#first time this has ever happened to me and hopefully the last because I’m so emotionally strung out rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nichuuu · 2 months

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Scatterbrain

Word count: 18k+

They say it takes a village to raise a child.

To raise a girl as fine as Jang Wonyoung, you’d probably need 3 whole villages.

Two of those three villages would be used to train the way she walks because it’s perfect: classy, poised, elegant. The other one would have to work on her outfits because god would she need those. Hopefully the village doesn’t operate a Shein style manufacturing line. She’d hate that.

Her face is the definition of “striking the gene pool lottery”, and so is the rest of her body. Lanky arms and legs; toned, slim tummy; big, bright eyes that glimmer under the flashing lights. Personally, you like her “you’re on camera” smile the most. She knows this, and she always makes it a point to shoot it your way as she struts towards you. She stops half way to get a flute of Champagne, make that two actually, then grabs another. Those long legs can cover one hell of a distance, and they bring her right to you in a matter of seconds.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she hands you the Champagne flute in her left hand, and the rings on it shine in the light, “cause it’s starting to feel like you’re just stalking me now.”

Of course, it’s the snarky remarks that open the conversation. Jang Wonyoung, airheaded as ever m’lady, and you sip on the Bubbly that she’s very nicely delivered to you. Wonyoung is, of course, a little bit of an airhead in your books (only because she believes that you’re always there for her, nothing else), and it’s never not hilarious to watch her draw her lips into a thin line. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this from you; it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t control where you’re posted to, but you know for a fact that you’ll see her again a couple months down the road.

Cause your meetings with Jang Wonyoung are through pure serendipity really, and you certainly will start calling it that after you read that one story. You know: the one where this guy cheats on his idol girlfriend, who he has a tense relationship with, with another idol that he happens to meet just about everywhere. There’s 0 communication between the two of you when these types of events come around, and neither of you know if either of you will be there or not. Actually, it’s just you really; neither of you know if you will be there.

“Here for Kwon Eunbi again? Or are you finding someone else?” This question of her’s is customary at this point. Never once has it been perfunctory.

“Well, I was actually here to try and catch an interview with Jo Yuri, but I guess you’ll do,” you reply. Wonyoung scoffs—so I’m second place then?—and you have to assuage her oh-so-damaged ego, “you’re making this inference on your own Princess. I never said anything remotely close to that.”

And it’s that smile on her face that makes you want to kiss her really. It’s gorgeous, it’s cute, it’s beautiful. She’s given you that damned smile so many times that you could probably draw it from memory, though you’d definitely butcher it. The dress is certainly doing it justice, and you watch it brush against the skin of her legs as she shifts her weight to the other foot. I’ve never been that good at inferences. You’re far better than me, Prince, and she’s playing with her hair: twirling and untwirling it around her finger. That ribbon atop her head… Her stylist certainly knows their stuff.

“Think I’ll win an award this year?” Her question draws you away from your thorough examination of her. You take a moment to think, and you have to say, it depends, but I think you could definitely get something in some category. She gives you this inscrutable look, and she’s chuckling to herself as she looks at the crowd and sips on her champagne. You can guess what she’s about to say next: quite the crowd today, huh? And you’d reply, “Don’t think that they’re all here for you”, and that would prompt her to shoot back with, “Then who are they here for? You?”.

But of course, when do things ever go according to plan?

“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks, and you’re caught off guard.

Cause here’s the history between you two: Middle school best friends, always kind of inseparable. She was the beauty queen, it girl, and she still is; you were the writer, head of the school magazine, and you’re pretty much writing for the rest of your life. Wherever you went with her, rumours followed—Are they dating? I think they’re just friends. Maybe she’s trying to be the front of the magazine?—but you never thought much of it. It was just a simple friendship to you, nothing more.

Then the kiss she gave you in high school changed it all.

It was a party, hosted by one of your mutual friends. She kissed you, and no, it wasn’t a Spin The Bottle forfeit, nor was it a dare of any sort; it was a sincere, tender kiss in the garden—unprompted, and away from any prying eyes and soft like silk chiffon. You have to admit, the sensation had your brain mired for a minute or so. But when you came back to your senses, you kissed her right back, and things got complicated after that.

No one knew of it; it was your little secret. Wonyoung became closer than ever, and next thing you know, she declares the two of you “exclusive” but not dating. It’s because her agency has that funky dating ban thing, and Wonyoung was desperate to find a loophole, albeit a little complex. Of course, you’re willing to stay “exclusive” with Wonyoung in secret, but you started to worry that it can’t stay this way for long after the two of you get out of high school.

But as fate would have it, your career paths meet at the crossroads, and now you see her every other month or so. You still text her when you can, and the “exclusive” relationship has sustained. Now that she’s an adult and she’s bringing in mad bucks for the agency, she’s informed you of some changes in her contact. From there, the offer was birthed, and you have left it unchecked for the past four months or so, “grey ticked” as she liked to call it.

“You haven’t texted in a while, thought you died,” she continues, leaning on her elbows against the table. “Thank god you’re alive, huh?”

You hoped that she’d just forget about it, but she’s more of a mnemonist than you give her credit for. An award show is the last place you expected to be caught off guard by Jang Wonyoung, but she’s definitely a master of surprise. I uh… I haven’t really thought about it, is a lie you tell her and yourself. She smiles enigmatically, downs the rest of her Champagne.

“Let’s talk about it tonight,” she touches your chest, and it’s soft like silk chiffon, “you know where to find me, Prince.”

She struts off to join the rest of her members, stops halfway to return her Champagne flute, then looks back at you over her shoulder to give you a small wave. You sip on your Champagne as the silk brushes against her skin.

It’s a heavy breath that leaves your mouth, and it’s the rest of the Champagne that goes in.

302.

Gold lettering, black plaque. It’s grand, pretty elegant. Suits her well.

Then the door opens.

In her bathrobe, Jang Wonyoung shoots her “you’re on camera” smile. You’re earlier than expected—she lets you in—Matter of fact, I thought you might not show at all.

And it’s a must to quip back, “thought you’d be asleep by now you big baby.”

When the door closes, it’s straight to work, and here’s how that normally goes: kissing, undressing, foreplay, then finally—fucking. Not that it has to follow that order or anything, but it’s the unspoken schedule that Wonyoung’s written up. God forbid anyone goes against what the princess is comfortable with, not that you’d ever try to either way. Your voice is barely a mumble past her lips—aren’t we supposed to talk about something?—and Wonyoung’s quick to dismiss any queries, “later. There’s always time for it later”.

So it’s the kiss that’s pulling you back into her. Her front teeth capture your bottom lip, pull, drags it back a little like she’s trying to unwrap you like a present. You hold her waist, and with gentle hands, you push her back against the wall. It’s not that you’re trying to get control or anything; you’re just attempting to give her something to work with, a place to rest as she starts to work on the buttons of your shirt.

“Are you already naked underneath that?” you whisper, though it’s more of a drawl than a whisper. In response, she momentarily stops with your buttons to slide a section of her bathrobe away, giving you a good look at a column of her naked, milky skin.

In short: Yes, she is very much naked under that robe.

“Don’t get distracted, my prince. Eyes up here.”

“You’re the one that made me look, princess.”

She’s evidently struggling with the last button of your shirt, and you have to let go of her for a moment to help her get it done. Then it’s off with the shirt, and she flings it against the door for convenience sake. Your belt’s next, and that’s taken care of before you can even say, let me undress you Princess. It does make her hesitate at the clasp of your trousers for a bit. Just for a bit.

“I’d like,” her fingers are moving again, and they’re awfully quick at unfastening your pants, “for you to unwrap me on the bed instead.”

How raunchy of her. Makes you want to try her on.

Your pants fall. Your hand slithers into the bathrobe. Her jaw drops. Wonyoung my darling, and your fingers have captured one of those perky breasts, the right one to be exact. How do you ever—it’s light pressure to the nipple for you; it’s mind melting for her—get away with being such a big slut? Look at you, I’m barely even squeezing here. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes wide, mouth agape and her chin tucked into her neck. Frame it up, take a step back, admire it. It’s the face of someone who’s pent up, the expression of a needy girl who’s been aching to get some dick. Maybe if you guys had met a little sooner, she wouldn’t be this sensitive. But now? A twist of your forefinger and thumb is all it takes to draw a cry out of her, a little more pressure is enough to rain hellfire upon her. What a crazy-hot mess she is; only god knows how to clean her up and get her sorted out.

Open mouth straight to your ear, Wonyoung lets out a breathy gasp. In your fingers, the stiff peak rolls between the pads—back, forth, back, forth: motions that make her weak in her knees. It’s with great effort that she pulls your face back to hers, captures you in her quivering lips. Elegance has long been thrown out the window by now, and it’s not going to be returning for quite some time, as if you ever need it at a time like this. She’s barely holding herself up at this point. Where did the prim proper Jang Wonyoung go?

The answer’s in her kiss—gone, dusted, she was here just a minute ago though. She’s grasping at whatever inch of your skin she can find, and her nails are definitely gonna be leaving marks on the sides of your neck. You let out a small, wry laugh as you silently observe her behaviour, watching her implore without speaking, badger without requesting. It’s an art form really, the form of expression for the horny and desperate and bratty. When her hands grip your face and her nails sink into your cheek, you pinch a little harder and relish the pleasant vibrations that are sent into your mouth as she gasps. Her palms press into your jaw, and they’d probably crush it if you press any harder. Her feet patter against the wood as she starts to direct you to the bed. You kick off your shoes together with your pants.

It’s definitely a sight to take in: Jang Wonyoung in a massive king size bed, a thin bathrobe being the only thing between you and that wonderful body being the bathrobe. Maybe if she wasn’t in this state she’s in, she’d gesture to you with a come hither motion, and invite you to remove the fabric from her body. Instead, she opts for a spine tingling mewl, and that’s your invitation to her body. It’s hardly an insinuation; the fact that she wants to be unwrapped like a present is undeniable, she used the word unwrap herself. The bunny knot holding the two pieces of fabric is symmetrical—has Wonyoung’s fingerprints all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s watching you with a half-open mouth, maybe you’d compliment her on her efforts a little, maybe even call her “princess” a couple more times before you properly ruin her.

(But she’s already ruined, ruined by a mere bit of pressure to the nipple. What else can make her tick now?)

Her body is at your mercy and it, quite literally, jerks as you start to pull at the knot, undoing it centimetre by centimetre, millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch. You want to see how long she can watch for, how long she can witness herself be undressed in a painfully slow fashion. Needy as she is, she’s patient as she watches one end of the rope grow longer.

Longer.

“Do you want me to speed this up, baby?” The smirk on your face would earn you a pout from her if her nerves weren’t in a bundle at the given moment.

“W-Whatever you want,” she answers, and her voice is brimming with breathy arousal. How are you getting away with all this? She’d grab your wrist and pull by now if she wasn’t so damn needy right now.

You give a dry laugh. “Then I’ll keep at this then.”

Longer.

“Fuck. Just pull it all the way already.” She looks you right in the eye as she begs you to hurry, and now you can see the need brimming in those large, round eyes, the ones that stare back at you with soft intensity, if that’s even possible. She’s good at mixing emotions into her stare.

“I thought you said—”

“Just fucking do it!”

Slack.

And the knot comes undone, and together with it, the robe falls off to the sides of her body—it’s beautiful. Never have you taken so much pleasure in undressing her, but you sure-as-hell have taken this much time to admire that wonderful, slender frame. From your standing view over her, you get down to her level to get a better look at her. It’s all part of the game of course: the way you look her in the eye, the way you touch her jaw ever so slightly to turn it towards you. The kiss is sickly sweet, and she’s starting to taste more and more like that cherry lipstick you gave her when you saw her some time ago at another event. Into your mouth, she lets out a sonorous moan. Your fingertips brush along her skin, slither down from her collarbone to her cleavage—down to that flushed pink region between her equally flushed thighs. Almost instantly, the tip of your digits are coated in slick fluids, and you raise an eyebrow at the girl on the bed.

“I literally touched you.” It’s amusement permeating your voice more than anything. In the sheets, she squirms in the slightest, eyes locked on your fingers that rest against that dripping heat and breath caught in her throat. You know that if you were to shift your finger in the slightest, you’d trigger a chain reaction that you have no power over. Her legs would clamp, her abdomen would tense, her eyes would roll. In the midst of it all, she’d maybe scream, or maybe she’d moan; either way goes. As far as you’re concerned, she’s needy as fuck at the moment, and she’s not going to let anything stop her from cumming.

“Yea, well… I can be sensitive.” Her defence is hardly a solid one, more of a perfunctory reply. Her head’s far from able to formulate a quip to throw back at you; that ability went out the window together with classy Wonyoung. “Put them in.”

You go against her request, and your fingers start to skirt the edges of that swollen, pink slit of hers. A crime—you’re going against the princess’ wishes, but realistically speaking: she can hardly be called a princess at the moment, so why comply?

A portion of the bathrobe is still clinging on to her breast. You use your other hand to push it away, and the split second of contact makes her flinch. “Jesus. You’re so fucking turned-on right now,” you can’t help but muse, all while your fingers retrace te outline of her swollen lips. She’s shivering, she isn’t breathing quite right. “Do you want to moan, baby? Do you want to moan like a good little slut for me?”

And she fixes you with a glare. “F-Fuck you… Put them in.”

No “please” this time. Shame. If she were more polite, you would’ve obliged; now you’ll just have some more fun with her.

Your thumb finds the swollen nub, and a little brush is all you need to get her straining like a psycho in a straitjacket. What will I ever do with you Wonyoung?—and she’s getting wetter by the second—You look so pretty when you’re so needy, you know that?—why would you ever, for a second, think that she’d be as refined as the last time? She doesn’t play with herself when she needs to get off; she waits till she sees you again to get off on your cock, your fingers, your mouth. Sexting was off the table, she wants you to be physically there, driving her insane as she lets herself come undone.

“You know,” and you’re almost laughing as you watch her face twist even further, “that I could do this forever right? I could just lie here, tease you for as long as I want… Or maybe that’s what you want?

She’s messy, so fucking messy. Juices are starting to soak the bed—you can feel it as your fingertips round the bottom of her slit. Housekeeping would certainly question the spot, and the two of you wouldn’t be there to reply anyway. Her cheeks are flushed, the veins of her throat are popping. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stay this composed, but you know that she’s breaking more and more. With each round your fingers make, cracks start to form along that perfectly sculpted face. The fine lines on her forehead begin to show as her brows start to furrow. Strained sounds are coming from her throat as the urge to moan is slowly winning the battle against her will. She wants control, but she can’t have it when she’s a wet, hot mess next to you. She’s being bratty for the sake of it. Your fingers are your leverage against her. It’s killing her. It’s delighting you.

And just like fine China thrown against concrete, her will shatters.

“Please! Put them in!”

And your fingers stop just at the top of her pussy. It feels like a long minute, but she isn't about to take another second of this. Her thighs clamp against your arm. Her fingers wrap around your wrist in desperation. She begs again. And again. And again. And again, again, again. The bed starts to creak as you start to move your fingers down her lips, down to the very end of her cunt.

God is she dripping.

“Will you moan for me?” you drawl huskily. A finger, two, three rest themselves against her heat.

“Yes.” There’s barely any of her original self left in there. “Please just—”

The fingers breach her opening. She screams, a high-pitched, keening cry. The noise makes your cock strain in your boxers, and you have to grit your teeth as her inner walls wrap tightly around your intruding digits. A moment of stillness comes, a moment where she’s just breathing raggedly, struggling to process this pleasure that’s racking her body faster than she can comprehend. She’s a ticking time bomb of nerves; the slightest movement in this state could send her into perdition, and she’ll barrel past that point of no return faster than both of you can imagine. God, she’s sensitive. God, she’s a mess.

The chuckle that departs from your mouth is one of perverse pleasure. “Baby,” you whisper, right into her ear as she struggles to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you watch with a grin as her chest rises and falls. The grip on your wrist is a vice, knuckle-white and unrelenting. She’s begging you, with her eyes, to start moving, and you have to tell her, “I can’t start till you let go of me, baby.”

And it’s with reluctance that she slips her hand off your wrist, but that hand won’t stay empty for long. You guide it to her own breast, and with a soft whisper, you tell her to squeeze. She’s servile. She complies without protest. Her eyes slowly open themselves, and you relish the way they’re lust-glazed appearance looks under warm light while her breaths level themselves out. For a moment, there’s calm. For a moment, it’s tender.

Then your fingers start to move. All hell breaks loose.

Everything she did to calm herself quickly becomes futile; it becomes undone as her back arches in a way that catches your breath in your throat. Your fingers graze her walls, pressed into each other as they slowly draw in and out of her. And mind you: you’re going slow, slow enough to make her feel every bit of your fingers brush against her insides. But it’s enough to make her curse, enough to get her mewling like a damn kitten while her hips start to rock, rubbing her clit against the base of your palm. There’s no way to describe how needy she looks; her want is beyond words, and you’ve barely even started. Three fingers is the most you’ve ever put inside her. Clearly, it’s working wonders for her.

And now you yourself have to admit: you’ve wanted her for some time now. Since the last time you saw her, you’ve fantasised about that slim tummy twitching, about holding that snatched waist once more, about those long legs wrapped around your neck while your tongue and fingers turn her into a pliant plaything. For weeks, you’ve wanted nothing more than pulling Jang Wonyoung apart, reduce her into a withering mess wherever you guys are and get her screaming till she’s sore. You can’t even begin to describe what you’ve done with her in your dreams, nor can you ever convey how it feels to desire her as much as you have. So, you put all of it into action, sordid sentiments channelled into your fingers that are making those cute features twist and contort in perverse pleasure. She’s rambunctious, and her juices are quite literally soaking your hand, spilling the strongest sillage of lust all over the bed.

“Why do you always have to be so fucking messy?” You’re really just trying to see how much you can get away with at this point, though the answer seems to be: just about everything. Your fingers start moving faster. You love the way her cheeks are starting to flush even more. “Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?”

The squelching is lewder than you can ever imagine. The sound of her slick, wet heat being breached by your fingers is enthralling. Add the sounds she’s making into that and you have the ultimate erotica audio that can bless mankind. She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s whining—she’s doing it all really, and you’re just using your fingers. God knows how she’ll react once you’re inside of her, rock hard meat stretching her out instead of a few fingers fiddling around in warm walls.

But hey, the sounds she’s making are ever so erotic, and she’s definitely making your blood flow to all the right places. She feels out of place; you can’t put your finger on what’s wrong in this whole thing. It’s probably a small detail, something you’d overlook over the sight of her chest heaving as air shoots out and gets sucked back into her mouth, her whole body straining and convulsing against the bed while you get a thumb on her clit and rub at a languid tempo. Probably something miniscule, not worth mentioning because all your attention is focused on the look on her face (you want to mess up the makeup so badly it’s almost frustrating). And no, you’re not trying to make her cum in five seconds; she’s just really riled up—bundle of nerves and trigger happy. Probably hasn’t been treated this way in a while, probably hasn’t had three fingers twisting around, sliding in and out of that tight wet hole slow enough to make her feel every bit of skin against her walls; fast enough to make her combust if you were to speed up, in, like, forever.

“I–I…” She’s quite literally mewling, and the sharpness in her voice is so cutting that it makes an incision in a bag inside you that’s keeping all the perverse thoughts at bay. The thoughts are leaking out now, and it’s almost impossible to stuff them back in. You want her against the glass: tits against the window and ass in your hands while you pump and pump and pump into that slick tight hole; you want nothing more but to pick her up and have her lock her legs around you, tight frame flushed against you while you nail her against one of these walls that surround you; you want to unhinge that jaw and watch that pretty mouth—now parted to let the stream of moans flow—take your cock in and out between those kiss-swollen lips and watch the drool leak out the corners of her mouth. Shit. It’s killing you. Jang Wonyoung, dolled up. She’s killing you.

(No way in hell are thighs meant to be this hot, and lips are not supposed to look this delicious. Yet Jang Wonyoung somehow goes against every fucking norm, fights it naturally and effortlessly and wins like a seasoned warrior. So just for her case: her thighs can be this hot and flushed, and her lips can look this fucking appetising. You kiss her; it’s sloppy, it’s lewd, it’s hot and everything in between. Mark her neck, mark that row of skin above her right collarbone, mark her everywhere. Cusses are flying—god forbid her agency finds out about the things hse says while she’s getting fingered. She's making a mess out of herself. She’s making a mess out of you.

Fingers, just fingers and she’s already looking like this: hair fanned out, frazzled, looking like she just went through a car wash and yet somehow has her make-up intact. Fuck. You want to watch the mascara run, watch it streak while she tears up as she’s choking down cum and she’s struggling to take in air. Pretty little princess, messy and glacially being turned into some improper slut. It’s hard to not smirk while you ruin her with the same fingers you use to type articles about her—fingers that sing praises and can also make her moan enough to make her throat hoarse.)

The rhythm of your hand makes her body roll. Her toes–painted over, fresh manicure—curl into the sheets. Doe-like eyes stare back at you, plump red lips part to gasp your name, throat muscles strain trying to curse and moan at the same time. The fingers are gliding in and out and in and out and she’s begging you to not stop (like hell you ever would) in those choke up little sobs while she’s—

Oh fuck baby I can’t I can’t I can’t — Anything. I’ll do anything. Please just let me cum. I’m so fucking close baby. Please just let me fucking cum. I’ll be a good girl. I-I promise I’ll be a good fucking girl for you just… Fuck!

—blue screening on your fingers: lost in the sauce or whatever. Pliant plaything, docile doll. You’re certain she hasn’t gotten off in at least a month if the way she’s taking it is any sort of yardstick. She’s far beyond drenched, far beyond salvation and way off the deep end of the “needy” pool—drowning herself in her own sea of sighs and gasps and moans and loose phonics that slip out of her mouth. Ostinato of your fingers squelching in her cunt; half time rhythm of the creaky bed; melody of the chorus of Jang Wonyoung’s voice—music to your ears.

And there’s lots to unpack from the moment you locate that soft spot at the top of her pussy. There’s a lot of cussing, a lot of jolting, a fair amount of whining and your name is thrown somewhere in that mix. You find her lips, she kisses back, one of her hands grabs your arm, nails dig in and stay there. Flurry of actions, filthy language—fucking hell, someone stop her.

Bottom line: lots of action. You find it congenial to start from the part where it quite literally ends her world. Once your digits curled up into that sensitive patch of flesh, it was all over for her.

You can pinpoint the exact moment where the orgasm rips through her body, the exact moment where her muscles seized so perfectly that her back arches. The pulse around your fingers is strong, walls tight around your digits and your thumb gently rubbing on her clit while the pleasure rolls through her body, molten iron libido converting the feeling between her thighs to electricity that makes her short circuit. The moan is breathy if anyone’s asking, and the look on her face—twisted, perverse satisfaction: superimposing need and want—has a whole foot over the line of pornographic. Wires are fraying in her head, her vocal cords are strained, she’s ruining the sheets with her juices; you’re complicit in every damn part of this, and guilt is the last thing on your mind.

Then her back falls back flat against the mattress, and the sheets ripple as her body makes a dense thump against the bed, punctuating the sigh she releases into the air. Nerves are unbundling themselves. She’s sweaty and panting. Your fingers are beyond soaked.

“Messy,” you muse, slowly drawing your juice slicked fingers out of her cunt. You bring them to her mouth. She languidly tastes herself, sweat-darkened sheets hugging the muscles of her shoulders and lining her ribs. She looks so tiny in the bed if you looked over the fact that her legs were dangling over the edge of the mattress, and that’s easy to do once you lean in for a kiss.

(It’s not hard to slip your tongue into her mouth, and there’s barely any fight left in her as you roll her nipple between your index finger and thumb. The sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead adds a nice touch to her face.)

“Such a good girl.” Your tone is warm as you praise her, and a hand moves to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness. Her eyelids flutter shut. She puts the weight of her face into your palm.

“Do I get my reward now?” she whispers, and it’s more of a plea than a question really. You take a moment, not to think, but to drag out the suspense for a little more before you give her an answer. You take guilty pleasure in knowing that you could keep her on tenterhooks for the whole night—the only thing stopping you is the throbbing of your cock in your boxers and the look of sheer need on her face. If you could: you’d drag this out a little longer, maybe tease her a little and call her more names. You still could do that, but you’d much rather fuck her instead.

“Where do you want it?” your thumbs hook into the waistband of your boxers and hook them down. Your cock springs free from its cottons confines, and Wonyoung’s eyes instantly dart to it. She may be a little obsessed with your cock, but only a little when she’s depraved (which is right now). Before you can even react, she has your shaft in her hand, lanky fingers wrapped around it and pumping it with considerate strokes.

“I want a big load in my ass.” she requests, far from innocent and banking more towards improper, which seems to be a pretty big theme of hers tonight. “I’ve been wanting to feel daddy’s hot load leaking out of my ass for a long time…” The strokes delivered to your length grow firmer and firmer by the second. “Please?”

The spikes of pleasure her small hand delivers to your system is really making it hard to say no at the given moment. Of course, she’s well aware of it, and she’s definitely feeling so damn smug right now. And so with a very clouded mind, you nod. She smiles smugly, unaware that you’re about to fuck that smug little smirk rig of her pretty face. Conveniently, she’s already on her back—it’ll make the process so much easier.

“I take it that the lube is in your bag?” You raise. She grins and nods.

Sure enough, you find it in the exact same place as it usually is: side pocket, right next to her lipstick. You toss it towards her and move around her, slip her ankles over her shoulders. She lies still, unmoving and obedient as her left calf goes past her head, then her right. You lean forward, and she gasps as she's almost bent her completely in half. She’s flexible; this position won’t bring any harm to her, but it is congenial to ruin her asshole and leave her sore for the next day or so, which is exactly what she wants, but probably not how she imagined herself getting it. She cracks open the lube, and with precision, squirts a generous amount of it on the tight ring of her ass, making eye contact with you all the while as the clear liquid gathers at the puckered ring of muscle. The tube is discarded to a side when she’s done, and she uses her hands to spread her asscheeks for you, inviting you to take your liberties with her hole.

“Come on Daddy,” she urges you. “Come fuck this ass,” she continues, her hands spreading her ass cheeks even wider as you start to line yourself up with the tight ring. “Wreck this fucking hole Daddy, I can fucking take it.”

To hear her say those words was almost enough to have you cum right there and then. You press the tip of your cock at the open, gaping hole of her ass, swirling it around the entrance, collecting more of the copious amounts of lube around it. She was generous with the amount of lube she dispensed; you're about to be generous with the strokes you're gonna make inside that ass.

(She yelps when you slide inside her ass. God does it feel so fucking divine.)

She is so tight and wet and hot that you think you could’ve cum with your first thrust inside her. Her pussy was tight and hot, but her ass was even tighter and even hotter. Even though your cock was slick with lube, it did close to nothing to keep the sheer tightness of her asshole from clenching around you like it was a really small glove. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been inside her ass, but it sure as hell felt like a novelty every single time you entered that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. The heat, the tightness—sublime. You think you could cum in a matter of seconds if you didn’t have self control.

“Go!’ she hisses, through the pain and discomfort. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass!”

You would have been happy to stay there, buried balls deep in Wonyoung’s ass, but her own words goad you into moving—slowly at first, but with a steadily increasing pace, you begin to fuck Wonyoung’s ass with long, slow strokes. She hisses—part glee, part discomfort—as your shaft starts to pump itself in and out of her ass. You draw yourself out till only the base of you tip remains inside of her, and then you thrust back in, hard, hard enough to make her yelp out in pained pleasure while she grits her teeth and watches your rock hard shaft fill her ass. It's a perverse show for her, and it brings you a sort of dark satisfaction in knowing that past all that discomfort she’s feeling, she loves the way your cock stretches her out and fills her defenceless little hole.

With her ankles over your shoulders, you’re practically spearing yourself vertically into her ass, fucking her deep and making her feel every inch of your throbbing meat inside of that hot, tight hole. Every penetration is punctuated by a deep, guttural groan from Wonyoung, sometimes a curse, or something along the lines of: fuck. So fucking full. You know for a fact that the pained sounds you hear now will turn into airy gaps of pleasure once she gets used to the discomfort, and that she’d probably be a mewling mess by the time you reach the stage where she can take you in and out of her ass with only pleasure in her system and no pain. For now, you’ll settle with the pace you have—slow, long strokes in and out of her ass while she squeezes her eyes to block out all sensations distracting her from enjoying the sensation of her ass being filled with cock. You have to admit that she’s doing a great job at it, and your praise vocalises itself in the rather harsh form of, “what a good little slut.”

(And here’s something interesting you noted: never once in this whole thing did she ask you to stop, nor did you ever think about stopping to let her adjust. If this was anyone else, you would have given them a moment to breathe upon entering, and you certainly would be checking on their wellbeing throughout it all.

Thing is—the two of you know her too well to know that you could only dream of stopping once you got started with her, and it could only end in two ways. 1) You cum in her. 2) You cum on her. Edge her and you’ll never get the end of it, you would know. The last time you pulled a stunt on her like that, she left you tied to a chair with a vibrator taped to your cock till you were begging and a cummy mess. It wasn’t pretty. She could dominate if she wanted to, but she preferred to be a manipulative brat instead.)

It’s not long before she’s desensitised to the pain, and your slow pace is not enough, no, not for Wonyoung. Next thing you know it, she hissing for you to go faster, fuck her harder—I told you to fuck my ass Daddy. Don’t hold back on me now—and deeper. She swears, all three languages that she knew strung together shabbily like they were put together on some shitty production line and thrown out at random—and while you made little sense of the sounds coming out of her filthy mouth you knew what they meant.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

Then you fuck her ass. Hard and fast.

You almost surprised yourself with the liberties you were taking, drilling in and out of her butt with the same speed and depth that you would use with her mouth and pussy.

“Yes!” she shouts—a loud, full shout. “Yes! Fuck me like this! Pound me, fuck me until you cum in my slutty little ass!”

You grunt in reply, because it was all you could do. The faculties of human language have long since abandoned your grasp and ability, and nothing else exists in your mind except the thought of filling her tight, hothole with warm, white semen. Her eyes lock with yours and you only find that they’re full of need, nothing else (not like she’s capable of displaying any other emotion at the moment). The rest of you, every fibre of your being, was focused on pounding Wonyoung’s tight little hole as hard and fast as you possibly could. Her ankles bounce helplessly behind your head, her knees press into her shoulders and her breath is ragged; sweat drips off your forehead and onto her tits, and your hot breath mixes with hers as you struggle to keep yourself propped up with your arms.

In short: the two of you are sweaty and messy (one more so than the other. Take a pick, not sure if there’s a prize for guessing right), victims of lust and slaves to pleasure. You blame Wonyoung just because you can.

For a few delicious moments, there is absolutely nothing in the world aside from the tight hot sheath of flesh around your cock, the warm flesh of her legs against your shoulders and the strands of sweat-slick hair that fly just about everywhere, all topped with the lewd, filthy, obscene words spilling from Wonyoung’s mouth. For a few delicious moments, she feels nothing but the feeling of her tight hole being stretched and used by the cock that turns her face into a wrought outlet of pleasure while she lets filthy words and exclamations spill from her lips.

Try as you might, you couldn’t have it last forever. Not when you were already so turned on from watching her writhe and twitch under your fingers. Not when the sheer, pure pleasure overwhelming you was more than enough to cause you to cum at any moment.

And when she orgasms for the second time, her ass tightening exponentially around you—there is little you or anyone else could have done to stop the inevitable.

“I’m gonna cum in your ass, Wonyoung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your lust and pleasure-addled brain on the edge of losing all comprehension.

“Cum with me! Fill me!”

And so you do it, burying yourself hilt deep inside the quivering woman’s asshole before filling it with the last of your cum, giving her every last drop you had left in your body, leaving rope after rope inside her sore, well-used, cum-filled asshole. You almost black out, and you quite literally have to dig your nails into the sheets while Wonyoung’s own orgasm takes over her body, making her twitch and her ass contract—milking every last bit of cum from your throbbing, twitching length till it was nothing but a dry, hard rod inside of her creamy asshole.

There’s silence that is punctuated by both of your ragged breaths. She looks at you, you look at her. And the two of you can’t help but chuckle at the mess you’ve made of each other. You want to remember the way her nose wrinkles as she teases you, “you fucking animal”, and you want, so badly, to burn the image of a sweaty, weary Jang Wonyoung, folded in half beneath you like she was a piece of origami paper, panting and gasping as a fresh load of cum spills out of her ass.

