it, you were willing to face your fears for Johnny. “I swear.”

Ten and Jaehyun smiled contentedly and replied in sync, “Good.”

Across the house, Johnny was having a similar conversation with your friends. And you were none the wiser.

“Hey, tough guy!” Yeri called out, grabbing Johnny’s attention. If it weren’t for the fact that she had bestowed the nickname upon him ages ago and was hellbent on sticking to her guns, he would have kept walking. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Let’s talk.”

Johnny flickered his eyes between Yeri and the woman beside her - Irene - and a terrible feeling settled in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted lightheartedly, “I feel unsafe.”

Both women responded in unison, “Good.”

He brought his plastic cup from his lips, then asked, “What’s this about?”

“You and y/n,” Irene said, eyeing him suspiciously.

Yeri wasted no time. “Are you two dating?”

On cue, Johnny’s heart seemed to boom at the mere thought of being in a relationship with you. As much as he wanted to make you his that night and as terribly as he fought against his every irrational decision, it wasn’t convenient timing. He wanted you to heal before anything.

Johnny feigned indifference, replying honestly, “No, we’re not. Why?”

Irene sat on the couch nearby, glancing off pensively. “She’s been… better again. She told us that she wouldn’t be drinking again for a while and she’s been opening up to me more and I’m proud of her. I just thought that it might’ve had something to do with you. You’re one of the biggest influences in her life, you know?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded. “I know.”

“And considering you haven’t given me the side eye yet, I think you’ve been happier, too.”

Johnny chuckled.

Then, Yeri cut to the chase and warned aggressively, “Take care of her, Johnny. I trust you, but you know how she can get. And if you break her heart, so help me I will…”

Irene reached for her friend’s hand and quickly interjected, “Yeri, I think they’re gonna be okay.”

Gladly, Johnny thought so, too. Things were far from perfect, though they were still going well and he was simply content to see that you were giving the two of you a try. He was tired of giving more than he was receiving and he had faith that those days were coming to an end.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Johnny repeated, assuringly. He believed it. He believed in you and him together. “But I appreciate all of your concern.”

Arms still folded and eyes still narrowed, Yeri eased up and nodded. Content, she walked off.

Irene rose from the chair and gazed up at Johnny, whispering softly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being patient with her,” she replied, full of gratitude. Then - in an even tinier voice - she added, “And for doing what I couldn’t have done.”

Johnny said with no hesitation, “I would do anything for her.”

“I know. You’re strong.”

“So are you.”

Irene smiled. With that, she went to go meet back up with the rest of the girls.

Over the course of the following couple of weeks, you had been putting your all into becoming a better person. You kept to your word, steering clear of alcoholic beverages - more especially in mentally trying times - and you vented to your friends whenever necessary. They didn’t mind one bit. Anything was better than your typical methods of extreme self-destruction.

The passionless hook-ups came to an end, too. Johnny and you had never been exclusive, and though you weren’t yet together, it was impossible to do as much as imagine yourself with another person. Johnny’s touch was the only one that you wanted to feel on your body. You wanted to feel the way he poured his heart out to you whenever you had sex.

You wanted love. You wanted passion and fondness and intimacy.

And Johnny delivered.

After a while, you came to a decision about your father. One day, you chose to answer. In those that followed, you stalled to the best of your ability, still indecisively wavering over the option to meet him in person.

But the conversations, both through text and over the phone, swayed you. It broke you to hear his voice and vice versa. Talking to him for the first time in decades was life-changing.

That was how you ended up outside of a restaurant, fast forward some weeks later.

Johnny helped you out of his car, walking you to the front of the building. Your fingers were interwoven, and he let you clutch his hand when you felt nervous. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded. Though you were sure, you were anxious. And you were grateful that he had so much power over you, to the point that his mere touch made you feel at ease again.

“I’m sure,” you said, clinging close to him.

“Breathe, baby,” Johnny whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll be right outside waiting for you. Okay?”

Waiting for you. What would you do without him?

Instead of replying, you whirled around and stood on your tiptoes, kissing his lips. Johnny kissed you back with fervor, holding you like you would fall if he were to let you go.

Through your heavy breaths, both nerve-induced and from the breathlessness of making out with him, you confessed gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Johnny replied without hesitation. It was a no-brainer. He loved you. So goddamn much. And that was exactly what you needed to hear. “Now go meet your old man.”

That was the last push you needed. You were standing on the threshold of a self-healing journey and that was what made you swing the gates open.

You approached the table your dad reserved. It must have been miles away, because when you got there, you couldn’t breathe.

Your father looked at you, face full of sincere emotion. He stared at you with so much awe, incredulous through and through. Tears threatened to fall from both of your eyes.

You croaked thickly, “Dad.”

“Princess,” he heaved back.

His arms were wide open and you raced in, desperate. The tears began to rain. You couldn’t even remember the last time that your father had held you. This is what you had been missing. During all those heartbreaking times, this is what you needed most.

Soon, he began to apologize profusely, voice bursting with shame and regret. There was absolutely no satisfactory explanation that he could offer you - you just needed to know that although he couldn’t take it back, he would do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness.

And once you reached closure, you were talking as if the past had never happened and he had always been there.

Your father looked at you and sighed - contentedly. He shook his head, all sullen when he stated, “You’re a woman now.”

You quipped, “And you’re an old man.”

Your father chuckled. He was adapting to your humor very quickly. Perhaps there was a reason why.

After a moment, he asked curiously, “That boy outside your boyfriend?”

“His name’s Johnny,” you smiled, teary-eyed, then confessed, “You should meet him some day.”

“Do you love him?”

There was not a bout of reluctance. “So much.”

“Then, I will.”

You beamed.

There was no holding you back, no reason not to say it proudly anymore. Johnny was yours and you were his. His heart would always belong to you and yours to him. That was the way it was supposed to be. Meant to be.

And some day, your Dad would be walking you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny suh x reader #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny suh smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

[tarjapearce]

soccer family Miguel meeting wife’s family for the first time and vice versa?

Oh dear. What a bumpy ride. 🙃

Bit of angst in the end. (Will do her meeting his family later, don't worry ~)

Pt 2 here

Teeth pulled at the inner soft skin on your lips, chewing and biting away the waves of raw anxiety that washed over you.

"Stop that. You'll hurt yourself."

Miguel mumbled as he drove to your family's home. It was an unsettling surprise for you to know that your family wanted to meet him. But what truly surprised you was the fact that they knew.

Ever since you moved out from your family's home at 18, many things stopped happening. Fights, verbal and emotional abuse that went both ways, the constant comparison to your other same age family members and you, and of course, you being pushed around and invalidated.

College was a different kind of freedom for you. And the start of a new life without them. You barely visited them, even skipped the most important holidays to be away from them. In a way, it was thanks to that that you met Jessica. She had been a wonderful support on your life.

"I know... just-"

His large hand covered yours to then give a kiss on the back of your palm

"You'll be fine. And if you don't feel comfortable enough, we can go."

"I'm uncomfortable already and we haven't even arrived yet."

"They can't be that bad"

You deadpanned and sighed.

"Corazón, look. I know family's difficult. I really do, but a couple of hours won't kill you. It's a good chance to prove them wrong."

"I've got nothing to prove them, Miguel."

"Right. Still, won't be a bad idea for them to see you doing fine. Talvez asi se callan el hocico y te dejan en paz" (Maybe that way they'll shut the fuck up and leave you alone)

You giggled at his words.

In truth was that you told him everything, it was sort of sad yet amusing that you bonded over trauma sharing. It was a mutual catharsis that somehow ended up strengthening your relationship. He didn't know them, but for the things you had shared with him, he knew he'd be curt and polite.

You'd warn him about their modus operandi. They'd present themselves as kind and welcoming, but bit by bit the snide and passive aggressive remarks and comments would show up. You had hope that after years of barely visiting they'd change.

Something you were about to find out as he parked outside the colonial looking home.

"No matter what, stay away from the Horchata. My auntie thinks she is good at it but... it's yuck."

He chuckled and soon, you'd get out the car. Miguel rubbed your shoulders soothingly in an attempt to ease your restless nerves.

----

"Buenas gente" (Hey, People)

One of your elder aunts, the only one you truly liked and always supported you back in college came to greet you with a loving hug, "Mija!"

"Hola tía" (Hey auntie)

You hugged her back and mumbled a quick 'I missed you' before letting Miguel come into view.

"Tía, This is Miguel. My boyfriend."

Auntie gasped at the sheer size of him but gave him a gentle smile.

"Nice to meet you, mijo."

"El gusto es mío, madrecita" (The pleasure is mine)

"Oh! He speaks Spanish!"

The two shared a brief laugh as auntie invited you further. With a hand Miguel held a small present, a bottle of your dad's favorite rum and bunch of roses for your mother. and the other one he held your hand.

It seemed like a regular carneada for him, except that this time there wasn't meats to roast, but soup. Your mom's special seafood soup that was only done in special occasions. You could tell it would be difficult to leave emotionally unscathed when your mom and dad, three aunties, two cousins, and your brother were there.

Upon you making an appearance before all of them, the world stopped for a second, your breath was caught in your throat as you mentally prepared for the game of pretense.

"Mi niña! Come here!"

Your dad followed by your brother made the first ones in making an approach. The size difference sure was shocking for them all. Your father and brother had to crane his head up to see Miguel.

"¿Qué tal? Un gusto conocerte." (How's it going? Nice to meet you)

Miguel shook his hand with him firmly, something your dad approved. And then Miguel handed the packaged rum to him.

He had explained how you'd told him about his favorite drink. Your dad invited you and introduced Miguel to the whole family.

