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foli-vora · 1 year

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once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job.

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him.

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin.

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you.

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches.

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him.

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!”

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon,

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back.

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick.

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen.

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen.

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch.

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy.

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last.

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family.

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

#joel miller x reader #joel miller f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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kisses4reid · 1 month

Text

convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid series

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cute-sucker · 3 days

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note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him.

the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room.

"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.

his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain.

"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something.

you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!"

he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm.

"rafe? please."

"no."

that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.

but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress.

the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great.

but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant.

how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.

finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany.

"i have to go."

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat.

urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him.

he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body.

"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in.

maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy.

the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed.

"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle.

finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart.

rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you.

finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay."

you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay.

rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms.

he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears.

"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes.

"you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.

you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby."

dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day.

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familyvideostevie · 23 days

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time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve.

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened.

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease.

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself.

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says.

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make.

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do.

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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hollyoongs · 6 days

Text

THANK YOU, JAKE ✦ S.JY

pairing tasp!jake x news intern!fem reader

summary when you told your friend about the challenge that your boss put you on in order to work on the company, which was taking a picture of the amazing Spider Man, Jake makes it come true.

genre fluff

warnings both of them like each other, cameo of Jay and Ri-Ki, everything is NYC and I tried to make it short for the other one that I'm planning to make it in the future <3

a/n I can finally get this one up here, I'll do the second part with smut, but Jake's fluff is already needed in this profile. This is my last little present for my em @cmoundiamante (and worst of all, it's late, but I blame my country for that :p), but I'm glad to finally publish it. I know you had an amazing time on your birthday and I want you to look at this little gift as something that can cheer you up for everything you've been through, I'll be there for you and I hope you like it very much. shout out to the editor of THIS Jake Spider-Man, my jupi @glitterjay and also to my lovely moot @ja3yun, this is the spidey!jake I was preparing ;)

wc +3.0k

It was one of those days where everything seemed to conspire against you. As you trudged through the bustling streets of New York City, your camera bag heavy on your shoulder, you couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The sweltering heat of the summer sun only added to your irritation as you made your way to the Daily Bugle, where you were interning as a photographer.

Your future boss, Mr. Jameson, was notorious for his gruff demeanor and demanding nature. Today seemed to be no exception, as he barked orders at the staff, his voice reverberating through the newsroom like thunder. Your friend, Jay, was massaging his forehead, and you couldn't help but go there first. He looked up to see you and gave you a tired smile.

"Rough already?"

"And it's not even 9 a.m." Jay spat in anger, and you opened your bag to give him some of the jelly you always carry around. He took them slightly happier, opening as he started talking again. "He's putting stupid challenges on everyone here. Rumor has it that he's getting jealous of the other newspaper company since they took the #1 place from us."

"Well, wish me luck." You braced yourself for another onslaught of criticism as you approached his desk, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Jameson said, his tone dripping with impatience. "I've got a special assignment for you."

You felt your heart sink at his words, knowing that whatever task he had in store would likely be arduous and thankless, just like Jay said. But you nodded, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

"I want you to get me a picture of Spider-Man," he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing in a challenging glare.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his request. Spider-Man? The elusive vigilante who swung through the city was a hero to some and a menace to others. Getting a photo of him in action was no small feat, and you knew it.

"But how am I supposed to…" you began, but Mr. Jameson cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't care how you do it; just get it done," he said firmly. "And make it front-page material, or you'll be out of your ear."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, you felt a wave of panic wash over you. How were you supposed to capture a photo of Spider-Man when you could barely catch a break in your own life? Desperation clawed at your chest as you racked your brain for a solution. He looked at Jay, and he was with his mouth open. She was simply screwed.

The hours passed slowly, and 7 o'clock of the night finally reached, which made you fly to the only place you find comfort at the moment. Shim Jake's place. Feeling all the weight on your shoulders, you sigh as you knock on the door. His aunt opens before your knuckles can touch the door.

"Hey darling… Oh no, bad day?" like a button, your eyes got watery, and she hugged you. You hold your tears as she loses you in the warm hug. "I'm going to buy food. Jake and Ni-Ki are in the room. I know what you like."

"You are truly the best, May."

"I know, darling. Go." She left you, and you entered the house, going directly to the Australian boy's room. You knocked, and you heard things falling.

"Who's it?"

"Who else, Ni-Ki? Come on, I had a bad day, and I need you guys."

"Hold on a second!" A few seconds passed, and Jake was the one who opened the door, his messy hair, sweat pant and big white shirt and hsi big glasses that made him look more handsome than usual in front of you. "Hey lensgirl, what's wrong?"

You went for a hug, this time with tears going down and your crying getting noticeable.

Jake was taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you pulled away slightly. "It's just… work," you managed to choke out between sobs. "Mr. Jameson… He wants me to get a photo of Spider-Man for the front page, and I- I don't know how to do it. I'm so screwed, Jake."

Jake's expression softened with understanding, though you had no idea just how much he truly understood. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated, guiding you to sit on his bed. "We'll figure it out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Ni-Ki, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from behind the doorframe. "Jake can help," he said, and you could feel Jake getting tense. You looked up to Ni-Ki.

"What?"

"Jake knows Spider-Man. You could get the picture." You open your eyes as your eyes travel again to Jake's.

"Since when?!" You practically shouted at him, and he gave a shy smile, which you loved, but the thought of him being friends with the hero and not telling you was in your mind.

"I'll tell you right after you clean and calm yourself. You know what? Go to the bathroom." As you were protesting, Jake obligated you to go inside. The boys went straight to the room and locked it, Jake basically punching Ni-Ki for opening his mouth.

"Are you being serious?! Why did you say that?"

"You know I'm fond of her, and I can't stand her crying. And also, I'm doing you a favor; you've liked her since forever, and with this, you can make a move. And you know that she loves Spider-Man. I consider this a win."

Jake's heart raced as he processed Ni-Ki's words. He couldn't deny the truth about them. He had harbored feelings for you for what felt like forever, but he never found the courage to act on them, and because of the sudden powers he got after being bite by a spider, the dangers were too much to the point he would rather die with the secret in order to keep you save. That's how much he loved you.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Keeping his identity as Spider-Man a secret was crucial, and now, with you unknowingly on the brink of discovering the truth, he felt the pressure mounting.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jake turned to Ni-Ki. "Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But we have to be careful. She can't know about this, Ni-Ki. It's too risky."

Ni-Ki nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I won't say anything else, I promise. Only you have to stay cool, you get to nervous around her. I'm surprise you're not right now" he assured Jake.

"Because someone open his mouth"

"Stop crying and be grateful. I pulled a move that you couldn't make for the past 4 years."

It has already been two days since that weird conversation and the explanation of Jake being friends with Spider-Man. It was so odd to you, but the most odd thing was when he told you by text, "I will send you the address where he's going to be."

And here you were, going into the alley for him to arrive. It was getting late, and you could feel your heart beating fast when you saw a few guys in there, cigars in their hands, their auras as bad as how they looked.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, which you ignored completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ignored the leering comments from the men in the alley. You clutched your camera bag tightly, feeling a surge of unease as you realized just how vulnerable you were in this dimly lit space.

Just as panic threatened to overtake you, a familiar sound cut through the tension—a whoosh of air followed by the distinct thud of impact. Before you could even process what was happening, Spider-Man descended from the shadows, landing gracefully in front of you with his trademark agility.

"Hey there, fellas," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't think the lady appreciates your company."

The men scoffed, eyeing Spider-Man with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And who are you supposed to be, huh?" One of them sneered, taking a step forward. You started taking your camera out of your bag, setting it up for a good shot, and to make it take as many photos as you could as both men focused on the hero.

Spider-Man's demeanor shifted subtly, his stance becoming more assertive as he addressed the group. "Let's just say I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I'm not too keen on seeing people hassle innocent bystanders, especially this pretty girl," he replied, his tone firm.

The men hesitated, sizing up the masked vigilante before them. But before they could make another move, Spider-Man sprang into action, his movements a blur of speed and precision. With calculated strikes and well-timed dodges, he swiftly incapacitated the would-be troublemakers, leaving them groaning on the ground in defeat.

You watched in awe as Spider-Man effortlessly dispatched the thugs, a surge of gratitude welling up inside you. Once the immediate threat had been neutralized, Spider-Man turned to you, his masked eyes meeting yours with a sense of warmth and reassurance. You took your camera and looked at the pictures, so many good enough to be front page material.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, his concern evident even behind the mask.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you in his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay," you stammered, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded before you. You felt some drops of water falling on your face, looking up at the sky and wondering if more drops were falling. "Damn it, it's raining."

"Then let me take you out of here." without a warning, his hand wrapped around your waist, both of your bodies covering the camera. "Hold on tight lensgirl," you frown at the nicknmae. There's only one person that could call you like that, but you couldn't think much of it as you held dear life to him as he swang you around places.

You ended up on your apartment building—in your balcony, to be more exact—and the roof kept both of you off the water, you went inside for a moment to leave the camera in your bed and return. He was hanging from the ceiling as you watched him, forcing you to believe that everything that happened in the past ten minutes was not a dream.

"Don't you want to stand up? So you don't get dizzy."

"I like it this way. Don't worry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem, that's my job."

"Because you're a hero," the masked guy sighs in front of you. making you feel slighty sad for it.

"Some people don't think so." and it was true, all the fake rumors to paint him as a bad guy made you think about how much free time all this people have to just tear the life of someone who really wants to help.

"But you are, at least I think that."

"It's nice to have a fan as pretty as you."

"Let me say thank you."

"But you already did."

"I meant the trip, not you saving me." You approached him more, and the sound of the rain at the back made the scene more lovely. Then slowly took the mask, only showing his lips. You were surprised by the familiar shape, making your mind go wild. No wonder Ni-Ki and Jake got nervous; no wonder Jake was the only one that could help you with the hero; and there's no wonder why he called you "Lensgirl."

Jake was Spider-Man.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you place your lips on his. The kiss was electrifying, a rush of emotions coursing through both of you as your lips met in a tender embrace. Raindrops fell softly around you, adding to the surreal moment as you shared this intimate connection with the masked hero who had just swept you off your feet—literally.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. Everything suddenly made sense—the mysterious conversations, the unspoken tension between you and Jake, even the strange nickname he had given you. It was all because he was Spider-Man, the hero you had admired from afar, and now he was the man whose lips were pressed against yours.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of you tangled together on that rooftop balcony.

"Thank you, Jake," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"Wait… how?"

"You let out "Lensgirl," and I've stared at your lips too much to actually know the shape," he finally dropped himself, taking off his mask completely, revealing his red cheeks and normal shy demeanor.

He actually searched your face for any sign of rejection. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "But I wanted to tell you, not in this way; I've got to learn to also shut my mouth up. I… I care about you more than you'll ever know."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his face in your hands, the weight of everything finally sinking in. "I care about you too, Jake," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just… I never imagined…"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jake leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you with a promise of something more.

With a smile on your lips and love in your heart, you leaned into Jake's embrace, letting the warmth of his touch chase away the chill of the night as you watched the city skyline glitter in the rain.

"Please write a good news about me."

"Trust me, you'll sure have it, Spidey."

"I just realized that I've to thank Ri-Ki, damn it."

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faretheeoscar · 2 months

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NEEDY MIGUEL pt 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, sex toys, brief mentions of sex, a form of voyerism (?), oral sex, Peter B. mini cameo that could lead to something else in the future

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel who was siting down on his desk having a bad morning after not sleeping enough last night, having to conduct meetings all morning leaving him in a very cranky mood.

Needy Miguel that shifted uncomfortable on his seat thinking about how today was another day when he was a coward and instead of trying to get closer to you, he sent you away on a 3 day mission

Needy Miguel that searching for one of his tools on his desk to occupy his mind in something else that wasn’t frustrating him more, notices a small gift on one of his drawers and inspects it, his face turning 5 shades redder as he opens the box and quickly tosses it back

Needy Miguel that is fuming in anger thinking about who could’ve pranked him that way, stuffing a sex toy on his desk? That was a very untaste full joke that made his blood boil.

Needy Miguel that overthinks and calls out for Lyla, she says to him that only one hand full of people had come to his office, she includes your name on that list and he quickly dismisses her, for him to be alone with his thoughts feeling a pressure tightening on his chest and his mind clouding.

Needy Miguel that stares at the toy and can’t stop thinking about the subtle looks you gave him that morning on the meeting, could it really be you that left him that in there? No, that was ridiculous, it was probably one of Parker’s jokes, he’d always be nagging him about not getting any action, and that he needed to blow off his frustrations some way, hinting to the two of them maybe… well thinking about that let’s not go that way, that’s a total different story for another day

Needy Miguel that reaches out for the toy and takes it out of the box, to inspect it, the toy looking so small against his big palms, he introduces one finger and his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head at the feeling of it.