It takes energy, but you bend down and kiss her, letting her sweaty calves slide off your equally sweaty shoulders as you do. She’s satisfied, for now, and she pulls you down next to her on the hotel bed with one hand and gathers the cum leaking out of her ass with the other.

“Look at this,” she whispers, and your eyes train themselves on the pearlescent, sticky, slimy, fluids that run down from her fingertips slowly. “You made such a big mess inside my ass,” she chides before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking your cum right off her fingers like it’s a delicacy. “Now I have to clean all of this up. You’re lucky I like the way your cum tastes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Um… Ew?”

Wonyoung smirks and gently nudges you with her left foot.

“It’s okay,” she tells you, all smug and everything. “I know you love the way I taste too.”

* In the dark, her small hand creeps around your torso and grasps yours.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” She’s whispering right into your ear, and it’s a sensation you want to be able to hold on to for the rest of your life. “I know your eyes are open.” The feel of her small fingers rolling the knuckle of your index finger sticks itself in your head like a post-it. “ I can hear and feel you tossing, you know?”

Okay. No dodging.

The sheets stay still as your shoulders turn. You roll over, face her, and you really just want to capture the way the night lights paint her face: doe-like eyes reflecting glimmering pools of moonlight, warm yellow light painting her cute-yet-so-fucking-gorgeous face in a manner that not even Van Goh could copy, lips parted slightly as if in mid speak. She’s right there—you can kiss her if you really want to.

“Are you still mad at me?” She asks, tender with her tone. “I know that I fucked up, okay?” You can tell that she’s not even trying to look pitiful at the moment, but the way her face is sculpted really makes you want to just hold her to your chest and stroke her hair. Sincere are her words—heart heaved into her mouth. “I don’t blame you if you’re still mad. It’s your right. But… Just hear me out? Please?”

If you were mad, you wouldn’t have let her hold your hand the way she was now. If you were mad, you would’ve pretended to be fast asleep; ignore her pleas and just close your eyes and fall asleep. Alas, you can never stay mad at her for too long.

“I was… Never really angry, Wony.” Your tone is a lot softer than you would ever expect, but you know it’s because you probably needed this talk more than she did. “I... I’m sorry if it came across that way.”

And she studies you for a moment, lets the sound of your breathing fill the space as she furls her upper lip into her front teeth, and it’s a perfect moment for you to try and understand what’s happening in her head. She’s a complex creature really; understanding her is like finding a meaning that everyone can agree on when you look at abstract art.

Down below, you can still hear the cars moving through the street. Billboards and screens are still on, and from the window in your bedroom, multi-coloured lights filter into the room past the blinds like moonlight through bamboo leaves. The sheets you lie in are fresh, and they feel nice and smooth against your skin, and they smell like roses. The mattress creaks a little as Wonyoung shifts her weight, and you have to admit that you’re half-drunk on the scent of her shampoo.

“You must have been scared,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I got really emotional. I… I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that. Not now at least. Maybe it’ll come to you the next morning.

You give her a sweet smile. You hug her to your chest. You want to remember how she feels in your arms.

The gentle trickle of water down the arch of her spine is really something—a steady stream flowing down her back, running over the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts and fraying at her plump ass. You can’t remember the last time you showered with her, but you certainly remember the view being this good.

In the shower of room 302, Jang Wonyoung lets the warm water hit her skin from the rain shower nozzle. Her hair—wet and freshly shampooed (and conditioned)—sticks to her back. Creamy skin glistens, small beads of water affix themselves to random parts of her body, stay there for one or two seconds, then roll down in streaks, almost as if they too were admiring Wonyoung’s well-sculpted figure.

Slim fingers grasp locks of hair. She lifts and looks over her shoulder, the whisper of a grin on her face as she shoots a beckoning wink. “Are you gonna help me soap my back? Or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?”

“Don’t you have to, like, turn off the water first?” you ask, and you already know what she’s gonna say, but you just want to hear her say it. For memory sake.

“Mmmm.” Her humming as she ‘ponders’ reverberates in the shower, floating over the sound of water from the shower head falling to the floor like rain. “No… Adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think?”

Ah. There we go.

“Then could you at least step back?” you request. This shower is comically huge—long length, breadth about the same length as your arm span. In the space, she looks so tiny, but you know for a fact that she could probably walk to the other end of the shower in a stride. You’re not one to disregard the facts, but you do like to live with a bit of imagination.

Wonyoung chuckles, low and sonorous. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, then—painfully slowly—walks back till she’s out of the stream of water. Water wastage is the last thing on her mind. She stops when she feels your hands on her back, and she looks over her shoulder, expectant. You move your hands and the soap lathers as it’s spread. You start from the centre of her back, rubbing gently in the section where the muscles of her shoulders meet and working your way outwards and upward to her shoulders. Then it’s down from there, your palms moving in small circles and covering every inch of skin.

“You’re good at this,” she mutters, watching with intent as your hands start to trail to her lower back. “Maybe you should’ve been a masseuse instead of a writer.”

“Uh… Patronising much?” You chuckle, watching as her back muscles twitch a little when you apply gentle pressure. “The pay’s about the same,” the soap makes patterns across the area above her ass—spirals of foam that stick to her skin like styrofoam flowers. “The hours are probably the same… But I don’t think I can live on rubbing someone’s back really hard. I Think I’ll just save this service for you, but only for when we meet.”

Humored, Wonyoung offers a giggle, high pitched and cutting above the sound of water striking the floor tiles. She shifts her weight to her right foot, making her body slant a little. Her skin is soft under your palms. Your hands are going lower and lower, slowly spiralling towards the curve of her ass that’s literally just a centimetre away.

“You know…If you take up my offer, you can do this for me everyday.”

Your hands slow to a stop. You raise your head a little to find her searching for your gaze over her shoulder. “Oh?”

“Yea.” Her voice is low, like a mother trying to persuade her child to eat their vegetables. “Every night, we can be like this: you soaping my back, us chatting… Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

Your lip furls behind your front teeth. “Yea… It really does.”

And in her gaze, you sense her sensing your apprehension. “What’s stopping you from taking it up then?”

(For context, here’s the deal proposed by her company: the two of you go public with the relationship, get clout for the company, and Starship will let you lead your lives together—no qualms, no disturbances. She can visit you whenever, live with you, appear outside together with you like it’s a regular Tuesday night; you get to date the girl you fell in love with all those years ago for real. Only issue: once you get the last stroke of your signature out on the contract, you practically agree to blurring the line between your private and public life. Press will be all over you like ants after you step on their nest, you probably won’t get to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, everyone will suddenly want to curry favours with you… Was it worth the sacrifice?)

You find it hard to meet her eyes, and so your gaze affixes itself on your hands. It’s not like you don’t love her or anything, but your apprehension makes you feel like shit. It shouldn’t be this hard to say yes, yet the idea of selling your life of privacy to live a life with her makes you screech to a halt at the crossroads. Sometimes (in these moments), you wished that you didn’t always make decisions with your head and your heart.

As the shower continues to run, Wonyoung slowly turns around. One hand finds yours, the other gently takes you by the chin and raises your eyes up to her. She’s tall, and the two of you are staring eye to eye; same height, different trains of thought.

The hand on yours guides you to her breast. Eyes locked with yours, she lays your palm flat against her tit. The skin beneath your fingers is slippery, but it doesn’t remove any of the familiarity from the sensation. Then she squeezes, and the flesh spills out between your fingers like putty. She gasps—airy.

“Don’t you want me?” She whispers, and it’s raunchy more than anything. It isn’t aggressive, but it’s certainly blurring the line between demanding and caring. “Don’t you want to be able to fuck this pretty little pussy every night?”

She’s really far from home base. “Wony…”

“Don’t you love owning me?” She’s squeezing harder. Her knee twitches. Sopa’s spilling out of your fingers. You’re certain that you’re gonna mark her. She doesn’t care. “Don’t you want me all over you? Every night?”

“It’s not that Wonyoung.”

“Then what’s on your mind?” She’s not prodding for an answer, nor is she trying to demand a reason for your silence. She wants to understand you, to internalise what’s going on inside your head. You have no reason to lie.

“Will it all really be okay?” you ask sincerely. “My family, my life… Will… Will it all really be…”

She understands where you’re coming from (if the relieving of pressure around her own breast is any indication), and she’s starting to tune herself to the frequency of your worries. “If you’re wondering if you’re gonna be harassed—you won’t.”

“Yea but—”

“I promise you: I will do everything I can to make sure that you will be safe. You and your family–if so much as a finger is laid on any of you, I will quit.”

“Wonyo—”

“No one will intrude on you. You won’t have to live with the flashing lights. I give you my word: I will make sure that everyone who wants to invade your privacy will leave you alone. You and your family will all be left alone.”

If it’s possible for sincerity to ring clear, Jang Wonyoung has absolutely made it happen. Sweet like honey; she’s left you feeling like you had a spoonful of it. And just for good measure, she steps closer and repeats once more: “I promise.”

Considering that your hand was at the left side of her chest, this was really a “I swear. Hand to my heart” type of deal (whether it’s intended or not is purely up to your discretion).

And as you gaze into those eyes, you want to remember the way she gazes at you softly, gently, tenderly. If it weren’t for your hand on her tit, you would’ve considered this one of the more tender moments you’ve shared with her. Not that it’s not or anything… Just that it’s a little hard to call this a loving moment when you can literally feel her nipple poking into the flesh of your palm at all times of the conversation.

“Are you sure you won’t land yourself in trouble?” you ask her, and she’s quick to scoff.

“Of course. I make too much fucking money fo those higher up fuckers to not listen to me,” she reminds you.

Well… Then that settles about everything then.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

The corners of her lips play up in a smile. She leans in, kisses you—no tongue, closed mouth—and lets the hand keeping yours at her breast fall. Long arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you close, flushing her tight frame against your body. When lips part, she whispers a soft I love you, a sparkle in eyes that lingered for a moment.

But only for a moment.

Then—without you noticing—her hand snakes down and grips your rapidly hardening shaft, and she squeezes. This time, the line between demanding and caring is clear as day, and she’s chosen to play her ball to the court of demanding. With a gleam in her eye, she begins stroking with her closed fist, and she pumps your stiff length at a slow but steady rhythm, adding an occasional twisting motion to her wrist, corkscrewing her fingers around your cock, increasing the pleasurable shocks she was sending through your system with each pump of her hand. It was almost like she wasn’t the sweetest, loving girl in the whole world just two seconds ago.

“Jesus fucking…” You can’t even finish your sentence. Your teeth grit. Your fists clench. It’s hard to breathe. “Maybe… A little bit of a heads up next time?”

She smirks proudly, watching as you tilt your head back and let out a groan. “Where’s the fun in that?” And gently, she pushes against your chest, guides you to the wall. When your back presses against the cool tile, she presses herself against you. She leans in, hot breath on your skin, and then the feeling of her lips against your jaw almost makes you yelp. She kisses a path down your jaw, paves a way towards your neck to get cheeky: sucking, nibbling, licking the skin of your neck while she keeps the movement of her hands slow and considerate. The shower continues to run.

Do you know—she breaks contact with your skin for just a second—how fucking horny—her breath’s tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine—you make me?—and she squeezes a little harder around your shaft, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to feel you throb in your hand and make you gulp a little. She starts going faster—jerking, fucking pumping your length in her closed fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your eyes open; your eyelids flutter shut. Your head rests against the wall, a sigh slipping past your lips. It’s filthy really—down from the way she catches you off guard to the way she makes your skin sore after she’s done feasting. Almost every interaction with her in a private space is as X-rated as this; it’s hard not to get into a situation like this around her. You know: a situation where the two of you are naked and getting really touchy and actively trying to get each other as many times as humanly possible.

“Fuck yes baby…” you rasp, your nails starting to eat into your palms as she the sound of her hand sliding up and down your dick starts to cut above the steady stream of water. With each rise of her hand, the pad of her thumb plays with the head of your member, and when it sinks down, she twists her wrist in a screwing motion. Rinse and repeat; up and down and up and down and fuck. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She hums in reply, and she has your earlobe between her teeth the next second, nicking you mischievously, sending small pricks of pain shooting through your system as she adjusts her grip on your cock without ever breaking her motion. Next thing you know, your tongue is inside your ear, and she’s leaning in so close that when you open your eyes, you’re practically looking over her shoulder, looking down the curve of her back that glistens with moisture and soap bubbles.

“I love this cock so fucking much,” she whispers, a bit of a hiss in her words as she takes the head of your cock between her forefinger and thumb and pinches lightly. “It stretches me out when I need it.” her fingers start to trail down your slipper shaft, letting the smoothness of her palm rub against your whole length, “fills me when I want it.” She’s milking the precum out of you, making you all leaky and squirmy as she starts pumping faster. “And it’s so fucking big that I can choke on it. You know how much I love being choked.”

She chooses that last bit to make eye contact with you, and she’s practically served you what she wants next on a silver platter. The next move is clear cut and simple; no words need be spoken. You were going to fuck her—and you mean properly fuck her—with a hand wrapped around that small throat. How you were gonna do it was still a mystery, but you figured that it’d slowly come to you, but it will definitely be related to the mirror and the sink outside and the mirror in front of it. At once, you reach over to the handle of the shower, and you turn it down to the handheld showerhead mode. Wonyoung bites her bottom lip, perverse glee painted all over her face as you use it to wash the soap off her back. She’s watching, waiting, probably drenched down there and aching to be stuffed full of cock.

She’s almost shaking with excitement as you finish washing all the soap off her body. You’d hardly consider her clean, but it won’t hurt to hop back into the shower again once you're done with her. The shower door swings open and you’re cupping her pussy, dripping wet while stumbling out with her, lips locked on hers and her hand on your cock as you push her against the sink of her hotel room. From the moment her mouth opens and let the moans pour out while you rub her clit to the moment her hand leaves your cock to cradle your face, she’s practically radiating need from the pores of her skin. You can’t help but playfully remark, “you’re such a fucking loser”, while your thumb thumps against her clit and sends pleasure tearing through her system. Weak in the knees, she holds on to you for support.

And the moans (those fucking hair-raising moans), they tumble out of those plump lips like marbles down a ramp, and they mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you start to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, doing to her what she did to you in the shower; you give her a taste of her own medicine, and the way she’s titling her head back to let you mark her freely makes it almost seem as if it’s the intended outcome of her actions. It’s like she knew that you would get back at her, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you ever find out that she gets off on knowing that she can manipulate you in her own bratty ways—get you wrapped around her finger and have you doing all the things she wants you to do without having to tell you. Not that you have something to gripe about it, but you’re just so amused (and that’s just one word to describe how you feel) by how she goes about her ways.

“Come on,” she manages to whisper, all while you’re busy sucking on the skin just below her collarbone till it’s sore. She has a lot of pride in her voice for someone who’s quite literally quivering. “You know you want to fuck me. Give me a good creampie again.”

You lift your head for a moment, and you take in the look of almost childlike excitement on her face as your hand finds its way to her throat. It’s perverse excitement, that lewd exhilaration of knowing that she was about to get what she wanted, and albeit a little messed up, it was pretty hot in its own way. When your fingers gently wrap themselves around her throat, you can feel every muscle in her body tense in anticipation, as if she didn’t get enough from the bedroom earlier.

“Up on the counter baby. Let me see how messy you are down there,” you whisper.

She knows what to do, and she has herself propped up on the counter and engaged in open mouth kissing. She doesn’t need you to tell her to spread her legs, and she definitely doesn’t need you to tell her how cute she sounds when your fingers slip inside of her, feeling around the mess you’ve made of her and coating your digits in her fluids. Your index and middle finger are slick with her juices when you retract them from inside her, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Messy as ever,” you muse, making a show of sucking her juices clean off your fingers. She’s sweet and borderline tangy—a taste that you’re accustomed to, and you will never get tired of it. She’s biting down on her lower lip, the skin wrinkling under the pressure of her front teeth as she makes a sound that’s close to a purr.

“You made the mess.” She has her eyes locked on yours as you raise an eyebrow, prompting her to follow up after her first statement. Not that you didn’t know what was coming, but more that you wanted to gently coax it out of her, because it was so fucking hot to hear what she had to say next. “You clean it up.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. She watches you with intent eyes as you sink down to your knees, waits with bated breath as you lower your face till the glistening, pink folds of her pussy are right in front of your face, flushed thighs around your ears. Her excitement is almost palpable, and you can hear the sharp inhale she takes when your palm finds its place on the inside of her left thigh, pushing gently to give you better access to her heat (you’re really just trying to drag out the tension if you were being completely honest with yourself). You lick your lips, lean forward till your mouth is hovering above her slit.

“You better moan for me this time,” you tell her, and you’re making sure to make your breath hit her slick as you speak. “You have such a wonderful voice. Put it to use.”

Praise mixed with the slight hint of authority—it’s enough to make her nod furiously and implore you with doe eyes to just get on with it. With a smirk, your lips find the swollen nub at the top of her entrance. You suck on it. Hard. And almost at once, her thighs clamp around your ears and her hand is on your head, like it’s some sort of natural instinct for her when you’re eating her out. Keeping to her word, she cries out—keening, whiny and ever so fucking bratty, and it’s the the holy grail of every wet dream. Nothing in the world could bring you more satisfaction than that shrill, airy cry she lets out when the pleasure ripples through her body, and you’re just getting started.

Your mouth opens and your tongue flattens itself against her folds, (She tastes so good. You want all of it, all of her) and you drag it up her folds, deliberately, painfully slow as you start to lick up that wet cunt. Her back arches; you can feel her struggling to keep a hold of your head; she throws her head back and lets out a gasp; her thighs clamp down a little harder around your head. The pleasure in her system builds up with the slow movement of your tongue, only rising and rising as you lick from the base of her slit to the mid section to the top. When the tip of your tongue flicks her clit, it's almost like an explosion, enough for her other hand to join its pair atop your head, enough to make her cry out in a perverse plea, “Daddy, please!”

(For the record: she’s wanted this from the moment you guys stepped into the shower. She’s willingly turned herself into some pliant little plaything, and she’s probably getting off so hard to it. Frankly, if she wanted to order you around, you’d be up to it, but this is what she prefers.)

And nothing else needs to be said really. You put your whole mouth on her—relishing the shiver that runs up from her thighs up to her body—and get right into making a wreck of her. You lick, you devour, you ravish her: working your mouth on her pussy, lapping up the juices that spill forth from flushed lips with broad, sharp strokes that make her body grow taut and her legs quiver. You tongue her clit, lick up sweet fluids, make her messy and needy and hot in all the right areas till she’s drilling her nails into the back of your scalp and pushing your face against her sweet slick. In half whispers, she tells you just how good you make her feel—oh Daddy I’m so fucking wet!—and you feel a dark part of yourself be fed by these lecherous words—Oh god oh fuck I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep… Fuck!—that leave her half-parted mouth and linger in the air, reminding you of just how wanton she is and how you’re the only person in the world she ever wants to fuck and be satisfied by. You’re hers; she’s yours—a relationship with Jang Wonyoung that any guy would kill for.

“Daddy—” she gaps, her voice a whole octave higher than it should be as her nails turn into claws at the back of your head. “Fuck I’m cumming. Daddy I’m cumming!”

The pulsing of her pusy against your tongue grows. You continue licking, lapping. One stroke, two strokes—three. She moans, blue screens. You hazard a look up.

Nothing else matters. Only: the sight of that back arching off the marble counter, her thighs around your head trembling and quaking as her hips roll and her mouth parts in a silent scream. You’re certain that there’s blood being drawn from the back of your head, but you're more certain that she’s got enough heat in her core to melt molten iron but a lack of breath that makes her gasp for air as you lick and lick and lick your way into her. You can feel her orgasm getting closer by the second, it’s in her breathing, and in the way her hips are practically thrusting her into your mouth.

And just like the bathrobe from earlier, she comes undone—falls apart and ceases to keep control of her body. She tenses, her thighs go rigid around your ears. Her breath is caught in her throat, her eyes are closed. You stop your work, admire the way she glows as her body twitches and her face twists. Pleasure rips its way through her muscles, her nerves—splits her very being in half as the orgasm rolls through her system. She’s beautiful, and she’s a messy work of art that you’ve created.

You rise to your feet as she winds down, and her hands leave your head to rest on the counter while her body struggles to process the aftermath of that orgasm. It’s not the first time she’s cum for the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. Her eyes open, and she instantly locs them on you as you brush back some of the hair that sticks to her sweat slicked face. You take her hand and give a gentle tug, and she slips off the counter obediently. You grip her jaw—tenderly but rough enough for her to like it—and tell her to turn around. Servile, she obeys, and in the reflection of the mirror, she watches as your hand snakes its way to her throat and grips it. You’re not squeezing, not yet.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now,” you drawl, gripping your shaft in your hand and slapping it against her slit. The contact makes her shudder, but she remains silent as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Your face is gonna be so pretty when I choke you and fill you.”

“Yes Daddy.” Her reply is a whisper, a borderline drawl that’s airy and raunchy and makes your hairs stand on their ends. She’s looking at you through the mirror, plump lips slightly parted and eyes glassy. “Own me. I’m yours, forever.”

And you’re all too happy to hear that from her.

You slip into her, hilt yourself inside her in one swift motion.

(Tight. Hot. Wet. So tight.)

She lets out a sigh, low and sonorous, harmonising with your own groan as you press her against the edge of the counter and make the fingers around her throat squeeze. The sound that leaves her throat is the sound of her sigh being truncated, and it delights that dark part of you. Being inside Wonyoung was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the bathroom of her hotel, on the night where you’ve agreed to seal a deal with her, she felt downright heavenly. She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation of being filled by cock, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication; she looks over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip. And when she has your gaze, she mouths something.

Fill me.

The silence is deafening, but it’s all you need to hear.

When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you—but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the marble. Her hands steady her body against the counter, her back arched in a way that lets you get a wonderful top-down view of her breasts as they roll together with her body. It’s a concerted effort, but she makes it seem effortless.

“Be honest.” With the hand around her throat, her voice sounds a little hoarse. It’s hot. “Do you think about this, Daddy? About fucking me like a good little slut?”

“Wonyoung,” you reply, speaking through your gritted teeth. “You have no,” and you punctuate the sentence there with a deeper thrust into her tight slick, a thrust strong enough for her to let out a strained gasp. “fucking idea…”

(In the mirror, you watch as she curls her lips into her mouth and tilts her head back into your shoulder, like she’s submitting her whole being to you and letting you take liberties with her body. You take the invitation, and your free hand finds itself on one of her soft mounds and gives it a squeeze—rough but tender enough to elicit a low moan from her throat that makes your hand around it vibrate pleasantly.

At the given moment, she’s doing all she can to make herself a pretty little fuckdoll for you, doing her best to encourage you to treat her rough, treat her like you own her. She wants nothing more but to feel the rockhard meat penetrating her tight little cunt stretch her out and fill her the way she wants, all while she’s begging and pleading obsequiously while being obsessed with your cock. It’s a lot to take in for her for sure, but she gets off on it, and you get off on it too—the fact that she’s being all needy and pleading just so she can implicitly tell you to fuck her till she’s raw and can’t fucking walk the next morning. The fact that she’s actually in control while being such a bottom. Bratty manipulation.)

“Then fuck me Daddy,” she tells you, almost pleading. “Use this pretty little pussy. I want it. I fucking need it.”

With her invitation to do more with her body, you’re more than ready to do what you’ve intended to do from the very start. You increase your tempo, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway—you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position. She takes it well, like she was made for this. In her world, this was what fucking looked like, and it was the only definition that she was going to live with and she’d take it to the grave. She indulges in the roughness, the almost animal-like way your cock fills her again and again and again, all while she encourages you with cries and moans and sighs that are music to your ears.

And a notion hits you: she’s going to make you fuck her till she’s the only thing you can possibly think about. She’s going to draw out every single primal urge within you, make you want her like she’s some form of drug and you’re the abuser, and then she’s going to get exactly what she wants—your cum in her pussy. You can’t let her win like that, you can’t. You can tell that to yourself now, but you’re not sure if you can remember it later, not when she practically reeks of the strongest possible sillage of sex.

Her pussy throbs around you, pulse strong and just a beat behind your thrusts as you thrust yourself in and out of her slick walls, filling her up and drawing yourself out before filling her up yet again. Pure filth spills from her mouth, expletives, sordid sighs and cries and any sound or word that comes to mind. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and from the mirror you enjoy the way she’s almost writhing in against the counter. Ample breasts bounce with each thrust that shocks her body, and it’s almost hypnotic if it weren’t for the fact that that pretty face was stealing the show. The face that was marvelled, the face that was the source of jealousy, the face that was on the face of so many magazines and posters and adored by millions, if not billions—scrunched up, improper and so fucking lewd that it looked like it belonged in a porno instead of an idols face, and you take pleasure in the fact that your cock is ruining the face of a princess, turning her dissolute and so fucking needy that she was as good as a fan begging her for an autograph. This side of her was reserved for you, and only you—her duality is reserved for your eyes only.

Her body is slick with sweat, rubbing against your own sweaty torso while her body rolls together with your thrusts. “Fuck—” you’re saying, but it comes out as more of a growl than anything given how hard yur teeth are clenching. Your fingers squeeze tighter around her throat. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her pussy to clench even tighter around you—and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you’re going insane. You probably are at this rate. “This pussy. It’s so fucking good baby.”

Her reply is a strained gasp, but you get the gist of what she wants to say. She wants, so badly, to tell you how good your cock is making her feel, how well it fucks her, how well it fills her and stretches her and how it’s her favourite thing in the whole world. The squelch of your cock filling her pussy is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the smacking of skin against skin as you press more of your weight against her, pushing her a little more into the corner of the counter and a little more over the line of pathetic. She moans in response to your actions, and it’s telling you: fuck. Harder. It’s better when it hurts.

And you can feel her juices leaking down the back of her thighs, wetting your crotch and making the smack of skin against skin louder than ever, almost as if it was an announcement: I’m being fucked like a good little slut and I love it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to you,and for clarity, it’s something along the lines of turning you absolutely feral with her moans and the divine tightness of her pussy that makes you want to cum on the spot. Okay,maybe she is cognizant of how crazy she makes you when you fuck her, but you barely have the capacity to think, let alone rationalise wether thai girl in your arms that your chocking and fucking feel smug in knowing that she’s driving you insane.

Oh and she loves it when you play with her tits. The way you fondle them is almost aggressive. Scratch that—it’s really fucking aggressive. You’re slapping her tits, leaving red marks all over the milky white skin and pinching and twisting the stiff nubs atop her breasts, all while she mewls and cries out in that strained voice that makes you throb even harder inside of her wet walls and makes you grit your teeth like your a dog waiting to chew on a bone.

“D-Daddy,” she pushes out, past the fingers that close her airways and past her groans and moans and sighs. “Harder.” And your thrusts are starting to cut her off, but she has more to say. When it comes out, each word that she spits out is punctuated by a thrust of cock into her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing you’ll ever hear.

Fuck.

You thrust deep inside her.

Me.

Your cock drives itself deep into her, slicking itself with her juices.

Harder.

And if words could linger in the air, hers certainly would.

You fuck her hard, and fast, and deep—hammering her into the counter, nailing her defenseless pussy with a pace that you would have thought was rough and callous were it not for the fact you knew this was exactly how she wanted it. All she can do is hang on, grasp onto the counter with a knuckle-white grip with her hands as you take your liberties with her body, fucking her as hard as you can, as deeply as she can take it. The cups on the counter shake, the toothbrush inside one of them shaking under the force. It’s loud, but you hear none of it. You hear only the sharp sighs of pleasure that leave Wonyoung’s lips, and the wet slap slap slap of your crotch as it hammers her cunt again and again and again, your cock drilling her, pounding her, making her yours if you weren’t already doing that.

It takes a little long, but the haze of lust parts for a moment for you to realise that you're getting closer and closer to getting what she wants out of you. While the thought of burying yourself inside of that quivering, pulsing pussy to let it milk every last drop of cum from you is ever so enticing, that small part of you that wants to own her pushes you to fight against the urges. Not that there’s any harm in giving her what she wants, but it’s just that you don’t want to reward her bratty, manipulative tactics. She knew for a fact that she could tie you up and ride you over and over till you were dry—she’d done it before. But instead, she’s chosen to fulfil her needs in a less direct manner, maybe for fun or maybe just because she felt like it.

“Yes,” Wonyoung hisses, spit flying into the mirror and her palms slipping on the counter. “Just like this Daddy.” And she’s making sure to make eye contact with you through the mirror, letting her eyes do most of the talking. If anyone’s curious, the look she gives you is saying, I’m your good little slut. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me. Please, and it's nothing short of hot and tethering far over the line of lewd. At this point, neither of you are in a state where you're capable of coherent thought, nor are you capable of thinking about anything else except each other’s bodies and the wet, lewd squelching of cock filling Wonyoung’s pussy. It goes on and on and on, a cycle of your hips hammering the back of her legs and your cock spearing deep into her cunt. She takes it so well, drinking you in hungrily, coiling around your shaft like a snake as if it was begging for you to stay in her forever. The sight is enough to make your balls tingle and your toes curl, and your hand around Wonyoung's throat tightens to the point where the only thing that can leave her lips is a groan as her airflow is reduced.

She’s tighter, hotter, wetter. Her pussy fits you like a glove, moulding around your cock as it pumps in and out of her at a pace that you had no idea you were capable of. The hand around her neck is nothing but an outlet of pleasure for you, and she’s loving it. “Such a good girl,” you mutter, watching from the mirror as her mouth slacks and opens while she’s being pumped full of cock. “You were made to take Daddy’s cock, weren’t you?”

Her equivalent of a yes is a sharp, strained groan—an amalgamation of phonics and whatever sounds the lack of air flowing to her throat permits her to make. She’s so fucking messy down there, and your cock is sliding in and out of her with ease, aided by her slick juices that coat your shaft and let it disappear and reappear from between her legs with ease. The motion is almost graceful if it weren’t for the fact that it was a sordid one, and you take a moment to admire the way your shaft glistens in the light of the bathroom while you fuck her the way she wants it: rough, hard and tethering over the edge of callous. If it weren’t for the hand around her throat, she’d be making herself hoarse with all the moaning she’d be doing.

And the hand around her throat is bringing her so much pleasure, if the way her pussy squeezes around you when you choke her is any indication. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked being choked. While she didn’t like gagging on your cock, she sure as hell loved it when your fingers clasped around the muscles and made her gasp. She liked the sensation of being deprived of air, be it when she was riding or when she has her kness buried into her shoulders and was being fucked into the bed like a slut. You were always afraid of hurting her, but when she shots you that look, the one that says, come on, you can do better, you know that she’s getting exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. It was just a matter of how hard you squeeze around her throat before she either cums or passes out, though the latter has rarely happened before the former.

“Daddy!” she chokes, and you know exactly what she’s about to say next. So you release her throat from her grasp, bunch a lock of her hair in your closed fist and you pull back. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut. Her back arches deliciously, her voice now free to finish shat she’s aching to announce. “I’m fucking…”

You never expect her to finish her sentence. Wonyoung’s eyes open, and a gasp leaves her open lips. Her walls, already vice-like, tighten so hard around you that you think you might come there and then. You feel how close she is.

“Fucking cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”

Wonyoung does as she is told—and the quivering, trembling orgasm she experiences is almost frightening in the way it overwhelms her body, turning her into a wet, hot mess. Her pussy tightens and pulsates, her fingers claw against the marble counter, and her entire lower body shakes violently, as though she had lost control of her nerves and muscles. For a few beautiful seconds she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your grasp, breathing heavily.

It's good. It's so good, but it's not quite enough to get you to your finish. Not yet.

(And if anyone’s asking: it’s not that the sex isn’t good. It’s mind blowing, amazing, and whatever word that can be used to describe “fucking incredible”. She’s hot, so tight and fucking soaked down there. You’re horny, throbbing and on the verge of filling her full of your seed. But you’ve said it before and you’ll say it again—you’re not rewarding bratty manipulation. As tempting as it would have been to simply pound her from behind until you gave her needy pussy the load of semen she so desperately wanted, you knew that there was something even better that you could do.)

You pull out of Wonyoung, your shaft glistening under the hotel light. Her eyes are wide with shock as you withdraw yourself from her body, pulling her away from the counter—but only enough to have her lean back against you and not stand up completely. Her mouth opens to say something, but she's interrupted when you turn her face to you and kiss her. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, your tongue slipping into her mouth and massaging her own, lapping at the roof of her mouth as her tongue swirled around your own. You bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention. When her eyes flutter open, you whisper, "I'm not finished."