Some of your cousins oggled him shamelessly. Earning a frown from you.

However the biggest challenge laid ahead. Your mother had been watching both from afar, tending to the food with some of your aunties.

And when it was her time to be greeted, you held tighter on his hand. His thumb rubbing on your skin, reassuring.

You'll be fine.

"Mamá" You mumbled and her so ever deep stare settled on Miguel. Not even in you first, but Miguel.

"Fo you, Ma'am" Miguel gave her the roses which she took with a strained smile.

"Thank you very much. Miguel was it, right?"

"Así es." (Correct)

"Are you hungry? Made your favorite soup."

Her stalking gaze shifted between Miguel and you.

"Thanks. A bit would be nice."

"Hm. Go sit, Miguel. We'll tend to this."

Her gaze returned to the food and you nodded at him. He wasn't comfortable with the idea to just sit and watch. But by the things you had told him, it was better to not create unnecessary drama for you.

-----

Everyone seemed at the expectance of something happening between you and your mother. Your brother was trying to make casual conversation with Miguel, but his curt and simple answers made him desist. Plus, it didn't help his mahogany eyes seemed lighter.

If they were nervous about him looking so big with deep red eyes, they'd surely freak out by his fangs. It instantly made your stomach churn, you knew Miguel didn't appreciate people pointing at his insecurities so brazenly, even worse without knowing him.

Everyone sat down, a little blessing before anything and soon the feast begun.

Of course, eyes were settled on both of you and your interactions. Miguel followed your instructions to then help you break the crab.

One of your aunties smiled at it.

"So, Miguel, where do you work?"

Here we go

"Lab Manager at Alchemax."

Your brother whistled and nodded approvingly, just like your father.

Your relationships with him sure was strained, but at least he seemed to have a bit more self criterion than the rest when it came to pick sides. You'd rather him neutral. Just like your dad.

"Wow, you surely outdid yourself this time, cariño."

That cariño sat sickly fake in your stomach. She was the one that always instigated the fights further when you thought everything would calm down. You didn't smile, just ate.

Miguel was given a beer, a round of collective gasps as he tried to open the beer with his fangs. Your other auntie made a cross sign on herself and your mother's eyes widened.

A custom you still couldn't get out of him.

"Do they hurt?"

"How does one get those? They look so cool!"

"Are they comfortable?"

Your eyes caught the glimpse of him tightening his grip on the spoon.

"Ya pues!" (Knock it off!)

"There is no need to yell"

Silence immediately came to the table as your gaze and your mother's clashed.

"Disculpa eso, Miguel." (Im sorry for that, Miguel)

your dad shook his head at your cousins.

"Do you plan on having kids?"

You couldn't help but hide your face in your palm.

"Mamá, stop."

"What? I just wanna know! You're getting old enough to have kids. And Emanuel is always asking about you."

"We haven't discussed it yet." Miguel cleaned his hands with lemon, rinsing away the fishy smell out of his fingers. The coldness in his voice only matched your mom's icy stare.

"Oh."

"But do you want to have kids, Miguel?"

"Dios mío, ma! Ya basta." (My god, Mom! Enough.)

"Why are you so mad over a question?"

Miguel's jaw clenched. It made sense for him why you didn't visit. The way you rolled your eyes, made the ones that had finished already to stand up and leave. Their cue to leave things unfold.

Your elder auntie seized your mom with a glare. Your dad only recoiled to himself and your brother sighed.

"Ma, eso no se pregunta." The only attempt of him to calm the boiling tension between the two. (Mom, you don't ask such things)

Miguel gave you a 'do you wanna go now' stare. And you shook your head. Leaving would only make things worse. But you found the perfect excuse to leave the table.

"Need help, mi amor?"

"Sure."

He was perceptive to pick up your cues, the both cleared up the table and took the dishes to the sink.

---

"I'm so sorry you had to put up with it." You mumbled as you washed and he dried. The kitchen felt tiny for him.

"S'fine."

"Are you mad?"

"A bit uncomfortable. But no, not mad."

"We're leaving after we're done here." a deep sigh escaped your lips, "This is exactly why I don't come here."

"Whose Emanuel?" You groaned and shook your head.

"A man mom thought it was fun to pair me with a long time ago. I never indulged him but he never got the memo ever since I left this place"

"Sounds like he never got over you."

"Yeah, cause mom kept feeding his hopes of me getting with him together."

"Is that why you moved out?"

"One of the reasons, yeah."

You finished the dishes and Miguel excused himself to the bathroom.

He could hear the voices from the other side. One of your aunts surely and your mom.

"I give them a year."

"Did you see his... fangs? I've never seen something like that! And his eyes too!"

"Esta niña... Me va a sacar canas verdes. From all The guys she could pick, she gets one that is twice her size. Why she can't pick up normal guys?" (This girl, will get me green hairs)

Miguel's eyes turned apprehensive as his mouth settled in a straight line.

He had to hunch over the sink to take a look of himself in the mirror. He looked pretty normal, by any standards, until of course, he smiled. Pointy canines bigger than the average people stood out the most. His eyes were a different shade of brown. That was all.

He was fine.

He was normal.

He knew things like this would happen, he expected a bit of trouble. Not this.

His head felt heavy. Sudden spiral thoughts plagued his mind, corrupting the good things he held dear in his mind.

"As long as he's rich, don't care."

"Emanuel's surely richer than him"

That was the final straw. He knew you weren't that type of woman. Hell, you had invited him multiple times, knowing that you'd get broke for a couple of weeks. And still did it anyways. You loved to pamper him.

Why?

His steps guided him back to you. You were stressed and surely would cry at night. But so far you were keeping it together.

Your heart sunk a bit when looking at him. Neither of the both could stand being a second longer in the house. He followed you as you said your goodbyes. You didn't hug none but your elder aunt, and your dad, though the latter got an awkward hug.

You went back home. Neither of you said much during the trip back.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️ #t writes✨ #Pre Soccer Family ⚽🕷️

[alwaysmicado]

Don't ruin the sofa

6.5k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 3

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, mild hurt/comfort, mention of blood, phone sex, talk of anal play, one (1) face slap, rough sex, pain kink, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, degradation/praise, fluffy aftercare, pet names, dom!Joel Summary: After a phone call brings up repressed emotions, you decide to buy a new sofa. Joel assembles it for you, then fucks you on it.  A/N: You're trying to reach reader? Sorry, she's moved on. (+ is fucking the hottest guy around). Read the previous parts here: pt. 1 | pt. 2 | masterlist | AO3 (each part can be read alone). Thank you all for your love on this series. Your kind words mean the world to me. 🤍

“How is this my fucking life,” you whisper to yourself and let your phone fall onto the wooden coffee table with a thud. You get up with a groan and drag yourself to the fridge where you know an opened bottle of white wine is waiting for you, then pour yourself a healthy amount, eye the glass, pour some more and shuffle back to the sofa. 

As soon as you plop back down, your phone lights up and vibrates for the third time since you came home from work. The loud and resonant buzz, amplified and carried by the hard surface of the table, is aggravating to say the least. You take a big sip of your wine and let out an exasperated sigh when the caller won’t let up. That’s it, you’ve had enough. In a split second you swipe up to take the call and put the phone to your ear. 

You don’t say anything. He’s the one who’s been texting and calling you every night for the past week, so you’re certainly not going to say something first. Instead, you wait and swirl your wine.

“Finally,” you hear him breathe with relief. “I thought you’d never pick up.” 

Then why do you keep calling, you stupid idiot. You roll your eyes in annoyance and put your naked feet on the coffee table. The wine is successfully taking the edge off, but you're still this close to telling him off for good. Perhaps you should; he deserves it. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, babe,” he purrs into your ear, his sickeningly sweet voice sending a shiver down your spine. “About you, about us; about everything, really. About what could’ve been if things didn’t end like they di-”

“What do you want, Simon?” You interrupt him, your patience for his theatrics already wearing thin. 

“Oh, babe,” he breathes, “It’s so good to hear your vo-”

“What do you want?” You ask again, emphasizing every word.

“I want to apologize,” he answers with a deep sigh, then clears his throat. “I- I’m sorry about what happened and how we ended things, I really am.”

You snort and pluck a stray piece of lint from your tank top. Is he for real right now?

“Cool story, Simon,” you deadpan as you get up to go grab the wine bottle from the fridge. “That it?” 

“I was hoping we could talk about things, maybe meet up? I’d love to see you.” 

You slam the fridge door shut and take the bottle back to the sofa. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you mutter and pour yourself another glass. 

“Of course there is,” Simon protests, the agitated tone of his voice betraying the calm and collected facade he tried to put up. “I really think we should talk about what happened. I can’t just forget about it, you know.” Oh yeah, this is the real Simon. Always trying to manipulate the people around him. Sucks for him that you’ve figured it out. 

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mumble and bring the cold rim of the glass back to your lips. 

“Oh, come on now. Why are you acting like this?” He groans, his annoyance palpable. When he realizes you’re not going to answer him and that he maybe should be more diplomatic, he relents. “I just think we should talk about it, that’s all.”

“You wanna talk about it, huh?” You laugh dryly. “About how you were fucking Laura while I was bleeding. Or how you were fucking her when I was in surgery. Or how you were fucking her when I desperately tried to reach you. You wanna talk about all of that.” 

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Simon counters. “We weren’t together at that point and-,” he trails off and sighs deeply. “I was scared, okay?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “We’ve had this exact conversation three years ago, Simon. There’s nothing left to say. I’m over it.”

“How can you say that?” he asks incredulously.

“You never once called me after I moved out to ask how I was. Not once,” you sigh, this conversation slowly tugging at the stitches of wounds you thought were long closed.