Needy Miguel that quickly made disappear the crotch part of his suit as his hard rock cock spring out already leaking precum that will do as lube for now

Needy Miguel that slowly takes the toy and push his cock inside it groaning loudly at the sensation not even caring if anyone could hear him outside his office

Needy Miguel that made a mess of himself in less than 3 minutes just by the sensation of something different than his hand, and how the semitransparent small thing looked rolling against his thickness as it squeezed him hard cause it could barely fit around him

Needy Miguel that kept jerking himself with the toy even if he was sensitive and his thighs twitched by the overstimulation of it, cause for him one orgasm simply wasn’t enough

Needy Miguel that got the urge of having a visual aid and while still moving the toy up and down his length reached out for the footage of you before you left for the three day mission he sent you and zoomed in on his screen

Needy Miguel that whined desperately as he watched how your eyes were focusing on him the whole time he conducted the meeting, hips buckling up and thinking about how he’ll keep your eyes focused on him not letting you close them even if he rolled his girth so deep inside you that he would reach your cervix and make you both moan in need

Needy Miguel that let out short gaps of breath as he focused on stimulating his tip with the wrinkly parts of the toy as he saw your pretty face pouting when he said he was sending you away with other members that weren’t him.

Needy Miguel that started to think about how your lips would look around his cock, how they would stretch out due his thickness.

Needy Miguel that indulged better in that fantasy, imagining,the lingering stickiness of his previous load inside the toy, acting as if it was your saliva, how your tongue would lap over his tip to then take him fully.

Needy Miguel that started murmuring to himself praises he’d give to you as he saw you biting your lip on his screen while you payed attention to him on the meeting this morning.

“look at you princesa, taking me— so well”

Watching his cock disappear on the small hole of the toy picturing your stretching lips and how would you hallow your cheeks so suck him better

Needy Miguel that imagined how he’d take your head and bob it up and down his liking making you gag and plead silently for a breathing

“que bonita te ves, sucking my cock at work—-“

Needy Miguel that fastened his pace hips fully fucking the toy at the thought of how your warm throat would feel around him, when he’d fuck your mouth making tears roll down your cheeks, imagining how you’d drool for him.

“Coño cariño , keep on going, just like that”

Needy Miguel that kept on fantasising over you as he rolled his hips up sensually keeping himself on edge as his calls of your name resonated all over his office.

Needy Miguel that gasped for air as he felt his balls tightening making his eyes roll to the back of his head trying to suppress a moan biting his bottom lip and making a small cut to it with his fangs

Needy Miguel that looked down at his twitching member and how it spurt out ropes of cum all over his desk, as he stimulated it for a few more seconds before stopping

Needy Miguel who’s chest was lifting up and down uncontrollably and he let out a pathetic whine when he finally took his cock out of the pocket pussy to shove it back to the drawer.

Needy Miguel that started to feel the embarrassment of his actions and felt his anxiety creeping back up at him, but before he could close his eyes and lean back on his desk chair; saw a little white piece of paper shining on the back of the drawer

Needy Miguel who got confused when he saw a little note on the back of his desk drawer and his face turn white when he read that it was from you and quickly, went through his history of calls on his gizmo, noticing that as your note stated he had in fact called you in his alone time yesterday…

Needy Miguel that reached back down his crotch to feel his once again hardening cock to start to tug it again even though it hurt at this point by how hard he have been jerking off, reading the note over and over again, picturing your mischievous smile while you wrote it:

I enjoyed your call from last night…. I hope my little gift serves you better than your hand, that only until I get back to see you again ;)

Oh, you were a little brat…and he will show you the consequences of your little prank, but for now he’d probably just kept his office locked and forget about work for today due to his new entertainment source and your tease that will keep him hot and bothered.

Shock you’re gonna be the death of him

AN: Guys I gotta thank you for he overwhelming response to the first part of this thing!

It was supposed to be a one time dump of horny thoughts but I’m so grateful for y’all and hope you enjoyed this second one too!

Thanks again for the new 100 of y’all and over 1k numbers on the first part! 🫶🏼

PS: can’t stop imagining Miguel jerking off all day, god… so pathetic and hot 🥵

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spidersona

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cheolism · 2 months

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THE MONSTER IN THE CLOSET

✿ incubus!xu minghao x reader ❀ summary: there's nothing the demon in your closet loves more than when you fall asleep. inspiration from dpr ian's "don't go insane": that's when the lights turned on and you were just a lie. ✿ wc is approx. 2.5k ❀ genre: smut, incubus x reader ✿ warnings: an incubus is a demon that has sex with someone while they are sleeping. as such, be mindful that this fic has themes of dub-con and somnophilia; it is stated minghao cannot have sex with the reader unless they give consent, though they are still sleeping. possessiveness, jealousy, innocence kink, dark!minghao. fingering, body worship. if you do not like, do not read. ❀ rating: 18+. minors do not interact. ✿ note: cameos by seungcheol n ian ^^

he watches as you prepare for bed. you’re so cute about it; you’re wearing those fluffy pajama bottoms that warm your legs and trap heat between your thighs; your sleep shirt hangs loosely from your frame. you adjust your pillows and push back the blankets before climbing in, humming along to the song playing from your phone speakers.

you straighten out the blankets and pull them back over you, fitting them snugly around your form. no matter -- he can fix that later. for an hour he waits, watching. you watch some video on your phone, giggling softly every few minutes, brushing your hair back away from your face.

eventually, you set your alarm and push your phone to the corner of the bed. you stretch out, humming. then you pull up the blankets all the way to under your chin, concealing your body from him. again, no matter; that can be fixed.

it’s one of those nights where you fall asleep quickly. he watches as your breathing evens out, watches as your body fully relaxes back into the sheets. your face smooths out, sinking into a beautiful sort of innocence that makes his heart hammer in his chest.

you’re completely asleep

minghao moves from the closet, though he doesn’t press open the door and the floor doesn’t protest beneath his weight as he moves to your bed. he’s been in this apartment long enough that it’s accepted him as part of itself. it does not reveal him from behind the closet door, does not squeak beneath his bare feet as he walks. minghao is part of the apartment, now, just as it is him.

if he has his way -- and he will -- you will follow suit.

you’re cute, he thinks again. your jaw is slack from sleep, and every few minutes your lashes flutter like butterfly wings. he wonders what you’re dreaming about.

minghao reaches, and -- there it is, there’s your dream. you’re running through a department store with someone he doesn’t know -- and again he reaches -- ah, a high school classmate you haven’t seen since graduation. minghao watches as you grab a stuffed elephant off of the shelf. it’s a vivid violet. you turn to talk to someone and this time it’s just a face your dreams have conjured up. you look back to your arms, but the stuffed elephant had somehow fallen from your grasp and onto the floor. you reach down and pick it up, squeezing it.

how cute.

minghao couldn’t help but chuckle. you were so adorable, so innocent. your daydreams, though out of his realm of control, are ones he often finds himself enamored in. your daydreams are filled with a quaint house with flower boxes underneath its windows, of a lawn with green grass and a bird feeder so you can watch the cardinals and sparrows.

the last one daydreamed about a penthouse apartment and gucci purses. they hadn’t been as simple as you, as innocent. they weren’t as delicious to take.

minghao kneels onto the bed, the blankets shifting beneath him. you have the weighted blanket you got for christmas thrown over your duvet. his fingers twitch. minghao likes the weighted blanket just as much as he likes those fluffy pajama bottoms, likes how it traps heat, likes how drowsy it makes you, likes how much easier it makes it for him to take control.

minghao settles on your thighs. he can’t see the shape of you due to the blankets, but it was fine. more often than not you end up stumbling into the bedroom half naked or, delightfully, entirely naked, and he can just get his fill of you then.

he pushes his hands through the blankets. just as he had presumed, your body is warm. he doesn’t yet push through your pajama bottoms. instead, minghao takes his time. he runs his hands down along your arms, grabs your hands and pushes them up to be level with your shoulders.

your dream shifts according to his touch. there’s a man, now -- minghao wrinkles his nose in disgust. you never dreamt of him, of course; you couldn’t see him. you never have seen him. you can’t dream of him because you have never seen him. he can influence your dreams, sure; can fuck your cunt and your dreams will follow suit. your dreams will respond to what’s happening to you, but because your eyes are shut and you’ll never ever see him, he’ll just have to deal with the fact that as he smooths his hands down over your arms that you imagine some tall and handsome man with thick dark brows and plump lips.

he hovers, dropping his face in front of yours. he takes you in. he tries to remember the exact color of your eyes, tries to imagine what they would look like as he bears down on you.

minghao hums, voice dark and deep. “how’s this feel, angel? hm?”

you sigh in your sleep. your lashes flutter. you turn your face, unknowingly, towards him.

“this okay?” he trails his fingers down over your stomach. “this all okay, sweetheart?”

you hum, a slight noise.

minghao huffs. “you have to be clear with me, angel. it’s been months of doing this -- you know what you have to do by now.”

your dream shifts. the man shifts. he’s broad and lean, tanned skin and black hair that hangs around his face. he’s covered in tattoos, from the base of his neck to the tips of his fingers. he’s pushing down against you, large hands running over your body.

your dream self mirrors your real self. you arch up into minghao’s touch, another sigh leaving your lips. softly, like the kiss of an angel, you breathe out a sweet “yes”.

his body hums, coming alive. he can feel adrenaline and power sink into him, can feel his cells and blood come alive and throb. you’ve given your consent for the night, given your consent to be his.

which means he can take.

minghao lets out a breathy moan, and then he’s tucking his face into your neck. your skin is warm and smells like your body soap. he moves his hands along your body. he brushes past your sleep shirt, feeling your tits. he cups each of them, holding their perfectly heavy weight in his hands. you’re so warm all over, and your tits are no exception; they’re slightly sweaty from the heat trapped by your shirt and blankets. minghao shifts your tits in his hands, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your under boob, relishing in the velvet feel, in the heat.

some nights when you don’t want to fuck he just does this. just holds your tits, let their weight ground him. just pretends. pretends he wasn’t trapped to this bedroom, pretends your innocent, wide-eyed looks were for him and no one else.

but you gave your consent, and so --

and so his hands eventually smooth down your torso. he lays along your body, just feeling. some nights you get impatient when he does this, when he feels you for ages before fucking you. tonight, however, you sigh and seem to bloom beneath his touch.

his little flower, minghao thinks. his little precious angel, his sweet little flower.

minghao moves his hands further and further down your body. your knees shift beneath the blankets, knocking against him. he reaches -- you are faintly aware of there being pressure in your cunt, aware of the want that thrums through your body and seems to electrify your cunt, despite being asleep.

his hands press against the hem of your pajamas. minghao runs his hands along the furry fabric. in your dream the man is pressing between your legs, hands smoothing over your bare thighs.

minghao pushes between your thighs. you move just enough for him to fit, but it’s tight. no matter. he likes it when you’re tight.

he slides one of his hands between your thighs. fuck -- if it was warm beneath your tits it was practically a heavenly blaze here, heat trapped and that electricity in your cunt, that lust, bubbling out and into him.

you shifted again, thighs squeezing tight around his hand. he can feel it when you clench them, knows you’re clenching your cunt to try and alleviate some of that pure want.