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You turn her around, push down gently on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Wonyoung on her knees with her pretty little face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you finally bury yourself inside and cum down her throat, but that would just be a repeat telecast of every other night with her. Spice things up; give her the liberty of creativity with your cock.

And of course, Wonyoung perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth. Grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other, Wonyoung quickly launches into a hard and fast blowjob, taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with a rapid pace while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion, just like she did in the shower. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. Your hand finds a clump of her sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. No, you weren’t going to push her head down onto your cock; you had to give her the space to work on her craft.

And of course, she exceeds every expectation out there. Your eyes shut involuntarily, your brain unable to handle any sensations beyond the wet, hot cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft with tight, soft lips. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. With each subsequent entry her tongue becomes more adventurous, beginning with quick swipes left and right on your shaft with each entry and ending each exit with a swirl of the tip around the head of your cock. While she tastes herself on your cock, letting her juices mix with saliva, her hands work in perfect concert with her mouth, one joining her lips at your shaft and pumping up and down, a twisting motion to her wrist while her free hand works gently with your dangling balls, fondling them with considerate fingers. She plays with them softly yet hastily, her fingertips working their magic between the sacs with expert attention.

You are content to stand there with your eyes shut, simply enjoying the feel of your cock pumping in and out of her mouth at a fervent pace, but a small part of you knew that you had to see it happening in order to truly believe it was all real—and so with a not insignificant amount of self-control, you force eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Black locks bob up and down frantically above your cock, doe-like eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you as her cheeks hollow and her jaw unhinges even more to accommodate your length.

It all becomes too much, and it hits you all at once—having her pump your shaft in the shower, eating her out then fucking her—and you quickly find yourself nearing that inevitable peak.

“Fuck, Wony—” is all you manage to say before your orgasm overtakes your world.

Wonyoung releases your cock from her mouth a split second before you erupt, shooting long, thick strands of hot semen all over her pretty little face. Her face glazes over in pleasure and you are all too happy to watch as strand after strand of cum lands on her cheeks, her pretty little nose, and finally her open mouth and jaw. You watch, through half-lidded eyes drunk with pleasure, as the thick streams of cum flow down her face, dripping onto her upper chest and those perfect breasts of hers. Her face is flushed and her mouth open, as though she herself was on the verge of orgasm (she probably was, and she was going to make it your problem as soon as she got your cum off her face).

You want to remember the way she wipes your cum off her face with the back of her hand, how she licks it all up like a cat licking its own paw before moving to clean the stray strands of cum off the tip and sides of your cock. You want to remember how she rises so gracefully even though she was a sweaty mess, and how she gently takes your hand and guides you back into the shower for another clean up.

And back under warm water, you want to remember how she kisses you, and how she whispers, “next time, I want that big load in my pussy.”

“What?”

And it’s hard to meet Wonyoung’s eyes as you set down the papers from the doctor. You can feel her confusion, her frustration, her rage from across the dining table in your apartment. It isn’t pretty. Nothing about this situation is.

“It’s a neurological disease,” you tell her, all while you’re looking at the MRI that’s in the middle of the table. You’re really just regurgitating what the doctor told you—it’s the only thing you have the capacity to do right now. “They ran their tests. They told me what I suspected. I’m losing my ability to read and write, to understand language. In 2 years—give or take —I won’t be able to express my thoughts. I’ll be spouting gibberish. What people say, what I see — on pages, street signs, everywhere — they’ll all be unintelligible to me.” She’s silent, and it unnerves you in every way possible. You haven’t even gotten to the worst part of it all. “My mental competence will deteriorate. I’ll have to live off a tube cause I’ll forget how to eat and drink. Dementia will follow shortly.”

Now would be a great time for her to say something, anything to break this silence. But she is silent, unmoving and reticent in her seat from across you. You have no choice but to gulp and deliver, in your personal opinion, the worst part of it all, “By the time I forget how to breathe I… I would’ve lost all my memories by then.”

She chooses the moment after the last word leaves your mouth to pick up the MRI scan and look at it.

“So… Everything we’ve built up till now will just… Disappear?” she whispers. She sounds hurt, scared and everything in between. You bite your lower lip.

“Yes.” There’s no point sugarcoating it, it’s inevitable anyway. Face it now, sulk later… You think that’s the best way to deal with this piece of news. You hope that the matter-of-fact tone of voice that you’ve chosen doesn't betray how frightened you are by the prospect of losing everything you know. “We can’t stop it. It’s in my genes.”

She sets down the scan, and when you look up, you see the tears flowing down her cheeks and it makes you want to cry as well.

She stands up, shoulders her handbag and walks towards the front door.

“Where are you—” you begin. “I’m going somewhere else to think,” she interjects.

When she slams the door behind her, you feel like you’ve let her down in so many ways. There’s a burning in your chest that you can’t describe. The first hot tear rolls down your cheek, and you let the rest that well in your eyes flow down without resistance.

You don’t want to remember what it feels like to be helpless—the emptiness, the rage, the sadness, the confusion is all so overwhelming. But you figure that you’ll have to feel it again at some point down the road.

Might as well figure out how to cope with it now, when Wonyoung isn't there and you're all alone with your thoughts.

When you awaken later that night in your bed in the apartment, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream—but the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.

Wonyoung places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.

“Wony…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.

“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”

She’s suddenly reappeared after walking out on you, and you have yet to process the slew of emotions that have come your way. Part of you wants to stop her, to talk things out with her so that you could: a) figure out if she was still mad at you and; b) verify that she wasn’t drunk. But the part of you that formed the majority of your conscience knew that she needed comfort as much as you did, and that she needed something to assuage her and make her feel like everything would turn out alright. So you find yourself relaxing underneath her, letting her scent fill your nostrils as her tongue dances with yours.

She straddles you, and your hands begin to run up her naked body, up from her slim thighs to her chest where the ample mounds sat proudly, her nipples erect and stiff. She isn’t wearing any underwear, and your fingers brushing against the slick of her pussy is enough to verify that for you. She’s naked atop of you, kissing you like you just confessed your love to her or like you’re about to go on some mission and never return. It’s not lustful, but it’s full off passion and aims to soothe not stir.

She breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open. In the dark that is pierced by the street lights of the city, you want to remember the way her eyes glimmer and shimmer as she breathes heavily. There’s no alcohol on her breath, and from the way she’s cradling your face, you can infer that she’s not mad at you in the slightest.

“You okay?” she whispers, and her tone is soft and warm, like that time she spoke in the shower of her hotel about signing that contract with her company so that the two of you could officially start dating. It’s been some time after that, but you still hang on to the way her words made their way to your heart. “I didn’t mean to startle you if I did.”

You respond by nodding, and it’s enough to convey: I’m alright. You brush away the hair that falls in front of her eyes, and you really want to remember how silky smooth her hair feels in your hands.

“What are you doing?” you ask her, making sure to keep your tone as warm as her own. She blinks, goes silent for a moment, then answers, “I’m making amends.”

She holds your gaze, you hold hers. The staring contest ends when you gently pull her in for another kiss, and you want to remember how she softly moans into your mouth while her thumb, smooth and tender, caresses your cheek.

When the kiss breaks again, her hands snake their way down to your sweats. You assist her in removing your shorts—a very clumsy affair: tangled hands and arms and lots of chuckling. But your cock does finally spring out from your boxers, the ones that have been discarded in the corner of the bed, together with her clothes. When it’s all done, you have the pleasure of witnessing the sight of her slim frame straddling you once more, long legs surrounding you on either side of your thighs while she peppers kisses on your chest.

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with… Everything. Alone.” she begins, “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that… I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t angry”

And from your lying position, you lift a hand to cup her cheek. “We can talk later.”

She gets the message, but bends down and kisses you nonetheless. You’d probably have trouble falling asleep later in the night, and she’d wake up and you’d have this same conversation again. You’d rather have it later than now, not when the wound is still fresh.

Wonyoung lets a soft smile play on her lips. You are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance. She breaks the kiss for the third time that night, searches your eyes for approval to continue with this. Was it make up sex? You didn;t know if it was for sure, but it sure as hell felt like it. What you do no for certain is: you’d like to experience this now, and you want to etch this in your memory for as long as you can before it fades with the rest of your mind.

You give her the slightest of nods, and you feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Wonyoung lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy. She gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply. As your tongues duel, she begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours.

She raises herself upright and lets her hands rest on top of your chest. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes closed, lips slightly parted and the wisp of a smile on her lips as she rocks her hips. From where you lie, you watch as Wonyoung takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft as it fills her over and over in slow, tender strokes that make her shiver. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure. As always, she’s letting moans and sighs and gasps tumble freely from half-parted lips as she takes you in and out of her slowly, rocking her hips with innate grace and elegance. All you do is let your hands rest on her thighs, moaning softly to encourage her as she rides you lovingly, tenderly, a far cry from what you’re used to when it comes down to sex with Jang Wonyoung.

Through the night, your cock glides in and out of that perfect pussy, elicits moans and gasp and sighs and cute little cusses when you hilt yourself deep inside of her and tug a little at her hair. Her hands were always active, sometimes caressing your chest, sometimes on your jaw, sometimes behind your head as she snaked an arm behind your head to keep you locked where you were just so she could sneak in a kiss. You came in her mouth, her ass, her pussy. She came on your fingers, your cock, your mouth. She cussed a lot, almost passed out once or twice. You cussed a lot two, and you caught her when she almost rolled off the bed (the two of you laughed for a minute about that situation before you ended up spooning on the floor, her leg in the air and your cock pumping in and out of her while she had your back to you and your face in her right hand).

Bottom line: it was wonderful, wonderful make up sex that ended with both of you sweaty and panting and wanting more from each other but you guys just don’t have that energy to keep going. It was a novelty for both of you, and you wanted to remember just how special she could make you feel, even in the impurest of acts.

The flash of the polaroid camera is almost blinding, but you power through and keep your eyes open. Like a child that’s seeing snow for the first time, Jang Wonyoung watches excitedly as the polaroid emerges from the slot in the camera, and she’s all too eager to grab it and lay it face down on the coffee table in your apartment.

“I thought you’re supposed to shake it?” you ask, watch as she fiddles with the camera for a little bit before she snaps a selfie with her newest purchase. She gives you a look that basically translates to, “uh, are you dumb?” and waits for the next polaroid to emerge from the slot before she launches into her lecture.

“Shaking the polaroid to make it develop faster is a myth,” the way she sounds so official and everything is so cute. You can’t help but smile a little as she sets the other polaroid down. “It shifts the pigments and blurs the photo, but an idiot like you would need a genius like me to tell that to you.”

The remark is clearly meant to be biting, but it’s nothing short of hilarious to you. “When did you become a camera nerd?”

“Ever since I got this,” she lifts the polaroid camera up and hits you with that you’re on camera smile. “Maybe I should do an ad for this brand. Increase their sales, you know?”

She leaves you to think on that and retrieves the first polaroid she took: a picture of you and her on the couch of your apartment. Not the grandest first photo, but hey, a memory is a memory, and you really are just focusing on cherishing those at the moment. As she leaves the couch to clip the polaroid onto the photo rack (a bunch of metal wires on a metal frame with wooden clips to hold photos) she just set up, you grab your journal next to you and flip it to the page you wrote on a few hours before. With your pen (that you now carry around just about everywhere with your journal), you scribble down a new part of today that you want to remember. It was her idea to journal down everything you wanted to remember.

The entry goes right under the one about Wonyoung’s new camera.

She looks so happy with that new camera. Bet she’s going to go back to the dorm and show it off to all of her members because she’s a fucking child. I hope that…

And you trail off in your writing, What you wanted to say was just on the tip of your tongue just a second ago. Why can’t you remember it? It was literally just in your head a minute ago…

No.

You shut the journal. It makes a soft yet substantial thud as the leather cover slaps against pages. You place your pen in your pocket, set the journal back down on the couch and stand up to walk towards your girlfriend, who is currently adjusting the angle that the wooden clip holds the polaroid at. She senses you walking up to her, steps aside and makes a space for you to watch her struggle. You would offer help, but you know that it removes half the fun for her when you do something for her.

She fiddles around a little more, makes a couple of grunting sounds under her breath, curses a little, and next thing you know, she exclaims, “tada!” while pointing at the first occupant of the photo rack. You roll your eyes, throw an arm over her shoulder and look at the slightly blurry photo within the white frame.

“With the camera,” she tells you, her tone soft and warm like… Like… Fuck. “I hope that we can help our memories live on. Sounds pretty deep huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle in agreement. You take a moment to stare at the two faces that occupy the space in the polaroid, and you hope to God that they will never, ever look foreign to you. It’s a futile prayer, you know, but a glass-half-full mentality is the best chance you have at not spiralling out of control.

Wonyoung lays her head on your shoulder, silent and all sentimental as she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets out a shuddering sigh, and you know that she’s trying not to cry, cause in this situation she’s the one that will end up hurt at the end of it all. You’ll forget the pain of forgetting; she’ll remember the pain of being forgotten. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is. You hug her, hold her close and stroke her hair. You don’t want to forget what she means to you, what you mean to her.

How many more polaroids left till it all ceases to matter?

____________________

Hello! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I'm a bit rusty so this one might be a bit funny, but hopefully the style of storytelling I chose didn't fuck you up too bad. Non-linear storytelling will be the death of me. Also: I kinda didn't edit this one too much. My bad hehe.

This was really more of a PSA to cherish the ones you hold close to you, because you never know when they will just disappear. Love the people close to you, cherish them forever.

~Lots of love Nichuuu

#jang wonyoung #wonyoung smut #ive smut #ive wonyoung #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut #nichuuu #ansgt

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arc-misadventures · 1 month

Text

Deaf Subtitles

Jaune: I’m deaf, but my semblance makes the words people say appear below them so I can read them.

Ruby: “Like subtitles in a movie?”

Jaune: Yeah, just like that!

Ruby: “That’s awesome!”

Weiss: “I’ve never heard of a semblance like that before. That’s quite the unique semblance.”

Jaune: Thanks, but it has it’s downsides.

Ruby: “Like what?”

Jaune: It doesn’t say who is talking to me, so if I’m around several people I get confused on who I’m speaking to.

Ruby: “That sounds annoying.”

Jaune: If someone asks me to, ‘come here.’ I have no idea where, ‘here’ is because there isn’t a voice to follow.

Weiss: “People have no doubt become quite angry for that, haven’t they?”

Jaune: Yeah, I’ve had quite a few incidents happen to me every now, and then. But, that’s not the worst of it.

Weiss: “It’s not?”

Ruby: “Then what is?”

Jaune: All the words I see are at chest level.

Weiss: “So?”

Ruby: “What’s wrong with that?”

Jaune: Let me rephrase that: All the words I see are at boob level.

Weiss: …

Ruby: Oh…

Jaune: Yeah…

: “Is that why you’re always staring at my chest?!”

Jaune: Who said that?

Ruby: “You need to be facing, Jaune so he knows who’s talking to him.”

: “Whoops.”

Yang: “Is that why you’re always staring at my chest?!”

Jaune: …

Jaune: Yes.

Yang: “I just thought you liked checking out my girls~!”

Jaune: You put my head through a wall because I was ‘staring’ too much.

Yang: Uhh…

: “It was you who did that to him?!”

Yang: “Uh oh…”

: You’re dead, you hear me! You’re dead!”

Yang: “Gotta go bye!”

: “Come back here you bitch.”

Jaune: That was, Jeanne wasn’t it?

Ruby: “Yeah.”

Weiss: “How could you tell?”

Jaune: This isn’t the first time she’s done this to someone, nor will it be the last.

Weiss: “Well hopefully this will be the least of your problems coming here, Jaune.”

Jaune: I hope so too, but something weird has been happening to me lately ever since I came to, Beacon to see my sister.

Ruby: “Weird how?”

Jaune: Well…?!

: “Ara Ara~!”

Jaune: That! That keeps happening?!

Ruby: What keeps happening!

Jaune: Someone keeps on saying, ‘Ara Ara’ to me!

Weiss: “They’re saying what to you?”

Jaune: They’re saying…?!

: “Ara Ara~!”

Jaune: Ahhhh!!! Who ever you are! Show yourself! And, explain why you keep doing this! Otherwise I might be forced to take responsibility for actions I will only slightly regret!

: “What is he talking about?”

: “I have no idea.”

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #jeanne arc

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earthry · 9 months

Note

Can i ask for papas who told reader to not get attached to them and had secret relationship, until they realised 'oh... I think i was wrong' ?(bonus point for them being jealous, because another sibling flirting with reader)

Thank you and sorry if i bother you🥺❤

Of course you can!! Thank you for the prompt it was so delicious aslkdf it kind of got away from me but hopefully this was what you were looking for 💕

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, manipulation (not from any papas), happy endings for all regardless

Primo

Primo is gentle about telling you not to get attached.

"Don't get too comfortable, little flower." "Remember my rosebud, this is temporary." "We are not exclusive, my morningstar."

He thinks he's doing a kindness by always reminding you that things between the two of you are casual, making sure you're aware that you are just one of many in his garden of plenty.

I think he’d be a little more aware of his growing feelings than any of his brothers, but still catches it too late. By the time he realizes he can’t bring himself to call things off or put some distance between the two of you.

He realized just how much he loves having you by his side. Not just as a lover, but as a companion and a friend. Someone to talk about plants and books to, someone who cares about him enough to swing by the garden often with a snack and water to hydrate when he’s been working under the sun for too long.

The first time you fall into bed together since his realization, he doesn’t remind you about the nature of your relationship, and you’re too nervous to ask until after. He’s cleaned up and slips under the covers with you before pulling you into his arms — he probably doesn’t do this too often because it feels vulnerable. You feel your heart pounding and timidly ask him what’s going on.

“I think I’ve made a grave mistake.” You stiffen and he soothes you, “Not you, never you, tesoro.”

He admits his feelings for you, and you get teary and blubber that you feel the same and he asks you for your forgiveness, taking your hand in his and pressing the softest, most gentle kiss to the back of it.

You two haven’t quite made it official yet, wanting to ease into things naturally— however when he sees a sibling-in-sin flirting with you boldly, he steps in with a growl, the most aggressive you’ve ever seen him before.

“Perhaps you weren’t aware, but here at the ministry, we keep filthy hands off what isn’t ours.” He has a possessive arm around your waist and leans into to brush his lips against your brow.

“I’m sorry I’m late, my petal.” His voice is so much softer when he addresses you, “Is this stronzo bothering you?”

The sibling-of-sin quickly stammers their apologies and scampers off, and before you can really even process what just happened, his lips are on yours. He kisses you hungrily, claiming you as his in the open courtyard where everyone can see.

When he eventually pulls back, your lips are red and swollen to his satisfaction and you give him a look to which he gives you another kiss but it's a much more tame peck this time. "Mi dispiace amore mio. I just couldn't help myself."

Secondo

Secondo was your first-- something you gave to him freely despite his clear warning before taking you to bed.

Still you had your sights set and the idea of taking your innocence was too delicious to Secondo to decline. You weren't the first one he'd corrupted, and you wouldn't be the last (as painful as it is to think about it, you're very keenly aware of this fact).

For your first time, he was the perfect lover, considerate and slow, coaxing you to open up for him in ways you never thought to give to another man. He takes you like you're lovers and it does nothing for the growing feelings you've been having for him as of late except now you know what it feels like to be wrapped up in his arms, now you know how it feels to have his lips on yours, how it feels to take him inside you, to feel so full of him that you see stars.

For him, you're just another conquest, another sibling-in-sin he's deflowered and another body to pull into bed on lonely nights. He usually doesn't think much of it. He has all his bases covered after all. He makes sure of it, reminding his partners that they are not the only ones, that they are here to have fun.

He may not party as much as he did in his youth, but when he did there would always be someone new on his arm and someone new he'd take to bed.

In a way he knows it's also to protect himself, he knows that most if not all of them are vying for Papa's attention, for Papa's favor. Not Secondo's.

He knows it's the Ministry's fault primarily, for twisting him into this shape, for building such a reputation in his image to where he is now. But despite the resentment he feels he can't help the desires that are conditioned into him for this lifestyle.

He doesn't let people in easily as a result, but with you it was almost inevitable.

You had been so shy when he had taken you that first time. Not that you weren't eager, but he was so used to other siblings being sly and seductive, wanting him to do the honors so they would have a story to give when all was over.

You however, were so anxious and timid as he laid you out onto the bed that he couldn't help but reassure you. At first he thought perhaps it was an act, but judging how tight you were wound up, he knew you had to be genuinely nervous. He was extra gentle with you, more than he had ever been with anyone before, and oh, the small smiles you gave in his direction when he comforted you were addicting.

He doesn't normally do repeats, doesn't like taking the same person to bed more than a handful of times but with you he just couldn't help himself.

There was something new to learn about you each time, and soon your relationship evolved to something more than just in the bedroom.

It started small; a book you quoted he recognizes that turns into an hour long conversation about the author's greatest and not so greatest works. Stopping by his office during the day to offer coffee or a short break to discuss literature.

He starts looking forwards to your visits, to those little moments before or after he's taken you to bed. But one thing he's always kept firm on is that you never stay the night.

It's his one rule he's maintained for years to keep feelings and sex separate and it's always worked. You don't particularly know about this rule of his however, so when you finally ask if you can stay the night with him, you feel like you've been brought back to earth with his rejection.

You only have yourself to blame really. He had always said from the very beginning not to get attached. It was your fault for thinking that after the two of you had gotten a little closer that maybe, just maybe things had changed. You were wrong.

Secondo feels terrible for telling you no, but he has his rules for a reason. However, that night as he lays in bed alone he can't help imagining what it would be like to hold you in his arms, to tuck you against his chest and feel your heartbeat firm against his.

Secondo is a smart man, and he knows when he's made a mistake. He resolves to make it up to you in the morning, to pull you aside and set things straight. It had taken time for him to realize how he felt for you but now that he does, he doesn't intent on letting you go.

Unfortunately for him, he can't seem to find you all day, and in the evening he asks around and manages to find some of your friends who tell him that you had not been feeling good.

He feels a pang of guilt for being so harsh with you last night, and asks where your room is.

When he finds you, you're being comforted by a sibling-in-sin. You've been crying on and off all day and right now you're in one of your low moods as the sibling holds you in their arms.

"You should forget about him, he doesn't deserve you." The sibling soothes, "He doesn't care about you like I do, I would treat you so well."

Yeah, Secondo does not like that one bit. First of all, the possessiveness he feels seeing you in someone else's arms, but also manipulation in the form of comfort to someone at their lowest is something he doesn't condone.

Things happen fast and suddenly you're in his arms pressed against his chest as he holds you bridal style. The sibling looks shocked and a little shameful when Secondo sneers at him. "Cazzo di merda, I don't think so. If I ever see you near them again, I will tear you to pieces from limb to limb." His mismatched eyes flash dangerously, and the sibling immediately books it.

He then looks down to you in his arms, his gaze softening as he takes in your red eyes and puffy cheeks. "Amore mio," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "We have much to talk about, including my apology for being so foolish last night."

He takes you to his room where sits against the headboard with you still tucked in his arms. He doesn't let go or put you down even once.

"Mi dispiace, tesoro. I should not have said no last night."

You are quiet for a long time, and he can't help the nervousness that begins to crawl under his skin. "Yeah, you were kind of an asshole." You finally say.

He can't help the chuckle that escapes but agrees with you. "Mm, si I was an asshole, wasn't I? Will you allow me to try making it up to you, amore mio? We can start over, do this right."

"Start... over?" You sound hesitant, unsure what he means until he kisses your temple again.

"Si, although start anew is probably a better term." He reaches to take your hand in his before pressing a kiss to the back. "I promise to treat you right this time, as a proper lover, a proper partner.”

Your cheeks tint pink at the gesture and you nod slowly before cautiously asking, “Okay but… will we be exclusive? Cause I don’t think I can if we aren’t. I can’t… I don’t want to be just another one of your playthings.”

“Tesoro, yes of course we’ll be exclusive. You are not just one of my playthings, you are so much more. You are my heart, and I need my heart to live, si?”

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and guides your hand over his heart, “Amo te e nessun altro.”

Terzo

I love Terzo to bits and this got a little angsty on his side. I hope I didn't make it too OOC but please enjoy!

With Terzo, it's not a surprise that he has no shortage of lovers. Especially favorites, he has many and amongst them is you. It was the first thing he told you before he bedded you for the first time: don't get attached. And honestly? You knew better.

Still didn't keep you from falling helplessly in love with him, though.

For Terzo, it was rare that anyone ever stayed the night; once they came for what they wanted, they would leave. When he was a younger man it was a devastating realization to make, that he would only ever be an object of seduction, only ever be a conquest and never a true lover. Now though, he's worked hard to build those walls around him, numb himself from the knowledge of knowing to never get attached.

"Do not get attached," was not for you, it was never for you-- you'll come to realize. It was for him. A reminder each time he brings another eager sibling-of-sin to bed, a caution each time a fan offered him 'a night he'll never forget'.

The first night you stay, Terzo writes off as a fluke. A blessing, but a fluke nonetheless. You had fully expected him to say no, to ask you to leave as always. Instead, he had looked a little caught off guard, an expression that rarely crossed his features. "Um... stay the night? Si, of course-- of course! Make yourself comfortable, caro, I'll be just a moment. I get towel to wipe us off, si?"

You don't really think much of it when he seems not to know how to lay next to you, unsure where to put his arms to sleep comfortably, and you quite blatantly ask him if he's done this before. Which he immediately lies and says yes, and then deflates when you don't look convinced and mumbles that no, not really. He hasn't done this before.

You're sad for him-- and you make it a mission to give him the best snuggle session of his life.

And honestly? Just one time and Terzo's completely hooked on you. He doesn't get his hopes up (he knows better than that now), but he does quietly tell you that he hopes that the two of you could maybe do this again sometime. You smile and nod, and ask him if he's free tonight and once more there's that surprised look.

It doesn't become a nightly thing, but it almost does. The first time you come to his room before bed, asking him if you could sleep with him that night, his eyes get large and wide. There was no sex that night, just him in your arms as you showed him what spooning was (he was the little spoon of course).

Months later he's hopeful but too anxious to ask you if the two of you were more than just friends with benefits. In the end, it takes jealousy for him to finally do what he's been wanting to do for a long time.

You're in the cafeteria talking with another sibling-of-sin that is obviously trying to chat you up; leaning in close, eyes flickering to your lips and down your body.

Terzo feels his body get hot, his jaw set straight and firm. He knows he's jealous, he can feel the white hot heat that runs through his veins as someone else tries to take what is his. He manages to stay calm enough not to storm over, talking himself down in his head when movement catches his eye.

The sibling flirting with you makes a comment, and points to a smudge of sauce on your cheek. You look confused and they say something, which you wipe your hand over your mouth, but not quite getting the sauce.

Terzo is moving before the sibling even finishes wiping your cheek with their thumb, his hand curling tight around the sibling's wrist and yanking them away from you.

"Keep your hands to yourself, si?" He snarls, "She's mine."

The cafeteria goes silent and the sibling apologizes very quickly, blabbering about how they didn't realize you were taken, by papa no less, and promising to never bother you again. They flee and stiffly Terzo tells all the onlookers to go back to their own business.

As conversation begins to pick up again and his rage boils down, he feels a flash of embarrassment and shame-- turning to you to apologize for so many different things.

Your lips are on him before he can even get words out, kissing him feverishly and without abandon. He whimpers a little, his hands flying up to hold your waist, gasping for air when you finally pull back.

"Mm, perhaps we should take this to the bedroom, si?" He's breathless, looking down at you and you grin, running your fingers against the soft fabric of his robe. You give him his answer to which he nods with hope in his eyes.

"Sounds like a plan-- but I don't share either, okay?"

Copia

Ah. Copia. My scrunkly little rat man. My little meow meow. My itty bitty blorbo.

You had gotten to know him before he was a cardinal. I'm a sucker for childhood friends to lovers for Copia specifically for some reason so here we are again.

If felt very much that it was the two of you against the world back then. Both of you young adults starting from the bottom trying to climb up to the top for at least some kind of recognition.

There are countless nights spent in his room, squeezed onto that tiny bed of his and lounging around, watching him play his video games. Sitting on the floor and fiddling with guitars and sheet music. Leaning against the door frame as he ran around trying to look for a pair of matching socks (that weren't one of the ridiculously patterned ones you gifted to him for Christmas each year) for a formal event.

Perhaps it was only natural for you two to fall into bed together, helping each other blow off steam. Copia had suggested it; albeit a little shyly and awkwardly. It could help relieve stress, besides it wasn't as if there was anyone at the abby that interested either of you anyways (though that was probably a sign).

And what were you to do? Say no to the man you loved?

So you two became friends with benefits; though the friend part always seemed to come first and foremost. You knew you were important to Copia and that was enough. At least at that time you had thought it would be enough.

When he became cardinal, the two of you got to spend less and less time together. He was often on errands or doing work for Sister Imperator. Still, you would occasionally slip into his room to curl around him for comfort and he would hold you close and murmur how he was happy to see you.

When he became papa, that's when things between the two of you started going downhill. You were proud and happy for him, but you hadn't expected him to change. They weren't huge changes; deep down you knew he would always be the same Copia you've known, but there were changes that you didn't know how to handle.

For Copia, it was the power rush. The idea that people were falling over themselves to sleep with him, to be with him. Though it had always been no strings attached, for the first time you were beginning to experience what it was like to not be the only one in his bed, in his life. For Papa, it was exciting, thrilling. For you, it was lonely, confusing, and heartbreaking.

At least it was a little easier to handle when he was on tour, when you didn't have to physically see him each and every day. But the way your timelines and dashboards would fill to the brim of updates, videos, clips and fans gushing about him and their latest ritual; some days you couldn't even bring yourself to pick up your phone. You didn't want to see footage of the most recent girl he cirice'd, you didn't want to hear the latest raunchy things he's flirted at the audience with.

The two of you still messaged occasionally; though it always felt surface level now. You messaged as often as you could but he rarely would hold any solid conversation. Perhaps he had felt you were too moody when it came to talking about his other flings, when it came to talking about the papa business. Regardless, he didn't reach out often anymore.

At some point, you decided it was perhaps time to move on and began looking into dating seriously. You hadn't really found anyone that interested you, anyone that didn't immediately make you think of how much you wished they were someone else (a certain rat loving dork).

Copia missed you. Every night of tour he would think of you. He would stare at his phone, stare at your messages and think and think and not know what to say. Things had become awkward and tense between the two of you since he became papa; and he knows its because of him. He just couldn't resist the taste of what it felt like being wanted for once (that's a lie and he knows it, he knows you have always wanted him). He was such an idiot, so full of himself, so high off of his newfound fame and achievements that he threw everything else out the door. That he might as well have thrown you out too. So. He had no idea what to say.

"I miss you?" "I wish you were here?" "I'm sorry I slept with other people, it felt like cheating on you even though I said no strings attached?" "I fucked a girl so hard last night she passed out but by satana I wished it was you?"

You were on another first dates of many first dates (that usually stayed first dates) when Copia and his ghouls returned shortly from the European tour. You had done your best to ignore the updates of when he would return; focusing on your date instead.

Just like the rest of the dates you went on, you weren't entirely that interested in this sibling-in-sin that had asked you out. The date wasn't going great in your opinion, but they apparently thought differently because as you were half heartedly trying to respond to some comment they made, they pulled you in for a kiss.

For a second, you didn't move out of shock and by the time your brain had caught up to what was happening, someone else was yanking the sibling off you, tossing them to the ground unceremoniously.

Copia looks furious. Despite being dressed in his casual sweats like he usually does on days off, he's intimidating with the low growl he throws in the direction of the sibling.

He takes a seat in the recently vacated spot next to you, leaning in to snake his arms around you, pulling you into his lap and against your chest.

"W-We're on a date, what the fuck?" The sibling has the balls to stand up to the papa, who gives him a cold glare.

"Chi se ne frega, not anymore you're not," His voice is rougher than you remember, and you shiver a little in his arms. He doesn't seem to take note, too preoccupied in staring down his competition. "Get lost."

You don't really hear what the sibling has to say in response, nor do you really pay attention to where they stomp off to. The only thing you're keenly aware of is the way your back is pressed flush against Copia's chest. You can feel not only your heart pounding, but his too. As soon as the sibling is out of sight, he relaxes against you, his arms loosening a little but still firm.

You're confused to say the least-- unsure what just happened, unsure why he's holding you like he never wants to let go. You feel him gently brush his lips against your temple before murmuring to you.

