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jedifarmerr · 1 month

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Untimely - Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC (AFAB).

Summary: Joel might have a little crush on his business partner, but it’s no big deal - really.

This can be read as either pre-canon or AU. Reader has a nickname, but physical description is a blank slate

Rating: E (18+ no minors)

Warnings/Tags: Joel’s POV, readers dad used to be Joel’s boss, discussion of absent parents (not reader), very minor discussion of parental death (again not reader), Joel is kinda awkward when it comes to dating, workplace relationship but without power dynamics, squint and you’ll find an age gap (no exact age is stated but she does have a college degree), pining and lots of it, denial of feelings and all that good stuff, and smut in general. I’m not gonna tag everything or this would get way too long but consent is clearly stated and does not have any major triggers (to my knowledge, but let me know if you catch something).

Word Count: 23,000. This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but got out of control. Oops. This is separated into two parts on AO3

Note: I’m back!! I know it’s been a hot minute, but I’m very very excited and very very nervous to share what I’ve been working on in my absence. But here it is!

---

The first full week of September, and Austin was deadlocked in a nasty heatwave.

Days like this made Joel wish he’d chosen a job that involved a roof over his head – or maybe just a little shade. Anything would be better than being crushed under the weight of the cruel Texas sun as it poured down through the bare-bone house. Still, Joel hammered his way through it. Even as the sun baked his scalp and covered every inch of his skin in sweat.

Joel flapped his shirt to dry the cotton sticking to his chest like silicone glue. His walk was more so a waddle, which was honestly his fault for wearing jeans. The denim chafed against his thighs while combing the work site for any loose supplies. All he wanted to do was hop into his work truck, blast the air conditioning and leave, but instead he diligently checked between every wooden beam and around every corner. Despite the lack of drywall leaving barely any hiding spots, it was insane how often Tommy forgot a power drill behind a tub of paint or cement.

Or somewhere else incredibly stupid.

Nothing major today, though. Just a few nails that jingled around in his tool belt as he stepped out onto the future front porch, immediately spotting Tommy. Kinda hard to miss with his big ass head poking out the driver side window while puffing on his daily post-work Marlboro.

“The engine was making that funny noise again,” Tommy claimed, his voice echoing across the dirt lawns and unpaved driveways of the brand new subdivision.

Joel walked past the rusty-white hood, but heard nothing other than the usual ancient roar. There was the radio in the cab playing Foolish Games by Jewel – a favorite of Sarah’s.

“Funny noise, huh?” He eyed Tommy with blatant skepticism before slumping into the dusty cloth seat with a thunk. “Well, sounds like it’s fixed now.”

“Oh yeah good as new.” Tommy burned the soul from his cigarette, then chucked the butt out the window. “This thing’s gotta be what - 10? 15 years old?”

“Something like that.” Joel didn’t know off the top of his head. The truck had been a part of the company even longer than him, meaning it had to be somewhere closer to 15 than 10. From what he could recall it’d been a few years off mint condition even when Danny first hired him.

“Then, how the hell is it still running?”

“Danny’s a smart man who didn’t buy a shitty Chevy,” Joel lightheartedly jabbed at his little brother – a self-proclaimed Chevrolet man, but only because of his buddies. “He knew that Ford was better - built tough.”

“Well, ain’t lookin’ too tough now,” Tommy pointed out and Joel shrugged.

As long as the truck got him from one place to the next, he didn’t care if it was taped together by spit and gorilla glue. He knew for a fact Tommy wouldn’t complain either if a new one was coming out of his wallet instead.

Tommy threw the truck into reverse. “I’m telling you now, you’re gonna regret not buying a new one sooner.”

“What are you gonna do?” Joel snorted. “Put some sugar in the gas tank?”

“I don’t have to sabotage this piece of shit - it’ll crap out on its own soon enough,” Tommy said. “Hell, it could even happen today.”

“Better not,” Joel grumbled, but otherwise went quiet. He didn’t know why Tommy had to put that idea in his head. Sarah was waiting for him at the shop. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to break down.

For a mile or so, Joel sat on the edge of his seat, carefully listening to the bumps and groans – typical for a truck around Sarah’s age. The engine rattled as Tommy merged onto Highway 183, but it always did when accelerating. He swore it did.

Whatever – enough.

There was paperwork to do. Today’s timesheets were in the glovebox, only halfway complete. So, he pulled out the folder and set to work. At least it offered a distraction from the brakes screeching like a horde of bats during rush hour traffic.

“Did you ever hear from the concrete guys?” Tommy turned down an obnoxiously loud ad for a car dealership in town.

Grunting, he curtly nodded. His pen found Harry’s Concrete at the bottom of the sheet and promptly scratched it out with scathing red ink. Just seeing their name triggered a sour taste in his mouth.

He was used to the concrete guys being flaky, but not like this. These last couple months had been like dandruff in the winter. Brutal. Today, the bastards didn’t even have the balls to call until after lunch. No excuse, either.