“poor angel,” minghao murmurs, “filled with so much lust. so sweet and innocent, so fucking needy.”

he sinks his hand forward, and then his fingers are pressing through your pants and underwear and sliding between the lips of your cunt. you were absolutely soaked, drenched in your pussy juices. minghao wonders if you would be humiliated by how wet you are just from him touching you.

minghao pushes his hand just so, two of his fingertips slipping into your cunt. immediately you’re clenching, hips grinding down and searching for more relief.

minghao drops his head against your chest, muffling his laughter. no one has ever been as reactive to his touch as you. he loves it. he adores you.

he moves his free hand to your cunt. he doesn’t move his fingers in your cunt, keeping them just barely in your hole. you’re getting desperate -- he can feel it, can feel the desperation begin to color your soul and your dream. but then he presses his thumb against your clit, against that slick little bundle of nerves, and your mouth is dropping open and a loud moan bubbles out of your throat.

minghao laughs, not bothering in being quiet. you won’t wake up anyways. you’re so loud and needy despite this all being, to you, a dream, despite him not being something tangible to you. he wonders what you would be like if he could really touch you, wonders if you would scream and cry under his touch as easily as you moan and whimper now.

for a few minutes he just watches, eyes greedily taking you in. in real life, on your bed, your hips shift minutely, not enough to fuck yourself on his hand but enough for your clit to slide against his finger. in your dream the man is teasing you, fingertips just barely fucking into your cunt, and you’re so desperate.

it’s so sweet. you’re so sweet. minghao wishes he could just have a bite --

he slides his fingers into your cunt entirely. your pussy is warm and wet and even though he’s never stepped foot into heaven he knows it’s not as good as your cunt. you squeeze around his fingers and he wants, desires, lusts, yearns so much.

your pussy walls are tight around his fingers, clenching down. he knows, instinctively, were your core is. minghao fucks into your cunt with his fingers, striking that spot every time, his thumb flicking against your clit in rhythm.

and fuck, you’re so cute. you’re whining in your dream, whimpering; small moans escape your lips in real life. your thighs are tight around him, and your cunt begins squeezing down on his fingers so tightly that he can barely move them --

and he wants so badly for it to be his cock in your cunt.

minghao withdraws his fingers, slides three back in. your head tosses against your pillow. in your dream you’re moaning loudly, high and keening. you’re so beautiful and perfect, lust coursing through your veins and seeping out your cunt and minghao feels high, feels your want seeping into his veins and power stirring in his gut.

you give him power like no one else; you deserve a reward.

minghao pushes your thigh up and over his shoulder, fingers pressing into your flesh. he presses his face against your pussy, breathing in. you smell so wonderful here, too. he just wants to bask in it, wants to keep his face here, against your pussy, for millennia.

he doesn’t, though. eventually minghao runs his tongue up your cunt, from where his fingers are wedged in your pussy hole still to your clit. you shiver underneath him. in your dream you’re begging for the man, hands twisting in the sheets.

it’s a curse, sometimes, he thinks. minghao thinks it’s a curse that he can see how you’re reacting to his ministrations in your dreams, can see how you whine and beg and cry. he can see how you would react to him. but he can also see how even though you’re asleep your body, your real body, the one that’s asleep, still responds to him, pleasure so great that even subconsciously you’re seeking him out.

minghao sucks at your clit, tongue rubbing against it. you whine softly, head turning against your pillow once more. your whines are so cute, you’re so cute.

he moves his fingers in and out, in and out, of your pussy as he sucks at your clit. you push against his face. he can feel your walls flutter around his fingers, he can feel, knows, how your orgasm is beginning to build and build. the desire in you is so thick that he can taste it, both literally and figuratively, and it seeps underneath his skin.

minghao begins kissing your clit the same way he would kiss your mouth if he could. he mouths against your clit, runs his tongue over it and suckles. in your dream you’re becoming frantic; on the bed you’re desperately clenching around his fingers, trying to grind down, trying to reach it, trying to throw yourself off the cliff and fall into the ocean, trying to chase your orgasm.

you’re so beautiful, minghao thinks. he wants you, he wants to so fucking much. he wanted you last night and wants you tonight and tomorrow night and every night for the rest of your fucking life, he wants to devour you and trap you, wants to feel your flesh in his hands and your pussy juices on his tongue for the rest of eternity, he fucking wants --

there’s a loud banging noise as one of the stupid neighbors drops something in the apartment above you.

you flinch -- you, on the bed, flinch, and then you’re awake.

minghao is flung from your dream. he can no longer touch you. he’s still thrumming with power, from the lust your body had given him, but he knows it’s not enough, knows that he’s still so fucking hungry for you.

he wants to fucking kill those assholes in the apartment above you as you push back the blankets and toss your feet over the side of the bed. you’re frowning, and he watches as you tilt your hips downward and rut against the bed.

“oh,” you say, blinking. minghao watches from the bed as you stand, going to your dresser. he knows what’s there -- knows the vibrant gel dildo you keep -- and he thinks for a split moment that this isn’t so bad, that he’ll at least get to watch you fuck yourself.

but then you hum and move past the dresser and into the hall, where he can’t follow.

and minghao seethes with rage at your orgasm being ripped from his hands. your lust gives him power and your orgasms even more so, and beyond that he just wants to see you cry as an orgasm comes over you.

he stands up from the bed, bare feet against the cold floor. he walks back to the closet, sinking into the darkness.

ah, well. he’ll just have to try tomorrow.

#— jupiter writes #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt oneshot #seventeen oneshot #the8 #svt #seventeen #the8 smut #the8 oneshot #xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao oneshot #minghao smut #minghao oneshot

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jgracie · 13 days

Text

LOVE GROWS (WHERE MY ROSEMARY GOES) — PERCY + CHILD OF DEMETER

masterlist | rules

❝ Hiya,can i request if you have time,Percy dating a Demeter kid?Thank you💕 ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a child of demeter

pairing percy jackson x demeter!reader

warnings me projecting as a child of demeter LOL, one swear word

on the radio . . . love grows (where my rosemary goes) (edison lighthouse)

an never stop requesting demeter!reader guys (i live vicariously through her) also this features another travis cameo LOL him and percy are bffs in my head ALSO the watering can thing is inspired by stardew valley i cannot wait for the day i get to upgrade to sprinklers

Percy’s never been a morning person. However, he has been forced awake at ungodly times due to nightmares

This was one of those times. He could barely remember what the dream was about, all he knew was that it was bad enough for him to wake with a start, his body drenched in sweat as he tried to recollect himself

Looking over at the clock on his bedside table, Percy could barely make out the time: 5:35AM. Well, there was no point going back to sleep now. Even if he did, he’d probably just be visited by nightmares again

So, Percy slipped the nearest t-shirt on and left his cabin, unsure of where he was heading - maybe the beach to cool off? Who knows, he was in disarray. The worst dreams were always the ones you couldn’t remember, the fear of them possibly being important haunting your day

Suddenly, Percy smelt a comforting scent waft through the air. He’d never smelt anything like that before. It couldn’t be ambrosia or nectar - while they both had good scents, they weren’t half as strong as this one. What could it be?

He decided to follow his instinct and find where the smell was coming from. Which led him to cabin 4

Despite it being right across from his own, Percy never paid cabin 4 much attention. Not until now

He continued following the scent and ended up at the back of the cabin, where there was a huge garden filled with what Percy believed to be the most appetising fruits and vegetables he’s ever seen. To the side, there was a greenhouse, where he could see the silhouette of a person

Curious, Percy made his way over to the greenhouse. He’d never spoken to a Demeter kid before, but he’d heard of your nurturing nature and kind hearts in passing

“It’s okay, Cassie, you can go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise,” Percy heard a voice say, stopping in his tracks. Deciding to take a peek, he found himself facing an angel

You were rocking a young girl who seemed to be six years old at most back to sleep in your arms. Wherever you went, the flowers in the greenhouse bloomed brighter, gravitating towards you and wrapping their stems around your arms, almost as if they were vying for your attention

The girl’s face was tear-streaked, but she nodded, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You smiled and ran your fingers through her hair, praying to your mother that she wouldn’t have another nightmare

You hated when the younger kids got nightmares - they could barely understand the fact that one of their parents is a God, let alone comprehend the strange demigod nightmares

Then, you noticed him. When you locked eyes, Percy felt as if the last puzzle piece of his life was finally put in place. Was it too early to say you were made for him?

“Hello! Welcome to Flowers and Vines (shoutout to Stella for naming it!), how may I help you today?” You said, your cheery tone snapping Percy out of the trance you put him in. Walking inside (he’d been simply listening next to the door), Percy sheepishly rubbed his neck, hoping you didn’t think he was some weird stalker

Percy looked around, now fully being able to see everything your greenhouse had to offer. His mom would love this place

“Oh, I’m good, thanks… I didn’t know you guys had a flower shop here! That’s really cool…” Percy said, trailing off at the end once he realised he didn’t know your name. He was a little embarrassed, but luckily, you didn’t seem to mind

Giggling, you continued for him, “Y/N, my name’s Y/N. And Flowers and Vines is more than just a flower shop, we sell produce too! Mr D’s kids help us with the grapes.” As you told him all of this, you were going around with a pretty pink watering can and watering every single plant in the whole greenhouse. Surely, there must be a more efficient way to water them all?

That morning, Percy decided he would buy a flower from you. When you’d asked which one he wanted, he simply told you to surprise him

“These are some of my favourites,” you said while wrapping your flowers of choice - to Percy, they looked like every other pink, round flower out there, but he’d learn the difference for you. These were now special

Handing him the little bouquet, you continued, “Rhododendron - ‘I shall never look upon your like again’, that’s what they mean. I don’t see them around much anymore, which is why I planted them here!”

It was almost like you knew Percy would never look upon your like again. When he’d asked you how much they were for, you insisted on giving them to him on the house. After much arguing, Percy accepted, keeping them right next to his bed. Something about them made the nightmares a little better

After that day, Percy couldn’t stop thinking about you. Everything he saw around him reminded him of you - from the flowers in the forest to the smell of mangoes in the air as their season arrived

He’d see you occasionally, too, and would shyly wave whilst hoping you didn’t notice the way his face turned a bright red when you waved back

You thought Percy was really cute, too, and were a little disappointed when he didn’t show up a second time after your original rendezvous. You began taking on so many shifts you might as well have been working at Flowers and Vines full time. Your siblings (as well as Dionysus’ kids) teased you relentlessly for this, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to see him again

And then you did

Percy’s idea was one that was suggested by none other than Travis Stoll. He was simply catching up with the son of Hermes when he’d brought up the fact that everyone working at Flowers and Vines watered the plants using watering cans (something which had been really bothering Katie)

When Percy had asked why they did that, Travis explained that they used to have sprinklers but after the Ares cabin tinkered with them once (they were bitter over a game of Capture the Flag), causing the water to go all over the place and killing a lot of the flowers, the sprinklers were unusable and currently being fixed by the Hephaestus cabin

That’s when Percy came up with it. Since he was a son of Poseidon, he could spread water from a source as far as he wanted to. Therefore, he could help with your issue and have an excuse to talk to you

Immediately, Percy ran to the flower shop/fruit market he’d grown to love so dearly

“Hi! Is Y/N here?” He asked one of your siblings, breathless. They nodded and pointed behind them, smirking as they snuck knowing glances to your other siblings

There you were, in all your glory. You seemed to sparkle under the Sun, watering the flowers with your little pink pot. When the water ran out, you sighed. You really needed to invest in a bigger one

Just as you were about to go fill it, Percy proudly announced, “you won’t have to do that anymore!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. As you turned around, you fought the urge to hug the boy. Despite only speaking with him once, you really did miss Percy

Intrigued, you followed Percy to the fountain in the middle of the greenhouse. Before, it used to just be for decoration (since you had sprinklers), but now it came very handy for refilling your watering cans

Extending his arm towards the fountain, Percy willed droplets of water to hover in the air, then, with one motion, threw them all over the greenhouse, watering your plants perfectly

“Oh my Gods, Percy, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” You exclaimed, running over to him and giving him a peck on the cheek. It was a spontaneous decision mainly done because you were getting quite tired of manually watering all your plants

After that, Percy began working at Flowers and Vines as your temporary plant-waterer. You, your siblings and Dionysus’ kids would all cheer when he’d appear, and he’d play into it, making a big show out of getting the water out of the fountain and sprinkling it over the plants, winking at you as he did so

The plants seemed to flourish even more than usual, too. You told yourself it was probably because water from a son of Poseidon was more powerful than normal water (or something along those lines), but you knew the truth

As a child of Demeter, much like your mother, your emotions influenced nature around you. When you were sad, plants would wilt and wither, mimicking the winter Demeter creates whenever Persephone is in the Underworld

The opposite was true. Whenever you were happy, plants would blossom and bloom all around - and you were really happy when Percy was around. Which is why you needed to tell him before the Hephaestus cabin fixed your sprinklers

However, fear got the best of you every time you tried to get the words out of your mouth. Despite practising several times with your siblings (and even once with the Aphrodite cabin), whenever you tried telling Percy, you’d get shy and vines would grow out of your head, tangling with your hair and acting as a shield

Unfortunately for you, Percy couldn’t tell from that that you liked him, so you simply had to get over your fears and say it

Your confession happened on Percy’s last day as your plant waterer. That morning, Katie had pulled you to the side, telling you to hurry up your confession to Percy as she and Travis couldn’t delay the Hephaestus cabin any more (they were getting quite annoyed, having worked on the sprinklers for so long. What did those Ares kids do to them?)

So, you spent the whole day bracing yourself for Percy’s arrival. All you had to do was say it, get his response and move on with your life. It wasn’t that big of a deal!

After Percy watered the plants, everyone watched in silence, waiting for you to say something

“Hey… Percy, can we talk?” You asked, ignoring the hushed cheers of your siblings as you approached the boy. He nodded, smiling at you and letting you lead him to the back, where you kept all the extra supplies

Sitting on a stool, Percy looked up at you, just noticing your nervousness, “is everything okay?” He asked, concern laced in his voice

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You practically had this memorised. You just had to get the words out. You couldn’t get the words out

The vines grew from your head again and you wanted nothing more than to cocoon yourself in them. You’d faced terrifying monsters with a calm smile and eliminated them like you were pulling weeds out of your gardens, but you couldn’t tell a boy you liked him?