"Mi dispiace, amore mio. I was a fool, a complete coglione. Please forgive me."

Your heart flutters in your chest, hope unfurling its wings like a butterfly. "C-Copia."

"Amo te e solo te. Prometto." He turns you in his arms and you go willingly. He leans so that your foreheads touch, his eyes meeting yours.

"No one else?" You whisper. He nods a little, forgetting for a moment that your foreheads are connected, bumping into you a little and causing you to giggle. The sound of your joy seems to drain any tension left in him and he whispers back, breathlessly.

"No one else, tesoro. Just you."

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lolaxbunnyy · 3 months

Note

IDK IF YOU STILL DO MY HERO ACADEMIA AS IM NEW- but I love your writing so

What about poly Bakugo, Deku, Todoroki x Fem!reader who’s nine months pregnant, due any day now. She’s about to go into labor but they’re not home due to a mission

Idk if I explained this well 💀

also I hope this is good enough I haven’t been on here in a while 😬 . Also I gave the baby a name and a gender if you want something else then you can feel free to change it. Also if anybody has anything they would like me to write please ask!

warnings: fem black reader, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of birth, nothing bad though just enjoy.

SHOTO, IZUKU, AND KATSUKI. The top three most amazing and well known pro heros who were well loved by their fans had a little secret. They had a pretty little wife who was carrying one of their babies. Katsuki decided that he was going to be the one to get her pregnant first, the other two had no problem with that. After months of trying and no show she was finally pregnant and all four of them were so happy to finally have their first kid.

It’s been 9 months already and their precious baby girl has yet to leave her place within her mamas tummy.

Y/N rubbed her swollen belly as she did her rotations on her exercise ball. Katsuki’s mom was here helping her out with the little things that she needed. Mitsuki loved her from the moment Katsuki introduced them and now that she’s going to have a little grandchild she was even more happy with her future daughter in law.

"Y/N honey. The boys are calling again."Mitsuki said as she walked in from the kitchen to the living room rolling her eyes. “This is the fourth time they’ve called in the last hour.” Mitsuki chuckled.

"They're so worried that you're going to pop before they get back." Y/N grabbed the phone from, Mitsuki’s hand and put it up to her ear.

“Hello?” “Hey, baby. You doing okay?” Y/N rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes I’ve been okay since the last time you called.” She heard him chuckle. “Okay. You’re a little worked up. What happened? Sick of us calling?” Y/N giggled. “Nope, never. I can’t even miss or worry about you guys because you’re too busy calling all the time instead of focusing on your task that you three were sent to do.” Before Izuku could respond she heard the faint voice of someone talking to him. “Oi? Is that Curls?” Katsuki of course.

Y/N heard what sounded like the phone being snatched away from Izuku. “Oi, Curls! If you ever hand up in my face again we’re gonna have some problems when I get back home, you hear me?” Y/N chuckled. “Yes sir.” She heard the blonde kiss his teeth before handing the phone back to Izuku.

“Sorry, bout that. Anyways you’ve got some scolding to do to Katsuki anyways.” “Don’t you dare tell her about that!” She could tell Izuku rolled his eyes. “He was being careless today and almost lost his leg.” Katsuki grumbled. “ ‘Was not bein’ fuckin’ careless. ‘The hell was I s’posed to know he was gonna turn his leg in to a fuckin’ chain saw?!” Y/N pursed her lips. “Y’know if you two are done bickering we have matters to attend too.”

Shoto said out of nowhere. “That’s right. Well baby, look like we gotta go. We’ll see you next week, hopefully.” Katsuki butted in. “Yeah so tell the brat to avoid her eviction notices till then.” Y/N laughed. “I’m sure she heard you, Kat. I’ll see you boys next week. I love you.” “We love you more baby.” Then the phone clicked and the call was over.

Y/N sighed. She truly did miss them. Sure she enjoyed the company of her soon to be in laws, but she missed her boys. It was quiet and peaceful while they were away and she hated that. The bed was always cold and empty and she also hated that but it still smelled of them and she could at least appreciate that. So did the large shirt that she borrowed from Shoto’s side of the closet.

The boys had already been gone for two weeks and they’d be back home next week but it doesn’t feel like Blossom can wait any longer to be out in the world. Her eyes trailed over towards the belly cast that she had gotten done. The boys had decorated it all pretty and even drew a little family of four on it in Katsuki’s terrible excuse of a drawing. She’d never tell him that though because even if it was bad it’s still cute and still has meaning to it. She can still even feel their careful hands on her stomach.

Izuku’s hands are the most scarred and a little calloused but still firm and calming. Katsuki’s hands being the most calloused and somehow a bit sweaty from time to time. Sho’s hands were the softest but were always cold.

She missed the special treatment and massages they’d give her before they left. They were very caring and spoiling.

It’s been like this since they’ve found out that she was pregnant. They couldn’t be home for her, they had their moms take care of her. Then when they came home for the night, they’d be all over her because in their words, “you look so cute when you’re pregnant.”

She smiled softly at Mitsuki as she smelled the cooking of her favorite food. It’s getting later and later and there was a storm outside brewing. She didn’t want her poor boys caught outside in the rain.

"Y/N, Inko sent some more clothes for Blossom." Mitsuki smiled as she handed them to her. “Awe. We’re going to run out of space in her little closets.” Y/N held the shirt to her stomach. “Do you like it, B?” Y/N suddenly winced at a sharp pain in her stomach. “Okay, I’ll put it away.” But the pain kept coming. Mitsuki helped Y/N up carefully and at that very moment, her water broke.

Mitsuki immediately started to call phones. "Inko, Rei! It's happening! I need you here now! The babies coming!"

Mitsuki was rushing around the house to get the bags ready and extra clothes before helping her soon to be daughter in law towards the car.

Once they arrived after some time Mitsuki rushed in to get a nurse and she came back with a nurse who had a wheelchair ready and the both of them helped Y/N out of the car in to the chair and she was wheeled in and rushed towards the maternity floor. They put her in a room and went to go get things ready for her.

“Where the fuck are they going?!” Y/N whimpered out as one if her hands held her stomach while her other arm was draped across her face. Rei and Inko walked in. "They're going to get everything ready. More doctors and your epidural for your pain, Honey."Inko responded and Y/N hummed in pain.

“Did you call the boys?” Rei asked and Mitsuki nodded her head as she tried to get Y/N comfortable and situated. "Yes but they're not answering. I think they're too busy in what they're doing."

Rei let out a soft okay before looking at the clock on the wall. 12:03 AM it read. A nurse came back in and injected her with the medicine but it didn’t have time to do its job because right after the doctors came in and it was time for her baby girl to come out in to the world.

Everything went smoothly. (beside the three mothers having to stop Y/N from attacking the nurse. Twice. First time because if her giving her the epidural late and second because the bitch almost dropped her baby.) when Blossom was all cleaned up it was about. 2:19 when Y/N got to hold her baby and feed her.

She was so pretty. Her skin was a mix between Y/N and Katsuki and her hair was blonde and straight but Y/N was sure that her curls would come in soon. Last but not least her eyes her round and (e/c) just like her moms as she looked up at her through her blonde eyelashes. The three mothers huddled around Y/N to look at their granddaughter. "Awe. She's so pretty." Inko cooed softly. “I’ve got to get pictures.” Rei gushed and both her and Inko rushed to their purses to get their phone out while Mitsuki stayed by Y/N.

"Do you want me to get her so you can rest?" “Yes please, if you don’t mind.” Mitsuki took Blossom and soon after, Y/N was knocked out.

Izuku was the last person to get out of the bath for that morning. They’d been up since midnight going on a fake lead, practically wasting their time all night. Izuku grabbed what he thought was his phone but noticed that it was Katsuki’s. “Hey, Kachaan? You’ve got 10 missed calls from your mom.” Katsuki raised an eyebrow as he set down his freshly cooked spicy ramen.

He went to his call log and clicked on his mom’s name in face time. "Hello?" His mom’s face showed in the camera. “You called 10 times?” He said unamused. Thinking that it was just her being worried and paranoid again. "Well, I needed to tell you something." Katsuki hummed. “Kay?” The camera flipped around and Katsuki saw blonde hair then the phone fell to the floor as his mom let out an agitated ‘damn it’ before picking it up and a sleeping baby was shown.

“Is that?” "Yep." Inko cut off her son. “That’s Blossom guys!” The boys mouths dropped. Their daughter was so pretty just like her mommy. After that face time call that day the boys had to call off the mission to get home to their girls immediately.

Y/N was released from the hospital two days before they could come home so when they made it back they instantly without a second thought came straight home and they finally got to see their daughter. Blossoms little hair started to curl up a little so she most definitely started to look like Y/N.

Katsuki was the first to hold her and she was so small Katsuki feared that he might break her. Izuku and Shoto walked towards Katsuki, standing on either side of him as they looked down at their daughter. “She most definitely looks like a Blossom.” Shoto spoke softly as the little baby curiously looked at the three men.

Their moms smiled at them. "Congrats boys!" Mitsuki had tears in her eyes as little sniffles came out. "Oh my goodness. I'm finally a grandma! I'm never gonna get over this!" She cried into Inko’s shoulder and Inko patted her back comfortingly. “I wanna hold her next.” Izuku held his arms out and Katsuki carefully handed Blossom to him. Once he was secure in his arms, Katsuki turned towards Y/N.

He smiled softly and he walked over towards her giving her a kiss on her cheek. He watched the others coo over the little blonde haired baby.

“Thank you so much, baby.” Three months later, the world knew about their two girls after Izuku had posted a video of Blossom giggling away at Katsuki and Shoto making silly faces at her while Y/N just watched in the background with a big smile on her face. That video was the most brought up topic in their latest interviews and they didn’t mind at all telling the world about their girls.

this story belongs to @lolaxbunnyy !!

#anime x black!reader #anime #anime x you #black reader #x reader #todoroki x fem!reader #bakugou x black female reader #bakugou x female reader #todoroki x black!reader #izuku x black!reader #izuku x reader #todobakudeku x reader #pregnant reader #poly relationship

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hugshughes · 8 months

Text

The 1 A. Fantilli

Adam Fantilli x fem!reader

synopsis - based on “the 1” by Taylor Swift obvs. The school year starts back up at the University of Michigan and after your break up with Adam, you’re trying to live life freely but can’t seem to get the idea of him and your relationship off your mind. But what happens when you see him again, and you both are yearning for each other more than ever before?

wc - 4.5k (:0)

contains - lowkey angst but also very fluffy closure, reader cries, miscommunication a little bit (i know), kissing, cuddling. (if i missed anything please let me know!!!!)

an - this is the first part in my folklore 100 follower celebration! i’m so excited for it! i do not loveeee this but i really wanted to get this first part out! hopefully you guys like this! here is the masterlist to this celebration. me when im about to make a fic based off “the 1” have a happy ending 😊. also sorry this took longer than expected i has surgery the other day and did not pop back to normal like i assumed i would lmao. please someone get the betty refernce at the end ;))) also i still need a player to use for my betty fic for this celebration so… someone request someone. also this is barely edited so sorry. also should i make a taglist?? would anyone like that??

i’m doing good, i’m on some new shit. been saying “yes” instead of “no”.

To say you were definitely doing much better now that August had arrived was a true statement. You’d been a wreck most of the summer over your breakup with Adam, but as the summer started to slow down and your tan glowed, you felt you heart get lighter and rid itself of it’s burdens.

You and Adam had broken up just a little bit before the draft. The prospect of him being in Anaheim while you finished school in Ann Arbor sounded like an impossible feat to conquer.

You also knew what the newfound NHL fame would bring Adam, even more attention than before, new people, new friends, new girls surrounding him. And while you knew Adam would never in a million years cheat on you, you didn’t want him to feel like he had to be tied to something, someone, 2,234 miles away, to be exact.

When you watched the draft and saw Leo get drafted to Anaheim, your heart sank to your stomach. Many tears were shed that night, knowing the boy you loved with all of you wouldn’t be 2,234 miles away, only 190.

You assumed that if he wanted you back he would’ve called, or texted, or emailed, or sent a letter, anything. But you got nothing, so you accepted that he was perfectly okay with still being apart. Even though it did hurt because you remembered the night both of you cuddled close and whispered about how amazing it would be if he went to Columbus and not Anaheim.

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn’t though.

When school started back up, you couldn’t help but see him everywhere you went. You did feel better, and you were healing, but it did instill an ache in your chest when you’d see your favorite study spot, your table at the starbucks right off campus, his dorm building, everything.

You even thought you saw him there once, your eyes widened with fear as you thought you saw him standing at a bus stop on campus but it wasn’t him, just another brunette boy, but not yours.

i hit the ground running each night. i hit the sunday matinée. you know the greatest films of all time were never made.

It was hard for about a week or so, being back in the place where you fell head over heels in love with him, but your friends would always be quick to cheer you up and tell you “it’s gonna be okay.” And most of the time you believed them.

You’d gone to many more parties than you had last year, you were usually trying to spend time with Adam and you two preferred being alone together than things like parties.

You felt the ache when you saw a guy taking his girlfriend to the Barbie movie, as stupid as that seems. You and your friends had all waited to see it until you were back together and you were all dolled up in your pink outfits. But you couldn’t help but have that same ache when you remembered Adam promising to take you to see if, and promising to wear pink just for you.

Obviously, that never happened. After the movie you couldn’t help but pull up your photos and scroll through your ‘Adam🤍’ album, the videos got to you the most.

Adam had made you film yourself when you opened your birthday gift from him, you had no idea why.

“Baby, why am I filming this?”

“Because, I want to be able to rewatch your reaction to it!”

You give him a funny look, and he urges you to open the big bag, seeing a jersey, a Michigan jersey. You’re pretty confused because you have a Fantilli jersey already, one you wear often. You pull it out of the bag and unfold it and turn it around, and then you see it. Instead of Fantilli across the back, it says “MY MAN”. Your jaw drops, you start laughing so hard, like stomach hurting from how hard you’re laughing.

Adam joins in your laughter, asking if you like it. You tackle him in a hug, kissing his cheek twice.

“It’s so perfect!”

The video was perfect, it ended in your phone falling from it’s propped up place on your desk as you kissed Adam. You felt happy and sad when you saw it. Happy that it happened, that you were able to ever experience that kind of love. Sad because it was all gone now.

i guess you never know, never know. and if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed. and if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.

You know that if you had the chance, you’d go back to Adam without thinking for two seconds. He was the best thing that you’d ever been graced with. He was everything to you, and you know that in a tucked away part of your heart he still is.

You just wish you both had tried harder, because you both loved each other with all of your beings. You just wished you both showed how much you really wanted it at the end, but both of you were scared of how the other was feeling.

but we were something, don’t you think so? roaring 20’s, tossing pennies in the pool.

In the middle of the night, when you’re staring at the ceiling of your room after watching Adam’s newest highlights you tend to always think about one thing; if he still thinks about you, the way you do him.

You hoped he did, you hoped you weren’t the furthest thing from his mind at all times. And if you were to ask him, he would tell you that you were all he could think of for months, you were the only thing on his mind when he woke up, and when he went to sleep. Columbus was fun, and new, and exciting, but you were everything to him.

Adam had hoped you’d send him a text the night of the draft, and then he’d be able to start talking to you again. But, you never texted, you were worried he wouldn’t care if you did. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

and if my wishes came true it would’ve been you.

You had wished on 11:11s, fallen stars, eyelashes, candles, four-leaf clovers, everything, that you and Adam would be together always, and that didn’t end when you broke up, you still wished for him, always.

in my defense, i have none. for never leaving well enough alone. but it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.

You always felt like you were doing something wrong towards the end of your relationship, not because of Adam. It was because you just had a voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren’t doing enough for him and that you were making him upset, and it led to you doing things to try to fix that but only would end up making things worse.

You just needed him always, you two were inseparable. You were at every home game, a good amount of the away games, and then you were almost always together during any free time you two had. While you were only together for about a year, you could see your life with Adam. He had said something to you about wanting to marry you, 5 months after you started dating. You were just it for each other.

i have this dream you’re doing cool shit. having adventures on your own. you meet some woman on the internet and take her home.

You think about if he has met another girl yet. You know that those hockey teams like going out together and they definitely attract lots of female attention. The ache came back at the thought of him sleeping in the same bed as another woman.

we never painted by the numbers, baby. but we were making it count.

Some people thought your relationship was, unrealistic, in a sense. You and Adam were together all the time, and it made certain family members and friends question what would happen after the draft came and Anaheim took your boyfriend from you. But obviously, Anaheim didn’t take your boyfriend, Columbus did, which made the breakup hurt even more.

Every minute you spent with Adam was full of love. There were very little disagreements, and the few that did take place were always out of love, which also made everything hurt more. No one could’ve seen your breakup coming, you two included, it just came up one night and ended up with you two calling it quits. It was the first time you’d ever seen Adam cry, and that broke you inside.

you know the greatest loves of all time are over now. i guess you never know, never know. and it’s another day waking up alone.

Sometimes you wake up and forget he’s not yours anymore, that he might even be someone else’s. And then you snap back to reality and it hits you like a train. Your roommates sometimes leave sticky notes to you that you’re gonna be okay, that’s everything’s okay. He was the greatest thing ever. Your love for him conquered all.

i, i, i persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different. would everything be different today?

You just play back every single moment in your head. Wondering if you’d done anything different if you’d still be his, if he’d still love you how he did. What you didn’t know was that he was doing the same exact thing 190 miles from you, resisting the urge to text you.

Adam was counting down the days until his birthday, praying that you would text him, allowing him to start a conversation with you. You were as well, having typed out your birthday message to him already, weeks early, waiting to be sent.

but we were something, don’t you think so? rosé flowing with your chosen family. and it would’ve been sweet, if it could’ve been me.

You two would spend nights with his friends, the boys he loved most, and his teammates because you wanted them to like you because he liked them. You wanted to be able to have their approval and you definitely did. Your friendships lasting with a few of the players, specifically Dylan Duke.

Dylan had been so incredibly sweet to you when you met, understanding how it probably felt to be surrounded by a team of boys who you didn’t know. He was someone you could hang out with at hockey parties when you felt like you were being too clingy to Adam.

in my defense i have none, for digging up the grave another time.

Dylan had been begging you to come to a hockey game since before the season started. And you were finally convinced so you are going to attend the 2nd Providence game. They won last night 2-4 and were hoping to do the same again.

You felt the ache when you were searching through your umich gear for your outfit to the game and found your Fantilli jerseys. You took a deep breath and pushed it off, grabbing a blue and maize crewneck and throwing it on over your leggings and blazers and leaving.

You got into the Children of Yost section pretty easily, but it was always a hassle nonetheless. You found some friends and stood with them, shouting cheers when the guys skated out.

You and your friends were pretty close to the glass in the student section, only a few rows back, so you were able to see the guys really well. You screamed when Dylan scored his first goal of the night, he saw you and laughed so hard. Luca, who was hugging his teammate was confused by how hard Dylan was laughing, and looked to see what the source of his entertainment was. When he saw you, jumping up and down with your friends, screaming for Dylan, he was shocked. Shocked you’d even come to a game. And then his eyes widened when he realized his brother was here, watching him play.

When the first period was over the Childen of Yost settled down and danced to the songs and did the little games that came up to on the jumbotron. Your fun halted when you saw Adam come up on the screen, the words “Welcoming back former Wolverines!” and his names flashing on it. Your friends saw and their jaws dropped. He hadn’t been at the game the night before, of course he hadn’t, of course this was the game he came to.

You brushed it off and insisted that you were fine. You continued to have fun and mess around with your friends during the break in between periods. But then Adam had the shock of his life, staring at the screen as the view of you and your friends dancing to American Boy by Estelle & Kanye as the cameras showed different groups of the Children of Yost.

The second he gets over his shock you’re off the screen, and he’s slightly leaning out of his seat, searching the crowd of the student section, and then he saw you, messing around and playing with your friends. Part of him wishes you were in his jersey, as unrealistic as that seems. He wonders if you still have his jerseys, if they’re in a thrift store somewhere, or if they’re tucked away in the bottom of a box in your room.

He knows Dylan probably convinced you to come, because Dylan was your favorite of his friends, and the two of you guys were “besties” whenever you were together. He wonders if you’ll go down towards the locker room after the game to see Dylan and if he’ll get to see you again.

The game ended soon enough, the guys winning 3-4 with 2 goals from Duker. He texted you after the game to come down, wanting to go to eat with you after.

from: Duka👊

Dude come down after I wanna go eat

from: Y/n/n🤝

idk duke i kinda wanna go home

from: Duka👊

Bro no you have to stop being a loser

from: Y/n/n🤝

fine.

He liked your message and you let out a sigh,

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go down and see Duke. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

They nodded and gave you light hugs, telling you random things that are always part of girl goodbyes.

“Are you sure, do you think Adam’ll be down there, babe?”

You sighed again, shrugging, hugging her tighter.

“Don’t know, but I can’t let him stop me from doing things, right? If I see him, I see him. I don’t know if he’ll say anything to me, but if he does I’ll just talk to him normally, you know?”

The girls all nod, saying goodbye again, telling you things about your said “girl power”. You made your way through the arena, getting let through by security and heading back to the hall where the players come out.

You kept your head in your phone as you leaned against the wall, snapping people, scrolling through Instagram, and texting your mom about the game.

Dylan came out fast compared to usual. You high-fived him as he came up to you, congratulating him on his two goals. He thanked you and then was quick to try to get you guys to leave.

“Dylan, It’s okay. I know he’s here. I’m not gonna like, run away from him. Alright?”

“Yeah alright, he was just in the locker room and I was worried you might not know, 'cause I didn’t even know, so.”

You nodded and smiled at him, patting his shoulder in thanks. Then you realized he was missing something.

“Dylan, did you leave your phone in the locker room?”

He looked at you in confusion, then patting the pocket on his bag, and then his sweatpants pockets, then his sweatshirt pocket, but came up empty.

“Shit. Alright, I’ll be back in half a second, wait here.”

You nod and he hands you his backpack, racing back to the locker room. You put his bag on your back and look back at your phone again. And then you hear him, his laugh. You don’t even wanna look up, you glance out of the corner of your eye, seeing his silhouette.

You freeze in your stance, fingers pausing on your screen. You hear him, Luca, and Mark talking very loudly. Adam sees the bag on your back first “DUKE #25” along the side of it. Then he realizes it’s you. He quiets down very quickly, almost stopping in his tracks.

Luca notices his baby brother’s change in attitude instantly, whipping his head to the side, his eyes meeting your figure. Mark, somehow sees you and his mind doesn’t think for two seconds. He calls your name, happy as ever.

“Hey! Come here I haven’t seen you in forever. What’s up?”

You wince at his obliviousness, or maybe his uncaring of the situation. You squeeze your eyes shut for a second before putting a smile on.

“Hey Mark, I’m fine. How are you?”

He nods and replies, half hugging you and pulling you back towards his group. Luca quickly says hey to you, wrapping his arms around you briefly.

You look at Adam, your eyes softening. He looks at you as if you’re the only girl in the world, and to him, you are. You go to say hey to him but he hugs you before words can come out. He holds you so so tightly, and you practically grip him. Fuck, you missed him.

“Hey, Adam.”

You feel him take a deep breath in, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Adam.”

You both seem to realize you aren’t alone and you pull away, clearing your throat as the other two boys look at you with huge smiles. You feel heat radiating from your cheeks as the four of you stand there.

The awkward silence is cut off by Dylan racing back through the hall.

“Hey dude, sorry I took so long. Ty started asking me about something-”

He stopped himself when he saw you standing inches from Adam, a blush covering your face. He tries to cover the smile overtaking his face.

“Oh hey guys, um well, we were about to go eat, you guys wanna join?”

Your eyes widened at Dylan, cursing at him in your head, hoping you’d gained mind powers that could disintegrate him. Just because you can stand here and hug him doesn’t mean you can sit and eat dinner with him.

Mark jumps to accept, telling you two that you should also invite the other guys still in the locker room. You agree, thinking the more the merrier for your situation. You and Dylan let the other guys know and then take off. In the car, you turn to Dylan and almost shout at him.

“Dylan Duke! What the fuck?”

He smiles at you, that stupid smile. You shake your head and sigh loudly leaning back against the headrest and closing your eyes.

“I saw how you were looking at each other in there. And Mark whispered to me about your hug. I know that this is for your own good dude. At least get civil with him.”

You sigh and nod, your eyes still closed. Dylan lets out a noise of agreement, and you two drive to your chosen restaurant.

When you pull up to a restaurant on a Saturday night and ask for a table for 10, you usually are looked at like you have two heads. But in Ann Arbor, when a umich hockey player comes in and asks that, they will make it happen.

You and Dylan were the first to get there, sitting across from each other at the far end of the table. Tyler, Rutger, and Ethan arrive next, Tyler sitting at the end chair between you and Dylan, and Rut and Eth sitting next to Dylan. Adam, Luca, and Mark arrived next. You watched Mark push Adam forward to sit in the space on your right.

He smiles at you awkwardly as he sits down next to you, making sure to leave a comfortable amount of space between you. Lastly, Seamus and Mackie arrive, taking the last two seats at the table. All the guys were talking around you while you checked your phone every minute or so to try to look busy. You glance to your side and notice Adam as bored as you.

“Hey Fants.”

His head quickly turns to you, a bright smile adorning his features.

“Hi.”

“How’s Columbus? Sorry I never congratulated you, I just-”

“Hey! It’s okay, I understand, alright? But it’s nice, I’ve made a couple of new friends and stuff. It was nice already knowing people there.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s really good Adam.”

Adam stared at you longingly as you stared at your fingers. You were messing with the rings you always wore, then realized how you were wearing your ring from Adam. You felt like you couldn’t let him see it, worried you might embarrass yourself. You covered your hand with your other, trying to make your position look as natural as possible.

When you looked back over to him and he was already staring at you, you swear your heart started pounding, even more so than already. His eyes looked sad, something so uncommon to see him feeling. He’d always been your happy boy, always bringing you up and making you better.

You would rather climb to the rooftops and scream to every Ann Arbor citizen of your everlasting love for Adam than even whisper it to him. His eyes, though, they’re like the ocean. One look and all of your senses are gone.

“I really missed you Adam.”

You didn’t look at him when you whispered it, you stared at the football game playing on the TV across the restaurant, the Bengals were winning by 14. Your hand pressed into the wood of your chair next to your thigh, running your fingers back and forth across the grain. You didn’t flinch physically when you felt his hand brush over yours, but your heart felt like it was about to implode.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You finally got the courage to look into his eyes. You turn, just a little, and look at him, the raw look on his face, his glazed-over eyes, his bit at lips, your boy, he’d always been yours, always will be.

“And, you have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now.”

He mumbled it, not caring if you heard or not, he just knew he had to say it, if not to you then to admit it to himself, that he wanted to kiss you.

Adam watched as your eyes widened innocently, he loves everything you do. He just stared, he knew you heard him, he didn’t know what to do after that, and neither did you. You seemed to have gotten lost in the moment, forgetting about the 8 other hockey players surrounding you, who had honestly mostly just stopped really talking to each other and were mostly watching you and Adam.

In that moment, you couldn’t even hear them, you couldn’t even see them. They were blurry, muted, and muffled, but looking at Adam, it was so clear. You weren’t thinking, you were just following whatever split-second decision your heart made and grabbed his face, kissing Adam. You fucking kissed him. His hands wrapped around your wrists, kissing you back immediately. You kissed for maybe three seconds, the hustle and bustle all around coming back to you.

You pulled away from him first, if it was his choice he would’ve made out with you right there in front of everyone. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he still had his big beautiful smile. You hear an ‘oh shit’ come from Luca’s mouth, and then the rest of the guys at the table going crazy and immediately feel embarrassed. Your face burns as you quickly wipe your lips with your sleeve, burying your face in your hands as a smile reluctantly makes its way to your face.

Adam has the biggest grin on his face as he scoots his chair closer to you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. Adam’s hand rests on your hip, tracing shapes already like it was never gone. Like it was home after being away for far too long. You know the two of you would have a big conversation about everything later. But for right now, you just let him hold you, and you let him order for you, because he always knew what you wanted, even now.

When dinner came, Adam’s hand left your hip, but it ended up holding yours under the table like you were two fourteen-year-olds hiding from your parents. He started messing with your hand, pulling it more into his lap so he could play with it with both of his hands. He’d always done this when you were together, he would mess with your hand while he talked to others at dinners or parties or anything.

Adam was shocked when he felt it, the cool band on your ring finger. He looked down at your hand, eyes widening when he saw his ring still adorning your finger. He stared at you with so so much love in his eyes, from across the table, Luca could see how happy his baby brother was, and he was so thankful for you.

“You still have my ring on.”

You couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement when he whispered to you. You looked down at the band on your finger, smiling sheepishly at him and blushing. You nodded slowly, not knowing how to explain it to him.

“I just really like it. And I just really like you, so.”

He laughs, nodding at you with amusement, letting out an ‘Oh yeah?’ to which you nod assuringly.

You knew he was the 1. You’d known when he had first introduced himself to you. You could tell that this new beginning to your relationship was going to last, that the time apart only made you both stronger. You’d always loved him, and always will, and if kissing him in a crowded restaurant in front of all of his stupid friends is what it takes to have him, you definitely would.

but it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.

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hypnos333 · 3 months

Note

Hi! How are you? Hopefully good! I saw that requests are open (for hazbin hotel/helluva at least) and I wanted to send one in if that’s cool with you! Here I go!

Could I request Alastor and Vox (separately) with a GN! Reader who’s like Jeongmin Choi from Dreaming Freedom? I don’t really wanna explain her entire personality so I just added a link so it’s easier that way!

Thank you so much if you do this! Have a good day (:

A/N- I’m sorry I tried my best to fit the description of her

Freedom Dreaming

Alastor:

Charlie first met you when you were quite new to Hell and ever since she found you, you became her most loyal friend. You are a girl with quite only a few words and glare at anybody 6 feet under whoever talks or laughs at Charlie’s ideas.

That’s when you met Alaster, he found you delightful and Charming in your own way.

You can make anything happen just by a dream, A dream into reality and that makes you dangerous. A target at hell that’s why he has his shadow following you around. The last time you went all berserk is when someone was flirting with Alastor so you used your own powers to kill the bitch.

You didn’t think Alastor would noticed but nope he did notice and he found it hot. So he decided to play around with you for a bit.

“Hello my dear! I was wondering if you have seen the new resident? What was her name? Ah yes Bonnie” He asked you making your eye twitch in annoyence making you wonder why he’s asking about her

“Sadly I haven’t seen her Alastor maybe she just left feeling pressured for doing so much for just redemption” You stated without looking from your book. He raised an eyebrow at you at your smart excuse before seeing your frustration making him smile even more.

“Ah I see, You seemed to know a lot more than your saying my dear” Alastor commented making you huff putting your book down.

“What’s the need of needing her now, Alastor?” You questioned before walking away but before you can do that he grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him.

“My dear, it was all jokes but I must say jealousy does suit you” He smirk making you roll your eyes in disbelief. “I do wonder what happened to Miss. Bonnie?” He asked making you finally give in as you pulled him down to kiss you.

but before he could react you pulled away “Are you done talking about the bitch now? I think she knew what she was doing when she was flirting with you” You said making him hide his blush at your bold statement and action.

“My dear we’re far from talking about her now, it’s just us now”

“Just us alone?”

“Of course My Dear, just us alone” He replied leaning down for another kiss.

Vox:

You glare at Valentino as he hid behind your Fiancé, Vox raised his eyebrows at you two before seeing you genuinely angry. “My Darling What has you so angry” He asked you making you continue to glare at Valentino.

“I saw him hitting Angel dust making him bruised” You huffed before finally lunging at Valentino making Vox hold you back as Valentino screeched in shock. “IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU BITCH” You yelled at him eyes pure black before Vox carried you out the house.

“My Darling no offense but please calm the hell down, you gonna make all hell scared of you” Vox stated calmly.

This reminds him of himself when he has tantrums way too much now he sees how you feel during those. You continued to scream curses at Valentino making sure he hears you loud and clear.

He moved you to both yours bedroom moving you to your bed, “Vox-“Shh baby let us just lay here for a second” He interrupts you making you huff in frustration. You wrapped your arms around his neck anyway ms as he hugged your waist.

“I’m not gonna forget what he did, I’m actually gonna kill him” You stated making him chuckle.

“I’m sure he deserves it anyways baby” He stated with you. Putting his hands under your shirt before rubbing your back making you even more calm than usual.