“You told me you didn’t wanna hear from me,” Simon huffs. “And I was- fuck. I’m just sorry, okay? I know i fucked up.”

You both don’t say anything for a few seconds, his breathing in your ear the only thing you can hear. 

“Can we meet, babe? Please? I think it would be good for both of us.” 

You chug the remaining wine and take a deep breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Simon. I got nothing to say to you.” 

And with that you hang up and throw your phone across the sofa. You take a deep breath, put your feet on the ground and your palms on your thighs. You close your eyes and say out loud, “calm, safe, breathe.” You repeat the mantra before adding, “It’s over, I’m here, I’m safe. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.” 

When you open your eyes again and observe the familiar surroundings of your apartment, a soothing feeling of  comfort washes over you. There’s the purple vase you bought at a flea market in the first week after moving in, there are your beloved succulents that look as healthy as ever, there’s the painting you got from your talented colleague for your last birthday. And there’s the polaroid Tommy took of you and Joel at the party where he introduced you two.

You quickly wipe away your tears and turn on your TV. Another glass of wine, your favorite show and you’ll be able to sleep in no time, you tell yourself. You get up to get a new bottle from the fridge and decide to take the leftover banana bread you made with you as well. It’s time for all the comfort you can get. 

With your hands full, you shuffle back to the sofa and, due to the dim light and the fact that you just downed an almost full bottle of wine on an empty stomach, you completely miss the fact that you’re directly walking into one of the coffee table legs. You stub your toes hard, trip and fall to the floor. You can only watch in slow motion as the plate flies through the air and shatters on your hardwood floor, the banana bread just rolling away sadly. The wine glass is even more spectacular, as its contents spill all over your sofa and the glass explodes into a thousand shards. 

“Fuck my life,” you groan and get on your knees to pick up the big pieces with your hands before sweeping up the smaller ones with a dustpan and brush later. 

“Shit,” you hiss and clutch your wrist. 

Of course you cut yourself on one of the shards, blood immediately trickling down onto the carpet. The cut on your palm is not deep, but it stings. And the blood is already seeping into the fabric - great. You let out an exasperated sigh and get up. 

You can’t be bothered to take care of all this right now, so you slap a too small bandaid over the cut, brush your teeth, take your melatonin with a glass of water and go to bed. 

— 

What sociopath calls this early? And on your day off no less. You groan at the sharp and grating sound emitted by your phone on the nightstand, but pick up when you see who it is. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is little more than a hoarse whisper, laced with a sleepy rasp. 

“Aww, did I wake the princess?” Joel asks in mock concern. You can hear the smirk on his stupid handsome face through the phone. 

“No, no,” you murmur and rub your bleary eyes. “I’ve already run ten miles, deep-cleaned my whole apartment and rescued a cat from a tree. What have you done, hm?” 

“Touché. Very impressive, darlin’,” he chuckles, your wit never failing to amuse him. “And no, I haven’t rescued any cats so far today. I’m just at work. Besides,” he continues before his voice takes on a sultry tone, “the only pussy I’m interested in is yours anyway.”

You involuntarily suck in a breath and feel yourself clench around nothing. You’re still half asleep and have no clue what planet you’re on, but Joel’s still managed to get you all hot and bothered within ten seconds of your conversation; and with a shitty pun at that.

You might have a mild problem. 

“Hmm, you like that, don’t you?” He groans softly as the rhythmic fapping sound reaches your ear.

“Are you jerking off right now?” You ask, less shocked and definitely more turned on than you should be. 

“Yeah,” he purrs. “You wanna help me, baby?” 

“Hang on,” you say, trying to process the situation. “You’re at work and you just what, decided to call me at - you look at the time on your display - 7:13 in the morning, so I could get you off?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Joel murmurs into your ear.  

You can’t help but chuckle at his audacity and complete lack of shame. You love it. 

“Alright,” you coo, “but first you gotta tell me what’s got you all riled up.” You put him on speaker and slide your hand between your legs. 

“My secretary’s wearing a tight dress today,” he murmurs, then spits into his hand to wet his shaft.  

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, “She turn you down and now poor you has to make do with me?” You run your fingers through your folds and bite your lip as you spread the slick from your core to your clit. 

“You know me better than that, darlin’,” Joel says softly. “I was scrolling through the photos I took of the construction site yesterday and then the pic you sent me caught my eye. Couldn’t concentrate on anything else afterwards.” 

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as you think of Joel losing his composure because of you. It is a hot photo to be fair. After your phone call with Simon on Sunday night, you ordered a new sofa, carpet and some fun items of the adult variety to feel better. While trying out one of them, you felt compelled to let Joel have a piece of your fun and sent him a pic of you with your best assets on display. 

“You like that one, huh,” you tease, your fingers slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I was thinking about you when I took it, you know.”

“Fuck yeah,” Joel murmurs, his breathing heavy. “Look fucking gorgeous with your ass stuffed and your tits out.” 

“Mmm, it’s a new ribbed dildo I got. Felt amazing in my tight little hole,” you purr and hear Joel groan softly at the image. “I used a vibrator on my clit while I fucked my ass, but my pussy felt far too empty. It was dripping so much I had to change the sheets after.”

“That’s my dirty girl. You want two cocks to stuff your greedy holes, baby?” He moans, clearly aroused by the idea of seeing you fall apart while being filled to the brim. You dip your fingers into your wet cunt and use your slick to rub your clit harder.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathe, causing Joel’s painfully hard cock to twitch, “want you to tie me to the bed so my pussy’s wide open for you. I want you to choose a toy that’s too big and push it inside my dripping hole to stretch it until it’s a ruined mess. When you’re satisfied and take the toy out of my ruined hole, I’d beg you to finally fuck my cunt with your cock, but you’d fuck my ass instead and just leave my used pussy clench around nothing.”

You moan breathlessly as you can feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten and pleasure building rapidly. Hearing Joel lose his mind on the other end of the line is setting all of your nerves on fire and you desperately wish he was here to fuck you like you deserve. 

“Fuck, you’re such a perfect little whore,” Joel groans, fisting his cock faster. “I’d film the whole thing, so I could show you how pathetic you look begging for my cock and dripping with my cum. I’d fill you up over and over again until you’re a crying mess begging me to stop.” His moans are getting louder and you can’t help but wonder how thick the walls of his office must be.  

You can’t wait for him to get his hands on you and do with you as he pleases. “I’ll take whatever you decide to give me, Sir.”

“Gonna take my cum in all your holes, angel?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, I need it so bad. I just wanna be your cum slut for you to fill up.” 

When Joel just groans at that, you know you’ve hit on something. “That’s what I am, right? Your cum slut to fill up?” You’re incredibly close to coming already, but you want to wait for Joel. 

“That’s what you are, angel. And you’re just perfect like that. Three holes for me to use. Always so,” he pants breathlessly as he’s tip-toeing on the edge of his release, “always so fucking good for me. Gonna- gonna ruin you, baby. Gonna make you come on my cock until you cry.”

“Can I please come, Sir? I- I don’t think I can wait anymore,” you whine desperately, Joel’s filthy mouth putting you over the edge. 

“Oh yeah, baby,” he pants breathlessly as he increases the pace of his strokes. You can hear the obscene sound of him fucking his fist. “You gonna come with me?”

You moan his name as you reach your peak, your whole body trembling and finding its release. Joel is right behind you, erupting into his hand and onto his belly with a strangled groan. Your orgasm is so intense that you can ride it out for a few ecstatic seconds filled with your breathless moans. When you come down from your climax, you only hear your blood rushing in your ears and the pulsating sound of your heart.  

You try to catch your breath for a few seconds and open your eyes before asking, “Joel, you alive?”

When the only thing you hear is heavy breathing, you giggle. You know exactly how he looks right now, all disheveled with his wet cock out and a big satisfied smile on his lips. You wish so badly you could lick up every last drop of his cum. 

“Mmm, you’re such a good girl,” Joel murmurs after some time, still coming down from his high and opening a drawer to retrieve some tissues. “I’ll clear my schedule, so we can do this every morning, alright?” 

You chuckle and turn on your side, “You’d get bored with me pretty quickly if we did this every day.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard today,” Joel scoffs and wipes his softening cock with the tissues. “And I had to explain to Tommy that he can’t influence the gender of his future baby by fucking his wife a certain way. So, yeah.” 

You laugh at the image of Tommy vividly explaining how he and Maria have sex and Joel just standing there, dumbfounded, asking himself if he might have damaged his little brother’s brain when they were wrestling as kids.

“Alright, babe,” Joel says softly, “since my cock’s not hogging all of my blood anymore, I should try and get some work done.” 

“Good idea,” you chuckle. “Say hi to Tommy from me, okay?”

“Will do, darlin’. And you let me know when you got time to show me that new toy of yours in person, alright?” 

Your eyes lock on the big IKEA packages in your living room and you bite your lip. 

“You wanna come over later?”

---

You’re actually excited for your new sofa. You’ve had the old one removed by a company yesterday and already spread out the new carpet. It’s gray with white shapes on it. And it’s fluffy, so you’ve spent quite some time walking on it with bare feet.

You assembled your old sofa yourself when you moved in three years ago. It was dark blue and you loved it. But you also spilled a lot of stuff on there over time, bodily fluids included. So it’s nice to get a new, clean one. 

Especially when it’s the reason why Joel Miller is currently kneeling on your floor, his broad back and arms stretching the fabric of his white T-shirt, his perfect butt accentuated by his jeans, wrestling with the IKEA manual he insists is “misleading” and “must’ve been written by some idiot who’s never built anything in his goddamn life”.

Needless to say, you’re loving the free entertainment. 