At this point, the vines were wrapping around the stool Percy was sat on, and he stood up, confused

Slowly, he made his way over to you and brushed the vines away from your face. As he looked into your wide eyes, he finally understood. Cupping your face with his hands, Percy placed a tender kiss on your lips

“I like you too, Y/N. Like, a lot”

Ok dating hcs 🥳

First of all I just wanna say PICNIC DATES!!! Sometimes you have them on the beach and it’s like you combined both your worlds <3

As a child of Demeter I can confidently say we know how to cook. Percy’s so in love with your cooking. He never thought any cooking could rival his mother’s until you came along

Somehow, you knew how to make meals that make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. If you asked him to taste ambrosia and one of your meals blindfolded and then choose one, he’d choose yours in a heartbeat

He’s also so obsessed with the fresh produce you bring from Flowers and Vines. I said this in my Percy x Persephone!Reader headcanons but I don’t think Percy’s much of a fruits/vegetables guy so the fact that you have him hooked on them says a lot

Swears he’s addicted. You think he’s just saying that to flatter you but he means it. If someone asked him if he had an addiction he’d look them dead in the eye and go, “yes, my partner’s bell peppers.”

He’s actually right though! Demeter + Dionysus kid powers make the produce taste a little fresher and last for way longer

Percy also decides to learn the language of flowers. He borrows a book about it from the Athena cabin and makes little notes and everything

Once, you came to his cabin and found the book full of scrawled annotations and sticky notes in it and you had to fight the urge to bawl your eyes out because he’s just so adorable

Will literally buy you flowers from your own flower shop though LMAO he doesn’t even try to do the transaction with anyone else. He’ll buy them and you’ll give them to him and he’ll be like “oh thanks I’m gonna go give this to the light of my life now” and he just hands them back to you

Percy’s also def the type of guy to keep one with him so he can get you new ones as soon as they start to wilt. Except his timing is always off because flowers tend to last a little longer when they’re around you

Lowkey still works at Flowers and Vines except he just follows you around and has no salary (he says his salary are kisses from you but knows he’d get them regardless LOL)

Brings Sally and Paul to Flowers and Vines and they’re immediately hooked because flowers in the mortal world aren’t half as beautiful as these hello??

Also, as a child of Demeter, you are naturally very motherly and caring. He loves seeing you interact with Estelle so much!!!

His half-sister warmed up to you extremely quickly and now refuses to be babysat by anyone who isn’t you. Like it can’t even be Percy alone you have to be there!!

Percy ALSO loves it when you dote on him. This leads to him being a little dramatic at times

Looking up, you saw a pouty Percy make his way over to you, his brows furrowed as he looked down at his finger

“Y/N! You won’t believe what happened!” He said. The first couple times he pulled this stunt, he’d scared you shitless, but you now knew all about your boyfriend’s antics and simply gave him a knowing smile

Feigning worry, you asked, “oh no, what is it?” Percy revealed his finger to you, which had a barely noticeable cut at the tip of it

“I was talking to Clarisse when all of a sudden she swung at me!” He told you, looking over to the side. In reality, he’d asked Clarisse to cut him, knowing only a child of Ares could have such precision with a weapon

Sporting a pout of your own, you took Percy’s finger and peppered it with kisses, “I’ll speak to Clarisse, don’t worry.” You said

“Uhh.. Y/N.. she also punched me in the lips… My lips really hurt.”

Let’s just say you didn’t get much work done that day (SAFE FOR WORK!)

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x gn reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcanons #percy jackson x demeter reader #percy jackson x child of demeter #demeter pjo #children of demeter #cynwrites

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theshippirate22 · 1 year

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i keep seeing videos of joe playing his guitar and it’s giving me Thoughts™️ so congrats (slightly NSFW- Minors DNI)

“Alright, alright!” Eddie calls. It’s getting late, the crowd is getting a little more rowdy (or maybe just more drunk) but this is important. He decided he was going to do it a while ago and he’s finally going to commit, reputation be damned.

Especially when he sees who’s looking up at him from the front row.

“I’ve got something to confess.” He starts. “Baby, you listening?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow suspiciously.

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a minute, lets the crowd get uncomfortably quiet. Watches Steve’s expression go from amusingly confused to… concerned almost. His eyebrows get tight and Eddie wants to kiss the tense spot between them so badly.

“Stevie…” He breathes. The mic makes it sound more uncomfortable than he means it to. “I lied to you.”

Steve tips his head, and thank God, he doesn’t get that pale, shattered look he used to get when Eddie let a joke go on too long and his insecurities got the best of him. Now he looks apprehensive; he’s waiting for the punchline because he knows Eddie and he knows it’s coming.

“Remember when you found that A-Ha tape in my car?” Eddie adds, and it’s followed by a little strained laugh consensus from the crowd. But Steve, God, But Steve, bursts into the biggest grin.

“It’s not El’s.” He finishes, and he can’t keep a straight face anymore, letting the laugh split his face in half when Steve mouths back “I know.”

“Oh do you? You sneaky little…” He rolls his eyes, but the smile won’t leave his face for a second, he knows that. “Then I guess you know what’s coming next.”

Jeff starts it, the little duhduhduhduh-duhduh-duhduhduhduhduh of Take On Me and Gareth leaps in the third time around with a little heavier drumbeat than the original.

And Eddie? He’s leaned over the edge of the stage, trying to keep his pitch right so he can hit the high notes later on, holding out his hand to help pull up his boyfriend, who’s still beaming like he’s won a million dollars.

The audience, unsurprisingly, is having the time of their lives. Steve always makes a cameo in the shows, they’d be disappointed if he didn’t, but this is something else altogether.

Eddie’s halfway through the chorus before Steve is actually up there next to him (It’s harder than you’d think) and Grant passes over a mic- the one they’d gotten specifically for this purpose- and Steve is singing.

Eddie thought he’d get over it eventually, the soft shyness of Steve’s voice, but he hasn’t before and now is not the time either. Especially when he’s trying to focus on the stupid pop chords and Steve is right there behind him, hand snaking across his waist. Hooking his chin around Eddie’s shoulder and getting so close that for a minute, it’s the mic taped to his face that’s picking up Steve’s voice. Reaching up under his arm and over his chest to pull down the collar of his shirt and bite his neck in the .2 seconds between the second verse and the chorus.

In retaliation, Eddie joins in, almost trying to shadow out his voice because he can get his own infinitely deeper, but it doesn’t work; they meld together like hot butter and there’s a colossal cheer of approval from the long-neglected dark.

And as soon as he was there, invading every inch of sanity Eddie has left, Steve is gone, has half-crossed the stage to return the mic to the stand and then he’s dancing over to Jeff in his skin-tight jeans and he’s showing off, actually. He has to be. No one is that perfect without trying.

Not to be outdone, Eddie throws in a little improv at the bridge, glancing over at Steve when his hands don’t demand his attention, and it’s very obvious that him and Jeff are talking. On stage. About God knows what.

Before he can even question it, he’s barely finished his own peacocking, Steve has Jeff’s guitar and is picking out the perfect, high, electric melody.

duhduhduhduh-duhduh- duhduhduhduh- duhduhduhduh

And obviously Eddie’s not going to pop a boner on stage- he’s not sixteen- but my god, how is supposed to be normal about this?

Steve has barely enough to time to finish his set of riffs, get the strap over his head, and put the guitar back in Jeff’s hands before Eddie’s got him by the belt loops and he is going to kiss him right now, he has to…

And that cheeky bastard pushes his face away, keeps hold of his chin to stop him from fighting, so he can grab the mic stand and finish out the chorus.

(Before he’s even done, Eddie’s already licking at the corner of his mouth.)

The last chorus goes completely forgotten, Eddie’s hands shifting along Steve’s belt and up under the hem of his polo to drag him impossibly closer, Steve locking his fingers into Eddie’s tangled hair, and if Eddie’s mic picks up a few of their soft moans, well, that’s the business of them, the band, and the 8,000 people watching them make out.

(Not that the audience minds. They’ve been chanting “Steve! Steve! Steve!” since he first started singing)

(The band minds. Ew. Those two are menaces to society)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #just a dude steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #stranger things fic #80s music #take on me #a-ha

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raibebe · 30 days

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Genre: smut Words: 4.882 Prompt: fratboy Sunwoo x fem. reader

Warnings: sub Sunwoo, dom reader, cameo of drunk Eric, oral (m & f receiving), unsafe sex, under-negotiated kink, marking (hickeys), cum eating (m), subdrop (kind of), aftercare, Sunwoo is very needy, Sunwoo is a good boy, Sunwoo goes sort of non-verbal he's so fucked out

A/N: After the most stressful 3 days of my entire life (this is a joke), I present to you: THIS. I don't know how this happened, I just looked at Sunwoo and it awoke something within me.

Special thanks to my cheerleader @starlitmark who always had great words of encouragement and got me through this <3

Not betaed - rip.

You didn’t quite remember how you got here - One moment you were admiring the plush lips of a guy with an almost boyish charm from across the living room of a frat house, the music so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts, only to be roped into playing spin the bottle by your friend Eric to then be locked away in the pantry for seven minutes with said guy with plush lips minutes later.

“I didn’t quite catch your name,” you broke the slightly awkward silence between the two of you in the dark room after Eric’s cackling had died down once he had locked the door. “Sunwoo,” he answered and judging by the sound, he took another swing from his beer. Your eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the darkness, so you were only really able to see his silhouette leaning against the cabinet.

“You haven’t done this before, right?” You giggled as you inched closer to him, carefully slotting your body against his so you wouldn’t startle him. “We have seven minutes in here,” Sunwoo replied, his breath hitching when you took the can of beer from his hand and carelessly put it on one of the shelves so you could place his hand on your waist instead. “Mhmm,” you hummed and placed your hands on his chest to feel his muscles beneath the damned compression shirt he was wearing, “It’s probably just five-ish minutes left by now.” “Then we should make use of that time,” he concluded, tightening his grip on your waist before leaning in, his breath fanning over your lips but never connecting them, giving you an out if you didn’t want to.

But oh - how did you want to know how his plush lips felt on your body.

“Yeah, we should,” you agreed before closing the gap between you in a gentle kiss to his pillowy soft lips. The first few kisses were almost chaste, both of you just testing the waters but when Sunwoo let out a little sigh, a shiver rolled down your spine and you just had to gently sink your teeth into his lower lip. “Fuck,” he cursed, one of his hands finding your jaw so he could angle it to deepen the kiss as well as pushing you harder against his body so you could feel his heart hammering inside his chest.

When he licked at the seam of your lips, you easily opened up for him, matching his hunger for more, greedy to lick the cheap beer from his tongue. Enticed by the little sounds of pleasure Sunwoo let out, you let your hands roam his body, mapping out the strong build of his muscles before burying your hands in his thick hair and pulling.

With a gasp and a wet smack of your lips, you broke the kiss, both of you panting loudly. Now that your eyes had adjusted to the dark, the small strip of light coming from beneath the door was enough to see how wet and swollen Sunwoo’s lips had become and how you had destroyed his meticulously styled hair. He looked - for a lack of a better word - thoroughly fucked out already which made you dizzy with power. The high-pitched whine he let out when he tried to kiss you again but you held him back with the grip you still had on his hair only aroused you further, a dark chuckle slipping past your lips.

“Say please,” you whispered right against his lips. “Please,” Sunwoo immediately repeated, his voice small and needy and his eyes pleading. “Good boy,” you praised him, swallowing the moan that ripped from his throat with another filthy kiss, not a care in the world about how sloppy the kiss turned with both of your neediness. Neither of your hands could stay still, tugging on your clothes, raking through your hair, trying to get the other to release more sounds of pleasure.

You were so close to unbuckling his belt there and then, already addicted to how his skin felt beneath your fingertips when the door to the pantry suddenly burst open and a slightly more drunk than before Eric loudly yelled “Yooooo, time’s up, lovebirds” while he obnoxiously wiggled his eyebrows.

Slowly you pulled your hands from beneath Sunwoo’s shirt, keeping your nails on his skin in hopes of getting another reaction out of him but he was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Hey,” you gently called out to him, taking a step back.

“Bro, no way,” Eric suddenly burst out laughing which was what finally got Sunwoo to move, a deep blush spreading on his cheeks. Before you could grasp what was happening, he pushed past you and out of the pantry, shoving a still giggling Eric out of the way.