“Your trying to distract me” You stated knowing he is because everytime your mad at Valentino or Velvette he would do more physical touch either in public or not. You loved his touch maybe that’s why it was easy for you to calm down usual you’ll use your lucid dreaming by now.

“It’s work isn’t it?” He smirked making you blush before sighing still thinking about your friend making Vox frown.

“I’ll tell Valentino to not hit his clients but I can’t guarantee it my darling” Vox mumbled making you smile again. He noticed it making him glad you’re happy again.

“Really? Thank you so much baby!” You said excitedly kissing him all over his face making him love the attention and affection.

“I’ll do anything for you absolutely anything” He said before kissing your lips before pulling you closer.

#vox x reader #alastor x demon reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #vox x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you

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coloursparks · 10 months

Text

Not Like That

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Summary: Things change over the summer holiday with Sebastian, and then things get messy. Might as well spend the first few weeks of your last year fighting about it. WC: 6.1k Notes: Oh god, the first fic I've written in like six years and I am sure it's shit. I am sorry if characterization is off. It takes me a minute?? I also have zero clue if I want this to be canon compliant or not so there's absolutely no mention of Anne or what happened! Also, no beta so please don't be too harsh. I just wanted to have fun writing a thing and hopefully someone else enjoys it!

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How else am I supposed to look?” you asked Imelda. “Do you hear yourself talk?”

“Do you?” she shot back, giving you the same exasperated look you were giving her. “If you don’t say something about it soon, you’re going to lose your chance. I’m not sure I can hold them at bay much longer.”

“I don’t know what chance you think I should have,” you said, though you didn’t sound as confident about it. The fact of the matter was you knew exactly what Imelda was talking about, and she was right. You hated that she was right.

“Sallow’s come back a foot taller and just bigger and you aren’t the only one who’s noticed,” she pointed out. “Violet’s determined to slip him a love potion. I’ve been trying to tell her he’s already involved, but considering I can’t say who, it hasn’t worked all too well.”

“I hate her,” you muttered, feeling a prick of jealousy.

“You hate anyone who so much as bats an eyelash at him,” Imelda pointed out. “You can save yourself the trouble but just telling him that you fancy him and snog in the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks already.”

“Imelda!”

“Or snog him somewhere else. I happen to quite like the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks for that sort of thing, but to each their own,” she said simply, shrugging. She was unashamed, and part of you envied her for it.

“It’s not that simple,” you sighed, giving her a pleading look.

“And why not?”

“Because…because…” you stammered, trying to find a reason that would satisfy your friend. When none came to mind as she stared at you expectantly, you groaned and rested your head on your crossed arms on the table in front of you. “He’s going to have a right laugh at me, Imelda.”

“No, he will not,” she said, poking you in the shoulder. You looked up at her, already defeated and resigned to the fact that despite your years-long pining for Sebastian Sallow, nothing would ever come at it.

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“Because Sallow’s a lot of things, but he’s not that cruel. Besides, for all you know, he could be whining to Ominus about how much he fancies you but thinks he has no chance,” she pointed out. “Now, come on. We’ll be late, and Hecat swore to put me in detention if I was late again.” The two of you stood from the table in the library where you had been sitting, gathering up your belongings before heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“Why are you so late all the time anyway?” you asked curiously as you held open the door into Central Hall for her.

“Flying,” she answered simply.

Of course. It was Imelda - you should have known.

___

“Mr. Sallow, why must you always duel in my classroom?”

Professor Hecat was only just leaving her office as you and Imelda entered and seemed too busy repairing the collateral damage from Sebastian’s duel with Leander Prewett to notice the two of you sneaking to nearby seats. The room was righting itself as Sebastian raised his hands up to the professor, taking a few steps away from the dueling platform he had been standing on.

“Because, Professor, there isn’t another place where dueling is sanctioned,” he pointed out, his voice conveying innocence he didn’t possess. You rolled your eyes because you knew full well that dueling being sanctioned didn’t stop him from doing it. Crossed Wands meetings and plenty of adventures proved otherwise, and the look Hecat was giving him also showed she knew otherwise.

“Let’s see if we can make it through the term without you destroying my classroom, Mr. Sallow.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, raising his wand and muttering a hasty spell to repair the nearby broken desk. It righted itself in one piece, still smoking slightly. “It won’t happen again.” He shot her a smile before heading to a nearby seat. “Imelda, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize Quidditch players needed N.E.W.T.S. Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he chuckled as he leaned forward to look at her.

“I take no chances,” Imelda replied cooly. “You never know what an opponent will do to get ahead, and knowing how to unjinx a broom can’t hurt.”

“If you say so,” he said, still smiling as he shook his head. “And my favorite Hufflepuff returns. I was starting to wonder if you even still went here,” he joked, elbowing you gently in the arm.

“No, still here,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to rub the tingling feeling out of your arm where he had touched you. It was ridiculous, letting a simple touch get to you, but everything was ridiculous when he was involved.

Before either of you could say anything else, Professor Hecat was calling for the class to focus on her so she could teach. You tried your best to pay attention, but the fact you were next to Sebastian was nothing short of distracting. Words came out of the professor’s mouth and you tried to hold onto them, only for them to slip through your fingers because Sebastian was making that focused face he always made when he was trying to learn something, brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue poking out as he scribbled on parchment.

It was the first time you had really gotten to see him up close. Sebastian had certainly grown over the summer holiday – he was broader and if there were any doubts, the way his sleeves were pulled taut over his arms put them to rest. He was a head taller than last year, and you cursed him mentally for somehow having even more freckles. He had left sixth year looking more like a boy and returned for seventh year looking like a man, and you certainly hadn’t been the only one who noticed.

Part of the reason why Sebastian had joked about not knowing if you had come back to Hogwarts was that you hadn’t been able to get his attention before now. You had seen him on the Hogwarts Express, but he and Ominis had been having such an intense-seeming conversation that you hadn’t wanted to interrupt. You had tried to end up in the same carriage on the way up to the school, but before you could tell him that you had room in your carriage, Violet McDowell was pulling him into hers with Sebastian tugging Ominis in too.

Dejected and a little annoyed, you had ridden up to the school in huffy silence with Imelda and Poppy.

Outside of trying to wave at Sebastian from the Hufflepuff table after the sorting, you hadn’t bothered to get his attention. He was clearly enjoying the attention of the girls that somehow seemed to find every free space around him. You could have sworn that you saw Imelda notice the upset look on your face, but you decided to jab at your roast potatoes instead of looking at the Slytherin table any longer.

It was the bell to signal the end of class that shook you from your stupor. You had zoned out watching Sebastian, who blissfully hadn’t noticed the attention. Unfortunately for you, Imelda certainly had. She gave you a look that very clearly said that her thoughts from your earlier conversation hadn’t changed. Luckily, before she could say anything about it, Sebastian was ducking in the way.

“Imelda, Quidditch,” he said quickly, noticing he needed to head her off talking about something, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“What about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she packed her belongings.

“Tryouts,” Sebastian said simply. “Want to know when they’re happening. Decided to finally try out.” When Imelda gave eyed him suspiciously, like she thought she was walking into a trap of some kind, he sighed and added, “I was told to do something more productive and sanctioned with my time.”

“You’re serious?” Imelda asked. “What position?”

“Beater. You need those, right?”

“We do,” she agreed. She glanced over at you, sighed, and then looked back to Sebastian. “I’m going down to the pitch before Potions if you want to practice before tryouts and I can give you tips to improve.”

You wanted to laugh. As much as Imelda probably wanted you and Sebastian alone together so you could confess the feelings you still wouldn’t admit to, her love of Quidditch won out. Secretly, you were thankful for it.

“Do you want to join us?” Sebastian asked hopefully, looking over at you. “Get a leg up on your Slytherin competition.”

“Hufflepuff still wouldn’t stand a chance,” Imelda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’ve got Divination,” you told him, choosing to ignore Imelda’s teasing.

“You’re still taking that?”

You shrugged in response. “I like Professor Onai. Plus, someone has to keep Natty company,” you explained. “You two don’t get bloodied up too bad without me.”

“Don’t worry, if Sallow’s any good, his pretty face will stay pretty,” Imelda laughed, and you knew that she was trying to get a rise out of you. Sebastian, thankfully, seemed a bit preoccupied with the comment himself to notice the color rising in your cheeks. You excused yourself with the excuse of not wanting to be late to class before things could get any more awkward.

____

In the weeks after, you had seen more of Sebastian, and then suddenly a lot less. Unsurprisingly, he ended up making the Quidditch team. With the beginning of the Quidditch season coming up, Imelda had them practicing at all hours, meaning that her time to try and press the issue of your feelings for Sebastian was blissfully cut short.

Luckily, you could at least still spend time with other friends who either didn’t notice what Imelda had or at least had the grace not to press you about it. Without Sebastian around, you seemed to find Ominis on his own more, and the nice part about spending time with him was that he didn’t seem to give a damn about your romantic life nor did he want to divulge on his own the way Poppy and Adelaide had been as of late. You were happy for your friends, but the constant questions about your own because the two Hufflepuffs weren’t as well-versed in your emotions as Imelda was getting to be a little much.

“What do you think you’ll do once you graduate?”

Ominis had been talking about what his own plans were as the two of you walked toward Hogsmeade. The two of you were friends, sure, but more because you had a mutual friend than because you spent any significant time together before now. You were catching up on the more interesting things now that the two of you were spending time together without Sebastian.

“When we did career conversations with our Heads of House, I thought I wanted to work for the Ministry but something about it doesn’t feel right anymore,” you told him, stepping out of the way of a witch carrying a stack of books with a cauldron perched precariously on top. “Bit mad to expect a bunch of children to decide what to do with their lives just like that, you know?”

“You sound like Sebastian,” he pointed out, chuckling slightly. “Says he might not bother with curse-breaking at all now. Might want to play Quidditch professionally instead.”

“He hasn’t played in a single game,” you laughed. “The season doesn’t start for another week and he wants to be a professional now?”

“Apparently so.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Well,” Ominis started, “you can ask him all about it later. He’s meeting us here after practice–if Imelda’s left enough of the team.”

“I didn’t know he was coming,” you said casually, trying to ignore the excitement from the news and the slight feeling of dread. As much as you liked Imelda, you hoped she wouldn’t be joining because you weren’t ready for another round of heavy-handed comments about you and Sebastian.

“The second I said you and I were going to Hogsmeade, he said he was joining,” he explained, shrugging. “You haven’t seen much of him lately, have you?”

“Outside of classes? No,” you sighed. “He seems too busy for me these days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” you said, biting your lip.

You didn’t want to get into it with Ominis. He didn’t need to know how much it bugged you to see Sebastian at meal times, talking to the rest of the team or those girls that somehow always seemed to hang around him. He didn’t need to know how disappointed you were every time you couldn’t even get Sebastian’s attention to say hello, and when you did, half the time he was rushing off somewhere. You felt thoroughly left behind and the fact you cared so much about him made it hurt all that much more. The less Ominis knew about all of that, the better.

“He’s just been busy with Quidditch,” you replied finally, in too airy of a voice to be entirely convincing.

Thankfully, he let the topic of your mutual friend slide as you got into the village. You had needed to restock for Potions, and Ominis seemed uncharacteristically cheery in Honeydukes

and you didn’t have the heart to suggest going elsewhere when he wanted to explore. Leaving close to an hour later with your coin purses lighter but pockets heavier, you managed to get into and out of Gladrag’s with only the new scarf you had intended to buy before heading to the Three Broomsticks.

“There you two are!” Sebastian was sitting at a table in the corner, waving at the two of you. Your heart skipped at the look of the smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back and wave to show that you spotted him.

“Would you mind grabbing the Butterbeers?” Ominis asked, turning towards the sound of Sebastian’s voice.

“Consider it done,” you told him, giving him a pat on the arm before heading to the bar. “Sirona! Can I get two Butterbeers?” She waved to show that she heard you, even as she was dealing with something else behind the bar. You looked around to see if there was other students in the pub, and you spotted a few younger Hufflepuffs and, a few tables over, Garreth Weasley and Everett Clopton discussing something on a piece of parchment in front of them. That was…dangerous.

The only other table of interest was the one you were heading to, and as you looked over at it, you saw Sebastian looking at you, still smiling. You smiled back, feeling a little silly at how easy it was for him to make you feel the way he did.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Sirona commented as she slid two full glasses in front of you. You whipped around, giving her a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“Sebastian’s been watching that door like his life depended on it,” she said. “Waiting for you.”

“Well, Ominis doesn’t come to the village often,” you pointed out, taking your drinks. “He was probably just worried about him and won’t admit it. Boys, you know.”

“Perhaps,” Sirona said, but the look on her face showed that she didn’t believe what you were saying. You pushed what you owed for the drinks toward her, and picked up the Butterbeer. She left it there, and you headed over to your friends. You placed Ominis’ drink in front of him before settling in the free seat.

“If we don’t win, I’m quitting,” Sebastian was telling Ominis.

“Already?” you asked, giving Sebastian an amused look.

“You have no idea what Imelda is like Captain,” he responded, shaking his head. “She woke us up before dawn this morning.”

“I feel like you knew what you were signing up for,” you laughed. “It’s not like it’s a surprise that Imelda is…intense.”

“But add a little power over people,” he sighed, “and you’ll be playing Quidditch every moment you’re not in class or asleep.”

“Just the way she likes it,” you pointed out, taking a sip of your drink. “I thought you wanted to play professionally?”

“Yeah but…” he trailed off. “When did I tell you that?”

“I told her before,” Ominis piped in. “She talks to you even less than I do. We compare notes,” he added dryly. You laughed at the comment. It was perfectly true. Sebastian and you would talk maybe for a minute before class or after, but Ominis at least saw him in the Slytherin Common Room. The two of you talked about other things, but the conversation would always turn to Sebastian at one point or another.

Sebastian frowned, but before he could say anything else about it, Ominis was talking about something else. For a while, Sebastian was uncharacteristically quiet as you two chatted about nothing in particular and drank your Butterbeers. Slowly, he became more himself, and you had to admit, it was nice to have what felt like the “old days” back again. It felt like you were back in the Undercroft, and not fighting for Sebastian’s attention.

Once all three glasses were empty, you stood up and scooped them into your arms. “I’ll go get us more,” you declared, smiling brightly. You didn’t want things to end just yet, so another round of drinks made the most sense. You had barely been up at the bar for a minute when your seat was taken by Violet McDowell. She had pulled the chair closer to Sebastian and was leaning so near him she might as well be in his lap, and Ominis was looking almost as annoyed as you were. Sirona said nothing about the look on your face other than a glance over to your table and a head shake.

Unable to carry all three drinks, you instead charmed the filled glasses to float in front of you as you headed back to the table. You let the three of them fall with more force than you meant to, causing loud thuds and Butterbeer to slop out over the rims and onto the table. Ominis, who couldn’t know that he should move back the way Sebastian had, got the brunt of the spill.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, more to him than the other two. “Just got away from me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the castle with me?” Violet was simpering, ignoring what had just happened. “You said you’d help me with my Charms work, Bas.” You almost snorted at the nickname but managed to cover it up with a cough.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room later,” Sebastian told her, “go ahead without me.” Violet pouted, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek and look away from her. She was certainly shameless.

“Fine! But you promised,” Violet huffed before getting up and heading out, ignoring the other two people at the table completely. Ominis was trying to clean up the spilled Butterbeer so he either didn’t notice or care about Violet’s departure.

“I’m going to wash up,” Ominis said, standing up and shaking his hands.

“I’m really sorry, Ominis,” you sighed, and he just shook his head.

“Accidents happen.” He disappeared upstairs, leaving you and Sebastian alone for the first time since before the summer holiday. You pulled your chair back to where it had been before Violet showed up and sat down.

Things were quiet between the two of you for a long moment. Both of you seemed more interested in your drinks than speaking, and neither one of you looked at the other. It was Sebastian who finally broke the silence.

“So…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ominis lately,” he mentioned casually. You shrugged, looking over at him.

“I guess,” you agreed. “You and Imelda have been busy with Quidditch, so it’s just been the two of us.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that the only reason?” he asked in the same casual voice, leaning forward as if he was expecting you to spill about some secret mission you and Ominis were planning. It was then that you realized that you hadn’t pulled the chair back all the way, and with your back facing the corner where the table was settled, Sebastian was boxing you in. If Sebastian had looked like he had grown before, close up, he looked to have doubled in size with him so closer now. He seemed almost impossibly broad now, and you felt nothing short of tiny in comparison. You looked up at him, confused, blushing slightly.

“Yes?” you said nervously. “Why would there be another reason?”

“Don’t know,” he responded, settling his arm on the table as he continued to lean towards you, resting his head against his hand. “I haven’t seen you much this year so I thought…” he started, but you cut him off.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian,” you huffed. “You’re the one who doesn’t have any time for me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian looked taken aback at your words.

“You’re joking, right?” you said, leaning in a little closer as you stared him down. “You’ve barely said two words for me outside of class. You don’t bother to even say hi at meals anymore.”

“I haven’t seen you,” he explained, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Of course, you haven’t seen me.” You rolled your eyes, frustration that had been bubbling finally coming to the surface. “You’re at practice or going to class or busy showing off for Violet and those other girls that follow you around.”

“I’m not showing off for Violet,” he shot back. “Or any of those other girls. I’m not asking them to do that!”

“And you’re not telling them to leave you alone either,” you pointed out, temper creeping into your voice. “You sure seem to be loving the attention every time I see you. Why would you bother looking up to say hi to me when you have…”

“What are you two talking about?”

Ominis had reappeared at the table. Sebastian slid back, no longer crowding you into the corner, looking annoyed.

“Nothing,” he told the other boy. He drained his entire Butterbeer before standing up. “I should head back to the Castle. Quidditch doesn’t leave much time for homework. I should catch up.” He didn’t bother waiting for either of you to say anything before starting to leave.

“Tell Violet we say hi, Bas.” The words were out of your mouth before you thought about it, and there was a small part of you that looked satisfied as a guilty look appeared on his face, but then replaced by a look of defiance.

“I’ll see you back at the common room, Ominis,” he said and was gone a moment later. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you sighed. You looked at your drink, not really wanting it anymore. “Can we go back to school? I…uh, I think we’re getting close to curfew.”

“Right,” Ominis agreed, nodding. “Floo powder is faster.”

“Works for me,” you sighed, letting him lead the way over to the fire.

_____

The first Quidditch match of the season had the entire castle beside itself. You couldn’t share in the enthusiasm-–even fellow Hufflepuffs were excited to see Ravenclaw vs Slytherin—because it meant having to see Sebastian out on the field. Even in classes over the last week, you determinedly avoided so much as looking at him. Imelda, blissfully, was too worked up about the game to notice.

In the end, you decided to go to support her.

It hadn’t been too bad. Most of the other Hufflepuffs you were sitting with were cheering for Ravenclaw, but you and Poppy were too excited for Imelda to join in. It certainly got you two some looks from people nearby, but the excitement of seeing her score twice in a row made it easy to ignore. Despite your annoyance with him, it was still something else to see Sebastian zip by, sending bludgers toward the Ravenclaw Chasers.

You weren’t any less glad when you two were waiting for Imelda to come out of the changing room that she was the last one out.

“Sallow went up with the rest of the team before,” she told you as you hugged her.

“I don’t care,” you huffed. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why don’t you care? Could have gotten to him before Violet McDowell did.”

“Why would you want to get Sebastian before Violet McDowell?” Poppy asked, looking between you and Imelda. You led the way back up towards the castle, your friends following behind.

“I don’t,” you responded, shaking your head.

“What happened?” Imelda asked. “He was strange when I mentioned you before too.”

“Nothing happened,” you said. “He’d rather spend time with Violet McDowell? Fine. I don’t care.”

“Why does it matter who Sebastian spends time with?” Poppy asked. Then, she stopped. “Oh, you fancy him, don’t you?”

“Not anymore I don’t,” you huffed. “Now can we just leave it be?” Poppy, who you two hadn’t stopped for, ran to catch up with you. Imelda just laughed.

“He might be big on reading, but Sallow is as thick as they come,” she chuckled. “Good riddance, I say. You’ll do much better.”

“I always thought you and Ominis were cute together,” Poppy offered.

“You know, he asked me if there was a reason the two of us were spending so much time alone together,” you half laughed, half scoffed.

“You’re joking,” Imelda laughed. “When did he come to you with that idea?”

“Met us in Hogsmeade last week. He and I got into an argument and I haven’t spoken to him since,” you explained.

“How did I miss this?” Imelda asked, and looked to Poppy. “Did you know about this?”

“No! I didn’t even know she fancied Sebastian,” she said, “no one tells me anything, apparently! All these times we’ve talked about who I fancy and…”

“I don’t fancy Sebastian,” you sighed. “At least, not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You two would be cute together too!”

“I don’t want to ever talk to him again,” you said shortly as the door to the castle swung open. “I also don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“That’s right!” Imelda said brightly, “Outside of Quidditch, Sallow is nothing.” When you shot her a look, she shrugged. “He’s a good Beater, you have to admit. But outside of the pitch, won’t talk to him.”

“Am I still allowed to talk to him?” asked Poppy.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” you replied.

“Well, you aren’t and Imelda isn’t…” she trailed off, looking between the two of you.

“I’m just doing it because it’ll annoy him,” Imelda pointed out. “Sounds like fun, right?” You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up.

“Do whatever the two of you wish, but I am not getting involved. I’m going to the library,” you announced. “I have work to do that I ignored to come watch the game.”

“No fun!” Imelda called.

“What? It’s not like I can join the party anyway.”

“I’d sneak you in,” she offered. “What about you, Poppy?”

“No, I really should go check on…” she trailed off, pointing in the direction of the Beasts classroom.

“No fun, either of you.”

You laughed, waved your goodbyes and made your way upstairs. You were barely a few steps towards the library when a voice made you jump.

“You fancied Sebastian?”

You spun around to see Ominis nearby. Of course, he’d be in the castle. He probably wouldn’t have even gone down to the game, but leave it to him to be right there at exactly the wrong time.

“I…” you started, sighing heavily.

“That was why the two of you argued at The Three Broomsticks?” he guessed.

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not really, no. I mean…”

“You were annoyed about Violet McDowell and Sebastian leaving to go with her,” Ominous stated.

“How were you not?” you shot back, panicking slightly. He was right, of course, but something about Ominis knowing felt dangerous. You could trust Imelda not to say anything to Sebastian no matter how much she threatened to, but you couldn’t say the same of Ominis.

“Why didn’t you just tell him how you felt instead of arguing?”

“It’s not that easy, Ominis,” you sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Not with you, no offense. But not anyone else either. Can you just…please don’t say anything about it.”

Ominis shrugged, and you knew that was the closest to a commitment that you’d get. “Does that mean you spend time with me to see him?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Merlin’s beard, Ominis. I’m not desperate for his attention like Violet is. We’ve been friends for years.”

“You’ve been friends with Sebastian, and I’ve been friends with Sebastian,” Ominis countered. “I didn’t think we were friends without him until recently.”

“Well, we are,” you stated. “At least I thought we were.”

“So did I,” he said.

“Then there, we’re friends, Ominis. Regardless of whether or not Sebastian is around,” you told him.

“Isn’t this the type of thing friends talk about?”

“I don’t know! Not always. It’s not like you go around telling me who you fancy,” you pointed out. He chuckled.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, nodding.

“Now, can we please never speak about this again?” you pleaded. “I get enough from Imelda and Poppy just found out and now I know I’m never going to hear the end of it. I just want one friend who doesn’t care about my love life.”

“I promise, we won’t speak of your love life.”

“Thank you, Ominis. I really appreciate it,” you told him, breathing a sigh of relief.

When the two of you parted ways a little while later, you certainly felt better about the fact that Ominis knew. You still couldn’t say for certain if he’d tell Sebastian or not. Their friendship was much longer than yours, but you at least hoped he’d take your desire to leave it alone into consideration.

The rest of the night was dedicated to you trying to forget about the last few hours and actually trying to get your homework done. The number of people in the common room was keeping you more on task for once. If you looked busy enough, everyone would leave you alone, and you didn’t have to speak to anyone. A few people stopped to say hi, but the fact you weren’t willing to more than glance up to greet them kept you in a mostly solitary corner.

Just when the common room was starting to clear out, and you were just about finished with your Charms work, when Poppy came through the entrance. You looked up when she called your name, holding your quill over the parchment.

“There you are!” Poppy sighed, pointing towards the door. “Sebastian’s waiting out there for you.”

“Sebastian is waiting for me,” you repeated, letting the ink drip onto your essay.

“He is,” she confirmed. “He tried to follow me in. I had to promise to come get you.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him right now, Poppy,” you half-whined. You had already had enough uncomfortable conversations about your feelings for one day, and something told you Sebastian wasn’t there to rehash the Quidditch match. Just when you had just about convinced yourself that Ominis was going to keep your conversation between you, Sebastian was attempting to break into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“He really wants to talk to you,” she said, shifting on her feet.

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing that Poppy wasn’t going to tell him to go away. “He made you promise to get me to come out, didn’t he?” Poppy nodded, and you rolled your eyes, dropping his quill down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said quietly, and you offered her a tired smile.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I’m annoyed with him, not you. Can you take my stuff upstairs? Just leave it on my bed. Please?”

“Sure,” she said, looking relieved that you weren’t upset with her.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you told her. You took a deep breath before heading for the door. You tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. Part of you wondered why Sebastian wanted to talk to you. Maybe make it perfectly clear that the only person he had feelings for was Violet or something.

When you stepped out into the hallway, it was to the sight of Sebastian pacing back and forth. He paused when you closed the door behind you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, running his hand through his hair before sighing heavily.

“Sebastian, what–” you started, crossing your arms.

“I don’t fancy Violet McDowell,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I don’t fancy her. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe that Ominis told you,” you sighed, rubbing your face. The squirming you felt in the pit of your stomach was back.

“You talked to Ominis about this?” Sebastian asked, giving you a surprised look.

“Didn’t you?” you responded, staring back at him.

“No,” he said slowly. “He wasn’t in the common room when we got back from the match. I thought he was with you until he came back.”

“Then Imelda told you I fancy you,” you guessed. There was no other way he could have found out.

“Imelda knew…what am I talking about, of course, you talk to Imelda about this kind of thing,” Sebastian chuckled, running his hand through his hair again. “No, Imelda didn’t tell me either.”

“Then who told you?” you asked, the squirming getting worse. Sebastian looked at you, a satisfied look and a crooked smile on his face.

“You did,” he replied. “Just now.”

“What?”

“You just said you fancied me,” Sebastian said, amusement written all over his face. “I wanted to be the one to say it first, but you couldn’t let me.”

“I…what?” you muttered, voice quiet. The words were hitting your ears, but they weren’t making sense to your brain. You stared at him for a long moment, mouth still slightly open as he still had the same look on his face as he watched you process what he had a few moments before.

“You don’t fancy Violet,” you said slowly.

“I don’t,” Sebastian confirmed, chuckling. “I fancy you and you fancy me.”

“You do?”

“Course I do,” he replied, faltering for a moment before pulling you into a hug. The last time the two of you had hugged was to say goodbye at the end of last year, and you hadn’t been much shorter than he was. Now, though, he could easily tuck you under his chin. You managed to uncross your arms and wrap them around him, and he pulled you in closer. As small as he had made you feel at The Three Broomsticks, you were even smaller actually in his arms and you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian told you. “About the whole…” he trailed off, sighing. “Fight? That was a fight, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you chuckled, squeezing him before leaning back to look at him properly. “It was about something that didn’t actually happen.” You smiled up at him to show it was all water under the bridge and he smiled back, wider than ever. It wasn’t totally clear which of you made the first move, but then you were kissing and the feeling in your stomach was replaced with the butterflies that you’d felt for the last two years.

When the two of you broke apart, neither of you seemed particularly interested in letting go of each other. The thing that forced the two of you apart was the approaching footsteps of another Hufflepuff trying to get into the common room. Deciding you two needed somewhere more private, you took his hand and led him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asked, squeezing your hand. However, he made no effort to let go of it, and instead just laced your fingers together.

“Undercroft,” you informed.

“Great idea,” he said. “Maybe we can talk about the match later.”

“If we have time,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “I think we’ll be a little busy. We have a month or two to catch up on, don’t you think?” He laughed, tugging you closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you walked.

“Definitely,” he agreed. The two of you were all smiles as you walked down the halls, and you were just glad the two of you were on the same page again. It was even better that the page you were on was one where you were the two of you were planning on spending significantly more alone time together from now on.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #f: hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy

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heaven4lostgirls · 7 months

Text

hope (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warning: angst, a little bit of comfort.

summary: the aftermath of reader leaving steve gives him clarity and has them both realizing that he needs to work harder to gain his girl back.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I am so sorry this took so long to come out, I’ve been swamped with uni work but I’m so happy you guys liked part 1, I will probably post a part 3 to this, which other characters do you ship reader with??? Steve is looking at some competition soon!

part 1 , part 2, part 3

tags: @nouk1998, @spngingerbread21, @blackhawkfanatic, @immyowndefender (if I wasn't able to tag you that means your tags don't work!)

Steve,

If you’re reading this, then you have realised I’m not staying in the tower anymore. Tony helped set me up in safe house for the next few weeks, I can’t stay here. You chose Sharon over me Steve and you must know that I can’t stay with someone who would choose another woman over me.

I need you to know that although it’s been hard for me to accept it, I understand. It’s not okay that you chose to leave without talking to me, but I understand if she is who you want okay? I am so grateful to have spent the last 3 years by your side, but I can no longer watch on from the sidelines as you look at her like how you used to look at me.

When I come back, hopefully I’ll be ready to talk, but I am asking you that if you ever held any form of love and respect for me, to give me this time to heal.

Thank you, Steve, for everything,

y/n.

Steve crumples your handwritten letter in his hand, the paper squashed in the palm of his hands as he throws back the bourbon in his glass. His eyes are red rimmed and his face unshaven. He has been a mess since you left a week ago, unable to move from his room, and spending his time rereading your letter hoping that he could find some small sign that you still loved him, still wanted him.

He was unaccustomed to this feeling of pain, when he got out of the ice, he assumed the pain of knowing that he had missed his time with Peggy was truly the worst form of torture but the agony of once having your love and affection and having it so brutally stripped from him, may just be at the top of his list.

He sighs as he uncrumples the paper to place it on his desk as he moves to lay back in his bed, he had been part of a repetitive cycle for the last week, working purely on survival mode before he’s interrupted by a soft knock on his door.

He knows better than to feel excited at the small hope of it being you however he knows that it’s Bucky and Sam checking up on him and bringing him food before they annoy him into getting into the shower. He can’t stand the look of pity in their eyes as they hand him his food, so he slams the door shut as soon as he gets it, placing it on his desk, he moves to the bathroom.

He turns the shower head all the way to cold, hoping it will bring some shock into his system, however because of his super soldier abilities, his immune system is fried and numb to the coldness of the water.

His eyes burn as tears roll down his face, sobs wrack his body as he pounds his fist into the wall in front of me which breaks at the force of his strength. He hears the door quietly open before he feels Bucky’s metal arm tugging him from under the water into a towel.

This has happened nearly everyday for the last 3 days, sometime on the first day, Steve had stopped acting like you abrupt leaving hadn’t affected him and broke down during his training session, to which Bucky had been helping him through his depressed state however all he ever really wanted was you.

“I want her back” Steve sobs into Bucky’s clothed shoulder as he feels his friend cooing and soothing him like a baby before he is gently placed on his bed. His body shakes with his painful sobbing as he feels Bucky rubbing his back. “I know Stevie, I know” Bucky sighs as he tucks Steve in after he exhausts himself from crying.

Meanwhile you haven’t been doing any better, your mental health slowly deteriorating at the acceptance of the end of your relationship with Steve. You had known somewhere deep down that throughout the past month whenever you had caught Steve looking at Sharon that this was the beginning of the end.

However now it was time for you to face the reality of the situation, you may have spent the last week crying your eyes out at sad romance films with ice-cream and chocolate but you knew that enough was enough, you needed to talk with Steve and hear what he had wanted to say the day you left.

Running from your problems was not the best solution however you knew realistically you did not have the mental capacity to hear whatever Steve had to say and that it would only end up doing more harm than good considering how high strung you both were about the whole situation.

Now, as you step off the quinjet, you are greeted with Bucky’s genuine yet sorrowful smile. “Hi Buck” you greeted softly as you stood awkwardly, worrying if you could still hug him even though you knew he probably spent the last week comforting your ex-boyfriend. Not than you could blame him, they had been friends for far longer than the both of you.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before his smile widened as he pulled you into a tight hug, you breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into your friend. Your moment was interrupted by a loud voice chiming in from behind the both of you.