He shoots you an annoyed look and lets out an exasperated sigh when you point out for the third time that he’s reading the instructions wrong. You can’t not tease him, he makes it too easy. 

“As much as I appreciate your very generous help, darlin’, I really wish you’d get the fuck outta here before I strangle you. Lovingly.” 

You giggle and scratch the back of his head softly. “It’s not like you to get so frustrated, baby,” you purr into his ear as you lean down, giving him a perfect view of your naked tits under your oversized shirt. “You sure you don’t need my help? I wouldn’t want you to strain your poor knees and back too much, you know.” 

You wish you could take pictures with your retinas because the glare Joel is giving you right now is priceless.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” He scoffs and tilts his head as his dark eyes bore into you. Uh-oh, now you did it. “If you’re not out of this room in ten seconds, I’m gonna tie you to your bed and edge you with a vibrator on full volume until you’re crying from pain. And believe me when I tell you that I will not let you come.” 

A smug smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips as he observes how your pupils have dilated and how you're pressing your thighs together at his threat. He raises an eyebrow when you don’t move and tuts, “Poor baby, already cockdumb even though I haven’t even touched her yet, hm?” You frown at him, but he just laughs at you. “Time’s ticking you little brat, better get out while you still can.” You bite the inside of your cheek and sigh dramatically before heading for your bedroom. 

When you hear Joel chuckle behind you, you hesitate for a second, but he’s already read your mind. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls. “And close the door.”

You do just that, jump on your bed and watch Netflix on your laptop. It only takes Joel another 40 minutes to finish assembling the sofa, so you’re pleasantly surprised when he calls your name so soon. 

You close your laptop and quickly smell your armpits. You’ve showered in the morning, but it’s still incredibly hot even with the AC blasting. When you’ve assessed that you smell good, you open the door to the living room. 

“How do you like it?” Joel asks as he’s standing next to the cream-colored piece of furniture. He’s already put away all of the packaging material and made sure the cushions are clean. It looks absolutely stunning and nicely complements all the other furniture in the room.

You trace the back of the sofa with your hand, appreciating the soft material and come to a halt when you’re flush with Joel’s body. You look up into his eyes and coo, “Thank you so much, Joel. I love it.” He smiles back at you and studies your face for a second before grabbing you by the nape of your neck and your ass cheek. 

“You listen to me very carefully now ‘cause I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he growls, intensifying the grip on your neck. “You do as you’re told. You answer me. You don’t come unless I tell you to and I’m not gonna stop unless you say your safeword. Understood?”

You’re so stunned that you can only nod, your words completely failing you. 

You gasp in surprise as Joel’s palm cracks against your left cheek, leaving a stinging imprint. You instinctively move your left hand to soothe the pain, but Joel is faster than you and catches your wrist. “Tell me your safeword, baby,” he purrs and caresses your sensitive cheek. 

You stammer the specific word you both know to be your safeword before he tangles his hand in your hair and captures your lips in a hungry kiss. Your heart rate picks up immediately as you part your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip in. The sensation of Joel’s soft lips and his broad body pressing against yours has you rub against the bulge in his jeans. 

He grabs your thigh and lifts it up, so he can grind against your aching core directly. You moan into his mouth, your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him into you as you move your hips in sync with his thrusts. You’re so sensitive since your orgasm this morning that you could come like this if he let you.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you,” he pants as he breaks the kiss and studies your face. Your pupils are blown, your chest is heaving and your mind is spinning. You want him so badly it hurts. “Take off your clothes and bend over the armrest, baby,” Joel orders and you obey immediately. You let your shirt and pj pants fall down to your feet, causing Joel to suck in a sharp breath when he sees that you’re not wearing any panties. 

He looks at you hungrily as you bend over the sofa, your arms resting on the cushion and your ass in the air with your legs spread. 

“You’re the prettiest little whore I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He asks as he’s tracing your back with his fingertips. When you don’t answer him, he smacks your ass hard. You yelp in surprise at the impact and instinctively close your legs. Joel presses his clothed bulge against your wet pussy and kicks your feet apart with his. He caresses the red cheek with one hand and tangles the other in your hair to yank your head back. “Answer me or I’ll spank you until you can’t anymore,” he growls into your ear, the dangerous tone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m the prettiest little whore you’ve ever seen,” you blurt out, then moan at the feeling of Joel running his fingers through your folds. “Mmm, you’re such a good girl,” he praises. “Always so wet for me.”

You hear him unbutton and unzip his jeans, hear his belt buckle hit the floor and his heavy breathing behind you as he coats his hard cock in your slick and gives it a few pumps. “I need you to be strong now, angel,” he says softly as he rubs your clit with his index and middle finger. You’re so desperate for him to touch you that his words don’t register. 

A needy moan escapes your lips as he’s finally relieving some of the tension that’s been building in your core all day long. You push your hips back as far as you can to chase the friction, but Joel withdraws his fingers all too quickly. You whine desperately at the loss and immediately feel tears well up in your eyes. You hear the dull thud of his T-shirt hitting the floor.

“Shh, be good for me, baby,” Joel purrs before you feel his hands grabbing your hips and the head of his cock nudging your entrance. Your eyes widen in realization as your brain has now processed what he’s planning on doing.   

Before you can protest though, he’s already ramming his cock inside you in one smooth thrust, splitting you open with a force you’ve never felt before. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it, baby,” Joel groans loudly, stumbling forward because of the shiver that’s running down his spine, causing him to go even deeper. 

The sudden impact of his cock spreading you open without any preparation besides your wetness has knocked the air out of your lungs. Only when he moves and nudges your cervix does your body finally allow you to cry out in pain.  

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m here,” Joel purrs as he gives you no time to adjust to his size or the pain at all, but starts to set a slow rhythm, thrusting his cock in and out of your tight pussy. You sob into the cushion and try to rub your clit on the armrest, but Joel pulls you back on his cock hard when he notices. 

“Nuh-uh, baby,” he tuts as he picks up the pace and uses his grip on your sides to bounce you on his cock. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?” 

He slaps the same spot on your ass as before when you don’t answer him. Your chest heaves as you choke on your sobs, unable to get an answer out. “I know it hurts, baby. I’m so sorry about that,” he coos as he continually rocks into you at an unrelenting pace. “But I really need you to answer me, angel.”

“I-I want to c-come, Sir,” you sob pathetically, tears streaming from your eyes. 

“I get that, baby, I really do. But I don’t think you understand what this is,” Joel groans. “You really think I’m gonna let you come, you brat?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whine as Joel’s cock expertly massages your G-spot with every powerful thrust of his hips. The mix of pain and pleasure has your body and mind on fire. There are no thoughts in your brain, no ex-boyfriends, no past, no blood, no sadness - just Joel and you, melting into one. 

When he feels you tighten your muscles around him, hears your breathing get ragged and the pitch of your moans get higher, he pulls out of you. You scream and sob into the cushion as your legs shake uncontrollably. You were so close. 

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel breathes, then starts stroking your back and ass gently before watching his cock disappear into your body once again. “I don’t care how good it feels,” he pants. “You'd better not come until I tell you to.” 

When you feel your orgasm approach quickly again, your body so utterly desperate for release, you resort to begging. There is no pride left, only carnal desire. 

“Please Joel, please, let me come, please,” you whimper weakly between sobs. “You can come wherever you w-want, my ass, my pussy, my m-mouth, all over me - just please let me come. I can’t take it anymore.” 

“That’s a good girl, begging so pretty,” Joel coos and slowly pulls out of you. He holds you steady as he feels you tremble. “Lie down, darlin,” he says softly and guides you on your back.

He kneels between your legs and puts one of them over his shoulders. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in. “Look at me, baby,” Joel breathes. “Look at me when you come.” You moan softly as he brings you to the edge of your release in the matter of a few thrusts. “That’s it, angel,” Joel encourages you, his face hovering above yours. “Don’t hold back, I got you,” he nods. You arch your back as you reach your peak, a choked groan escaping your lips as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby. Wanna come all over you,” Joel groans, your walls contracting around him as he’s slamming his hips against your core with abandon.

“Don’t ruin the sofa,” you mumble between breathless moans. Joel chuckles into your ear and nibbles on your earlobe. “I guess I’ll just have to fill you up then,” he rasps, picking up the pace and sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck.

He comes with a low, rough grunt as he spills himself deep inside you. His hips stutter and his whole body suddenly goes limp as he comes down from his high on top of you. You draw shapes onto his back with your fingertips and he hums into the crook of your neck. When he tries to pull out after a few seconds, you grab his ass to stop him. 

“No, no, no,” you protest weakly, “it’ll drip on the sofa.” 

“Alright, baby, no worries. Just hold on to me, can you do that?” Joel asks gently. “Hm,” you answer and wrap your hands around his neck. He maneuvers you from your back into a sitting position with you on top, then moves to stand with you wrapped around him. He carries you to the bathroom like this, making sure his cock stays inside you the whole way. 

He lets you down right in front of the toilet and you immediately sit down, so his cum doesn’t drip on the floor. “Join me, when you’re done, okay?” Joel murmurs as he kisses your forehead before stepping into the shower. You pee and wait a bit for more of his cum to trickle out of you, then step into the shower as well. 

You squeeze past Joel to stand under the water, wet your whole body and hair and squirt some of the peach scented body wash onto your loofah to scrub your body. “Let me do your back,” Joel says softly, then massages you from your neck down to your feet with the sponge as you apply your shampoo.

When you’re both done, you dry off with two of your fluffiest towels and go to put on your clothes. You get yourself a new pair of pajama pants and another oversized shirt and Joel puts the clothes he came in back on. 

“What do you want from Domino’s?” You shout from the bedroom. Time for pizza and Netflix.