“What was that about?” You asked, still confused. “Bro,” Eric began, wrapping an arm around you and heavily leaning his weight onto you, “Dude, he got hard from just a little making out.” “You’re drunk.” “Dude, I know what a boner looks like.” “So you enjoy looking at other men’s crotches and their boners?” That made Eric sputter and choke on his own spit. “That’s not-“ “But that’s what it sounded like,” you singsonged, plucking his drink from his hands and dunking the contents into the kitchen sink. He had enough for now.

“Bro, I’m just telling you-“ “So what? I could probably get you hard in less than seven minutes as well.” To that, Eric didn’t have a proper rebuttal, his mouth opening and closing like he was a fish out of water.

“Now tell me, which room is his?”

Up where the guys’ rooms were, the music wasn’t as loud as it was downstairs, only the heavy bass permeating the walls and floor. Without knocking, you opened the last door to the left which Eric had let you know led to Sunwoo’s room. To his luck, he hadn’t been lying and Sunwoo was lying on his messy bed, staring at the ceiling, only looking up when he heard the lock of the door clicking shut.

“Guests are not supposed to be up here,” he simply said with a monotone voice, turning his dark eyes back to the ceiling, “There’s a sign at the stairs.” “I saw. I can leave if you want me to.”

But Sunwoo never told you to leave - as a matter of fact - he didn’t say anything. Giving him time to sort out what was going on inside his head, you looked around his room. It was nothing special albeit tidier than you had expected from a fratboy. Before you could snoop and figure out what books were scattered over his desk between a half-eaten bowl of ramen, Sunwoo sat up on his bed, planting his feet on the little rug next to it.

“I-“ he started but didn’t follow through, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. “Take your time,” you tried to encourage him, closing the distance between you to stand between his legs so you could tilt his chin up to meet his beautiful eyes. For a little while you got lost in each other’s eyes before Sunwoo broke the eye contact to study his jeans instead, picking at some loose threads.

“Hey,” you called him out gently, placing your hand on his cheek to guide his face to look up at you again. With a deep sigh, words finally tumbled from Sunwoo’s lips: “Listen, I’m sorry for running. I just- I got embarrassed. Like who gets hard just from some kissing?” Despite his clear frustration with himself and being embarrassed, Sunwoo leaned into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“I’d be more offended if you didn’t,” you admitted softly, gently caressing his face. At that, Sunwoo’s eyes shot wide open. “What?” “I liked what happened down there too,” you simply said in lieu of an answer as you straddled his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. “I think I like you,” you added with a sultry lilt in your voice, “And how you react to me.”

To prove your point, you moved your thumb to Sunwoo’s lips, gently putting pressure until he parted them to take your thumb in his mouth and to curl his tongue around the digit, never breaking the heavy eye contact.

“Just like that,” the praise easily fell from your lips when he let his mouth fall open as you pressed down on his tongue. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered once his mouth was free again. “Anything you want me to,” you promised, carding your other hand through his hair to gather the locks at the back to force his head back, giving you a gorgeous view of his stretched-out neck that begged to be decorated by your kisses.

Leaning in, you heard Sunwoo suck in a breath through his teeth that he released shakily when you pressed your lips to his fluttering pulse, slowly connecting it to his jaw and to his ear with a row of kisses.

“What do you want?” You rasped. “Kiss me?” “Say it with please.” “Kiss me please.”

This time, there was no build-up. No testing the waters or chaste kisses leading up to more open-mouthed kisses. No, this time, your lips met with desperation from the get-go and Sunwoo greedily swallowed the surprised sound you let out before you were able to match his pace, using the grip you still had on his hair and a hand on his jaw to steady yourself, very thankful that he had your waist in a vice-grip so you wouldn’t topple over.

“You drive me crazy,” he rasped when you parted for air, nudging your head back so he could lick a filthy stripe up your jaw before he nipped at your skin, not quite hard enough to leave lasting marks but the promise alone was enough to have your head spinning. “You can mark me,” you sighed and pushed Sunwoo’s bangs from his eyes in a way too tender manner so you could see them widen in shock before they fell closed again when he busied his mouth with sucking hickeys into your skin.

Letting your hands roam again, you slipped them beneath his tight shirt to feel his skin again, raking your nails down the divots of his abs. You could feel his groan more than you actually heard it, muffled against the skin of your throat. “Get this thing off,” you demanded, grabbing the edge of his shirt and wrestling it over his head, revealing miles of smooth skin and collar bones that were simply made to sink your teeth into. “You too,” Sunwoo whispered, adding a desperate “please” when you didn’t immediately do so.

“Good boy,” the praise dripped from your lips like the sweetest honey so you could revel in the shudder that went through Sunwoo at the pet name. With a confident grin on your face, you pulled your shirt over your head as well, leaving you in just your bra. “Beautiful,” Sunwoo mumbled absent-mindedly, his hands hovering in the air before he put them on your waist again, squeezing as if to remind himself that you were real. “Yeah, you are,” you agreed, pressing your palm flat to the middle of his chest to push him back down onto the mattress. Before he could protest, you pressed a kiss to his sternum, slowly making your way up his chest, only shortly getting sidetracked by the subtle muscle.

Despite your efforts, none of Sunwoo’s heavenly sounds of pleasure reached your ears, so when you checked on him, you saw that he had buried his teeth in his bottom lip to muffle his sounds.

“Let me hear you,” you asked softly, pressing a kiss just over his heart. “It’s embarrassing,” he whined, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s not,” you promised, straightening up so you could kiss his hands to coax them away from his face, “I like hearing what makes you feel good.” “I- I like- Mark me? Just not-“ “Not where everyone can see?” You finished the sentence for him. “Mhm,” he nodded, “Words are hard.” “Yeah?” You couldn’t help but giggle fondly, so endeared by Sunwoo’s way of speaking in pout that you had no choice but to kiss him again, softer this time. “Squeeze my hand then. Once for yes and twice for no,” you suggested, intertwining your fingers with his that he immediately squeezed once.

Swallowing down the urge to coo at him, you instead pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips, teasing him when he chased after the feeling with a quick peck.

Ignoring his displeased grumbling, you instead kissed from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw, his throat and his collarbones where you finally gave in to the urge to bite him. And finally, you got to hear Sunwoo moan again. Little sighs and deep groans blurred together in a beautiful symphony as you decorated his skin in red and purple petals in the shape of your lips. “Please,” he pressed out when you finally let up to admire your handiwork, meanly pressing your thumb into a particularly dark spot right beneath his collarbone just to hear his breath hitch and make him squirm beneath you, which in turn shifted your attention to another area when he started rolling his hips against your body.

“Right here?” You asked sickenly sweet as you let your hand trail down his torso, playfully tapping his belt before cupping him over his pants. Instead of answering or squeezing your other hand for a yes, Sunwoo instead rolled his hips up harder, his mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Should we take these off?” This time, Sunwoo seemed to remember what you had established as a yes and he immediately squeezed your hand hard. “Yeah?” You giggled, earling another squeeze and a pleading look from his big, dark eyes. “Okay,” you mouthed, letting go of his hand so you could make quick work of his belt and pull his jeans as well as his briefs off of his narrow hips.

The moment his clothes hit the floor, Sunwoo was already squirming, his hips chasing friction that was no longer there. “So needy,” you smiled, trailing your fingers from his knees to the inside of his toned thighs, feeling how the muscles worked beneath the skin to not close his legs. “Good boy.” Sunwoo only responded to the praise with another needy whine, his hips lifting off the bed. Smiling, you crawled back up the bed, keeping your eyes on his pleading ones as you pressed your lips to the skin of his pelvis, right next to where his cock lay hard against his skin.

With scrambling hands, Sunwoo interlaced your fingers again, squeezing them tightly. “Try to stay still for me, okay?” You asked with another kiss, this time near the base of his cock which ripped another groan from his lips, sounding almost frustrated. But nevertheless, he squeezed your hand again once and that was all the confirmation you needed to lick a stripe from the base of his cock all the way up to the flushed and glistening tip, welcoming the tangy taste of his precum on your tongue.

“Pleeease, please, please,” Sunwoo whispered almost like a mantra, his head thrown back and his dark hair fanned out around him like some sort of tainted halo.

With a fond smile on your lips, you squeezed his hand once before taking the sensitive tip between your lips, reveling in the low moan Sunwoo let out. Slowly you took in more of his length, building up a torturous rhythm and keeping your cheeks hollowed on the upstroke, never forgetting to pay extra attention to the head of his cock: Running your tongue along the crown or toying with the slit until the taste of precum was strong on your tongue.

“More, please. Faster. I- I need-“ With an obscene pop, you let Sunwoo’s cock fall from your lips and let it slap against his skin with a wet sound. “Please,” he pleaded again when you didn’t say anything, simply enjoying the power you had over him as you traced a vein on the underside of his cock before rubbing your pointer finger around the head. “More?” “Wanna cum,” Sunwoo pouted and gods did he look both adorable and like sin personified. “And what about me, hm?” You asked lowly, climbing up the bed so you could see eye to eye again and watch how his blown-out eyes widened.

Just when you thought he was about to blurt out an apology, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, stroking him in a tight fist and effectively shutting him up, broken moans tumbling past his lips instead of words.

“Hm? Baby? What about me?” “Any- Hah- Anything- Fuck- Anything you want,” Sunwoo managed to press out between sounds of pleasure as you quickened your pace, twisting your palm around the sensitive head before stroking his length again. “You think you can fuck me, baby? Make me cum on your cock?” Forgoing his words again, Sunwoo just squeezed your hand again and vigorously nodded his head. “Are you sure?” You teased, halting in your movements to jerk him off. “Show me, baby. Show me how you’d fuck me.”

With a broken whine and his eyes squeezed shut again, Sunwoo did as you asked, slowly rolling his hips up before he quickened his pace and fucked into your hand with short strokes, chasing the loose friction of your hand. “Inside, please,” he panted, forcing his eyes to meet your heated gaze again, “Want it.”

“Kiss me first,” you demanded and Sunwoo didn’t waste a single second, crashing your lips together and eagerly licking the taste of his own precum from your tongue. While you tried to match his overeager pace, he busied himself with trying to work your pants open and to shimmy them down your legs all while being hellbent on not stopping to kiss you even for a single moment.

“Sunwoo,” you giggled fondly when he let out a frustrated growl because he just couldn’t get your pants past your thighs, “Let me.” With a tender kiss, you leaned back just enough that you could wiggle free from your pants and panties which were probably ruined at this point by your own arousal. Before your pants even hit the ground, Sunwoo was all over you again, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your throat while his hands mapped out your body, making quick work of your bra before exploring the newly discovered skin.

Now it was your turn to needily moan while Sunwoo proved that he knew how to do more with his mouth than just kiss and leave marks all over your throat as he gently took your nipple between his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue, rolling the hardened nub against the wet muscle. You were so distracted by how good his mouth felt on your boobs that you got startled when he sneaked a hand between your legs. “I’m sorry-“ he tried to apologize but you immediately cut him off. “You just surprised me,” you reassured him and opened your legs for him, “Keep going.” Tentatively, Sunwoo reached down again, his eyes never leaving your face like he was determined to catch every single one of your reactions.

With two fingers, he carefully searched out your wetness, his eyes widening almost comically when he found you basically dripping. “Look what you did to me,” you breathed out, not able to keep your voice from shaking when Sunwoo spread your wetness around further, coating his fingers before he carefully fucked one finger inside you, all the way up until the last knuckle with little to no resistance thanks to how ridiculously turned on you were.

“That’s it,” you urged him on when he slowly moved his finger, keeping it curled in search of your sweet spot. Without you having to say anything, he easily slid in another finger, keeping them buried deep inside for a moment to make you really feel them before he quickened his pace, the squelching of your pussy loud even to your own ears. “Sunwoo,” you needily moaned his name, blindly reaching for his cock to jerk him off again in time with his deep thrusts that had you longing for more and grinding your hips against him. “Need- Want- Inside please,” he stuttered against your lips, desperately trying to not buck into your hand to chase his high that he already felt creeping up on him. “Yeah,” you moaned when he slipped his fingers free to rub your clit in tight circles instead, “On your back, baby.”

Like the absolute dream he was, Sunwoo did as you asked him to, looking like sin personified when he stared deep into your eyes as he brought his fingers up to his lips to suck them clean of your arousal. “Fuck, you’ll be the death of me,” you cursed breathlessly, quickly climbing on top of him. A loud moan fell from your lips when you ground your core against his cock, feeling the heated flesh twitch as you covered him in your arousal. “Please,” Sunwoo slurred around his fingers that he still kept between his lips and who were you to deny him?

Carefully, you held his cock up as you sank down on him, taking him inch by inch until finally your hips met and both of you let out a string of curses. To get a feel for his size, you slowly ground your hips in tight circles, loving how he pressed against your walls perfectly, filling you up just right.