“Y/N!!!!” you and Bucky both separate, you with a look of amusement and Bucky with a look of annoyance. Peter’s joyful gaze found yours as he sprinted towards you. “I knew when you didn’t respond to the meme I sent you this morning, something was up!” he said excitedly as he spins you in a hug as a laugh bubbles out of you.

“Hey kid, yeah I was on a flight back from South Africa” you smile and separate from him before you see his joyful gaze darken at something behind you.

“Y/N.” you hear softly from behind you, and you freeze.

You turn around and place a polite smile on your face, not quite ready for the conversation ahead.

“Steve” you say and nod at him, he moves as though he’s going to hug you but thinks again and moves back and you’re somewhat grateful, you don’t think you’d be able to compose yourself.

You all stand in awkward silence for a bit before you break it, “I should uh” you gesture inside and he nods before he opens his mouth, “Can I help with your bags?” he asks nervously.

You were hoping to have a few minutes to compose yourself, but Steve is probably right to get the conversation out of the way.

As you both walk through the tower, you realise how quiet it is and make note to thank everyone for steering clear of the both of you.

As you both reached your old room since you had been sharing with Steve, you place you bag down before you turn to Steve who is standing sadly outside your room. “You can come in” you tease him and that snaps him out of his mood as he moves to sit at the desk in front of your bed and you sit on your bed.

“So” you both start before you motion to Steve to carry on.

“I love you y/n, I don’t want this to be the end, can we please work on this? I promise I’ll do better, and I won’t choose Sharon over you ever again.” He rushes out in what you assume is an attempt to stop the inevitable.

You smile at him in pity and before you can start talking you see him shaking his head as tears fill his eyes. “Steve, if you really wanted me as bad as you say you do, where was all this attention and affection this last month? Why did it take me leaving for you to realise how badly you fucked up?” you question and watch as he breaks in front of you.

The last week must have been hell for him, the same way the last month was for you.

“Please just let me try y/n, let me try please” he pleads as he moves from sitting in the small chair to kneeling before you as he grasps your hands.

You move your hands to grasp his face as you wipe his tears.

“Love, I will always love you but you need to realise how hard it was for me to sit here on standby every time you left me for Sharon, I need to choose myself for once” you confess and Steve sobs into your legs as you thread your hands through his hair as you try and calm him down.

You watch as Steve tries to compose himself in front of you before he looks into your eyes in determination. “I’m going to prove it to you” he says seriously, and you nod to placate him before he shakes his head in protest. “No, you don’t understand, I am going to prove to you how much you mean to me y/n” he says and some part of you is hopeful he tries as hard as he says he’s going to be this time.

“I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to make it up to me Steve, you’re going to have to work for it” you say, and he deflates but nonetheless nods in understanding, realistically he acknowledges that he deserved worse treatment. He just can’t stand the idea of you finding love and connection with someone that isn’t him.

#juliwrites #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers hurt #steve rogers hurt/comfort #steve rodgers imagine #mcu #marvel #marvel movies #bucky barnes #peter parker

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption. a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?”

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough.

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says.

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her.

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways.

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet.

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?”

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out.

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face.

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.”

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.”

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?”

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?”

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?”

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?”

“I’m your only niece.”

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.”

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns.

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap.

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah.

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough?

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe.

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries.

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over, biding your time until your date arrives.

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad.

And then there’s Joel.

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real.

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone.

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you.

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are.

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down.

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender.

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic.

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks.

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears.

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.”

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.”

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons.

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive.

But at a cost.

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced.

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around.

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside.

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks.

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling.

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…”

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.”

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.”

“Yeah?”

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air.

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind.

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall.

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there.

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you.

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm.

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious.

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter.

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core.

“Joel-”

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic.

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back.

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you.

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you.

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-”

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard.

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move.

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response.

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth.

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask.

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers.

“I was right about you,” you manage.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating.

“You’re trouble.”

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.”

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…”

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?”

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel. “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt.

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice.

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.”

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low.

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed.

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him.

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over.

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.”

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust.

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?�� he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.”

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone.

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible.

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–”

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile.

It hits you like a freight train.

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw.

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before?

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-”

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?”

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises.

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep.

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly.

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs.

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.”

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite.

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“This was nice. I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay.”

part vi

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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months

Note

gojo’s younger sister with nanami pls

Your wish is my command. Planned this for sooo long and now I finally have an excuse to write it down haha. Please let me know if you like it <3

Nanami and Gojo's little sister meeting again years after their ugly breakup

Pairing: Nanami x Gojo's sister

Word Count: 3,5k

Synopsis: It's been some hell of years since Nanami left Gojo's younger sister for another woman. But when her big brother invites her to Jujutsu HIgh again, things start to unveil...

Warnings: language, mentions of cheating, just got a new laptop so there might be some spelling mistakes (sorry about that)

As usual, I'm always thankful for comments, likes and reblogs. Thank you for your support <3

„Why me?“, Nanami growls, looking up from the paper in his hands.

“Because I’m absolutely not in the mood to listen to her gossip. Also, you’re her favorite. Sometimes I even think she loves you more than me…”

“Satoru, I’m not the babysitter for your little sister.”

“Come on Namani, I bet she’s happy to see you again! You guys got along so well!”

The imagines of your last meet-up crowd into his head and inevitably make Nanami grimace.

“The emphasis is on ‘got’. You know exactly what happened last time. What makes you think she wants to see me after all of this?”, Nanami questions in annoyance.

Deep down, he knows exactly that Gojo just wants to mess with him. It’s been years since he dumped you. Years in which you never saw each other again. Satoru mentioned that you are travelling somewhere in japan and driving out curses there quite successfully. You’ve always been a very gifted jujutsu sorcerer. It seems to run in the family – as well as your bratty behavior and good looks.

“That was years ago, I bet her sparrow brain has long since forgotten who you even are. Please pick her up”, Gojo purrs and rubs his head against Nanami’s shoulder.

Nanami signs in defeat. Does he have any choice at all? Hopefully you know about it and there is no nasty surprise…

-later at the airport-

Your bag falls to the ground with a rattle.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here, Sir”, you cry out, eyes covered in sunglasses.

“Your brother said to pick you up from the airport and that you know”, Nanami explains briefly, like it would somehow help curb your upcoming anger.

“That shithead. I just shouldn’t have come at all. Urgh, fine. Just don’t talk to me, idiot”, you snap back and angrily throw your bag in the trunk of the car.

Kento is the last person you want to see and Satoru knows that. Why is he sending him here? He could have moved his lazy ass to pick you up himself. After all, it was him who invited you to his academy in order to help him out.

You demonstratively sit in the back seat and cross your arms in front of your chest, not gifting him a single look. Kento was the first man to ever break your heart – extensively. And you will probably never be able to forgive him for that.

“That should not be a problem”, Nanami mutters to himself and starts the car.

Your eyes pierce through the back of his head. What did he just say?

“Like you’ve got a reason to be mad at me”, you hiss.

“May I remind you that you didn’t even give me the chance to work things out? You just packed your things and left”, Nanami comments dryly and starts the car.

“Like it was ever your intention to fix it.”

“Good that you know better what I thought than me”, he barks back, unusual aroused.

God, you’re still as annoying as back then. Always having the last word, you always think you know better, your overconfidence. It drives him insane. But you still look as good as you did then, like you haven’t aged a second. The only thing that catches is eyes are your now fuller curves and the fact that you cut your hair a little shorter. Well, you are a woman now, all grown up in your twenties.

“You left me completely shattered, asshole. I had no choice but to go. You made me lose faith in love and relationships forever”, you mutter, gaze wandering around the trees outside.

The thought alone runs shivers down your spine. Kento was your first and last love. You never believed a man would upset you like that, even though Satoru is your bigger brother. It hurt like hell for several years. Seeing him now, with his hair styled in a delicious undercut and the sharp lines of his jaw makes your heart ache in agony all over again.

“I sincerely apologize for that. It was never my intention to hurt you like that, (y/n)”, Nanami replies with a soft voice, completely startled by your confession.

He knew you had some rough years. Sometimes he just couldn’t hold back and had to ask Satoru how you were. But hearing from your own mouth how much he hurt you makes his heart sink in his chest.

“Whatever. Leave me alone and focus on driving.”

-at Jujutsu High-

“(y/n), there you are! You have no idea how much I missed you!”, Satoru shouts across the athletic field that separates you both.

Your whole body shakes in anger. That fucking asshole, the cheeky grin on his stupid face says it all. That was pure intention to get on your nerves. Satoru is probably the worst big brother you could wish for.

“I will beat your ass in front of your students, shithead!”, you yell at him and stomp across the square at a frightening speed.

“Who is that?”, Yuji questions and squints his eyes in order to see you better.

“That’s Gojo’s little sister. Be careful, she looks pretty pissed off”, Panda whispers while all pairs of eyes are set on you and Nanami walking behind you at a safe distance.

“Come on, (y/n). Let’s talk abou-“

Satoru isn’t able to finish his sentence as you blow him away with a simple hand movement.

“Pretty stupid to piss off the only person who can breach your sphere”, you hiss through gritted teeth, more than ready to hit him again.

“Oh, how much I missed our little fights. How was your ride? Nanami is an excellent driver”, he keeps digging while dodging your unfocused punches.

“I thought you valued my feelings more.”

The hurt in your voice makes him stop your flying fists in track, you can feel his eyes staring at you behind his blindfold. He knew, of course, that the breakup hurt, but the pain that glitters in your eyes is unknown to him. And the tone of your voice…You were always so confident, so sure of yourself. At the moment, nothing seems to be left of it.

“I would never hurt you on purpose sister. After all these years, I thought you guys-“

“Shut up Satoru, I don’t wanna hear it”, you hiss back and wrench your arms free from his grasp.

“Hey Megumi, how have you been?”, you question over your shoulder.

“I’m alright. Nice that you’re here, you are definitely my favorite Gojo”, Megumi answers with a disparaging look towards Satoru.

“Well, the competition isn’t that big. Excuse me, I’ll bring my stuff in the house. See you later, kids.”

Without giving your brother another look, you stomp towards the sleeping wing, body still trembling in anger. Why is Satoru such a jerk? He knows full well that this breakup has left you completely shattered. It would have been absolutely avoidable to meet Kento here. Instead, he decided to get him to pick you up from the airport and ruin your trip right from start. You don’t want to see his stupid handsome face, the exhausted veil that covers his overworked eyes and his outrageously strong body. Damn, his new undercut really does look good.

“Here is your suitcase, (y/n). Have a nice stay.”

Nanami’s voice behind you makes your blood boil in an instant. Fuck, why can’t he just leave?

“Stop saying my name”, you bark at him while literally ripping open the door to the familiar guest dorm.

“Why can’t you act grown up for once? I’ve always appreciated you, this childish behavior doesn’t suit you at all”, Nanami replies dryly and loudly drops your bags on the floor at the corner of the room.

His words hit you like a wall. In the matter of seconds, he rips open all the wounds you desperately tried to heal over the last years. Has he forgotten what he did to you, why you act this way? Hot tears begin to burn in the corners of your eyes, your throat feels dangerously constricted. No, don’t cry. You’ve never been the type to whine a lot, especially in front of other people. Kento has never seen the tears he caused. Why now, after all these years?

“I gave you everything I had, Kento! I gave you my virginity, my whole fucking heart, you were everything for me this whole time! And after our very first night together you just left, after all the things we’ve been through. The things you threw at me…I will never forget the words you said. You claim you always appreciated me? That sounds like an insult. Don’t you dare to ever judge me again for treating you as badly as you treated be. How’s your girlfriend, huh? Was it worth it to dump me because of her? You fucking idiot, if you talk to me like that again I’ll blow your head off”, you scream into his face at the top of your lungs.

You can’t help but let your feelings out. Fuck, it feels good to finally tell him what you think, to tell him how you felt this whole time. He ripped your heart out of your chest when he informed you about ending things because he met another woman, just after fucking you for the first time. You felt miserably for years, never let another man touch you again. He has some nerves, standing in front of you and blaming you cowardly. Fuck your outburst and your tear-stained cheeks.

“If only you would listen to-“

“GET OUT. NOW”, you yell, whole body trembling in agony and rage.

“I think it’s time to go, Nanami”, Satoru’s unusual serious voice announces in the background.

“I hope that someday we can talk about what happened, (y/n).”

With that, he turns on his heels and leaves the room quietly. As soon as his frame is out of sight, your body gives in. You sink to the floor, hands covering your blood shot orbs while you urgently try to calm yourself down.

“I’m just not interested into you anymore, we should end things right here.”

“That night meant nothing to me.”

“Don’t ever call or text me again.”

You need to get him and his words out of your head, ban them out of your heart. But how do you forget all those nights you snuggled each other to sleep, his sweet words that followed you wherever you went, all those missions you accomplished together. What about the plans you made? What about the trust you gave him? Your shallow, rapid breath hanging dreadfully in the air. You just can’t forget.

“Come on, (y/n). Seeing you like this is killing me”, Satoru sits beside you and gently wraps his arm around his shoulder.

You want to yell at him, tear your body away from his touch, to slap his arm firmly. But you can’t. Your body refuses to move, completely consumed by the feelings you tried so hard to avoid.

“I think you two should talk. Of course I don’t know all the details, but I do know for sure that Nanami isn’t a bad guy. Whatever happened must have a good reason.”

“He left me for another girl, Satoru”, you breathe out.

“You may be the most annoying woman on this earth and I’ll never understand how well you two came along in the first place, but I’d cut off my hand if that’s true.”

“Better cut off your tongue, man…”

“I’m serious, (y/n)”, Satoru’s features are entirely stern, not even a spark of humor gleams in his eyes.

“Nanami may not be a great guy like me but he would have never cheated on you, let alone left you because of it. Talk to him, ask him about it. Must have been something else.”

He straightens himself up again, pouting your head just the way you hate it.

“And now get yourself together. I’ve got a very nice mission for you to go on.”

You stare at his back as he leaves the room, his words still hanging in the air. Satoru knows Kento since he joined Jujutsu High. If he is so sure about his friend…

No. You shake your head vehemently. Even Satoru doesn’t know everything. You would rather die than talk to Kento Nanami ever again.

-the mission-

“Huh, are you finished already? I thought we’d have a little more fun together…”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Your whole body is covered in bruises and your own blood while you stare at the creature in front of you. Who the hell is this guy? And why on earth is he so fucking strong? You are a grade 1 sorcerer, easily able to defeat most curses around. But this one? You stare at his scarred face, grimaced into a dumb grin.

This is something out of your league.

“Send someone here before I croak here, dumbass”, you hiss into your communicator just in time before he hits you again.

His attacks are merciless, almost impossible to block even though he doesn’t use a sphere.

Yet.

You wipe sweat and blood of your forehead. Who knows what this fucker is capable of.

“Ms. Gojo, we are here to help you!”

You can’t believe your ears. Who the hell is this guy waving at you like an idiot? And who the hell is walking next to him…

No. Not in the world. Let it be anyone but Kento Nanami. His blonde hair waves through the air while he forces himself onto the scar head, distracting him from your very own self before he hits you full force.

Nanami. What is he doing here? Thick anger crawls up your veins. Yes, you ask for help. But not from Nanami and some random jujutsu sorcerer.

“I thought Satoru would come here himself. This is nothing to joke around”, you bark at Kento.

Just as you want to turn away, a scorching pain radiates from your leg and takes your breath. Fuck, where does that come from?

“Oh, you’re injured!”

Your heart sinks into your chest, palms covered in nothing but your own blood and met by a giant gash in your thigh. When did this happen? This asshole has hit you so many times that you probably didn’t even notice it in your adrenaline rush.

This is bad. Very very bad. Even though he didn’t hit you critically, the amount of blood that runs down your leg is enough for you to know that you might bleed out if you won’t get any help.

“Are you alright?”

His tall frame lingers over you before you are able to stop him, kneeling down in front of you to take a look at your wound.

“Leave me alone-“

“This is serious. You might die, (y/n). I can’t afford to lose you.”

Like in trance you stare down at him, his words repeating themselves over and over in your head while your heart hammers against your chest.

“I can’t afford to lose you.”

“Why did you leave me, then?”

“Not now, (y/n). Yuji, stand your ground as long as possible. I need to escort (y/n) out of the curtain.”

“Gotcha!”

You slap his hands away, whole body trembling in…what? Anger, fear, agony? Maybe everything at once, you aren’t sure. His brown eyes dart towards you immediately.

“I’m trying to help you”, he comments dryly.

“This injury is nothing against the pain you caused me years ago.”

Your cruel words hit him like a wall. For a moment he can only stare at you, the way your striking blue orbs begin to glister and that look of distress on your beautiful face. No, you didn’t deserve what he did to you back then. You deserved so much better. But still…

“I did it for you.”

The words escape his mouth before he is able to stop himself.

“Oh, so traumatizing me was best for me? Wow, thank you so much for your help then. Maybe I should-“

“I saw what can happen. I saw what can happen when Yu died in front of my very own eyes. And I swore to myself to never let anything like that happen to you. I hoped you would quit being a jujutsu sorcerer, that hurting you enough would make you leave Jujutsu High for good, that you’d find a nice job. That you’d be safe.”

You stare at him through wet lashes, brain desperately trying to make sense out of his words. He can’t be serious, right? This can’t possibly be the reason why he left you.

But his eyes don’t lie. No, they never did.

“So you…you didn’t cheat on me?” you breathe out.

Fuck, you hate the way tears start to pool your eyes and how your whole body begins to tremble in emotion. All these years, all these horrible years you thought you meant nothing to Kento, that he ended your relationship because of another woman. All the things he said to you…They never left your head, always present in the following years.

You thought you weren’t good enough for him.

“I would have never cheated on you. But this was the only way to make you believe that I didn’t have any feelings for you.”

“Did you?”

You stare down at him, time standing still. All these wasted years of thinking you aren’t good enough. All these years you loved this man so much that you never let another man touch you. All these years of grieving his touch, of imagining him while touching yourself, of crying yourself to sleep instead of laying in his strong arms.

All this time. Can it really be fake?

“I never stopped loving you.”

Maybe it’s because of your blood loss or because your entire world turned upside down, but your knees give in, making you sink onto the floor if it wasn’t for Kento’s arms that catch you just in time.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

With fast steps he crosses the battlefield, eyes set on you from time to time. You still can’t believe it, everything seems like a dream that you’ve had multiple times before. He loves you. Nanami Kento just told you that he still loves you. After all these years of pretending he doesn’t care and breaking your heart.

“I wish you would have told me”, you mumble against his chest.

“I wish you would have told me the real reason. I would’ve understood, especially because I know how hard it was for you.”

“I realized how wrong this decision was. But every time we’ve met you were so distant, not even willing to talk a single word to me. I never had the chance to make up”, he explains briefly.

“You said you cheated on me”, you remind him weakly.

“I would have never cheated on you. Since you’ve been gone, I never touched another woman.”

You look up at him through wet lashes, the way his jawline is so tensed up that it might snap any minute. The urge to let your fingertips brush over his chest just like back then seems so unbearable all of the sudden. God, how much you loved caressing his soft skin, the scars that even then decorated his whole body. How does he look now? He definitely got older, aged like fine wine. You want to stop yourself from looking at him, from grieving his touch. After all he lied to you, he shattered your heart instead of just telling you the truth. Yes, he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness so easily for how he lied into your face this whole time. But still…

“Would you mind…Holding my hand?” you ask all of the sudden.

Nanami’s heart almost beats out of his chest, the way you look at him simply takes his breath away. He would have expected anything, but not this. No, this doesn’t suit your hot-tempered personality at all. Never in his life did he think that you would ask him to hold you hand after all the things he did to you, after he hurt you this badly. But who is he to resist your vibrant eyes, especially when you’re feeling unwell?

“Of course…” he stutters.

When his fingertips gently intertwine with yours, you feel as if he fired a firework inside you. God, how much you missed this. How much you missed him.

You allow your tired eyes to rest for a minute, whole body suddenly feelings so numb and light. Maybe all of this is just a dream and you’ll wake up any minute. But until then…

You want to hold his hand just like back then.

“But don’t think I’ll forgive you this easily”, you mutter weakly.

“This wouldn’t suit you at all”, he replies.

And for the first time in years, Kento Nanami is able to grin again. Because he finally confessed to the love of his life, because you’re laying here in his arm while holding his hand.

Everything will work out eventually.

280 notes · View notes

lainiespicewrites · 7 months

Text

A lesson in flirting

Hi friends! This one had been sitting in my unfinished stories for a while. I love a good Henry fic It's another OFC because I can't seem to get off the "Self-insert" thing rn! LOL but you guys seem to love these stories and writing myself as a main character just gives me this air of confidence...Idk lmao... anyway enjoy! Also maybe doing this is part of kinktober?? Idk I’m not really following a prompt list buuut this kind goes with size kink??? Idk? I just wanna post more!

Plot: In which Alayna and her friends are at a bar, she's trying to explain to her friends that flirting is easy. until she sees Henry and her friends tell her to put her money where her mouth is.

Warnings: Smut Like just so much smut. Dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), P in V smut, creampie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, I mean it! It’s so easy! Men aren’t THAT complicated.” I exclaimed. Hayley shook her head at me. I laughed and downed the rest of my drink.

“You are so boy crazy,” She laughed, “If it’s so easy prove it!” she smirked. Shit, I’d been drinking and lord knows I’m not one to back down from a challenge. I looked over at Skyler who had the same look on her face.

��Come on Alayna, you look so good tonight! Don’t waste it! You’ve been eyeing that guy by the bar for the last 5 minutes. Go for it!” She urged. I really stuck my foot in my mouth here. I’d been telling them about a time I went out a few months ago and decided I wanted to kiss this guy and just … made it happen. I may have been a little overconfident. I looked over again at the guy they were talking about. He was absolutely gorgeous. He was at least 6’1 with beautiful dark curls and one of the sweetest smiles I’d ever seen.

“I-I don’t know, I’m all talk,” I said immediately going back on my previous statement. “This guy is way out of my league.”I sighed.

“No he isn’t!,” Skyler said quickly, “You’re literally so hot! He’d be stupid not to be into you.” Hayley nodded.

“She’s right dude! Prove yourself right! Go talk to him.” I took one look back at him. Well hopefully if this doesn’t work out I don’t make myself look like an idiot.

“Alright,” I paused looking at the girls. “Commencing phase one.” I joked.

“Jesus,” Hayley shook her head and Skyler just laughed.

“Yes! Go get your man!” She cheered me on. Okay, Phase one. Luckily this would be easy. The bartender Nick was already down at his end of the bar so it was the perfect excuse to “Bump into him” and squeeze my way up to the bar to order another drink. It helps that it’s a little crowded too. I pushed past a group of country boys standing around holding their Busch lights. The kind that rolls into the bar in tattered jeans they’ve been working in all day and dirty old work boots. Definitely not my first choice. I shake the thought out of my head starting to get nervous as I approach him. His back is toward me now. I walked up next to him at the counter, my shoulder brushing against him.

“I’m so sorry!” I blushed. He turned to look at me and smiled.

“That’s perfectly okay! It's a bit crowded here tonight huh?” he asked, chuckling softly. Sweet baby Jesus, he’s British! I nodded. Nick was still with another customer so I took the opportunity to make light conversation.

“Whatcha drinking?” I asked. He fully turned to face me. Beer bottle in hand.

“Guinness has always been my favorite.” He said, taking a sip. “Are you a beer drinker?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Not unless I'm already drunk, or it's in an Irish car bomb.” I joked. He laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“An Irish car bomb? Wouldn’t have assumed that’d be your drink of choice.” He smirked.

“Oh, it’s not! but my brother took me out for my 21st with his friends, they’re like my brothers. Anyway, I did a full “bombs away” Not sure if you’ve heard of that?” I raised an eyebrow. He chuckled, nodding.

“I do, That had to be a rough time!”

“It was certainly rough the next day!” The bartender was finally ready so I made eye contact with him to signal I wanted to order.

“What's up?” he asked.

“Hey, can I get another Rum and Coke please?” He nodded and walked away to get it started. Nick was a man of little words. I appreciated that about him.

“Not a bad choice,” I heard the guy say. I laughed

“It’s been my drink of choice since my friend and I started stealing “captain” out of her parent's liquor cabinet senior year.” He chuckled softly. Just then Nick came back with my drink. I smiled and thanked him again. He just nodded. I turned back to the mystery guy and smiled. “Well, it was nice talking to you!” I said.

“You too! Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” He said.

“Alayna!” I said quickly.

“Alayna,” He repeated and smiled. “I’m Henry,”

“Nice to meet you, Henry!” I said and started to walk away.

“Nice to meet you, Alayna!” He called after me. I walked back to the girls' new drink in hand and a spring in my step. I smirked sitting back down in between them.

“Oh my god how’d it go?!” Skyler asked immediately.

“So he’s fucking British!” I stated.

“You’re kidding!” Hayley added. I shook my head.

“Dead ass! His name is Henry, and that’s about all I know! Except he’s even more beautiful up close!” I tried so hard not to squeal. Having a crush was thrilling and fun even if it went nowhere.

“Okay not to get your hopes up but he’s definitely looking this way!” Skyler said. I brought my drink to my lips took a long sip and let my eyes fall in his direction. He was and he was smiling. Before I could catch his eye his attention was brought back to his friend as they continued their conversation.

“I told you.” I shrugged. Hayley shook her head.

“That doesn’t prove anything buddy, maybe he just thought you were nice,” she stated. Skyler laughed

“He was absolutely staring at her ass as she walked away but okay yeah he just thought she was nice.” She said, I was blushing and trying so desperately to act cool but I knew it wasn’t coming out that way. I took a long pull of my drink and sighed.

“This is gonna be a high school crush situation all over again if I can’t hold it together. God, he’s so beautiful up close though. I really don’t know how I managed that conversation, let alone blatant flirting.” I shook my head and changed the subject. Asking the girls about work. I had neither of them fooled but they let me change the subject.

“It’s going okay but I certainly could use a vacation,” Hayley said. I laughed

“Says the girl who was in Hawaii 3 months ago!” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, and you left us here!” Skyler argued. Hayley retorted with something sarcastic but I didn’t hear her. Henry was walking in our direction and I immediately caught his eye. He smiled when he saw me slowing down as he was walking past.

“Hey! Are you having a good night?” He asked. I nodded and gave him a big smile.

“I’m having a great night! Just out with the girls. And you?” He quickly glanced over at them and smiled softly.

“That’s awesome,” He turned his attention back to me and it was a bit dark but I’m almost positive he gave me a once over. “And I’m good! Great now, just a little buzzed and headed to the toilet,” He chuckled.

“Well don’t let me keep you!” I laughed. I watched as he smirked slightly, looking me over again. He gave me a quick wink.

“I’ll see you later, love,” He spoke and then walked away toward the restrooms. As he walked away I heard Skyler trying to hold back a squeal.

“He was absolutely flirting with you!” She smiled. Even Hayley agreed.

“Dude it’s like we weren’t even here,” She said. I smiled.

“Yeah, I noticed that. But he does seem really sweet! I’m gonna let him make the next move though.” All of a sudden feeling a rush of energy I downed the rest of my drink. “Fuck it let's go dance!” I said standing up and pulling both of them up with me. I heard Hayley start to complain that she can’t dance so I took her hand and spun her. “Just move! Everyone’s drunk anyway. No one cares! Let loose!” I said. Skyler grabbed my hand and spun me and then jokingly twerked on me. We were laughing and genuinely having a good time.

This is what we came out for tonight. Just to have fun and be carefree. The song switched to some early 2000s girl group. The kind that makes you feel invincible. The girls and I were still dancing. I spun around and almost ran directly into Henry.

“I’m so sorry!” I giggled. Clearly more a little more buzzed now. Henry smirked.

“No need to apologize darling. You’re having fun!” He chuckled.

“I am!” I exclaimed. “You should dance with me!” He smiled but raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not much of a dancer, Love,” He said. I pouted.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” I begged. He chuckled.

“Of course, I will, for you!” He smiled. I let out an excited squeak causing him to laugh. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a slightly less crowded area of the makeshift dance floor. I turned around and pressed my back to his chest. Immediately his hands found my hips. I slowly started to move my hips against him and looked back giving him a cheeky smile.

“Told you I’d make it fun!” I said. He smirked and licked his lips slowly.

“I never doubted that,” He spoke. He slowly started moving his hands up my sides. I bit my lip. I loved the feeling of his hands on my body. I felt my shirt rise a little as his fingers moved over the hem of the crop top. Then I felt his fingertips against my neck as he brushed my hair back off my shoulder. I pressed against him, grinding on him to the music. His breath was hot against my neck. “Enjoying yourself, love?” He spoke his voice low and gravely. I knew he wanted to make a move. I could feel him against me. But He was trying to be respectful. Or as respectful as he could with my ass pressed to him.

“Mmhmm, but I’d be having more fun if you’d kiss me.” I started trying so hard to play cool. My heart was racing and the anticipation felt like electricity coursing through me. He moved his hands back down squeezing my hips before he turned me around to face him. He was smiling. God, he was such a beautiful man. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen by the way.” I blushed, losing my nerve now that I was looking him in the eye.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” He said back. I blushed.

“That can’t be true, you’re like, insanely hot!” I blurted out. He chuckled, tightening his grip on my hip and pulling me flush against him. My hands were on his chest. Fuck he was solid. We were so close. I was even more nervous now that I had the chance to really look at him. He was wearing a plaid button-up with the top 3 buttons undone and revealing a patch of chest hair. His shoulders were broad and strong. I felt small in his arms. The way he was looking at me I felt like I’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding me up.

“Yeah, and you’re absolutely gorgeous,” He stated. He caressed my cheek softly before leaning in and kissing me. I immediately kissed him back. I moved so my arms were wrapped around his shoulders and tangled my fingers in his hair. He groaned softly, walking me backward until my back was pressed against the wall. He kissed me roughly and as he pulled away he caught my bottom lip between his teeth biting down softly before pressing one last gentle kiss to my lips. He looked down at me hungrily. “I wanna take you home with me.” He growled in my ear before he started kissing my neck.

“I’m sure the girls won’t miss me,” I smirked. He stopped peppering kisses along my jaw and looked me in the eyes.

“Is that a yes, love?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his face.

“If I don’t go with you, you’re coming home with me! I don’t wanna miss out on you!” I said. And maybe it was a little eager but I meant it. There was no way I was walking away from him now. “Give me like two seconds to let my friends know so they aren’t panicking though!” I said. He gave me a soft smile and kissed my cheek.

“Of course darling,” I walked over to where the girls were still dancing not far from me. No doubt they’d seen our spur-of-the-moment makeout session. I didn’t care.

“Hey so um…” I started.

“You Whore,” Hayley stated before I could say anything. I just laughed.

“You know it!” I joked back.

“Just make sure you use protection! I mean it!” Skyler said. “And I want details!!” She added. I laughed.

“Okay well, I’m gonna go then … you guys get home safe!”

After a quick goodbye, I turned around and found Henry at the bar closing his tab. He smiled when he saw me and pulled me to his side.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” He asked. I nodded. He kept his arm around me as we walked out. He led us to his car, opening the door for me. He got in started the car and paused. “My place or yours?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Yours, one of the girls lives right down the hall and I don’t need her keeping an eye on me.” I chuckled.

“It’s sweet that she checks in though. Do you live alone?” He asked.

“Well hold on, how do I know if I tell you that you aren’t gonna stalk me and murder me?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re already in my car and if I wanted to kill you I could just do it now.” He paused for a second and chuckled. “I’m not a murderer, I promise. Besides if I killed you I couldn’t take you on a proper date after all this. That wouldn’t be very chivalrous, and to be honest I just know I wanna see you again.” I was blushing.

“Okay, you make a good argument,” I said. “I wanna see you again too. And we haven’t fucked yet.” I immediately squeezed my eyes shut. I can’t believe I said that. And I was too nervous to see the look on his face. I felt him put his hand on my thigh. I slowly looked over at him. He was smirking.

“Oh, but we will.” He stated. He looked over at me letting his eyes roam over my body quickly before he focused back on the road.

Fuck. He’s so hot, this man is about to ruin all other men for me. I heard him chuckle. “Doing okay over there love?” He squeezed my thigh and let his hand wander further up. I bit my lip and nodded.

“Y-yeah, having the best time right now!” fucking idiot.