---

“What the fuck,” you hiss as you see the new notification on your phone. “I fucking told you to leave me alone, what is so fucking hard to understand? Asshole.” You lean over the counter and stare at Simon’s messages. Wanna give you space, babe. But I can’t live without you. You put the leftover pizza in your fridge and slam the door.

“You alright, darlin’?” Joel asks as he’s suddenly standing behind you in the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorry, all good,” you murmur, turning around to face him and putting on the most convincing smile you’re capable of right now. You’re not fooling Joel for a second and you know it. When he gives you a sympathetic look, you can’t muster the strength to pull up the corners of your lips anymore. Instead, you look at the fuzzy slippers on your feet and sigh deeply. “It’s my ex,” you say quietly. “He started calling and texting me a week ago after no contact for three years and it’s really stressing me out.” 

Your eyes find Joel’s and you immediately feel sorry for bringing it up. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry,” you stammer and shake your head. “It’s not your problem. Forget what I said.” He closes the distance between you two and wraps his strong arms around you in a warm embrace. You put your arms around him and stroke his back. You can feel his heartbeat. 

“Why don’t I make us some coffee and we sit back down on your new, not-ruined sofa, hm?” He murmurs into your hair with a smile.

“Joel, I don’t-”

“We don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can just sit, drink coffee and not talk as much as you want.” His warm hands softly rubbing your back make you feel so safe. 

“Okay, thank you,” you mumble into his shoulder before letting go of him. You open a drawer and pull out a bag of cookies. “I got these for you if you want them.” You hold up the bag and Joel takes it with a furrowed brow and a curious smile. 

“How in the world did you know?”

“You honestly don’t remember?” You giggle. “You ranted about how much you love these for an hour when we got high a few weeks ago. They don’t sell them anywhere nearby so I ordered them in a specialty store online.”

Joel shakes his head and looks at you with his big puppy eyes. “You’re the best, darlin’. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead gently, then tells you to make yourself comfortable on the sofa.

You sit down and look around. Being here feels different. Your apartment looks the same as it did a few hours ago. Sure, the sofa and carpet are new, but there’s something else. You realize that it doesn’t bother you to have someone else in your home, in your safe space. It’s actually kind of nice to know someone’s here. 

“There you go,” Joel says as he hands you your cup. He sits down beside you and puts a bowl filled with cookies on the coffee table. 

You pull your feet up onto the cushion and say, “Thank you.” Joel puts his arm over the backrest and caresses the nape of your neck with his fingers. 

“You remember what I told you when you asked me to stay over on our first night together?” You ask quietly.

“I do,” Joel says softly. “You said you couldn’t and when I asked what you meant by that you said you didn’t wanna get attached.” 

“Sounds kinda mean now that I’m thinking about it,” you murmur. “You know it has nothing to do with you, right?”

“I know, darlin’,” Joel reassures you. “And I’ve told you from the beginning that I’m not gonna pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. We got a good thing going and as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I haven’t always been this way, you know,” you sigh and play with the hem of your shirt. “And I fucking hate that it was one guy that ruined everything,” you say dryly and stare into your black coffee. “It wasn’t a good relationship to begin with and we both made some bad decisions. I know that. So when I packed up a handful of my things and walked out of our apartment forever, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again. Until now.” You take a sip of your coffee and continue, “He apologized for the shit he did and asked me to meet him.”

“How do you feel about that? Him apologizing?” Joel asks, his calm tone of voice soothing your nerves. 

You sigh deeply and let your head fall back onto the sofa. “I feel like it’s a goddamn joke,” you scoff and throw your arm over your eyes. “I don’t believe a single word he says and he didn’t even really apologize, you know? He still doesn’t understand what he did. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.”

You lift your arm and turn your head to look at Joel. “I dunno which is worse.”

“It sucks that he’s not giving you the apology you deserve after hurting you. I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I just don’t understand why it bothers me so much, you know? I haven’t seen him in three years, I’m over it, so why does it still hurt so fucking bad?”

“Did you love him?” Joel asks and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You look into his big, sincere eyes and nod. “Yeah,” you murmur. “At least I thought I did.” 

“Well, there’s your answer, sweetheart.” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot,” you groan, embarrassed of your pathetic feelings and the way you’re behaving in front of Joel. Being this emotionally vulnerable is causing you physical pain. 

“Hey, stop that nonsense,” he objects immediately, scooting closer to you and pulling you against his chest. “You have a big heart, you have feelings. You’re allowed to feel hurt and you’re allowed to feel sad.” He kisses the crown of your head and murmurs, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Have you ever cut someone out of your life completely?” You mumble into his chest. 

“I have.”

“Do you ever think about them?”

“Sure I do,” Joel nods. “Not often, but yeah. It’s normal. Especially if they meant a lot to you.” 

“Hmm, I guess.”

You look up and give him a genuine smile before sighing and reaching for the remote. “Enough heavy stuff for today,” you say. “Let’s watch something. I can feed you cookies and scratch your back…”

---

“You wanna know what I like about you?”

“My old man fetish.”

He looks at you incredulously for a second, then starts tickling the soles of your feet in retaliation. “You’re such an ass,” he laughs as you try to wriggle away. You squeal and try to kick him off, but he’s got both of your ankles in a firm grasp. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, then pulls you closer. “C’mere.” 

You sit up and straddle him, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Joel puts his arms around you, his hands splayed on your back, instantly grounding you and providing a sense of security. 

He looks into your eyes and murmurs, “What I was going to say is that I like your honesty; with yourself and others. It’s a quality you should never give up on, even if it’s hard.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then looks at his watch. “I should go, darlin’. It’s been a long day.” 

You nod and let him get up to put on his shoes. 

“Joel?” 

He turns around and looks at you with raised eyebrows.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to go, that he can stay this time, but the words just won’t leave your lips. Instead you say, “Thank you for today, seriously.” You walk up to him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “You really helped me and made me feel so much better.” 

Joel doesn’t answer immediately as he tilts his head and studies your face. “I’m glad I could cheer you up, darlin’,” he coos and caresses your left cheek. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do, Joel. Thank you.” 

---

You open Simon’s messages and type in your reply before blocking him. 

Simon: But I can’t live without you You: Then die

---

Thank you for reading! 🤍 part 2 || part 4 || series masterlist

#fwb!joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #fwb!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller au #dom!joel miller #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #joel tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #alwaysmicado #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro boys #joel x reader #the last of us #smut

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Stop trying to feel everything

John Egan X Lieutenant Colonel!Reader

Summary: When a woman comes on the base, ranked higher than anyone. Bucky wants a date with her!

Warning: Historical inaccuracies/ sexism/ alcohol use/ mention of death/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 850

She made her way into the debrief room, she felt the men staring at her, she heard whispers. ‘’Gentleman, this is Lieutenant Colonel Rogers, she will be working with the AWPD (Air War Plan Division), I want you all on your best behaviour, she’s ranked higher than most of you here’’ Colonel Harding ordered. The men went silent as they heard her rank. Bucky looked at the woman, she was intimidating, her body language was telling that she was confident and didn’t took any of the men’s bullshit. ‘’Thank you, Colonel. Now boys, your next target is – ‘’ she was cut off by one of the men. ‘’Come on, doll, lose the uniform!’’ he yelled. She stooped what she was doing and looked at the men. She looked at him from up and down and looked at him in the eyes. Her gaze was intimidating. ‘’Misogyny, how refreshing, what’s next? Stay in the kitchen, you drive like a woman? Listen to me very carefully, I’m the one that helps deciding where you’re going to fly next, which bomb you’re going to drop and everything that you were trained to do. So go ahead, make another joke and I’ll have you arrest for assault by the M. P’s. Understood?’’ she didn’t break eye contact with the men, who quickly sat down with his head down. ‘’Can I continue?’’ she looked at the men in the room.

She quickly made a reputation for herself. She was strong and was fierce, many tried to get with her, all of them failed to do so. John Egan made it his personal objective to get a date with the Lieutenant Colonel Rogers. But as the number of missions grew, he slowly started to lose his mind, Bucky came back from a mission with a lot of casualties, he went to see one of the men injured in the hospital. Y/n was already there. ‘’I’ll let you rest, Bubbles, take care of yourself’’ she said, holding his hands. ‘’Thank you, Miss Rogers,’’ he said, smiling. She walked to the door, but when she walked past Major, she slowed down. ‘’Hello, Major, your friend, Curt, told me to say that he and other guys were going to go drink. He invited you.’’ She said as she walked out the room. Her perfume filled his nose, she smelled really good. ‘’Uh, thank you’’ he stuttered.