“Don’t cum before I do.” You wished you were able to sound more firm but you were holding onto your sanity by a thread when you lifted your hips again to finally fuck yourself on his cock. You didn’t expect an answer out of Sunwoo and you didn’t get one either besides the punched-out groans he let out whenever your hips met again.

You had planned to build your pace up slowly, to savor the moment, to drag it out as long as you could but the moment Sunwoo met your thrusts and managed to nail your sweet spot, sending a bolt of arousal through your body, it was over for you. Panting into each other’s mouths, you both were desperately chasing your highs, Sunwoo’s hands keeping your waist in a vice grip and your nails leaving indents on his chest and shoulders where you were grasping for purchase to rock back against him harder while your thighs threatened to give out from how good he was fucking you.

“Keep going, keep going, keep going. I’m so close, Sunwoo, please,” you moaned loudly, your orgasm so close you were able to taste it already. A string of curses left Sunwoo’s swollen lips as his thrusts got more erratic and lost their rhythm and you knew he was just as close as you were. You couldn’t help yourself but grab a fistful of his hair to yank his head back so you could bury your teeth low on his throat and that seemed to be all Sunwoo needed to be pushed over the edge: His body going taut as he buried himself inside you as deep as he physically could and a silent moan leaving his parted lips while he painted your inside white.

Despite your first thought was to be annoyed because you had been so close too, you instead clenched around him tightly and slowly rocked your hips to help him ride out his high, stroking his matted bangs from his forehead and leaving tender kisses over his face.

It took a little while before all tension bled from Sunwoo’s body and he loosened the bruising grip he still had on your waist to instead caress your sides as well as your tired thighs. “Good?” You chuckled at the lazy grin that spread over his lips before he opened his eyes. “Mhm,” he only nodded, pulling you down against his body for a deep kiss. The change in position made his softening cock slip from your pussy, causing both of you to cringe. The sudden emptiness and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you only reminded you of the orgasm he stole from you.

Hiding your wicked grin against his skin, you whispered: “So you did leave me hanging after all.” Those few words were enough to startle Sunwoo out of his blissed-out state and you couldn’t help but feel satisfied by the look in his eyes. “You- I-“ “Now, now,” you shushed him with a finger against his lips, “Why don’t you put these to better use, hm?”

Too stunned to speak, Sunwoo simply nodded. Smiling, you pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek before you lifted yourself up on your knees again, shuffling forward until you hovered just over his face. His hands immediately found your hips that he squeezed once before he pulled you down.

The first swipe of his tongue was almost shy but spurred on by your little sighs, he quickly got bolder with his tongue, eagerly cleaning up his release and opening his jaw wide to fuck his clever tongue as deep inside you as it would go.

And just the mental image of Sunwoo licking up his own cum and creating an even bigger mess between your legs in the process had your mind spinning with pleasure and you just had to grab a fistful of his hair again to keep him in place so you could grind against his face, shamelessly chasing your high.

“So close, fuck,” you cursed when your thighs started to tremble and threatened to close around Sunwoo’s head, the pleasure almost too much but also not enough as you grew more and more sensitive with each swipe of his tongue.

With strength you didn’t know Sunwoo had, he stilled your motions to close his lips around your clit instead, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves and that combined with a pleading look from his big, dark eyes was enough for your orgasm to finally crash over you. Holding onto Sunwoo’s bed frame for dear life, your thighs shook uncontrollably as you let out strings of curses laced with Sunwoo’s name as you rode out your high on his tongue. “Shit,” you giggled breathlessly once your spirit had reentered your body and gently carded your hands through Sunwoo’s hair who placed one last kiss on your clit before he carefully helped settle you down next to him on the bed.

“You okay?” You whispered after a while, gently tracing the hickeys you had sucked into Sunwoo’s skin. He simply nodded as an answer, interlacing your fingers again to squeeze them. “Are words still hard?” Another squeeze. “That’s okay,” you reassured him and gently kissed his forehead.

“Do you need anything from me?” This time, it took Sunwoo a little longer to respond, his brows furrowing before he squeezed your hand once. “Water?” Two squeezes. “Snacks?” Again, two quick squeezes. “Stay,” he spoke lowly, wrapping his body around yours, “Please.” “Of course,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his hair that you gently combed through with your fingers, massaging his scalp when he began humming in content.

“Feel fuzzy,” he spoke up after a while, his words slurred. “Good fuzzy?” He didn’t answer with a squeeze this time, only shrugging his shoulders. “Was- Was this your first time giving yourself over to someone?” You asked carefully to not scare him with big words in case he had never subbed before. After a bit of debating and his face heating up with an adorable blush, Sunwoo squeezed your body once. “That’s okay, the first time can be a bit scary and disorient-“

“Liked it,” he interrupted you, lifting himself up to look into your eyes, “A lot.” Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop the tender smile from spreading over your lips so you instead pressed it to Sunwoo’s shy smile in a chaste kiss. “I liked it too. A lot,” you echoed his words. “Even if I…?” “I wasn’t mad at you. I was never mad at you,” you said firmly when you caught where he was going with this, holding Sunwoo’s face between your palms so he could not look away, “You did wonderfully. Listened to me so well.”

“Can we- Can we do it again?” “We can talk about it once you’re back here with me,” you giggled, pulling him back down against your chest to cuddle. “Am here,” you just heard him grumble as he tried his best to pull the blanket from below you to cover both your nakedness. “Once your head is not fuzzy anymore,” you clarified, your smile creeping into your voice.

And as you lay there with a pretty boy snuggled up against your chest and the deep bass from the frat party below caught your ears again, you truly wondered how you had ended up in this position tonight. Not that you were mad about it, you really couldn’t think of many places better to be than in Sunwoo’s arms right now, feeling the warmth of his skin sink into yours.

#sunwoo #the boyz #kim sunwoo #sunwoo smut #the boyz smut #sunwoo fic #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #sunwoo fanfic #the boy fanfic

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sidekick-hero · 2 months

Text

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 17 #Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost #my writing

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existslikepristin · 22 days

Text

Holy shit, look what I actually finished

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Dreamcatcher/Minx, Loona/Artms, CLC/Kep1er, Gfriend/Viviz, I love the fact that I can technically do a / for each of those group tags, Jiu, Heejin, Yujin, futa!Eunha, Karina’s colossal cock makes a cameo, you make a cameo, BUNNIES, reluctant but totally consenting, humiliation, a variety of unhealthy habits regarding weight gain/loss, anal, p-in-v sex, rimming, cunnilingus, deepthroat, Yujin is one thirsty ass lesbian, premature ejaculation, cum sweat and tears, Jiu is just a little dumb, Heejin is just a little shy, Eunha is just little, a bit of unintentional exhibitionism, strapons, references, this whole story is a big pain in the dick

Springy

“Oh gosh, these ears are adorable on you!”

“Uh… Thanks, Jiu,” Heejin said with a deep blush and a tiny smile, folding her forearms over her stomach. Her biceps pushed her leotard partially open, revealing a lot more cleavage than she normally managed.

“Hey, don’t be so shy!” Yujin giggled and dragged a finger across Heejin’s chest. “You’re super hot.”

Jiu pushed Yujin’s hand away from Heejin, but smiled sweetly. “Don’t you be taking advantage of this girl now.”

Heejin’s blush intensified. “It’s okay… I, uh…”

Eunha wasn’t listening to any of the conversation. She was much too focused on the job at hand: Squeezing into her bunny leotard. It was already a tight fit when they first picked out the costumes, but in the following weeks, Eunha had gained some size in the thighs (and butt). Even if she was able to get the outfit all the way on, her ass would eat the thing in the back and make it look like a slightly oversized thong. Eunha’s tits had grown a bit too, so if she ever managed to get the thing on, she’d probably still be flashing her nips with every slightly bouncy step. And just to add potential injury to the insult, the severe tightness of the leotard was absolutely going to crush Eunha’s poor dick. That might help hide the bulge when they went out on stage, but dancing in such a condition would just make the whole event a literal pain. At least the bunny ear headband still fit!

Jiu, Heejin, and Yujin easily got into their bunny outfits just as quickly as the first time they tried them on. Theirs were exactly the same as Eunha’s. Copied and pasted black pump heels, black bow tie chokers, and skimpy, open-backed, black leotards which barely covered half of their asses and unreasonably low necklines. They came with little white fluffy tails on the back.

The other three each made the same outfit look good in their own way, and each had a themed lipstick color. Heejin’s lipstick was baby blue, and her fully exposed arms and legs had a slightly oily sheen, emphasizing her muscular physique. Yujin was wearing pale green lipstick and was the thinnest of the bunch, but her perky tits and ass jiggled deliciously as she hopped around the room. Jiu’s legs, already the longest, looked a mile long now that they were exposed all the way up past her hips. She got the most normal lipstick: light pink.

Eunha wasn’t unhappy with her short frame, thick assets, and pastel yellow lipstick, but at that moment she regretted the last month of cheeseburgers, beer, and sedentary behavior. A diet was out of the question, obviously, as she would have been very hungry and wouldn’t stand for that, but she probably could have done with a bit of exercise.

“You okay over here?” Yujin asked.

Eunha flinched and looked up. As could always be expected from the thirstiest of lesbians, Yujin’s eyes were locked on her bare boobs.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Eunha trailed off, “Okay, I’m not kidding anybody. I need some help getting this on.”

“Oh ho ho!” Yujin fake-laughed. “Does this mean I was right when I suggested we should get one of these outfits one size up?”

“You could have done with a size down! Just…” Eunha grumbled, “help me put it on.”

Yujin giggled for real, somewhere between cute and lecherous. “Sure, babe, I gotcha.” She twirled behind Eunha and dropped to her knees. “Let’s get these beautiful pillows cased, eh? A little help, Heejin?”

“Huh?” Heejin made her way over, and was followed by Jiu. Being the room’s center of attention was worse when Eunha also felt like the room’s center of gravity.

After a brief (and traumatizing) discussion on the logistics of the task ahead of them, the other two dressed bunny girls took their positions as Yujin directed, gripped a portion of Eunha’s leotard, and pulled up in tandem. They all succeeded in lifting Eunha off the floor, but the material did not budge any further. Eunha kicked back and forth rapidly until the others set her back down.

“Where exactly is it getting stuck?” Jiu asked with a puff. Eunha appreciated that Jiu used a more concerned tone, as opposed to Yujin’s mockery.

“It’s just stuck at the waist,” Yujin said, “All we gotta do is get that past her ass and we’re good. Let me just try a little lube…”

A disgusted shiver went all the way up and down Eunha’s back as she felt Yujin spit twice down the back of the leotard.

“Okay, three, two, one!” Yujin shouted, and heaved upward. Jiu and Heejin did the same.

The slip of material over Eunha’s ass was almost satisfying, but then came a sudden shock of pain; the result of fabric being stretched to its absolute limit by her expansive ass. As expected, it left no room whatsoever for her dick. Eunha could only squeak, go cross eyed, and collapse to the floor as the others released their grips.

“Oh… shit,” Heejin mumbled.

“Uh oh.” Jiu put a hand over her mouth.

“I think we need to get it off now,” Yujin said. Eunha felt herself surprisingly grateful for Yujin in that moment, considering she couldn’t catch a breath with which to say “Fuck! Take it off!”

Thankfully, the shape of Eunha’s curves made removing the thing much easier than putting it on, though it still took some effort. Jiu tossed the leotard to the side and Yujin gasped, suddenly transfixed. Eunha was left groaning on the floor, fully nude besides her askew bunny ears and bow tie. She rolled onto her back, went limp, and summarized her feelings: “O~ow~w…”

Jiu sighed heavily. “Well now what are we going to do? We can’t go out there without Eunha. She’s like, the bunniest bunny.”

Eunha barely registered the compliment.

“She could try losing some water weight,” Heejin said.

“Water weight?” Jiu asked with a raised eyebrow, “Like pissing it all out? That sounds fake.”

“Uh… No, I mean spitting in a cup… or working up a big sweat by exercising super hard.”

Jiu squinted. “That still sounds fake. And also unhealthy.”

“It works for me and Jinsoul if we need to shave an inch off.”

“An inch?!” Jiu shouted, “Wow, you fourth genners are intense. Do I need to talk to your manage—Okay, we’ll come back to that in a bit. Eunha? Yujin? Have you two ever done that?”

Eunha was still catching her breath and couldn’t answer, but was very opposed to the idea. She could barely do normal exercise, so working up enough of a sweat to lose physical size was definitely a pipe dream. There were a few long moments of silence.

“Yujin!” Jiu tapped Yujin’s shoulder, snapping her out of her trance. She’d been staring between Eunha’s legs.

“S-sorry. But look, Seunghee was right!” She pointed at Eunha’s dick. “It’s so cute!”