“It’ll be even better in a few minutes. You’re so sexy. Do you have any idea what you were doing to me back there?” It was my turn to smirk.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea. Pretty sure I could feel it!” I teased. He playfully smacked my thigh. God this was gonna be a good night.

“Not sure how you could miss it with your ass pressed against me like that.” I just laughed.

“I didn’t hear you complaining!” I said and laced my fingers with his hand that was resting on my thigh.

“I wasn’t,” he smiled, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. He let go of my hand as he turned into his driveway and put the car in park. He waited for me in front of the car and took my hand again leading me up to his house. He quickly unlocked the door and I followed him inside.

He flipped on a light in the entryway so we could see where we were going. Then he turned back to me grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into him. I initiated the kiss wrapping my arms around his shoulder and tangling my fingers in his curls pulling him down to me. It was a very needy kiss. Pressing my lips to his and letting him suck my bottom lip between his. He backed me into the wall and started to kiss my neck. “Fuck your such a naughty girl, what am I gonna do with you?” He asked and then scraped his teeth across my neck. I moaned and tugged at his curls. He growled against my neck, soothing it with soft kisses. His touch was sending shockwaves through my body. I needed more of him. I ran my hands down his shoulders and over his chest. I brushed my hand over his cock, he was already getting hard. I teasingly squeezed him over his jeans. “Mmm” he moaned softly pulling away from his assault on my neck to watch me tease him.

I continued to explore his body, slipping my hands under his shirt and letting my fingers brush across his abs. I bit my lip when I felt him tense under my fingertips. He chuckled and stepped back pulling off his shirt, a proud smirk on his face. He was incredibly muscular. His chest was solid and broad. He was hairy which I had to admit was a serious turn-on. I hadn’t realized it until now. His stomach was hard and defined. It’s like he was carved out of stone. His happy trail matching his chest hair. He had to be incredibly strong. The muscles in his arms were large. He towered over me making me feel small. But his face was so soft and kind and gentle. His eyes were crystal blue and so inviting. He had such a warm smile. God I was mesmerized by this man. His voice broke me out of my trance.

“Come here Darling,” he said, pulling me to him again. He pulled at the bottom of my top and leaned in pressing a sweet slow kiss to my lips. “Take this off for me?” He asked. I bit my lip

“mmhmm” I mumbled, taking a step back to take off my top. I dropped it to the floor and looked up at him. His eyes were focused on my chest.

“Fuck” he whispered and licked his lips. His eyes flicked back up to mine. “I could tell you had big tits but, wow” he whistled jokingly and I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“Omg shut up! Says the guy literally built like a Greek God!” Now he was laughing. I stood on my toes kissing him again. I reached my hand between us rubbing over his jeans. He growled against my lips.

“Mm slow down baby, we’ve got all night.” He led me to his couch and pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him. Trust me Im gonna fuck you tonight darling, I’m definitely gonna fuck you.” He started kissing my neck down to my chest and he kissed the top of my breasts. Then he pulled my bra down and took my nipple in his mouth. I moaned, arching into him and he wrapped his arm around my back holding me to him.

“But you’re going to make me beg first,” I teased, biting my lip. He hummed around my breast smirking before biting down and dragging my nipple between his teeth. I gasped and ran my fingers through his hair.

“I love hearing the sounds you make for me,” He moaned as he gave the other breast the same attention. He was driving me crazy. I whimpered softly grinding my hips feeling into his. Trying to get some friction against his now fully hard cock in his jeans.

“Please Henry,” I moaned. as he finally unhooked my bra and tossed it aside. He dug his fingers into my hips keeping me still. I couldn’t help the whine that escaped me.

He kissed back up my chest leaving a chaste little kiss on my lips. Fuck he was such a tease.

“God you’re desperate for it, aren’t you love,” He smirked. “Why don’t you show me how bad you want it,” He nodded toward the floor and I knew exactly what he meant. I slid off his lap and onto my knees in front of him. He stood from the couch and pulled himself from his jeans. Fuck he was big, and already so hard. There was a bead of precum glistening from the tip. If he wanted to tease two could play that game.

I leaned forward and licked the head of his cock smiling up at him sweetly.

“Mm don’t stop now love, we're just getting started.” He moaned cock twitching in his hand as the other hand brushed the hair out of my face and rested on the back of my head.

“You’re just so big, not sure I can handle all of you,” I teased. He chuckled softly running his thumb over my bottom lip.

“You’ve been talking big talk all night baby, I’m sure you can make it fit,” He winked. I blushed but let him guide me forward taking him in my mouth. I hollowed my cheeks bobbing my head slowly. At first only took him halfway and slowly let him hit the back of my throat. He was already moaning for me. Tightening his fingers in my hair guiding me along his cock. “That's it, love, just like that, fuck,” He growled. He pushed my head further down forcing his cock further down my throat. I choked and my eyes started to water but I let him hold me there. I knew it had to feel incredible for him. He pulled me back and I came up gasping for air. He chuckled. “Fuck that’s so sexy. I need more of you.” He held out his hand to help me up and immediately crashed his lips to mine. He bit my bottom lip dragging his teeth across it slowly before finally releasing me.

“Are you gonna fuck me now baby?” I asked shyly gently running my fingers down his chest.

“You’ve more than earned it now darling.” He said kissing me again more gently this time. “But I still wanna please you first.” He smirked bending to pick me up over his shoulder.

“Henry!” I squealed laughing softly. He chuckled and smacked my ass as he carried me to his bedroom. He dropped me gently onto his bed finally ridding himself completely of his jeans and boxers. He gave me one last look asking for permission before stripping me completely as well. He didn’t speak just smiled to himself and started to kiss and grab and feel all over. Kissing my chest and my stomach. Squeezing my breasts. He settled between my legs spreading my thighs kissing and biting at the inside. He slowly made his way up to my core.

“Fucking dripping for me. I could feel it when you were in my lap. So needy.” He ran his fingers through my folds spreading my slick smirking to himself. I whimpered softly unable to take it anymore.

“Fuck please don’t tease me, I need you to touch me. Please, Henry.” I begged. He just smirked. He spread my lips swiping his tongue through my folds. He pulled me closer by my hips and started circling my clit with his tongue. He pulled it between his lips sucking softly and continued to lick. I moaned tossing my head back and my fingers found his curls again. “Oh fuck!” He slipped two fingers into me curving them into me as he continued his assault on my clit.

It wasn’t long before I felt the coil build up in my stomach. “Henry, I’m gonna cum!” I whimpered. He didn’t let up just continued through my orgasm licking up my juices and pulled back with a growl. Kissing his way back up my body.

“God you taste incredible,” He moaned in my ear before flipping me onto my knees on the bed and spreading my thighs. “I need to be inside you.” He groaned, lining himself up with my core running his head through my folds gathering the wetness there. He started to push in slowly. “Such a tight little pussy.” He groaned. “Relax for me, baby.” He leaned down kissing my shoulder as he pushed all the way in. “Such a good girl for me, always so ready for my cock.” he growled. I whimpered. I’d never felt so full. It felt incredible. He finally pulled out slowly and started a rhythm holding onto my hips as he took me from behind. Our moans the sounds of our bodies meeting filling my ears.

“Mm it feels so good,” I moaned pulling at the comforter I could feel my orgasm building again. I started to squeeze around him. Henry pulled out and I whined softly. I heard him chuckle. He flipped me onto my back wrapping my legs around his waist as he shoved himself back into me.

“I need to see your beautiful face when you cum on my cock baby.” He moaned picking up the pace. He was starting to get close too. He kissed my neck and I dug my nails into his back surely to leave scratches there tomorrow as I came undone around him. He growled in my ear as he thrusted a few more times letting go inside me.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He moaned. He kissed all over my face and smiled. “Are you alright darling?” He asked catching his breath

“I’m amazing,” I laughed.

“Fuck yeah you are,” He chuckled. He laid down next to me for a moment pulling me into him. “Just give me a minute,” he breathed.

I knew we were just getting started.

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likeadevils · 3 months

Text

Reputation Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Reputation in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing rep and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices

February 13, 2015: Taylor's interview with Vogue is published (likely conducted on January 14/15).

"I don’t worry that I haven’t started the next record yet. I don’t worry that I don’t know what it’s going to be. I’m not worried that I have absolutely no timetable as to when it needs to be done. It could be two years from now; it could be three, it could be four. Or it could be one. You get these bursts of inspiration right at the moment you’re not expecting to. You just have to live your life, and hopefully you’ll take the right risks."

March 2, 2015: Taylor is photographed leaving a studio. (Note: I can not find a place that specifies if this is a recording studio, dance, photography, radio, or television studio).

May 20, 2015: Taylor's interview with Marie Claire is published (likely conducted two months beforehand).

Taylor is not even sure she'll have made another album by the time 2020 rolls around. "I'm not going to put out an album until I've made one that's better than this one and that's going to be really hard," she says. And how might her music evolve if she does find love? "If that does happen, I think I could find complexity in happiness," she says. "I don't think anything's ever simple. Just because you're happy in a relationship doesn't mean there aren't moments of confusion or frustration or loneliness or sadness. Hopefully, if I ever find some sort of meaningful relationship, I'll be able to still find inspiration, just through everyday ups and downs."

October 7, 2015: Taylor is photographed leaving a recording studio in New York.

November 13, 2015: Taylor's interview with Vogue Australia is published (likely conducted two months beforehand).

Every two years since 2006 she has released an album, followed by a tour, then moved onto the next one. But her latest album, 1989, might change plans a bit. “This album has produced more number ones than any album in the past, so we’re just going to go with it,” she says, going on to explain how the usual album cycle could be extended. “Then I’ll feel like I’ll need to give people a breather from me because at a certain point they’re going to get a little sick of hearing about me, so I’ll need to go away for a while then, depending on my gauge on how sick of me they are, I’ll decide when to put out the next album.” [...] “I’ve been learning every single day what the right amount of sharing [of her personal life] is, and lately it’s been not natural because this album is such a snapshot of my life – it was so vivid, direct and honest.”

April 20, 2016: Taylor interview with Vogue is published (conducted in February).

So what the hell are you going to do with the rest of your life, Taylor Swift? “I have no idea,” she says, with a sigh that’s more blissful than anxious. “This is the first time in ten years that I haven’t known. I just decided that after the past year, with all of the unbelievable things that happened . . . I decided I was going to live my life a little bit without the pressure on myself to create something.” Do not freak: Swift is not abandoning making music. Those who know her know this is chemically impossible. (“Her not being creative is one of the last things I’d ever worry about,” the musician and producer Jack Antonoff tells me later.) “I’m always going to be writing songs,” Swift says. “The thing is, with me, I could very well come up with three things in the next two weeks and then jump back into the studio, and all of a sudden the next record is started. That’s an option, too.” But probably not for the moment.

August 29, 2016: Taylor writes in her diary "This summer is the apocalypse."

Gorgeous: Sep. 1-5, 16, 17, 19 (Confirmed)

In the Making of a Song video, Taylor is seen wearing this outfit in her Nashville apartment, which dates the song to September 17. From there, the rest of the dates are just math.

King of My Heart: Sep. 6, 19, 20, 21 (Confirmed)

In the Making of a Song video, Taylor is seen wearing the same outfit in the Gorgeous video and the KOMH video. It's also the same outfit as a video she later posted to The Swift Life (RIP) where she talked about how excited she was to be working after a long break.

September 9, 2016: Gigi Hadid says "You know, [Taylor] is starting to go back to work in the studio again."

I Don't Wanna Live Forever: Early Oct. (Speculation)

In a teaser for the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen in an unfamiliar outfit (black mesh top) with bleached hair and a thin gold choker that she was fond of in October 2016. She is not wearing her silver J pendant, which she got as a 27th birthday present (Dec 13, 2016). IDWLF is the only song with no video footage that was written in 2016. I don't recognize the studio in the clip, but she recorded IDWLF with Jack Antonoff, who is based in New York. Taylor was on the east coast until October 22nd, and was seen in New York between October 11-13.

Delicate: Oct. 24-26 (Speculation)

Taylor is seen wearing the aforementioned thin gold choker, with her post Sep. 24 haircut (straight across bangs instead of a side part). Since she normally goes into the studio with Max Martin and Shellback with a few ideas, and creates multiple songs during their sessions, I'm inclined to group this song with IDSB and place it in late October.

I Did Something Bad: Oct. 14, 27 (Confirmed)

In the Making of a Song video, at 4:18 you can spot a gold temporary tattoo on the inside of her wrist, similar to ones she was wore at Drake’s Birthday Party on October 23. Since she is seen working until sundown (She leaves LA on October 28) and had to be in Nashville 13 days priar (She was seen in New York City until the 13), October 14 and 27th are the only dates that make sense.

January 3, 2017: Taylor writes in her diary "I get all scared about the future because so much has changed in the last year of my life. I mean this time last year I was living in LA, getting ready for Grammys and now, I’m essentially based in London, hiding out trying to protect us from the nasty world that just wants to ruin things. We have been together and no one has found out for 3 months now. I want it to stay that way because I don’t want anything about this to change or become too complicated or intruded upon. But it’s senseless to worry about someday not being happy when I am happy now. Ok. Breathe."

Don't Blame Me: Jan. 10, 11, 12 (Inferring)

Taylor is seen wearing a similar jacket as she was papped wearing on the 11th in the Making of a Song video. (This is pure speculation on my part, but the mood also seems to be a bit lower than on other days). We know she was in LA around this time “for work.”

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: Jan. 11 (Confirmed)

This post explains the situation pretty well. There are multiple accounts of what seems to be a similar story. January 11th one of two times she is seen leaving the gym after a long paparazzi dry spell, the other being in July. Seeing as the song is produced by Max Martin, who is located in LA, and the July pictures are in New York, I’m inclined to agree with the original source.

Dress: Late January/Early February 2017 (Speculation)

Jack Antonoff: “Dress is my second favorite [from Reputation]. It's the first one we made for it." Taylor was mostly based in London in early 2017, but there’s two times we know she was in the states. The first is in early January, when Taylor was in California working with Max Martin and Shellback. The second time is in late January/early February, when she was in Nashville preparing for Super Saturday Night. My guess is this was written in Late January, mostly because she was on the east coast, but theoretically she could've done it earlier in the month, or even later in the year.

Look What You Made Me Do: Late January/Early February 2017 (Speculation)

In promos for the Making of a Song Video, as well as in Miss Americana, Taylor is seen with straight hair and her J initial necklace (dating the song to post-Dec 13, 2016). Her hairstyle (the deep side part) is very Mid-2016. For most of 2017, she seems to favor the straight across braids with strands on the side. Long story short (ha), the hair makes me what to put this as early in the timeline as possible. We know Taylor was on the east coast (specifically Nashville) in early February, preparing for Super Saturday Night.

New Years Day: 2017 (Unknown)

There isn’t any footage of this, but Jack Antonoff has said that it came together fairly quickly and unexpectedly while they were hanging out at his house.

...Ready For It?: May 2017 (Speculation)

In promos for the Making of a Song series, as well as Miss Americana, Taylor is seen with curly hair, her J necklace, and not her Sapphire Evil Eye Ring, which starts showing up on June 27th (We don’t know exactly when or why she got the sapphire ring). . Since the song partially focuses on whether or not her lover is ready for the media frenzy that surrounds dating her, I’m inclined to place this song in May, when her and Joe’s relationship leaked to the press. The song was recorded in Sweden, and we can assume she was in Europe between May 15 and June 1, 2017. (That being said, we can assume she is in Europe for most of the first half of 2017).

Call It What You Want: June 2017 (Speculation)

In the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen with straight hair, her J necklace, and not her sapphire evil eye ring. Once again, I am tempted to put this after her relationship leaked to the press, probably in early June (She is in the states on the 1st and 3rd, and probably leaves sometime in mid-June).

End Game: Mid July (Confirmed)

Ed Sheeran has said that the song was written around July 14th, while he was playing in Connecticut and Taylor was in Rhode island. Ed: End Game was written - I was playing Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, and she has a place in Rhode Island, which isn't too far. So she hits me up like, 'I know you're in Connecticut, come around.' I go around, she plays me some of what turned out to be reputation, and plays me this End Game, and I was like 'Man, I really like this. Can I do a verse? Can I do a rap verse?' And she was like, 'Yeah, for sure!' So the next day, I remember, I was in bed, and woke up and got my laptop out, put the song, just looped it, wrote this verse, and I went in with Max Martin, who she did the song with, and recorded it. Then Future did a verse, and then Taylor wrote a verse and we did the video.

Getaway Car: July 2017 (Speculation)

In the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen with curly hair, her J necklace, and her sapphire evil eye ring, placing the song sometime shortly before/after June 27th. We know she was in the states for most of July, and in New York City on the 17th and 24th.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: July 2017 (Speculation)

In the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen with straight hair, her J necklace, and her sapphire evil eye ring. For all the same reasons as Getaway Car, this song was probably recorded in July. The exact order of Getaway Car and TIWWCHNT is probably impossible for anyone not involved in the making of the song to know. I could see arguments for either order, but Taylor has said that reputation is in fairly chronological order, I’m putting it in order of tracklist.

So It Goes: September 2017 (Inferring)

Oscar Görres, a cowritter on the song, said he got a call from Max Martin, Shellback, and Taylor asking to use his track after he’d just had a child. According to social media, he had a daughter in 2015 and a son in September of 2017. The interview is a bit confusing, timeline-wise. On one had, Görres says “I’d just become a father,” but then he implies that Max and Shellback had already completed most of the album. (For context, English isn’t his first language). Personally, I believe the believe the September 2017 date. Multiple sessioners have said Taylor said all songs on the album were about her relationship with Joe, and the tracklists in the reputation magazines are out of order, suggesting a late change. Taylor has has also been known to add a song to the album incredibly last minute— most notably Forever & Always on Fearless, but also with Death By A Thousand Cuts on Lover, which had to have been written post April 20, 2019 (but that's for another album).

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#txt*#timeline*#taylor swift #sure let’s do it tonight why not

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stephstars08 · 9 months

Text

Boyfriend

Jack Champion x Actress!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Mention of Toxic Relationship, Angst but mostly Fluff, Anxiety, Kissing/Short Make Out Session, and maybe some grammar mistakes.

Summery: Jack has had a crush on Y/N even before he booked the role for Scream 6 so, when he get's to play her love interest in the movie his crush for her just grew even bigger. His fellow co-stars really want him to make a move but obstacles stood in his way so when production for the movie ended he never got to. When the cast reunited Jack hears that Y/N is looking for boyfriend which makes him want to make his move but he still has that anxiety that holds him back. Will he let go of his anxiety and finally make a move?

Inspired Song: Boyfriend by Big Time Rush

Word Count: 2,983

Author’s Note: HELLO EVERYONE! I’m officially back to posting my stories!! I haven’t started writing again but I will hopefully this weekend! As I said before this will be my last Jack story for awhile since I want to focus on writing for his characters like Ethan and Spider! Anyways it’s so good to be back and let me know how you all liked this one shot! Talk to you all soon!!

Ever since the first day on the set of Scream VI, Jack immediately fell head over heels for Y/N. Well, if Jack was being completely honest, he has had a crush on Y/N even before booking the role since she is his secret celebrity crush. Before Y/N joined the Scream franchise she was on many Disney Channel and Nickelodeon shows when she was young. That’s how she met Jenna and ever since then they have been best friends. As Y/N got older she left Disney and Nickelodeon since she wanted to do more mature roles and she did just that. Y/N was in the last Scream movie, so she also became close with Jasmine, Mason, and Melissa so when there was news about another movie, she knew she wanted to return. Y/N plays a character that is related to Tatum and Dewey Riley. In the sixth movie Jack’s character is a love interest to Y/N’s character. Throughout the whole movie Y/N’s character defends Jack’s character for not being Ghostface but becomes heartbroken when she finds out he really is Ghostface.

It was already hard for Jack to do scenes where it’s just Y/N and him because of his crush but it was even harder because she has a boyfriend who just so happens to be on set every fucking day! When they first met Jack and Y/N immediately connected. It wasn’t shocking since Y/N is known to be one of the sweetest and nicest actresses to work with and Jack totally agrees with that statement. It’s just sad that he can’t say the same thing about her boyfriend. From day one Jack could sense that Y/N’s boyfriend was intimidated by him. Jack mentioned this to Mason, which he told him to get used to that. Mason told him about how it was from Dylan who played Wes who was Y/N’s love interest in the last movie. Jack asked Mason why the asshole of a boyfriend does that in which he didn’t have an exact answer, but he did mention that the girls and him think it’s because he knows that there is someone out there that is better for Y/N than him.

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As production was coming to an end a sudden change of mood came from Y/N. Throughout the whole filming Y/N had always been happy and had an exciting attitude but that all changed a week ago when she showed up to set the total opposite and has been like that since. The most talkative girl on set all of sudden became the quietest girl on set. She also didn’t look like herself either since even with make up on you can tell that she had been crying a lot. Jack was very concerned about her so when he would ask her what was wrong, she would just brush him off with an obvious lie, so he decided to go to Jenna’s trailer and ask her.

When he knocked on the door Jenna called out to him to come in. When Jack walked into the trailer, he saw Jasmin was also in the trailer talking with Jenna. “Hey Jack.” Jenna said to him from her seat on her comfy chair. Jasmin was sitting on the small love seat that was next to Jenna’s comfy chair. “Hey, do you two know what is going on with Y/N?” Jack asked them with concern in his voice. “Every time I ask her, she lies telling me that she’s fine.” He added with a sigh. “That fucking asshole broke up with her.” Jenna answered in a snappy tone.

Jack felt his heartrate speed up. Jenna just said what he thought she said, right? Y/N isn’t with that controlling asshole. Y/N is signal!

“Wait, that asshole broke it off with her?” Jasmin asked Jenna, who answered her question with a nod. “Even worse is that he did it over fucking text message. I was with her when he texted to her saying that they were over.” Jenna added in a snappy tone.

He texted Y/N saying it’s over and that he didn’t want anything to do with her no more. If Y/N wasn’t broken down crying, Jenna would’ve gone and found that motherfucker and kicked his ass.

“That asshole is such a fucking coward.” Jasmin said which made Jack let out a laugh since they keep referring Y/N’s ex-boyfriend as asshole instead of his name. But Jack didn’t disagree with them since he was an asshole. “I mean I’m glad that she’s done with him I just wish it was the other way around.” Jenna said with a sigh. “I mean I’ve told Y/N a hundred times that she deserves a guy ten times better than that asshole.” Jenna added.

“Yeah, Y/N deserves a guy like Jack.” Jasmin said looking over at him with a knowing smile. “M-me?” Jack stuttered not expecting Jasmin to say that. His brown eyes were wide open in shock. “Dude, we know you have a crush on Y/N.” Jenna told him with a laugh. “What? Did Mason tell you?” Jack asked now with frustration in his voice. Mason is the only person he told. “He didn’t have to because it’s so fucking obvious.” Jenna told him which made Jasmin laugh. “Wait so everyone knows about my crush on Y/N? Does she know?” Jack asked, starting to panic. “Relax, okay! She is completely oblivious to your flirting.” Jasmin told him in reassurance. “I don’t flirt.” Jack mumbled as he looked down at his shuffling feet. “Listen all we’re saying is that when we see you with her, she looks really happy and that maybe there is something there between you two.” Jenna explained to him, which put Jack into deep thought.

Jasmin’s phone started to vibrate. “Devyn just texted, we’re needed back on set.” Jasmin said, picking up her phone and sending a quick text back to her. “C’mon lover boy.” Jenna said in a teasing tone to Jack as she stood up. Jack rolled his eyes and walked out of the trailer with Jenna and Jasmin following behind him.

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As production went on Jack wanted to make a move on Y/N but he never got to because of the toll her recent relationship had on her. Yes, the guy she was with treated her terribly, but they were together for almost two years and the guy didn’t even have the courage to break up with her face to face.

When filming wrapped up everyone went their separate ways but still kept in contact with each other. They still talked through the group chat. Everyone but Y/N which is most likely because she was filming for a TV show that she frequently guests’ stars on. Jack was also busy doing a press tour with the Avatar cast promoting the sequel. Even though he wasn’t with Y/N, she was still on his mind. He thought about texting her just to see how she was doing but never did since he was scared that she wasn’t going to respond.

When it was finally time to promote Scream VI that meant Jack will be reuniting with Y/N since the whole cast will be getting back together for the premiere. Jack was excited to see her, but he also couldn’t help but be a little nervous too. The cast was going to be walking around New York doing press coverage and taking pictures for the movie.

Jack was the first one that was ready, so he was in the lobby of the hotel waiting for everyone. He was sitting down on a couch when he heard an exciting voice say his name from the elevator. When he looked up, he saw that the voice belonged to Y/N. Right when he stood up Y/N gave him a big hug which almost knocked him over. “I’ve missed you so much!” Y/N told him as she held onto him tightly. “I’ve missed you, too.” Jack told her returned the tight embrace. When Y/N pulled out of the hug she noticed his hair. “Wow, you cut your hair.” Y/N said to him in surprise. She was just so excited to see him she didn’t even notice. “Yeah, do you um like it?” Jack asked with nervousness in his voice that he was hoping she doesn’t pick up on. “I love it! It suits you really well!” Y/N told him giving him a pat on the head and sat down on the couch.

“How have you been doing?” She asked him. “Good, I was really busy doing a press tour for Avatar.” Jack told her as he sat down next to her. “I saw the movie with a couple of friends! It was amazing! You were amazing as Spider!” Y/N told him with a smile which made Jack’s cheeks turn bright red. “Thanks, that means a lot!” Jack said as he looked into her beautiful eyes. Y/N stared back into his memorizing brown eyes but before anything could go further Mason, Jasmin, and Liana came out of the elevator greeting them.

Once the rest of the cast showed up, they made their way out of the hotel and to their first destination. Throughout the whole day out Jack would feel Y/N’s gaze on him but when he would look back at her she would look away pretending that she wasn’t staring at him. When Jack first noticed it, it made him think back to what Jenna and Jasmin told him that Y/N deserves to be with a guy like him. But the real question was is does Y/N want to be with a guy like him?

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That night Jack was sitting in his hotel room when he heard loud knocking on the door. Jack got up off the bed he was lying on and walked over to the door. When he looked through the peep hole, he saw it was Mason. Right when he opened the door Mason walked into the room. “Um, come in.” Jack said in a sarcastic tone as he closed the door. “Dude, Y/N is looking for a boyfriend!” Mason told him which made Jack’s heart skip a beat. “What?” Jack asked in a surprised tone as he walked over to where Mason was standing. “Did she tell you that?” He asked wondering how Mason knew this. “No, but I was at the indoor pool with her Devyn, Jasmin, and Jenna and I overheard Y/N tell Jenna that she’s looking for someone.” Mason told him.

“You need to get your ass down there and ask her out!” Mason told him in a stern tone which made Jack’s brown eyes go wide. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. “W-what, now?” Jack stuttered out. “Jack, just fucking go for it. Now is your chance!” Mason told him with excitement in his tone.

Let’s just say that Mason is the biggest shipper of Y/N and Jack. On set it was super obvious that they have amazing chemistry on and off the camara. When their characters had a romantic scene together, they weren’t just acting as their characters, everyone knew it was really Y/N and Jack being filmed. Everyone really wanted either Y/N or Jack to make a move before filming wrapped up but that never happened.

“What do I do? What do I say?” Jack asked, starting to panic a little bit. “Just be yourself! Walk up to her, sit down, talk like you two usually do, and when the time is right ask her out!” Mason explained to him.

“Okay, is she still at the pool?” Jack said, grabbing his hotel room key and slipping on a pair of shoes. “I’m pretty sure.” Mason said walking over to the door. “Come on!” Mason said walking out the door. Jack put the key into his pocket and quickly followed Mason out the door.

Jack followed Mason downstairs to the hotel’s indoor pool. When the boys got there, they looked through the little window on the door and only saw Y/N and Jenna sitting on the edge of the pool with just their feet in the water. While Jack stared at Y/N laughing at something Jenna said his nerves started to pace again.

“Mason, I don’t know if I can do this.” Jack said completely stressed out as he stepped back from the door. “What if she says no?” He asked having zero confidence. “Jack, you got this!” Mason told him putting both of his hands onto Jack’s shoulders. “Just go in there and be yourself. Just go back to those days on set where you two would just talk the day away!” Mason told him trying to boost his best friend’s confidence. “Go in there and use that million-dollar smile of yours!” Mason added, which earned him a strange look from Jack. “Okay, that wasn’t strange at all.” Jack said, taking Mason’s hands off his shoulders.

Jack took out his room key, getting ready to unlock the door, but before he could the door opened to reveal Jenna. She walked into the hallway with the boys. Mason grabbed the door before it could close. “What are you two weridos doing?” Jenna asked them. “We’re not weridos!” Mason said defending Jack and himself. “Okay, you keep telling yourself that!” Jenna said with a yawn and walked away from them. The boys looked into the pool room to see Y/N still sitting there. Mason pushed Jack into the room. “Go!” Mason said motioning his one hand towards Y/N and shut the door.

Jack looked at Y/N moving her feet around in the water. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and walked over to her. “Hey Y/N.” Jack said getting her attention. “Hey Jack!” Y/N said with a smile that always makes his heart skip a beat. “Can I sit with you?” Jack asked with nervousness in his tone which made him curse at himself in his head. “Of course!” Y/N said oblivious to the nervousness in his tone. Jack put the key back into his pocket. He took off his shoes and socks and rolled his pants up to his knees. He sat down next to her and put his feet into the water.

“These past couple of months are the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” Y/N said as she looked down at her feet in the water. “Really?” Jack said, looking over at her. “After production wrapped up my ex wanted another chance, so I gave him one which turned out to be a huge mistake.” Y/N said with a heavy sigh. “What did he do to you?” Jack asked with a protective look in his eyes. “Same shit he did before. It got so bad that he wouldn’t even let me leave my apartment to go on set. I finally opened my eyes after realizing that he was trying to run my life, so I kicked his ass to the curb.” Y/N explained as she did everything, she could to keep her eyes from tearing up. She needs to stop wasting tears on that asshole. “You deserve to be with a guy who treats with love and kindness.” Jack told her as he used his hand to put some of her hair behind her ear. “You do?” Y/N said looking over at him locking eyes. “Yeah, it was so hard seeing that asshole treat you so terribly.” Jack told her as his brown eyes stared deep into hers.

They didn’t even realize that they were leaning in till their lips met. This isn’t the first time they have kissed since they had to kiss in a scene for the movie but this one was different because this wasn’t their characters kissing. This was actually them kissing. It put shock into both of them especially Y/N, so she pulled away. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Y/N said quickly standing up. “Wait! It’s okay!” Jack said quickly, getting up onto his feet.

He took one of her hands to stop her from walking away. “Y/N, I have feelings for you.” Jack told her, finally confessing it after holding it in for the longest time. “You do?” Y/N asked in a surprised tone. “Y/N.” Jack started taking her other hand in his. “I have had this big crush on you before even meeting. That crush turned into more as we worked on the movie together, but I never made a move because you were with someone else. It was so fucking hard seeing you with that asshole because I knew you deserved better. When you two broke up everyone was telling me to make a move, but I was too scared.” Jack told her has he held onto her hands tightly scared that she would disappear. “I’m okay facing that fear now.” he added, staring deep into her Y/E/C eyes.

“I’m such an idiot.” Y/N said with a frustrated sigh. “Huh?” Jack asked with confusion. “Ever since I left that asshole I’ve been looking all around for a charming and cute guy to be my boyfriend. I didn’t even have to because that guy has been in front of me the whole time.” Y/N said letting go of one of his hands and put her hand onto his cheek stroking it gently with her thumb.

She pulled him in for a kiss which surprised him, but he didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. As they kissed Y/N’s arms made their way around his neck while his arms made their way around her hips. They released themselves from the kiss when they needed air.

“Would you be my date to the premiere tomorrow night?” Jack asked her once he caught his breath. “Yes! That sounds like a perfect first date!” Y/N answered with a big smile on her face.

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 21

When someone you dread comes to the QZ, Joel takes matters into his own hands. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-20 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Description of past SA, PTSD response, torture. No use of Y/N. 18+ only, minors DNI!

Length: 7.2k

Friday, April 17, 2015 - Four Years Later

“So you’re not going to be Dr. And Mr… Fuck, what was his name again?” Andrew snapped off a bite of jerky.

“His first name was Simon,” you said. “I’m not actually sure if I ever got his last name.”

“So you’re not going to be Dr. And Mr. what’s-his-name why?”

“Because he had a weird problem with the fact that he’d sometimes have to share a bed with my best friend,” you shrugged.