He was on the wing of his plane, drinking directly from the bottle. ‘’Curt, can you do me a favor?’’ He asked his friend. He nodded. ‘’Come here’’ he said, moving his fingers in a ‘Come here’ motion. ‘’I want you to hit me’’ he said. Y/n was driving her Jeep around the base. She heard someone yelling, so she drove where the noise came from. She saw Major Egan on the wing of the plane. She stopped the vehicle and got out. ‘’What’s wrong with you, Major?’’ she asked the brunette. ‘’Nothing, Miss.’’ He said, holding his nose. ‘’He just asked me to punch him!’’ Curt exclaimed. Y/n had to hold her laugh as she smiled in disbelief. ‘’Major Egan, come back down, right now’’ she ordered. He did as she asked and climbed down the plane. ‘’What’s going on with you?’’ she asked. ‘’I just want to feel something’’ he blurted out. Y/n felt bad for him. ‘’Hop in, Major’’ she tapped the seat next to her. He sat next to her; she hands him a tissue for his nose. ‘’You know you can do something else than getting punched’’ she said. ‘’I just don’t know what’’ he mumbled. ‘’Stop trying to feel everything, Major, the emotions you’re feeling are valid’’ she says to him. He looked at her, she didn’t know what to say, but he had a lump in his throat. ‘’Why are you shutting off to us, Lieutenant?’’ he asked her. She thought about an answer, but he was right. ‘’Because I can’t take dead pilots, again. I want to be strong; I can’t see my friends being dead, not again’’ she said. She’d been transferred from another base; she lost her old best friend and went a little crazy. Bucky looked at her, she had both hands on the steering wheel, but if one of them was free, he would take her hand. ‘’Yeah, I heard the rumors’’ he softly says. ‘’The one that say that I’m crazy?’’ she asks. ‘’Yeah, but I didn’t believe them’’ Y/n smiles. She stops the car near a tree. ‘’Listen, Major, normally, I’m supposed to get you in trouble for the hole ‘punch me’ situation. I take my job very seriously, and if they learn that I went soft on you, my reputation is ruined. So don’t do it again, or the M. Ps are going to get involved, got it?’’ she tired to sound intimidating. Bucky softly smiled. ‘’You can’t buy my silence that easily, Lieutenant’’ he teased. ‘’Alright, what do you want?’’ she laughed. ‘’A date?’’ his voice was full of hope. Y/n rolled her eyes and looked at the men. She found him attractive, and he was the only one that was persistent enough to try to have a date with her. ‘’Okay, I’ll go on a date with you, Major’’

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #john bucky egan #john egan x reader #major john egan #master of the air imagine #master of the air

[peachesofteal]

Calculation Theme

Dead Disco masterlist / this can be read as standalone

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Threesome - M/M/F. Explicit sex. Barebacking. Oral sex - fem receiving. Creampie. Come eating. Praise kink. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Feelings of anxiety, insecurity, complicated emotions. Angst. Alcohol consumption. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Reference to pre established limits and negotiation. Reader is bad at feelings. No established relationship. The 'first time' in Dead Disco. This is pre relationship, and I think it shows. Little lore note: this is the first time you're called Darling.

Your fingers find the neck of the bottle easily enough, condensation slicking beneath your skin as you lift it your lips.

You wish the beer was a shot. Or an entire bottle of some hard liquor. Something that could stop your brain from spinning eight million miles an hour, something that could turn you off so that you could relax, so you could try to enjoy yourself more.

Your excitement for this evening is being turbulently tossed with anxiety, and it’s making your stomach hurt a little bit.

You curse yourself for not just ordering a shot. A double, even.

“Ye alright, love?” Johnny asks, light and happy but tone pulling with concern. His hand slides across the table. A lifeline. A sweet gesture.

But if you take it, you’ll look too needy. Too clingy. Too… much. 

“Yeah, I’m…” A thought occurs to you in the middle of your assurance, a rash decision that's quite rotten. “I actually have to use the bathroom; I’ll be right back?” Simon still isn’t back from when he went, and you feel bad for leaving Johnny alone at the table, but this is too perfect of an opportunity.

His eyes squint before he nods.

“Alright.”

“Can I get a double vodka please? On the rocks.” You half yell to the bartender, flashing a card. They deposit it in front of you succinctly, and just the sight of the clear liquid draws tension from your shoulders.

This will make it easier. This will keep you from second guessing every word that comes out of your mouth. This will make you more fun. This will make them like you more. 

You need all the help you can get, honestly. You’re… woefully unprepared, too excited, clumsy with your eagerness, too nervous for what was discussed earlier, and the clock ticks closer and closer to the moment when you’ll be leaving the bar as three, to go back to their place.

What if you’re not good? What if you don’t live up to their expectations? What if they don’t like you?

You’ve never done, this. Never had a threesome before. You told them, of course. Confessed it a few days ago when you all met for drinks. When Johnny pressed you against the wall of the dimly lit dive in a heated kiss, and Simon watched. When it became clear where this was all going, when Johnny told you that they’d love to have you in their bed, would love to have an opportunity to get to know you a little better, make you feel good.

You hadn’t bothered to tell them that they should be careful what they wish for. You knew they would find out eventually. It was only a matter of time.

But the alcohol will help with that. Will help with everything. Will help delay the inevitable.

And you can still have some fun, before it all comes crashing down. 

You clutch the glass greedily, lifting it to your lips to knock it down in one go. You can smell the burn of the liquor, the noxious fumes like sour tinged rubbing alcohol filling the air as you tip it back, ice cubes slotting against your lips and-

A hand wraps around your wrist with firm, insistent pressure and pulls the glass away, plucking it from your palm and placing back onto the bar top unceremoniously.

You turn in the same moment, irritated, outraged, until you’re face to chest with Simon, and he’s staring down at you, severe gaze seeking yours above the black cloth mask.

“Uh-“ you squeak. His hand returns to your wrist, and he’s stroking circles into your pulse point. “I was just, gonna have a-“ he shakes his head, releasing you to produce a note that he hands to the bartender.

All while never looking away from you.

It’s like he’s studying you, and you burn with shame, embarrassment heating through your belly and you look away, opting to study the sticky floor instead.

He looks too closely at you, all the time, and it’s unnerving. Two weeks ago, he hardly said ten words to you, but you practically crumbled under the pressure of his gaze all the same. 

The people around you can't help but stare, and you don't blame them, although you're not afraid like some of them seem to be. Your undeniable attraction to him, to Johnny, to both of them together, draws you in like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Willing, and foolish. Take me. 

There is no fear of them hurting you, doing something wicked or cruel, but of something worse. You’re scared of wanting them more, and more, desiring something that is not even feasible, not within the realm of possibility. You’re afraid every time you catch Simon staring at you that he’s reading your mind, seeing down past everything you display and into the truth of who you are. You’re already afraid of the day it ends, when Johnny will shake his head with a sad smile and tell you they’re no longer interested.

You grit your teeth. You’re getting so far ahead of yourself. 

“You don’t need that.” The way he says it sounds so believable, convincing enough that you nod in stunned agreement. “We’re leaving now.” He directs, and then folds his entire hand over your collarbone to steer you through the crowd back to the little table. Johnny’s expression shifts when he sees you, flickering into curiosity and something else, something you can’t name, before it clears and he smiles at you, beautiful face changing into something brilliant that makes your knees go a little weak.

“Everything alright?” It’s asked so innocently, but he’s not looking at you, the person who’s currently being pivoted around like a doll, instead he’s looking at Simon, who rumbles a yes before jerking his head towards the door.

“Ready?”

“Aye.”

Johnny kisses you in the cab. Your back stays flush with Simon, and his hand has drifted from your shoulder to your waist, easy touch stroking up and down your ribs. Johnny kisses you, just like last time, with gentle passion. It’s soft and incredible, the feel of his mouth on yours, and you could melt into him, disappear inside of him, let him lavish you with sweet affection and dizzying kisses until you ceased to exist.

He kisses you over and over, until the cab is pulling up outside their building.

Until you’re standing on the sidewalk with the two of them, and he’s asking you that fateful question:

“Well, do ye still want to come up?”

Their bed is massive. It’s not surprising, considering their size. Johnny is not slight, and Simon makes him look of average build, so of course, their bed feels like an entire island.

It’s just so big, in this moment, when you’re lying in it alone, on your back, blinking up at the ceiling and trying desperately to not think about the fact that they excused themselves for a moment.

They’re talking about you. 

You know they are. They must be. Even though they told you to stay put, that they were just going to get a few things, you can’t not think about them out there and you in here. Why else would they have stepped out?

You’re not even undressed yet; you could easily slip out. Make a dash for the door. Run while you still can. You could give them an easy out.

You rally yourself, swinging your feet over the edge and sliding on your little ballet flats, your favorite black ones that you wear almost all the time. They feel like a second skin, and it comforts you, to have something so familiar in a moment when you feel so out of sorts.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks from where the door has re-opened, and you freeze. Fuck.

“I was just going to go…” you trail off. Simon’s standing behind him with a glass of water and a pitcher of more, a folded bath towel tucked under his arm.

“Ye want to leave?” His face crumples so slightly, a shadow of disappointment appearing and disappearing with a blink. Simon’s body tenses, brow furrowing, watching his partner intently before flicking back to look at you.

“I thought, I-“ you swallow a dry lump that’s building in the back of your throat, and to your horror, a burning sensation starts to tingle in your nose. The precursor to tears. No, no, no. Fuck. “It just seemed like, m-maybe you… you guys changed your mind, and I didn’t- didn’t want to be in the way, here.” You spit the words out and they burn, embarrassment circling back to incinerate your good sense.

Simon’s eyes slide shut, and he takes a deep breath.

“No.” The water and towel are dropped onto the bedside table, and then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to take the spot beside him.

When you do, he pulls your hands apart, and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“It wasn’t right of us, to leave the room like that.” The bed shifts behind you, Johnny’s chest pressing to your back, his hand squeezing your upper arm sweetly. “One of us should have stayed with you, I’m sorry.” Your eyebrows raise.

“Oh, it’s fine.” You bluster, but deep down you’re surprised. Nearly stunned that they recognize their actions as a mistake.

“It’s not. I should have known it would bother you. I used poor judgement.” What the fuck? You cannot fight the way your spine straightens, muscles solidifying beneath your skin, indignation blooming across your tongue. How would he know? What kind of assumption is that? They don’t even know you; they have no idea how you feel.

It’s a lie, and you know it. They’re both learning you, you’re making it far too easy for them. Simon already watches you like he’s anticipating your movements, your words. Johnny already reaches for you when it seems like he knows you need touch.

But it’s just fun. Just sex. 

You let out a burst of a breath, tension sagging away from your back.  