Just when Eunha thought her embarrassment had reached its peak, the summit stretched out by another mile. Her accidents in The Lounge would follow her forever, it seemed.

Heejin blushed again and looked away. Jiu, however, remained stoic and said, “Yeah, sure, but we need a plan, Yujin.”

More silence. Eunha eventually caught her breath and started to let the others know that the show should probably go on without her, “I—”

Yujin interrupted, “Actually, I think Heejin’s got it!”

“What?” Eunha croaked.

“What’s a little dehydration if we’re only performing four songs in a medley?” Yujin chimed, “Let’s just, you know, shrivel her up a bit, do the performance, and then come back and make her guzzle a gallon of water to plump back up! She’s real close to fitting in the thing already, so it won’t take much.”

Jiu cocked an eyebrow. “You really think something like that will work?”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Eunha raised a hand to try to object, but Heejin spoke first. “I mean, we could also… I mean, it would be easy to cut some slits in her leotard to expand it and use some black electric tape to cover up the—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Yujin interrupted again, “Let’s only worry about plan B if the sweaty plan fails. Okay! So! Check this out. As we all know, sex makes for a fantastic workout. If we all fuck Eunha, she’ll sweat like crazy. And this plan comes with three more benefits! One: Draining her balls will make them fit without getting skronched again. Two: If her pussy gushes, that’s more water weight gone. And three: She burns calories for real, healthy weight loss. All the while, she’s spitting into a cup like Heejin suggested for maximum effect. Oh, but where do we get a cup?”

Heejin looked around. “I didn’t bring one… We can just grab one from—”

“What a shame!” Yujin interrupted again again, “I guess she can spit in my mouth instead.”

Jiu glared. “Well now you’re just being too obvious, Yujin. Also I’m pretty sure her balls won’t actually get smaller.”

“Damn. Yeah, those balls are already super tiny… But the sex plan is a-go-go, right?”

Heejin shrugged. “Seems kinda legit.”

Jiu sighed again and planted her hands on her bare hips, hanging her head for a moment. “I have to admit, it sounds like the best option we have. And we are bunnies, after all, so getting things done by fucking kind of makes sense.”

“What…” Eunha choked, “Don’t I get a say in this? I think Heejin was right. Cutting a little around the waist was a good ide—”

“Ruining the outfits is our last resort!” Yujin shouted. She already peeled down the top of her leotard, freeing her small chest from its confines, and straddled Eunha’s head.

Jiu and Heejin gave each other a “why not” kind of look.

Eunha groaned one last time as Yujin pulled her outfit’s crotch to the side. Eunha got an eyeful of ass and a mouthful of pussy. She resigned herself to her apparently unstoppable fate and stuck out her tongue. It was unsettling how genuinely similar to strawberries Yujin tasted.

“Oooh!” Yujin cooed, “See? Good plan.” She leaned down to grope Eunha’s tits. “Don’t forget, Eunha. You need to participate for maximum benefit.”

However reluctant she may have been, Eunha’s body certainly participated. Her dick—which was still very sore—stood straight up in no time as Jiu softly caressed and kissed it. A moment later, Jiu clambered on top, slowly grinding herself in small circles to keep Eunha’s dick inside her.

“How’s it feel?” Yujin asked with a bit of a dreamy quality to her voice.

Nobody answered for a few seconds.

“Oh, me?” Jiu clarified. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright? She’s doing great with her tongue. Really getting me wet down there.”

“Yeah. It’s like, just alright. Hey wait, wet?”

Yujin squinted. “Duh. She’s licking my vag. Of course I’m getting wet.”

“Isn’t the goal for Eunha to dehydrate a little bit from this?” Heejin asked.

“I don’t think you can actually hydrate by drinking pussy juice, but oh well. You’re right. Oops. My bad.” Yujin shifted herself a bit forward, smashing her asshole against Eunha’s mouth instead.

“Aow! Ffey!” Eunha exclaimed and slapped Yujin’s thigh.

Yujin flinched a little, but cooed again. “Oooh, yes, this is just as good. Keep at it and you’ll drop a size in no time!”

“Hey, uh…” Heejin looked back and forth between Yujin and Jiu. “What should I do?”

Yujin hummed. “Weeell, let’s see. Seunghee told me that Eunha really likes anal.”

“Sheesh… another one?” Heejin murmured for some indiscernible reason, probably involving a church.

Eunha felt like she should protest, but it was a point she couldn’t effectively argue. She didn’t exactly want to argue, especially when Heejin’s finger pressed into her ass and curled up, pushing all of Eunha’s love buttons.

Reluctance aside, Eunha started giving in to the pleasure. She managed to lift her legs enough for Heejin’s finger to get almost all the way inside her. Jolts of energy zipped through her at each twirl of Jiu’s hips. Her hands instinctively spread Yujin’s ass further to be better devoured. Bunny eared stars swam in front of her eyes and she squealed.

Jiu suddenly stopped moving. “Oh. I think she just came.”

“Is that what that was?” Yujin asked, “We’ve only been at this for like fifteen seconds.”

Eunha’s core twitched and her toes curled. She’d be much more flustered if she weren’t losing her mind to one of the most intense orgasms she’d ever had.

“She hasn’t even… started to sweat though? Oh…” Heejin said, pointing between Jiu’s legs, “Yeah, that’s cum.”

Jiu swung a leg up and back, leaving behind a couple drops of Eunha’s jizz before her leotard snapped back into place and caught the rest.

“Welp…” Yujin popped her lips a few times. “Adorable little cock means adorable little cock problems, I guess.”

“If she doesn’t, you know, have the stamina to keep going long enough to start sweating, don’t you think we should try something else?”

“No!” Yujin smacked Eunha’s tits, yanking her out of her orgasmic bliss. “It’s far too soon to give up! Surely those teeny tiny little balls have more to give!”

Eunha tried to cradle her stinging boobs, but Yujin slapped her hands away.

Jiu dabbed at her crotch with a tissue near one of the makeup stations. “You know, Yujin,” she said, “As our token ‘real’ lesbian, I would have expected that you would suggest we keep going with Eunha’s pussy.”

“Jiu, you beautiful bunny, you’re a genius!” Yujin’s smile beamed.

“I’m really kinda not though.”

Keeping her head pinned, Yujin grabbed Eunha by the thighs and lifted, folding the poor girl nearly in half. “Let’s send this pussy to Kingdom Cum!”

Eunha whined, still partially muffled by Yujin’s ass, “Guyf, can’ we take a bweak?”

“Sorry,” Jiu said, “I don’t think we have time for a break. We need to be on stage in twenty minutes.”

“Also, a break would defeat the purpose!” Yujin chimed, “Hey Heejin, let’s try something. She’s not actually getting all that soft yet. Here, get between her legs.”

Pump heels clacked on the tile floor around Eunha as bodies (including her own, as she was involuntarily puppeted around) were rearranged. Yujin stayed in place, simply leaning to one side to make room for Heejin to be pulled down onto her hands and knees. Heejin briefly waved at Eunha now that they were sort of face to face, but then did her best to avoid eye contact, bunny ears wiggling as she tried to get into the position Yujin was directing her into.

Jiu pushed Eunha’s legs even further up to kneel behind them, putting her within tongue’s reach of all of Eunha’s most vulnerable bits. This left Yujin free to release Eunha’s thighs while still leaving them trapped in the air.

It was much like yoga, but without a choice. Eunha felt suffocated not only by Yujin’s butt, but also by the way she was being curled into a pretzel for the other bunny girls’ enjoyment (or maybe just Yujin’s). Her scrunched up torso—and the return of one of Yujin’s insistently groping, pushy hands—was really taking her breath away, physically speaking. Memories of being pinned to the closet floor by jeans-covered, thick thighs came rushing back, and her dick got rock hard again. Eunha was at least thankful that the others couldn’t read those thoughts.

“I’m ready whenever she’s hard again,” Heejin said with yet another blush.

“Of course she is, cutie!” Yujin shifted Heejin’s leotard to the side and guided Eunha’s dick into Heejin’s pussy. “If I had a dick, I don’t think I’d ever go soft looking at you, Heejie.”

If Eunha could have thrown her head back in pleasure, she would have. Heejin’s pussy was perhaps the tightest she had ever felt (not that she’d felt that many). “Mmmf!” she hummed up Yujin’s butt. A trickle of Yujin’s juices ran down her chin and neck.

“She’s starting to sweat too,” Jiu said before driving her tongue into Eunha’s asshole and pressing three fingers into Eunha’s pussy. She put in the most effort of anybody in the room, rocking Eunha’s lower body back and forth a bit, fucking her dick into Heejin.

“Good!” Yujin chirped, “She’s totally feeling it! Won’t be long before we’re swimming in her pussy ju—I mean her sweat!”

Everybody grimaced at Yujin’s weird, gay thirst, but she continued, “How about it? How’s that dick feel for you?”

After a moment, Heejin looked up and asked, “Uh… you mean me?”

“Yeah you, hot stuff!”

“I mean, I’m… ready whenever Eunha is.”

There was a long, very awkward pause.

Jiu coughed lightly. “She’s, um, already…”

There was a sudden panic in Heejin’s eyes. “Fuck! I thought you were fingering me!”

Another silence, then Heejin panicked harder. “Wait… no! I mean, fisting me! Eunha, I… I thought Jiu was fisting me! Because your cock is big…”

Eunha sighed heavily into Yujin’s ass crack. She could already sense Heejin’s words creeping into her subconscious to haunt her dreams for the rest of her life, constantly reminding her of her inadequate penis size and how it was basically one of her most defining features.

“S-sorry, Eunha… I really meant—”

Yujin patted Heejin’s head. “Hey, shush, cutie. Apologizing probably just makes it wors—I mean, she probably hears that from everyone all the tim—I mean, I’ve got a dildo you can borrow later if you need something of a reasonable siz—I mean, hey, let’s fuck that lovely cock, right? Here we go, that’s it. Beautiful.”

Hands on Heejin’s hips, Yujin pushed her back and forth (cautiously and over a very short distance).

Despite the developing medium-size traumatic stress disorder, Eunha couldn’t help but succumb to pleasure. It all just felt so good. The fingers, the tongues, the pussies and assholes. Everything squeezed her, groped her, penetrated her, humiliated h—no wait, not that one. It was so much sensation. Her toes curled of their own accord. So much… So much!

Jiu and Yujin teased their fingers over Eunha’s balls and clit respectively, clearly reminding the reader of the severe lack of anatomical realism going on up in this bitch, but that’s okay because it made Eunha—

“I think she just came again,” Jiu said, “Her balls and her holes just tensed up all at once. I think she even squirted a little bit. Pretty sure that’s not just pee?”

Eunha fought to hold back her tears. The sexual satisfaction, physical discomfort, and emotional shame were all mixing together in the most horrible way and she really didn’t want to like it as much as she was. Thanks to the angle she was being held in, her juices, both what squeezed out of her pussy and Heejin’s, dripped down her stomach and between her tits. Yujin immediately smeared it around like a gay pervert (because she’s a gay pervert).

“Oh fuck… please don’t let it be pee,” Heejin said in a tone denoting past personal experience in a church.

“It probably isn’t!” Yujin shouted, “ Keep going! If she’s squirting, it’s working!”

Eunha managed to push Yujin’s butt off her face with her feeble arms. “Oh my gosh… please… let me have—”

Before she could finish begging for a break, Yujin lifted Eunha’s head with her heels, shoving her much harder into the crevasse of her ass and blocking off her nose. Eunha weakly tried to pry Yujin’s legs away but failed, and groped around as one does when struggling and not knowing what to do with their hands. She knew she should have seen this coming, and hoped she’d get some air before she passed out. At least she had a surprisingly tasty ass to eat while her humiliation and exhaustion continued.

Yujin grabbed one of Eunha’s limply hanging legs and brought it down, where she popped a couple of toes into her mouth. Eunha didn’t have a foot fetish, but she did like it when Yerin sucked—and/or made SinB suck—her toes.

Heejin’s face was barely visible past Yujin’s ass. Eunha couldn’t help but think about how pretty she was, especially in the full bunny girl outfit. Eunha briefly wondered if she could get Heejin’s number, and then immediately pushed the thought out of her mind. The concept of facing Heejin (or Yujin or Jiu for that matter) any time in the future was mortifying.

Jiu was exceptionally good at everything she was doing. If anything was making Eunha sweat, besides the forced yoga, it was the skill Jiu was exhibiting. Eunha’s pussy and ass were absolutely on fire, and actually in a good way. Specifically in the approaching orgasm way.

“Oookay, she just came again,” Jiu groaned.