Jess groaned.

“He was fine with it at first when he assumed the best friend had a vagina and he thought he could finagle a three way out of it,” you said, taking a drink of water. “Got a little less OK with it when I said the name Andrew…”

“You guys don’t even do that much anymore!” Jess said. You and Andrew both looked at her for a moment. She sighed. “You do that every time I go outside the QZ don’t you.”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Andrew kissed her temple. She sighed, leaning into him.

“Almost like he’s attached to his wife and has a hard time coping when she’s out dealing with the end of the world,” you said. “He’s just strange that way…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Who knew I’d be a part of the codependency club…. Well, hopefully now that the new batch of guards are coming in they won’t need me as much,” she sighed. “They’re supposed to be getting a few other people who are equipped to go help with field psych evaluations with this bunch…”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Andrew muttered. “They’re only after muscle, they don’t give a shit about anything else.”

“Isn’t this group supposed to be pretty big, though?” You asked. “We’ve got Marta coming in to help with processing for health screenings in like an hour…”

“You say that like it’s not going to just be more goons,” Andrew said. “With all the shit that’s going on… There was a shoot out just a few blocks away the other day. FEDRA’s losing their grip.”

“They ever bug the clinic break room we’re going to be next on the executioner’s block,” you muttered.

“Makes me nervous, talking about this stuff here,” Jess said. “No one likes it but…”

You were quiet for a minute.

“Any other dates coming up soon?” Jess changed the subject. “I still liked Sean…”

“He did stick around for a bit,” Andrew nodded. “He lasted, what, four months?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “I liked him, too. But, you know…”

They didn’t respond. They didn’t need to. Sean had said “I love you” and had expected to hear it back. You just weren’t comfortable lying to him. He didn’t stick around long after that.

“Nothing on the books yet,” you shrugged. “We’ll see what happens.”

“You’re just going to end up fucking Tommy again,” Jess narrowed her eyes at you.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I should be proud of you for figuring out how to have casual sex or if I should be frustrated with you figuring out how to do it with just one person,” Andrew said. You glared at him. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s very on brand for you…”

“Hey,” you cut him off. “Why are we talking about my sex life? I don’t get to talk about your sex life…”

“Ours is boring,” Jess shrugged. “Yours is way more fun.”

You weren’t sure if fun was quite the word you’d use for it.

Yes, you’d managed to branch out a bit since your split with Tommy. It took a few months but, when a guy in line for rations had asked if you wanted to hang out sometime, you’d said yes. Sure, you ended up having nothing in common with him but it was a start. Something you were now comfortable doing. Now you were having dates somewhat regularly. Even if you weren’t always sure you understood the point of it.

You’d only been broken up with Tommy a few months when he showed up at your door late one night, just before curfew. You were already in bed when he knocked on your door. You frowned. Even months later, you recognized the knock. You all but jumped out of bed and tore the door open.

“Hey Kid,” he gave you his signature, cocky smile. His bicep was bloody.

“Of course you’re bleeding,” you sighed, opening the door. He smiled sheepishly but came inside. “You’re always fucking bleeding.”

He sat on your bed where he always had as you’d stitched him up and shrugged out of his shirt, hissing as the fabric passed over the cut on his arm. You gathered the supplies and turned on enough lights that you could see what the fuck you were doing.

“Who’d you piss off this time?” You asked, cleaning the knife wound. It was jagged.

“The usual,” he said. “Believe it or not, this isn’t how I wanted to see you again…”

“Weird that you still go out and get into trouble then,” you muttered, checking the wound before starting to suture.

“I’ve been thinking about coming by, saying hi for a few weeks,” he said. “Missed you. Weird not seein’ ya all the time. This was just… the push I needed.”

“Everyone else OK?” You asked, glancing up at him.

“Fine,” he said. “Tess made it out unscathed. Joel’s leg is better. He just got decked in the face this time out, which he probably deserved for somethin’ else stupid he’s done lately.”

You laughed a bit at that.

“Probably did.”

By the time you’d stitched him up, it was past curfew.

“I can take the couch,” he said, but you waved him off.

“We shared a bed for a year,” you replied. “Just shower first, you’re gross.”

You were reading when he climbed into bed beside you.

“Kind of a weird place to ask it but, think we could be friends?” He said. “Meant it when I said I missed you. Don’t expect anything else but I’d like to be friends.”

You looked at him for a second, the shadow of familiar longing in you. You ignored it.

“I’d like to be friends, too.”

And you were just friends, for a while. It took some adjustment but you liked Tommy as a friend. He was funny, he shared a lot of the concerns you had about FEDRA and what was going on in the world, he was unfailingly kind.

A few weeks after you broke up with Sean, the two of you were sitting on your couch, watching a movie Tommy had found on his last trip outside the QZ, Cruel Intentions, something you’d never bothered to see before. You liked it well enough but the sex scenes… you hadn’t had sex since the split with Sean. The scenes were making you fidget on the couch, rearranging yourself to try to get some kind of relief from the ache between your legs.

The movie finally, mercifully, ended and Tommy looked at you.

“Proposition,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“We have sex.” You raised your eyebrows, he pressed on. “As friends. We’ve already done it, I have a good time, you have a good time…”

“You’ve just got a one track mind,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“No,” he said. “I can just tell when you’re turned on and I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman.”

You glared at him.

“No strings, no pesky feelings, just sex when we both want it,” he said. “That’s it.”

You thought for a second. Could you do that? You supposed the last time you’d had sex with Joel it had been just sex. You’d kind of hoped it would be more but you knew that it wouldn’t be.

“Just sex?” You asked.

“Just sex,” he nodded.

Just sex with Tommy turned out to be pretty damn fun. It wasn’t something you did all the time but it was enough to you from being too focused on the sex part on the rare occasions you did try to date someone new. It was easy enough to cut off when he found someone he was interested in or you did and easy enough to fall back into when you were both single again.

It was during one of the “just sex” periods that Tommy brought you to meet some of his… friends.

He’d just gotten back from a smuggling run and had a pack full of stuff when he showed up at your door with a broken finger.

“Figured why try to fix it myself,” he teased you. You just rolled your eyes and let him in.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he said slowly as you set his finger. You just raised your eyebrows at hm. “I’ve got to run this stuff to a meeting tomorrow night. You should come.”

“What kind of meeting?” You frowned.

“Just some like minded folk,” he shrugged.

“You’re being awfully cagey, Miller,” you said. He shrugged again. You smirked a little. “I’m not going to a swingers club with you…”

“Damn, killing all my dreams here, Kid,” he teased back.

The next night, he came by the clinic as you were finishing, the pack on his back, and led you across town to a building that FEDRA hadn’t done anything with yet.

Your body tensed. It reminded you of being outside the QZ, like a clicker or a raider was going to jump you at any second.

“You’re OK,” he said quietly, leading you down a hall. There was a firefly insignia painted on the wall where he turned.

“Tommy,” you hissed. “Are you mixed up in…”

“Just listen to what they have to say,” he said quickly. “It’s not what you think.”

“Don’t know what the hell kind of death wish you have,” you muttered. He ignored you.

The meeting was informal. It was Tommy, a handful of other people and a woman named Marlene who seemed to be running things. They didn’t seem to want to talk openly with you there, but they seemed to have enough understanding of whatever the fuck it was they were doing to not need to say much explicitly. Something told you that Tommy had mentioned bringing you along before.

After the meeting, you hung back with Tommy and waited until Marlene was alone.

“This is the friend I told you about,” he said, nodding at you. Marlene looked you over.

“So you’re the doctor,” she said.

“So they tell me.”

“Tommy says you’re doing some research,” she said. You glanced at him. “I’d be curious to learn more.”

“Not a lot to say at the moment,” you shrugged. “I’m trying to use some preexisting research on slowing the growth of fungal infections to see if I can develop a way to stop cordycep progression after transmission. Like an emergency injectable or, maybe someday, a vaccine. So we can have time to excise or amputate the infected tissue. I haven’t found anything that works yet, though.”

“What if you thought a little bigger,” Marlene said.

“Bigger.”

“Bigger,” she nodded. “Bigger like a cure. Like it doesn’t matter if you’re bitten beyond needing some stitches. Bigger like we get our fucking planet back.”

You laughed for a moment before you realized that she was being serious.

“You’re talking about developing a cure for cordyceps,” you looked at her.

“I am,” she said. “And I’d like your help. You don’t have to only develop what FEDRA wants…”

“FEDRA barely tolerates the work I’m doing now,” you scoffed. “I’m not developing this for them, I started doing this on my own and my boss was willing to let me use some facilities to do it in…”

“But a cure…”

“A cure is so far beyond unlikely,” you said. “We have nothing to build a cure off of. Right now, I’m looking for a bandaid…”

“Bandaids don’t do much for bullet holes,” she replied.

“When you’re the one patching people up, you come talk to me about bandaids,” you snapped. “Until then, let the professionals handle it.”

She laughed darkly.

“Didn’t think you’d be such a supporter of FEDRA,” she said.

“I’m not,” you replied. “I’m just a realist. I wish FEDRA just didn’t exist but they do and we’re stuck in the reality we’re stuck in. I’m not going to sit here and wait for some magical cure to manifest, I’m going to work with what I have and try to do what I can to make it better.”

She considered you for a moment.

“If your research pans out,” she said. “Would you consider sharing the formula with us?”

“Yes,” you said. “Of course. I plan to give it to anyone who asks for it. A hope for survival shouldn’t be a tool for power, I don’t intend on just giving it to FEDRA to leverage as they see fit.”

“We have a lab,” she said. “Out west. We could provide you all the support you’d need…”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m not going out there with infected and raiders if I can help it. And my life is here. My friends are here, the clinic, the kids at the school… I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighed.

“Well, Tommy knows how to reach me,” she said. “If you change your mind. Which I hope you do. You would be an asset to our mission.”

Tommy walked you back to your place in silence. He stopped outside your door and you just sighed.

“You’re being an idiot with them,” you said. “Don’t let it get you killed.”

You doubted he listened to you.

Marta poked her head into the break room.

“Just got word from the front gate,” she said. “They’re heading our way.”

“That’s my cue,” Jess said, getting up and stealing a kiss from Andrew. “See you when you get home. Try not to wear yourself out.”

“I make no promises,” he said. She rolled her eyes, waved by to you, and left.

Andrew looked at you.

“Ready to get fucked by FEDRA?” He asked.

“Sounds like your average Friday to me,” you replied, cracking your neck, downing the rest of your water and heading to the exam area.

Things went smoothly at first. Marta and Andrew divided the men up, each of them handling intake for half of the 100 or so troops FEDRA was sending in from other QZs and training facilities. Then, the men went back to the exam area where you and the other doctors and nurses did quick exams and sent them on their way. You were on your 14th exam when you knocked once on the exam room door and went inside, without paying much mind to the name on the chart. “Hello,” you said, opening the file. “I’m…”

“I remember you.”

You looked up. Your stomach clenched. You had to swallow to keep from vomiting. Your heart pounded. Your hands shook. It took everything you had to not run.

You looked down at the file in your trembling hands, skipping over the first name and going to the last, even though it was burned in your memory, just like his face.

McCarthy.

“Always wondered if you’d made it through,” he smirked at you. “You look good, hardly know it’d been 12 years. How old were you then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your throat was dry. “I’m just here to do a quick exam.”

“Oh, c’mon now, I know what we had was more memorable than that,” he said, looking you up and down. Your stomach turned. “Know it was for me. You had… Well let’s just say, been looking for a girl to measure up since.”

“I just need to take some vitals,” you managed, getting the blood pressure cuff off the wall.

You barely remembered taking his vitals. Everything sounded like a high pitched whine, you could hardly hear or register anything he said. You were hyper aware of the feel of everything in your body, of every blood vessel, every muscle, every function. Breathing took conscious effort. So did blinking, swallowing. All you wanted to do was throw up.

After what felt like an eternity, you stepped back from him.

“You’re all set, Officer McCarthy,” you said.

“Have to look you up now that I’ll be in town,” he smirked. “Good to know that I can just start here.”

You knew your eyes must look like dinner plates, so wide and afraid. He seemed to like that.

“See you around, Doc.”

He winked, closing the door behind him. The second he was out of the room, you locked the door and doubled over the trashcan, throwing up. Your body just rejected everything you’d eaten that day, coughing and choking in its rush to expel it.

You’d spent the last 12 years pretending that McCarthy didn’t exist. That it had never happened. When he came to mind, you tried to shove the thoughts down, tried to avoid them, deny that there was anything to think about to begin with.

You rinsed your mouth out in the sink and tried to keep your tears under control before you rushed out of the exam room to find Dr. Lee.

Thankfully, he was just stepping out of an exam room when you did.

“Lee,” you said quickly. “I need you to cover for me, I have to go home.”

He groaned.

“Come on, we’re slammed…”

“I know,” you said, looking up at him. “But how often do I ask to go home early? I have to go home, I can’t…”

He looked at you and frowned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get out of here.”

You all but sprinted for the door and out into the sun. You took moment when you got outside, doubling over with your hands on your knees to catch your breath before starting your walk home. You needed to curl up under your blanket, feel safe in your own space. It seemed like you might snap in half if you didn’t. You’d just started to calm down, to get your heart to stop racing, when McCarthy stepped out from an alley and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down it with him.

You froze as he put your back against the wall, his arms caging you in.

“Now I know you remember me, pretty thing,” he smirked. “I’m the guy who saved your life, the lives of those kids you were with, you wouldn’t forget a guy like me…”

“You have me confused with someone else,” you could barely talk. He ran his nose over your cheek, smelling you.

“Bet you still feel the same,” he said. “Bet I could find out…”

“Please,” you choked. “I just…”

“Hey!”

Suddenly McCarthy’s body was pulled away from yours and Joel was in front of you.

“The fuck is this?” He asked, facing McCarthy. Your hand went to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt, desperate to get your heart to slow down. “Because it looked an awful lot like you were hasslin’ this girl.”

“No trouble,” he said. “Just… an old friend. We go way back, all the way back to the outbreak. Don’t we, Sugar?”

Joel looked over his shoulder to you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Joel snapped. “Catch you botherin’ her again you’ll regret it.”

“Careful who you talk to,” McCarthy tried to step up to him, but Joel had several inches on him. “Probably don’t want to piss off a FEDRA officer.”

“I don’t give a shit who I piss off,” he growled. “Get the fuck out.”

He stood there and watched him go before he turned to you.

“Hey, Baby,” he said gently, reaching for you. You flinched back, your stomach turning.

“Please don’t touch me,” you managed.

“I just want to help…” he began but you cut him off.

“I know,” you said. “But just… don’t touch me, please don’t touch me, just don’t touch me…”

“Won’t touch you,” he said, hands up. “Promise.”

You nodded quickly, trying to not hyperventilate.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked, standing close enough that he could catch you if you fell, far enough that you didn’t feel like you needed to cower away from him. You managed to shake your head. “Want me to get someone? Like Andrew or Jess or… I could get Tommy.”

You just shook your head again, holding onto the wall, trying desperately to ground yourself. Joel hovered, watching you.

“I’ll be fine,” you glanced up at him. “You don’t need to stay…”

“Not going to just leave you here like this,” he said, voice gruff. “Especially if you won’t tell me why.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, standing up straight and leaning back against the wall. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and focusing on your diaphragm, pushing it low in your stomach to draw as much air into your lungs as you could. You breathed out slowly.

“You left work early for it,” he said. You lifted your head off the wall and opened your eyes, looking at him. He shrugged. “I try to stay away from you. Usually safe over here right now.”

You scoffed a little.

“Didn’t know I made it unsafe for the big bad smuggler,” you tried to smile but you weren’t sure that it worked. Judging from Joel’s expression, it didn’t. “Really, it’s fine. I’m just going to go home, have a drink, put on some music. Maybe take a bath. I’m fine.”

“Who was the asshole?” He asked.

You winced.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Joel,” you said. “I just really don’t, OK? Please don’t make me. And please don’t say anything to anyone about it, I’d just rather pretend this never happened, OK?”

“Tell me who he is and I’ll drop it,” he said. “Won’t tell anyone.”

You searched his face for a moment.

It had been a long time since you’d been this close to Joel. Probably since the night you’d walked him back to the QZ with his broken leg.

It hadn’t been as complete of a shut out as the year before, at least. Not this time. You’d occasionally bumped into him when out running errands. He’d give you a nod of acknowledgement, which was better than you’d really expected. He’d come into the clinic once - you saw him in the waiting room - but Andrew put him with another doctor. You’d even seen him once at his apartment. You’d come by when Tommy said to meet him there, he’d said not to worry about Joel. But Joel came home as you stood in his living room, waiting for Tommy to grab the last of whatever it was he needed for whatever it was you were going to do - you’d since forgotten all that, too distracted by seeing Joel. He’d just stood there for a second, frozen, looking at you. You’d smiled tightly at him. He just went to his room, brushing past Tommy on his way by.

His hair was starting to gray, but otherwise, he looked the same as he had for as long as you’d known him. His picture was still on your bedside table. You slipped it into a drawer if you were having Tommy over or you were seeing someone but outside of that, you had a reminder of what he looked like before beside you all the time. It still killed you to look at him, made your heart ache with missing him and who he was to you once.

In spite of everything that had happened between you, you didn’t think he would hurt you on purpose.

“I don’t know his first name,” you said, looking down at his feet. “His last name is McCarthy.”

You managed to look back at his face.

“Please, Joel,” you begged. “Don’t tell anyone, please don’t tell anyone. I just want to pretend like it never happened and I can’t… if people know I…”

You were starting to hyperventilate again. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to take a deep breath and hold it for a moment before releasing it slowly. You looked back at Joel.

“I’ll do just about whatever you want, just please don’t tell anyone,” you said quietly.

“Won’t tell anyone,” he said.

You nodded, relieved.

“I’m walkin’ you home though,” he frowned. “In case that fucker shows up again.”

You just nodded, not feeling up for fighting with him. You tried to gather yourself for a moment and then started off, Joel staying an almost awkward distance from you as you made your way through the QZ. Like he wanted to be close but not so close that he might risk accidentally touching you or have someone thinking you were walking anywhere together. He didn’t say anything, just looked over at you every minute or two like you were a bomb he was expecting to explode.

“Thank you,” you said, stopping at the communal door to your building. “I appreciate your help with him. I wasn’t prepared for that, I will be now.”

He just nodded gruffly.

“It was…” you paused. “I don’t know if good to see you is the right word but… It was nice. Seeing you.”

He paused, looking you over for a moment.

“You too.”

He crossed his arms, watching you. It took you a second to realize that he was waiting for you to go inside. You opened the door.

“Night, Joel.”

“Night, Kid.”

***

Joel waited until you were inside to go lean against the building opposite yours, in an alcove where he was tucked away and largely out of sight. He was pretty certain this McCarthy fucker hadn’t followed you but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Whatever that asshole had done, it was bad. Joel had only ever seen you that horrified once, when a raider had his hand around your throat. The way you’d panicked when he’d reached for you…

He ground his teeth. He needed to know what this man did to you so he could make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Joel stood sentry outside your apartment for hours. After the clinic closed, he saw Andrew go up, but he was only there for a few minutes. You must have lied to him, he doubted he would have left if you’d told him the truth of it. He waited until curfew was only minutes away and went home, making it inside just in time.

“Out late,” Tommy observed, sitting on the couch.

“Got held up,” he said.

“Trade go bad?” He asked.

“Turned out OK,” Joel replied.

Tommy didn’t press. He wondered if you’d ever told Tommy whatever had happened. The two of you had stayed close after breaking up, you might have told him something you’d never told Joel…

He could think of just one person who would almost certainly know. McCarthy had mentioned the outbreak. Andrew must know, must have some idea.

Tommy went to bed but Joel stayed up. He’d told you that he wouldn’t tell anyone. You’d begged him not to tell anyone. But he needed to keep you safe and to do that, he needed to understand the threat. But what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

The moment curfew lifted in the morning, Joel was out the door, walking quickly to Andrew’s. He had to pound on the door a few times and it took a few minutes for him to answer, looking half asleep.

“Miller,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Thought I wouldn’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

“McCarthy,” Joel said quickly. “FEDRA guard. Name mean anything to you?”

Andrew’s eyes went wide for a moment before he grabbed Joel by the shoulder and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him.

“Where’d you hear that name,” he asked. He looked wide awake now.

“Not important,” Joel said. “Who is he. What’d he do to her.”

“He here?” Andrew growled.

“Tell me what he did.”

He looked Joel up and down before he laughed darkly.

“God, you never even tried with her, did you?” He asked. “To busy with your own shit so she never told you…”

“What did he do.”

Andrew glanced down the hall, making sure Jess was still asleep and looked back to Joel, his voice low.

“He fucking raped her is what he did,” he spat. Joel’s stomach twisted. “She’s never called it that, she never calls it anything. She likes to pretend it never happened but that’s what it was.”

“What happened.” Joel’s teeth were clenched. His whole body was coiled like a spring. He needed to hit something, the energy and rage needed to go somewhere.

“We came to a check point,” Andrew said. “Two guards, both armed, three of us. I was a kid, I was 18 but I was a kid and Jessica… She was trying to take care of us. They had guns and he told her the way to get through, made it clear he’d start shooting if she didn’t listen. She gave me the gun, told me to protect Jessica, he took her to the woods… She never told me what happened, she never talked about it. She just came out different. I should have fucking killed him, I should have shot him the second she gave me the gun…”

Joel felt like he was going to be sick. He’d left you. You’d been alone with two children and his child inside you and you’d been forced…

“Where is he?” Andrew snarled. “I’m going to rip him apart…”

“One of us needs to be there for her and it can’t be me,” Joel replied. “Needs to be you. She trusts you. You take care of her, I’ll take care of him.”

Andrew looked like he wanted to fight him for it but eventually he gave him just a single, stiff nod. Joel turned to leave before he turned back to him.

“Pretend you don’t know,” he said. “Promised I wouldn’t say anything but… Couldn’t protect her if I didn’t know what I was protecting her from.”

“When are you doing it?” Andrew asked.

“Today,” he said. “I’m going to hers now, make sure he doesn’t show up. I’ll get her to work OK and take care of him, dump him somewhere tonight.”

“He shows up at the fucking clinic and I’ll kill him,” Andrew said, his voice eerily calm. “I don’t give a shit.”

Joel nodded once. This was the first time he remembered ever really liking Andrew. He could leave you in his hands at the clinic and you would be safe, that he knew.

He all but ran to your apartment, leaning against the building across from yours, waiting for you to come downstairs. He’d been waiting for about an hour when he spotted you. You’d French braided your hair, like you were expecting a long day. You hadn’t put on ribbons.

He caught you quickly.

“Good morning,” he said, falling into step beside you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“Making sure you get to work safe,” he said. You clearly hadn’t slept, you looked exhausted.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, continuing on. Joel walked beside you. You frowned at him again but didn’t argue the point. He walked you to the front door of the clinic in silence, you just giving him a tight smile and a small wave before going inside. Joel found a spot near the door he could wait, make sure McCarthy didn’t come in before Andrew got there.

Andrew spotted him on his way in, stepping over to him and keeping his voice low.

“He probably came in with the transfer guards that showed up yesterday,” he said quietly.

“Temp housing,” Joel said.

“Exactly,” Andrew replied. He looked Joel up and down. “Good luck, Miller.”

With your friend on site, Joel finally felt safe leaving you.

Moving to hurt the man who hurt you quickly eased the tightness in his chest. He may have failed you 12 years ago but he wasn’t going to fail you now.

He went home and got supplies. He didn’t intend to make McCarthy’s death easy. He needed to make sure he had what he needed to make it worthwhile.

Joel stood at the edge of the small market that was near the temporary housing for FEDRA employees. He figured McCarthy would need to come through here at some point. He was right.

Shortly after noon, McCarthy came through the stands, pondering what there was to buy. Joel waited until precisely the right moment, reaching out and grabbing the man by his collar and pulling him into a darkened alleyway. He yelped but it wasn’t loud and it didn’t take the man long to recognize Joel.

“You again,” he smirked. “Here to apologize?”

“Here for information,” he growled. “What did you do to her.”

“To who?” The man smirked challenging him.

It was a dumb move. Joel was so mad he couldn’t see straight. He grabbed the man by the throat and thrust him into the wall, hard enough to make him cough and choke.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

Now, the man just looked scared. He punched McCarthy hard across the face, enough to knock him out, and slung him over his shoulder, moving quickly for the abandoned building he’d spotted earlier.

He ducked inside, going for an interior room where his screams wouldn’t be heard.

There was a chair in the room, and old folding one. He tied the man to the chair and smacked him to bring him around.

“What the fuck?” He looked around, straining against his ties, his eyes wide. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with…”

“I know exactly who I’m fucking with,” Joel said. “I think it’s you who doesn’t know.”

He pulled out his knife and took the second chair and pulled it up close to McCarthy’s, getting right in his face.

“Tell me what you did to her,” Joel said.

“Look,” he said quickly. “It was the outbreak…”

Joel sighed, opening the knife and shoving it into the man’s thigh. He screamed, doubling over as well as he could given his bonds. Joel smiled.

“You’re going to tell me what you did to her,” he said. “I want to know it all. Tell me what you did to her.”

“Please,” he whimpering now. “I swear…”

Joel pulled a pair of pliers from his pocket. He held McCarthy’s head still as the man started begging and pleading. It fell on deaf ears. He pressed the pliers around his one of his middle teeth and pulled.

It felt good, expending energy this way. He was taking action, doing something. It didn’t even feel like he needed to pull that hard.

McCarthy screamed, blood pouring from his mouth. Joel gave him a moment to catch his breath, watching him bleed. He liked his blood. He wanted to see more of it.

“What did you do to her?” He asked through clenched teeth.

“She wanted it!” He sobbed.

“Wrong answer,” Joel ripped the knife from his leg and thrust it into his shoulder. The man screamed again. “What did you do to her.”

“Took her into the woods!” He screamed, panting for breath. Joel gave him a minute to pant. He could wait.

After a minute he spoke again.

“How did you get her to the woods, McCarthy?” He asked. The man’s eyes glistened with tears.

“I…” his voice cracked. “I told her I could give them a code to get through the other checkpoints in exchange…”

“In exchange for what?” Joel patted the man’s knife wound on his leg. He cried out again.

“In exchange for sex!” He cried out. “I told her I’d trade sex for safe passage, said I didn’t know the next time I’d see a woman, I didn’t want to waste it…”

“Did you have a gun?” Joel asked. The man looked confused. He grabbed his face, holding his cheeks harshly in his fingers, forcing him to look at Joel. “When you told her you’d trade for sex, did you have a gun?”

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Yes, I had a gun…”

“So you threatened her,” he said. “You threatened her and the children she was with.”

“No,” he man moaned. “That’s not… I swear, it wasn’t like that…”

Joel sighed and pulled the knife from the man’s shoulder before he thrust it into his uninjured leg. McCarthy wailed.

“I threatened her!” He panted, gasping. “I knew what I was doing, I wanted her and knew how I could get it so I threatened her…”

“And you took her into the woods,” Joel said. The man nodded. “With your gun.” He nodded again. “What did you do then?”

“Told her to get undressed,” he groaned. “Told her she had great tits… once she was naked, told her to lie down…”

He choked and cried. Joel sighed, reaching over and smacking his face, forcing him to look at him.

“Then what,” Joel’s voice was harsh.

“I…” he swallowed. He looked terrified. “I got on top of her…” His voice broke. “Please….”

“What. Next.”

“I put my dick in her,” he groaned. He was crying now. “I fucked her…”

“That’s not what you did, is it?” Joel grabbed his hair, holding his face close to his own. “Call it what it was McCarthy!” He screamed it. “What did you do to her!”

“I raped her,” he sobbed it out. Joel released his hair.

“Where’d you touch her,” he asked. He looked confused. “You touched her when you raped her, right? Where.”

“Her chest,” he sniffed. “Hips, waist…”

Joel remembered the parts of you that made you freeze when he touched them, parts of you that never made you freeze before. He wasn’t sure you even knew you did it. Now he knew why.

“That it?” Joel asked. He nodded. “You cum in her?”

“Please…”

Joel pulled the knife from his leg.

“You don’t seem to fucking get it,” he growled, getting in his face. “I like hurting you. I want to hurt you. I don’t need much reason to but you saying please? Makes me want to hurt you more. I want to fucking flay you alive every time I hear you beg. So answer the goddamn question,” Joel thrust the knife into McCarthy’s other shoulder. “Or I will do what I want.”

“Yes!” He cried it out. “I did, I came in her…”

Joel sat back, panting for breath for a moment, looking McCarthy up and down. He was covered in blood. He was weak, slumped over like he couldn’t hold himself up.

Joel wasn’t done with him.

“You know she was pregnant when you did that?” He asked. McCarthy lifted his head just enough to look at Joel. He shook his head. “Well, she was. With my kid.”

He stood up, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“I wasn’t there to protect her then,” he said, flexing his fingers before curling them into fists. “But I am now. Can’t let you live with what you did, McCarthy. I have to kill you for her. But when I make it hurt? That’s for me.”

He swung, punching him in the middle of his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

“And I’m going to like it.”

***

The clinic had been fairly quiet that day, quiet enough that your mind wandered to places you didn’t want it to.

Andrew was no help. He was oddly withdrawn, only really responding when prompted, not initiating much conversation himself. But he didn’t fight you when you put on Joni Mitchell, so you were taking what you could get. You were dreading going home but didn’t have a reason to tell Andrew you wanted to sleep over, either. You were debating about how up front you wanted to be when there was yelling outside the clinic.

“Help!” Someone screamed. You looked to Andrew for just half a second before running for the doors.

Two FEDRA soldiers were hauling in a third man, holding him by his underarms and knees, the man’s body totally limp. He was so covered in blood you were almost certain he couldn’t still be breathing.

“Jesus Christ,” you said before yelling over your shoulder. “Kristen! Trauma!” You turned your attention back to the men. “What happened?”

“Don’t know,” one said. “Just found him like this, he transferred in with us there’s no way someone here hates him enough to do this yet…”

“Let’s get him back,” you said, Kristen running up to you as you headed back toward the exam rooms and the surgical suite. “We need O-, a lot of it…” She glanced around you to the injured man.

“Not sure that’ll make a damn difference,” she said but she ran to obey.

“We’ll start him in an exam room,” you said quickly. “Want to try to maintain a sterile area in the OR but I’m sure we’ll need it…”

They carried him into the exam room and lifted him onto the table. You quickly washed your hands and gloved up before diving in, looking the man over. Kristen ran in with the O- and quickly hung it as you cleaned up a place on his arm to start a transfusion.

“Do you even know who this is?” You asked the men who carried him in. The man’s face was beaten beyond any kind of recognition. His lower lip was barely hanging on, eyes swollen shut, nose crushed.

“He had his dog tags,” one man said. “It’s Lewis McCarthy…”

You froze, your stomach twisting. Your head spun.

“Doc, I don’t think we can do much here,” Kristen said from McCarthy’s side. “He’s lost so much blood…”

“We should try,” you said, on autopilot. You tried to find the worst injuries on the man. He was missing teeth. He’d been stabbed numerous times. His whole body was covered in blood and bruises, not a single inch of him left unscathed. You swallowed before pulling down his pants to see what might be on his legs when you saw it.

“Oh my God,” you jumped back from the table and into Andrew, who’d come into the exam room at some point and you hadn’t noticed. He caught you.

“What?” Kristen asked before looking herself. “Oh!”

She jumped back, too.

Where McCarthy’s penis had been, there was nothing. Just an open wound. One of the men who brought him in gagged and ran for the trash can, throwing up. You stared at it, the place where the part of him he’d weaponized against you had been torn away. Andrew held onto you.

“We’re losing him,” Kristen said, her hand on his neck. “Doc, I don’t think… there’s nothing we can do here, there’s nothing we can do with this.”

You nodded, shaking as Andrew kept you upright. He looked to the men.

“You should go,” he said. “Don’t need to see this.”

They nodded, trembling as they left.

“I’ll go get a bag,” Kristen said, staring wide eyed at him. “Stuff to start clean up…”

She left you and Andrew alone with the body.

“Andrew,” you whispered. “Did you talk to Joel?”

“He had questions,” he said, voice flat.

“Oh my God,” you stared at the body. “What did he do?”

“The right thing,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “The right fucking thing.”

A/N: AHHHHHHH THE McCARTHY CHAPTER. I've been waiting for Joel to go off on him since chapter 8 and we finally got here. So satisfying to write, hopefully satisfying to read!

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