“Easy.” Johnny murmurs in your ear, warm breath tingling across your skin. He punctuates it with a kiss to your temple, and then to your cheek, and you calm even more, relaxing into him. “We wanted to discuss some things with ye, boundaries, and such.”

Oh. 

“Okay.”

“We know you haven’t done this before.” Simon pulls one of your legs onto the bed and massages your calf, nearly holding its entirety in his hand. “And we want to ensure that we’re all comfortable. Has anything changed since last week? Since we discussed testing and protection?” You shake your head. Your IUD is unchanged as ever, and your STI status being clean is still the same. 

“Nothing has changed for us either.” Johnny chimes, fingers tracing across your clavicle. It tickles, and the flutter of a giggle slips free from your lips. Simon’s eyes crease, lifting at corners, and something flips in your stomach when you realize he’s smiling. “Ticklish, love?” Johnny whispers, mischievous, flirty, and you try to shrug to play it off.

“And your limits?”

“Still the same, yeah.” You lick your lips, eyes darting over to the water. The motion seemingly pushes Simon into action, and he reaches for the glass, pressing it into your hands with a nod. “Are we…” Your face is hot with anticipation, and your question gets lost when you trip over yourself. “Are we- I mean, am I… do you want to-“  

“Not tonight. You’ll need extensive prep for that.” Simon soothes your frayed nerves. “If we all decide to see each other again, if this goes well, and you decide it’s something you want to try, we can discuss it and see how you feel.”

“Oh, okay.” You’re subtly disappointed, even though you know you shouldn’t be. They’re right, of course, and you try not to dwell on all the ‘ifs’ in Simon’s statement, about it going well, about everyone making decisions.

“Anything else?”

“The mask?”

“It stays on, unless the lights are out.” He answers quickly, and you gulp.

Most of your anxiety, your trepidation goes out the window once you get undressed. They both follow suit, and it’s thrilling, standing on the edge of something like this, with them, excitement flooding your veins, making your heartbeat faster.

They take you in slowly, hands roaming over your body, exploring you, feeling the way you curve and dip, touching your scars and marks, laying you on the bed, still clad in your underwear. Simon strokes down the back of your thigh, over your knee, and he murmurs something low, something you cannot quite make out, but whatever it is, it makes Johnny smile so big your chest hurts a little. He presses his mouth to your navel.

“We’re going to make ye feel so good, love.” He moves to drag your thong down, but Simon holds his wrist and pulls it away, shaking his head once. “We’re going to take it all away, all of the worries, everything going on in that pretty head of yours, yeah?” He whispers, and you breathe a whimper of need, of desperation.

“Please.” You’re still spread out for them, and Johnny leans over you, skin against skin. His chest, his entire body, is etched muscle, primed and perfect, and you can’t help but run a hand over his ribs, feeling the way his breath stutters. Beautiful.

His biceps cage you between them, and a sense of security falls over you, relief to be so close to him, to be pressed against him like this. It’s like happiness, but more, more than contentment, more than bliss, more like something you cannot name, and you file away the terror that you feel over it away for when you’re alone.

“So beautiful.” He whispers into your neck. “Have I told ye that yet tonight?”

“Only like ten times.” You quip, and he glides his lips down your chest, tongue swirling around a taut peak, taking one of your nipples in his teeth with a nip that has you gasping out a moan, desire pooling between your legs.

“What’s this?” Simon asks from where he kneels on the bed beside the two of you, tracing a thumb over the slice of a scar that carries over your hip, towards your back. It’s old, but you’ll always carry it, always get this question. Johnny tips over to inspect what’s being referenced, and his brow creases in concern.

“Christ, love. That’s jagged. What happened?” You shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Was in an accident when I was younger. That’s my souvenir.” They glance at one another, and you shrink inward a bit, self-conscious. The truth is too much, too awkward, too telling, to be confessed to these two.

Simon’s thumb is replaced by warm breath, and then Johnny is kissing it, so slowly, so tenderly it makes your heart ache, makes you gasp aloud, momentarily distracted from the drifting of Simon’s hand, fingers that graze down your waist, circling where you’re currently soaking through the cotton. He skims up and down the seam of your cunt, and you moan, hips jerking towards his hand, looking for friction.

When his thumb finds your clit, you squeak, and Johnny chuckles into your skin.

“Eager.” He hums, painting a warm trail towards to your thigh with his tongue.  

“Responsive.” Simon counters, but there’s something in his voice. Something reverent. “Let’s take these off then.” He encourages you to lift your hips with a tap, pulling them free, your last scrap of clothing gone.

Johnny’s freed himself too, and your mouth pools with saliva when you see his cock, length curving outwards, flushed red with want, precome dotted at the fat tip. Your hand reaches subconsciously, and he steps forward just as eager, shuddering when you make contact, fingers curling around the satin skin of him.

“Can I?” Your mouth seeks, and they both give a resounding yes. Your tongue flicks over the head, salt and earth beading across your tastebuds, and you suck and lick in tandem with your fist, clutching him tightly, slicking him with your spit.

“Ach-“ He holds the back of your head, cradles it with gentle touch. He’s not rough with it, or demanding, and you take him as deep as you can, swallowing against where he’s lodged in your throat. You do it again and again, chasing the push of your nose into his curls, salt blurring your vision. “Shite.” He hisses, pulling away, cradling your face in his palms, and takes your mouth with his, guiding you back against the bed again, laying you flat with your legs spread wide, and you float in a hazy heat of warmth as he moves down your body, his mouth leading the way. His breath puffs over your cunt, hopeless need swelling inside of you with wild desire, your eyes round and nearly glassy, close to begging.

He looks to Simon once, and then licks a long stripe from bottom to top.

“Fuck.” You pant, his tongue pressing to your clit, your back arching with pleasure. You jolt under his touch, expert ministrations pulling noises from you that you weren’t even sure you could make. He eats like he’s starved, lavishing attention around your swollen clit, lighting your entire nervous system on fire, building the pleasure inside your body higher and higher. “J-Johnny.” He slides a finger inside of you, crooking upwards into the sweet spot that has you seeing stars, and a strangled moan punches from your chest with his attentions.

You’re floating, coming closer and closer to an orgasm, so buried beneath the mountain of pleasure that he’s giving you, that you’ve lost Simon. You don’t know where he’s gone, where he is in the room, what’s even happening until-

“Bloody hell.” Johnny enunciates into your cunt, the words vibrating against your flesh. Your eyes snap open and you crane your neck, twisting in the sheets.

Simon kneels behind Johnny, working him open slowly, hand moving between him, stretching him wide. It’s beautiful, the way he knows how to please him just right, the way they know each other’s bodies, the way Simon stares down at Johnny like he’s the universe and heaven, all rolled into one. Your breath hitches, and his eyes flick to yours, locking you in under his gaze. He holds you there, tendons in his wrist flexing, muscles in his forearm and bicep pulsing as he makes Johnny groan into you, his tongue nearly too much as you clench around his fingers. It’s so…intimate, an overflow of something settling between the three of you, the ghost of something that waits, so intense and overwhelming that you look away before you break apart.

It's too much. It’s not enough. You want more. Want to feel them both. Want to taste them like they taste each other, want to insert yourself inside their universe, soak them up, crawl inside of them, have them burrowed inside of you. You want them, need them, you-

Your orgasm smacks. It seizes all your muscles, lower belly tensing deliberately as you explode, star lit vision blasting across the backs of your eyelids. You make some sort of noise, you’re sure of it, something loud like a cry, or a scream, erupting from your shaking body, Johnny’s strength pinning your thighs wide, refusing to let your legs close, continuing to lick away at you, pulling zaps of lightning from your overstimulated clit. It’s a mixture of pleasure and more, more of the too much, more of the not enough, and you’re babbling something like ‘please, yes- more- oh god- too much’ when Simon praises you from his vantage point, watching over the breadth of Johnny’s shoulders.

“What a good girl.”

You nod on instinct.

Yes, you are good. Yes, you’ll be good. You’ll be good for them. Just for them. Only for them. 

Your mind is slipping further and further, trying to turn off, trying to slink away and leave you to this bed, to these two men who seem to already know what you need.

The mattress dips, someone shifts, and then the room is dark. There’s a little bit of light that spills from the crack of the door, enough to see some outlines, some shadows. Enough to maneuver in, but not enough to make out anything distinct.

There are no hands on you in this moment, and the room is quiet save for the sound of something- something wet and soft sliding together for a precious second. You hold your breath.

“Right here.” Johnny coos, and then he slips two fingers back inside your cunt, his entry easy, your body weeping with want.

“Alright?” It’s Simon’s voice, close. Close enough that you can hear the pitch of the gravel, the baritone low in his chest.

“Yes.” You make your approval as definite as you can, remembering something he said last week, something about making sure you’re using your words clearly.

A big hand touches your neck, tentatively, searching until his palm is cupping your jaw. The fingers are wide, thicker, and you know it’s Simon. He pets you, strokes your skin while Johnny fucks you open on his own touch, and then you feel the breath on your lips.

The breath of Simon kissing you. The taste of you, of Johnny, the taste of the three of you together. His tongue crowds your mouth, snaking between your teeth, insisting you open, and you do so, eagerly.

He kisses you deep, curling his body over yours, pressing you beneath his shoulders.

He kisses you, until Johnny is moving, until your legs are now bracketing Johnny’s thighs, and the crown of his cock is brushing your cunt. You ache for it, for him, for both, and you spasm around nothing, just the barest touch of heat to your skin. Please, please, please.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Give it to her, Johnny.” Simon urges, even though it takes none, and you wheeze out a bitten off groan when he pushes inside.