A general sense of deflation and disappointment in the room made it quite clear that Eunha was the only one enjoying these very quick orgasms. Yujin let go of her head and tits, Jiu sighed a heavy breath against her backside, and Heejin rolled away, letting Eunha's spasming cock hit Yujin with the last spurt of cum.

"What?" Yujin asked, scooping the jizz out of her belly button, "What's wrong with that? We can still keep fucking her."

Heejin was clearly trying to hold back a scowl. "I know. It's just… kinda weird, I guess."

Yujin backed off, finally letting Eunha get a full breath of fresh air until she shoved her cum-covered fingers into Eunha's mouth. "Heejin, I totally agree. It's weird and gross that she can't even hold it in for one whole minute, but the point is to make her work up a sweat so we can all perform together, and that's working! Right?!"

Eunha gave an exhausted groan and limply slapped at Yujin’s arm. It’s not like she hadn't eaten plenty of her own cum before, but there was something uniquely demeaning about it being casually forced into her mouth while her poor sexual performance was discussed above her.

"Maybe it's just worth trying Heejin's other idea?" Jiu let Eunha's bottom half down to the floor again. "Cut the outfit a bit?"

"Hang on! We've got plenty of time for this method, right?" Yujin pointed at the clock on the wall. They still had eighteen minutes left.

Eunha rolled over into the fetal position.

“Well, yeah. But I’m seriously not sure this is working, and I think we should be pretty concerned that Loona’s managers insist on making them do anything like this. Really, Heejin, do you need me to talk to them?”

“Woah woah woah, little miss white-knight-with-sexy-legs-in-a-bunny-costume,” Yujin butted in, “There’s plenty of time to punch Loona’s draconian managers in their stupid faces later, so hear me out. Eunha is clearly not doing so great on the penis side of things. I know it’s hard to tell because she’s already so small, but her little cock is getting soft as we speak. However! This is about physical exertion, not pleasure, even if that gorgeous mouth of hers is really fucking good at the pleasure thing… So let’s just do something that doesn’t require waiting for her refractory periods!”

Jiu scratched her head. “Her refractory periods have only been like ten seconds a piece.”

“And that’s ten! Seconds! Wasted!” Yujin clapped to punctuate her words, “every time she cums prematurely! That’s cutting into our productivity! But I have good news. I brought something with me that can help us out. Check my bag.”

Doing as Yujin asked, Jiu procured a clear-jeweled butt plug. She looked at the gem carefully. “Why the hell is there a picture of my face inside a butt plug?”

“Forget about that! I was talking about the other stuff in my bag!”

“Oh. Holy crap, this is enormous.” Jiu procured another item, much larger than the butt plug. It was a dildo, already attached to a strap on, and nearly the size of her forearm. “You want to fuck Eunha with this? It’s bigger than she is.”

Yujin beamed a proud smile across the room. “Hehe, yeah. It is big, huh? It’s molded off of Karina. Got it from Giselle. And yes. Eunha may be small but according to Jihyo that ass of hers can take a truly absurd portion of dick.”

Heejin grimaced for church-related reasons. “What is it with tiny girls being size queens…”

More flashbacks played across Eunha’s memory. She hoped she would get fresh baked cookies when everything was over again. Of course, she’d given up protesting. She could get up, get dressed (in normal clothes that still fit her), and walk away, but then the story wouldn’t happen and she really did want the sex to continue, whether or not she ended up such a leg-shaky, gaping, dripping, braindead mess that she wouldn’t actually be able to go out on stage. In fact, if that were the case, she could probably use that as an excuse to drop out of the performance.

Eunha didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, considering she knew they were just going to end up wrecking her ass (and perhaps more than her ass) shortly. Instead, she indulged herself a little, stroking her cock with her middle and ring fingers. It may have been getting soft, but damn if it didn’t feel great after three consecutive creampies. She wondered what it would feel like if someone else were to cum while riding her. If she could keep herself from cumming for like thirty or forty more second—

Then, Eunha was rolled onto her stomach. She reflexively tried to say “wait,” but it turned into a long squeal as her ass was rudely and far too quickly filled with what must have been half the entire planet’s supply of silicone. Reports of the size of Karina’s dick were not exaggerated.

“Wooow!” Yujin sang, “Now that was easy! Check it out, Jiu! She took the whole thing in one go!”

Attempting to catch her breath turned out not to be an option for Eunha, and Yujin’s sudden, emphatic fucking made the situation so much worse. The bottom pounding made it feel like Eunha’s lungs were being pounded from the bottom. She didn’t have the time to question that poorly worded circular logic though, as her head was lifted and another dildo (of significantly smaller size) was pushed into her gasping mouth.

The second dildo was attached to a second strap on, which was in turn attached to Jiu’s hips. Eunha looked up into her eyes, giving her a pleading, sort of “why me?” kind of expression. Jiu shrugged and proceeded to fuck Eunha’s throat.

“Look at us,” Yujin marveled out loud, “Just you an me, Jiu, spitroasting a little shawty between us like a couple of professionals.”

Jiu squinted, “What?”

“You know what I’m saying? Just us, some hotties with killer bods, going all the way downtown to Paris to meet at the top like the Eiffel Tower.”

“I’m not going to kiss you right now, Yujin.”

All the while, Eunha being shoved back and forth between them, scrubbing the floor with her tits, catching breaths of air in the short moments she could get them around the tip of Jiu’s strap on. The struggle for mere survival did not diminish the pleasure though. Yujin’s creepcore comments diminished it a little, but Eunha could block those out. She surrendered herself to the rough treatment, merely moaning in ecstatic agony as everything inside her rearranged itself around the preposterously large fake cock pistoning in and out of her asshole, totally out of sync with the rhythm of Jiu’s facefucking.

“Aw, well, I guess that means we’ll kiss later, right?”

“Yeah,” Jiu sighed, “Maybe.”

Yujin paused her fucking briefly. “Woah, holy shit, really?”

“We can talk about it later, when we’re not busy.”

“Oh, y-yeah, tot-tally,” Yujin stumbled over her words and went back to slamming Eunha’s ass. She cleared her throat. “Hey Heejin, you gonna help us out? What are you doing over there?”

Eunha did her best to look to the side, Jiu’s dildo puffing out her cheek. She saw Heejin putting down a pair of scissors and walking behind Eunha once again.

“Huh? Nothing… What should I do? We’re out of dildos.”

Though Eunha was happy to hear she’d live to see another day, she was slightly disappointed to hear that.

“Well,” Yujin mused, “I think it’s not helping much for Eunha to just lie here on the floor. Here, get behind me and help me lift.”

“Always with the small girl lifting…” Heejin muttered more about her mysterious, sacrilegious past.

Moments later, Eunha found herself hanging in the air. Two pairs of hands held up her thighs, one pair of hands held up her shoulders, and the fake dicks in her ass and mouth kept her locked in place. The irony about how Eunha was the one who was supposed to be exercising in that moment was very much lost on her, as her mind was being consumed by ecstasy. She did register that for every thrust into her butt, though, there were two evenly spaced smacking sounds.

“Gosh, Heejin,” Yujin giggled, “I wish we did have another dildo. You could be totally wrecking my puss right now if you wanted. And damn, look at these arms. I’d ask if you work out, but I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Jiu hissed, “Yujin! We are locked in on this plan right now, and we only have fourteen minutes left! Save the flirting for later!”

Nobody paid attention to Eunha as she rammed head/asslong into yet another orgasm.

In fact, Eunha came several more times. She was not in the right state of mind to keep track of the actual number, but as the other three bunny girls got a major work out by maneuvering her around into several different air-suspended positions, Eunha sprayed an unreasonable quantity of cum onto the floor, Yujin, and herself.

Her body spasmed nearly constantly, melding orgasms and aftershocks into one seemingly endless climax, like a modern big budget movie. Her balls couldn’t keep up and her cock couldn’t stay up, eventually flopping limp with occasional small drops finding their way out. Her pussy drooled, creating a froth that clung to the dildo still splitting her in two. Her whole body, head to toe, was slick with sweat. Miraculously, however, her bunny ear headband stayed on the entire time, albeit slightly askew.

“Phew!” Yujin puffed, “Okay, should we try getting her in the costume now?”

Eunha glanced up at the clock through hazy eyes. Two minutes until they were expected to be on stage. The others released her onto a chair, emptying Eunha's mouth and ass, simultaneously giving her relief and causing great disappointment. She couldn't tell whether her ass was gaped wide open or if it managed to close back up. It was almost entirely numb.

While Heejin got the costume, Yujin grabbed Eunha’s balls, rolling them painfully between her fingers. “Well, they're not shriveled up per se, but she's totally not getting hard again any time soon.”

Eunha squirmed, coughed, and groaned. “Staaahp!” she whined weakly.

Jiu looked down suspiciously. “I'm starting to think this wasn't a good idea from the beginning,” she said with a rub of her chin.

“Why's that?” Yujin asked, helping Heejin lift Eunha's legs to slide the leotard on.

“Just look at her, Yujin. She's in no condition to dance—oh damn, she fits.”

Somehow, there was no difficulty whatsoever in putting Eunha's leotard on. It was absolutely still tight once it was all the way on (as expected, the bottom was stretched to the point of looking like floss between her ass cheeks, it all but flattened her dick and balls, and her tits still threatened to pop out of the top), but she was in it!

Heejin clasped the bow tie choker around Eunha's neck and dropped the pump heels under her feet. “Yeah, it fits… We should hurry out there.”

Eunha moaned as loudly as she could, obviously quite hoarse from the throat fucking, and did not stand up. She wanted to pass out, not perform.

Lifting her limp arm and letting it fall back down, Jiu hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, nope. Definitely a bad idea. She can't even mov—”

“Come on, girl!” Yujin shouted, “You're an idol! You've performed in way worse conditions!” She smacked the tops of Eunha's thighs, hard.

The sting brought Eunha back, mostly, to her senses, sending her up straight in her seat. “Ooow!”

Jiu and Heejin both glared at Yujin, but she grabbed Eunha by the arms and yanked her off the chair. The two nearly collapsed back to the floor, but Eunha caught herself and managed to stay standing on very wobbly legs.

“How do I,” Eunha took a shaky breath, “How do I look?”

The others hmm'ed and haw'ed for a moment.

“You look very cute. Extra bunnyish,” said Jiu.

“You look so fucking sexy,” said Yujin.

“You look… like you lost a fight,” said Heejin.

Eunha turned to face one of the mirrors and gasped (which turned into a cough). Her makeup was ruined, yellow lipstick smeared across her left cheek and eyeshadow streaked down. There was nothing left of her stylist's effort on her hair. None of it was going to be able to get fixed in the minute and a half that remained.

She groaned, “Oh no… Do I have to go out there?”

***

Miraculously, the performance went quite well!

CLC’s “To the sky”, Gfriend’s “Smile”, Loona’s “Ding Ding Dong”, and Dreamcatcher’s “Over the Sky” flowed somehow seamlessly back and forth for five minutes, including a dance break that mostly consisted of the four bunny girls jumping around the stage and playing with the crowd.

Despite Eunha’s disheveled (to say the absolute least) appearance, the audience consisting entirely of fellow Kpop idols cheered and bounced along to the cheerful, vaguely spring equinox-themed medley.

“Come closer quickly! Ding ding ding! The bell is ringing!”

“Step on the pedal and run to the sky! Even when you run out of breath!”

“Though my heart can’t catch you right now, and it’s shaking!”

“Don’t spare me! Look at me! I can feel all your love!”

In the end, when Eunha, Yujin, Jiu, and Heejin hopped into an ending fairy formation, Eunha felt a rush of relief. She made it! She survived and didn’t even screw up the dance! Sweat poured off of her like a fountain, and her leotard started to feel a little loose, but she was glad to be done! Already, thoughts of her soft bed, softer blankets, and a week’s worth of naps filled her mind.

“Give it up for the Spring Bunnies! What a show!” You shouted into the mic. How lovely of The Lounge to invite you to MC their seasonal events.

As Eunha huffed and puffed, both hands in the air flashing V’s, she gave one particularly heavy sigh. Suddenly, she felt a cool breeze across her stomach… and the subtle scrape of her leotard falling down her legs. The crowd went silent as she froze in place, smile turning very slowly into a cringe.

Jiu and Yujin looked down at the pieces of the leotard, no longer held together by strips of electrical tape, and then looked at Heejin.

Heejin put up her hands, looking guilty. “I… guess the tape got wet,” she whispered.

Somewhere in the middle of the audience, Yerin screamed at the top of her lungs, “WOO HOO! YEAH! THAT’S MY TINY DICK BUNNY GIRL! GO EUNHA!”

The crowd hesitantly started clapping again. Eunha tried not to think about it, just in case it might get her hard again before she could run backstage and hide forever.

#dreamcatcher #gfriend #viviz #loona #artms #clc #kep1er

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