“Mmmph,” You cry when he fucks into you, not seeking all the way, taking his time with small thrusts, working deeper and deeper with each plunge. He’s drawing it out, the pleasure, your noises, everything, and Simon drifts down to circle your clit, stroking the desperate nub. You scramble, hands seeking, hips moving with him, in time with both of them, sweat slicking off your skin. Johnny pushes your knees wide, and then stuffs you as full as he can, tongue tracing a bead of salt across your chest. “Fuck, ff- you’re so deep.”

“Ye take me so well, love. So good.” You bloom for him, for his words, and he groans when you clench at the praise, spurred on by Simon pushing you further along to the edge. Johnny picks up his pace, movements more frenzied, more hurried, rutting against you. You buck in response, unable to control it, fire burning in your stomach, your thighs. You’re going to come, again, it’s explosion just on the precipice.

“Oh my god, oh-“

“That’s it.” Your spine curls forward, pushing your face into Simon’s chest and he holds you there, whispering in your ear. “Come all over his cock like a good girl. I know you can, give it to us.”

It’s like a switch. The words, the feeling of Johnny’s cock buried to the hilt, the stroke of Simon’s fingers against your clit. You come violently, breaking apart, muscles pulsing around Johnny, and voice fracturing with pleasure. There are words being said, being exalted, something like “so good, so pretty when you come-“ and “is that little pussy squeezin’ you, sweet boy?” but they all blend together, dizzying and hot, like you’re holding onto a pan straight out of the oven. Johnny sputters, trapping your hips down, fucking you wildly through your orgasm, battering through the tightness of your cunt with stuttered words in a language you don’t know. He doesn’t stop, and you don’t want him too, even when you shiver and tingle with aftershocks. You want to feel him fill you, want to feel the spread of his warmth, the pressure of him coming inside of you.

Two bodies smother you, holding you until you’re not sure who is where, only that there are fingers, and mouths, and tongues, lavishing you and separating your mind from the rest, shoving you into a cloudlike plane of existence, flying you high in the sky somewhere. It’s bliss. It’s nothing you’ve ever had, ever felt. It feels right, feels so safe, so secure that it nearly overwhelms you, happiness and contentment brightening your soul until a warm tear is sliding down your temple.

“Gon’ come.” Johnny rasps out, and Simon says something in response, but you’re gone to the words, lost in the moment. All you can do is hold on, pleading for him to fuck you harder, fill you up, give you his come. Mark you. Possess you. Ruin you for anyone else. Except him, except Simon.

Maybe then they’ll keep you. 

“Please, please- Johnny. Fill me up.” your hips chase his, his mouth pressing against yours. Now he tastes like you, and Simon, and you lap at him eagerly, breathing in his grunts.

“Ah-“ He shouts, and then slams forward, plugging deep, spilling against your cervix in waves.

Your eyes slip closed. Just for a fleeting moment. Floating. Riding high, riding away, melting into nothing. You seek them instinctively, pushing and kneading against their bodies, and they oblige you, holding you close, whispering sweet words in your ear, sweet praise that nukes you.

You’re safe here. It’s okay. 

For once, you don’t snap back at yourself for being stupid. For being a fool. You don’t remind yourself of your flaws, you don’t count down the laundry list of the things that makes others turn away.

You just exist, between them. Happy. Sated. Bones liquid, chest loosening with a huge sigh.

A big hand strokes along your ribcage.

“Good girl.”

You drift for what feels like hours, even though you know, rationally, it’s not.

Slowly, you come back to earth, eased into back into your mind by the feeling of Johnny spreading your legs, opening you wide for him while something else is happening at the same time, the sound of his pleasure and Simon’s grunts, his accent roughening as he fucks his partner, praise flowing from his lips like a river. You stare through the dark at the shadow of Simon feeding his cock into Johnny’s tight ring of muscle, making him keen and wail against you.

“Good boy.” He coos, and Johnny moans, teeth sinking into your thigh. “Gon’ give her another one? Eat your come out of her cunt?” Heat floods through you, pussy clenching around nothing, and you whimper in approval.

“Please.” Your plea is not unheard, and Simon moves with an exceptionally swift thrust, forcing Johnny forward more, until his face is pressed against your leaking hole. He fucks you with his tongue, licking through the mess of wetness, your arousal combined with his seed, a mixture that he consumes like he’s dying, all over again, tongue flicking against your clit with frightening accuracy. He’s a god, a god between your legs, a god making you come for the third time, a god that doesn’t even belong to you, but your fingers grip his shoulders like he’s always been yours. He plucks your pleasure forward so quickly it nearly hurts, and you sob against the pillow, bucking your hips against him, cunt rocking against his face.

He keeps one hand pinned to your thigh, and the other finds yours in the sheets, breaking your grip free to replace the blankets with his grasp, keeping you tied to him, to Simon, dragging you upwards through the burn of your muscles to the cliff of another orgasm.

“Darling.” He hisses, vowels long on his tongue, fingers clutching yours. The cramp of muscles in your lower belly tenses with each stroke of his tongue, your body moving in time with his, his body moving in time with Simon’s. He moans into your cunt, strung out on pleasure, the dip of his spine curving like bridge between the three of you, connecting you, pulling you into the water with them, deeper and deeper until you can’t swim anymore. Until all you can do is cling to them, beg them to give you release, crying out when Simon pounds into him, thrusting into him wildly, forcing his mouth against you harder, matching the pace of your desperate hips. You drown in your orgasm, the same way Simon drowns in his, and Johnny tethers you both, keeping you steady, his body clutching onto the cock that’s buried in him while Simon strokes him to another orgasm, come spurting forward all over your belly, and the three of you collapsing together in a heap.  

“You’re brilliant.” Johnny whispers in the dark, his chest pressed to your shoulder. “So wonderful, darling. Everything we dreamed of.” A warm washcloth sponges across your skin, wiping between your legs and over your stomach, followed by tender kisses.

“You were perfect.” Simon follows up, moving you to your side, pressing his front to your back. Johnny adjusts, and then your face is against his chest, and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “Such a good girl for us. Did so well.” You blink furiously, chasing away the overflow of emotions that are surging inside of you, clamoring to break free. Don’t fucking cry. Only a psycho, unstable nut would be crying right now. Is that who you are? The girl who cries in their bed after they’ve fucked you? No. 

You keep your mouth shut instead, opting to sink back into the affectionate warmth of their bodies, closing your eyes and soaking in their touch. The threat of tears stays constant, lurking, waiting, and you force yourself to take long, deep breaths, that spin into a web of semi-consciousness, lost and floating between two pillars.

You shudder awake when Simon gets up to go to the bathroom, low light flicking on, and you know it’s time.

“I should probably get going.” You whisper. Ask me to stay. Say you want me to stay. Keep me. Johnny blinks owlishly, confusion rippling across his face.

“We’d like it, if ye stayed.” He rubs a palm down your arm, and you smile politely. He’s just saying that. Isn’t he? Tears prick along your waterline. “Hey, look at me.” You turn your head, but close your eyes, avoiding whatever will be staring back at you, hiding your own turmoil. “What’s wrong? Was it not good?” There’s worry in his voice now, anxiety, and guilt thrashes against your heart. Get it together. You’re making him feel bad. 

“It was great. So great, you’re… you’re amazing. Both of you are. I- really enjoyed it.”

“So, stay the night. Stay with us, we can get breakfast in the morning. Ye can be breakfast in the morning.” He raises an eyebrow, and you can’t help the little smile that tugs at your lips. Fuck. God. Why is he so stunning? Why is he doing this? 

The bathroom door clicks closed.

“Si.” Johnny implores, hint of insistence. “Tell her, we want her to stay.”

Simon stands with one knee on the bed, hand cradling Johnny’s thigh possessively. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares at you, watching over the mask.

“Why are you trying to run away?” Jesus christ. What is with these two? How are they so far under your skin already? 

“I’m not. Just…” Lie. Make something up. “Just have a lot to do, in the morning is all. It will be easier if I wake up in my own bed.” Johnny huffs.

“It’s so late, darling. We want ye to stay.” He protests. Simon squeezes his knee, a firm hold, and looks down at him, something echoing across the two of them that you can’t discern.

“Let’s get her a cab.” He murmurs, and you shake your head.

“That’s alright, I can catch-“

“No.” There’s no additional, nothing further to argue. His denial is absolute, and you nod with a small smile.

“Thank you.”

The goodbye happens at the door. You’re dressed, face washed, bathroom needs attended, hair somewhat re assembled although you’ll need to properly deal with it before you fall asleep. You look halfway presentable, although if someone looked too close, they could probably tell you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life.

“Thank you, again. This was a lot of fun.” Johnny holds you in a hug, nosing against your scalp and then down, drawing you in with a languid kiss. It’s sweet, and perfect and you want to fall into him, let him take you back to bed and hold you close until the sun comes up.

“Text when ye get home safe, alright?”

“I promise.” He only releases you when Simon steps forward, and they trade places. He doesn’t say anything, just soothes a wide palm up and down your back.

Cloth covered lips press against your jaw, trailing upwards until they land at your cheekbone and then pull away.

“Call or text us, if you need anything.” He instructs, and the nod comes automatically.

“Okay.” Your fingernails press into your palm with a sting. “Well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, darling.” Johnny rests his head on Simon’s shoulder, the mournful look on his face nearly enough to make you throw everything out the window and crawl back into their gigantic bed.

But you can’t. They’re not for you. They’re for each other. You’re just a passerby.

“Darling.” Simon calls when you get a few meters away, and you turn to look back at the pair, still standing in the doorway, watching you leave. He tilts his head, something serious in eyes, something that scratches beneath the surface. “We’ll see you soon.”

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