“Third day in a row,” Tommy just had to say, as if he needed a nudge. “In my opinion - I think it’s time to hire somebody else.”

“Well, you know who to share that opinion with, and it ain’t me,” Joel chided – annoyed. It drove him crazy how often Tommy needed to be reminded of simple things, like what Joel’s role in the business entailed. For God sake – it’d been over a year now since he became a partner in the company.

Joel could initially understand the confusion. After all, Danny had run the business as a one-man show and everyone, including Joel, thought his daughter would fully take over once he retired. Danny had always said that was the plan anyway, and even named the place: Teddy’s Company.

Originally, Joel had thought Teddy was her real name until three years ago when he finally got the chance to meet her. But how was he supposed to know when Danny never called her by anything else? It wasn’t like Joel had known much about her back then either, and what little he did came from Danny’s vague and blue-moon updates.

College is going well.

Her new job’s treating her good.

She moved into a new place, seems to like it.

Short – brief. Some people probably thought Danny was being crusty but that wasn’t the case. No, Danny was never rude or mean, just quiet. A man of few words who on his more mute days could even make Joel look chatty.

Before meeting her, Joel used to wonder what she’d be like. His future boss. There was a mystery around her that made her seem almost mythical, an enigma. She was like Willy Wonka with her name plastered all over the place: on his shirts, the side of the truck, front and center of the shop. But Joel had no idea who she was.

Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t have picked her out of a crowd. Or even a line-up. The only picture he’d seen of her was in a popsicle frame on Danny’s otherwise bare desk: The two of them at a petting zoo where she couldn’t be older than six.

Without much to go by, Joel had simply assumed that she would look and act, at least somewhat similar to her dad. He’d built Teddy up in his mind as a strong, burly woman who was gruff around the edges. Someone with a sailor’s mouth and stubby fingernails embedded with dirt and grit and grout.

Instead, they were fake and baby pink. She looked like she had never changed a tire in her whole life.

She probably hadn’t, but she was without a doubt smarter than Tommy and him combined. A graduate from some fancy university in California with an equally fancy business degree. Charming with a nice, smooth voice perfect for sales. If she went to a random street corner to sell bags of cow manure she could sucker anyone, even him, into waiting in line to buy one.

She was down-right impressive. Finances, pitches, and permits, she could do it all. However, the other side of the business – the manual labor, a little more dirty.

Joel had not a doubt in his mind that she had the ability to learn it, but did she want to?

Hell no.

For one, she had this irrational fear over being electrocuted. Back before Danny retired and she first started working at the front desk, Joel had walked in on her changing out a lightbulb, and you would’ve thought a snake had popped out of the ceiling. He’d mistaken it for a fear of heights until a few months back when Sarah refused to let him shower during a rainstorm. Sarah had looked hysterical using her lanky-arms to body-block the stairs, warning him that he’d get fried if he went up there.

“Don’t you know dad, lightning can travel through plumbing? Teddy was telling me all about it today.”

Joel didn’t have a clue where that particular fear stemmed from, but her vendetta against attics, now that he could understand. After all, she’d probably still be in California if not for her dad’s accident.

It was never Danny’s plan to retire so early. Despite the appointments and constant physical therapy, it’d still caught Joel by surprise, though not as much as Teddy’s offer to run the business alongside her. Together. 50/50. Sure, it came with this boring paperwork, but a bigger paycheck as well. Only a fool would’ve turned that down.

Besides, promotion or not – he would’ve stayed and worked for her, regardless.

—

Back at the shop, Joel would usually help Tommy unload the truck, but not today.

Instead, Joel tucked the file under his arm, hung his tool belt on the rack, then made his way through the garage. He entered through the back door, letting it slam behind him. The cool air greeted him, tingling his tacky skin and he shivered.

The vents rumbled inside the white hallway walls, echoing around the shop. Along with two voices coming from the lobby. When he heard Teddy’s laugh, he ran a quick hand through his hair, fixing the damp strands away from his forehead.

He rounded the corner and Teddy was at her desk. Everything from her neck down was cut-off by the high-glass counter, making her look like a floating head. A very nice-looking floating head or a nice head to look at or -

Whatever.

She was smiling at him – that same honey-golden smile that welcomed him every morning. The same smile he wished was here to welcome him every evening, as well. But with how late he worked most days, it was a hit or miss. He could never guarantee she would still be here, except on the days with Sarah.

“You’re late,” Sarah said before he could even say hi.

Joel glanced at the clock above the front door. 5:45. 15 minutes.

“Barely.” Anything less than thirty was a win in his book. It didn’t matter that Teddy chose to stick around and keep Sarah company, he wouldn’t push it. She was his business partner – not a babysitter.

“Still late.” Sarah stepped away from Teddy’s desk with her arms crossed menacingly over her chest. If not for the twitch of her lips, she would’ve appeared deadly serious. The girl never could keep a straight face though for more than a second.

“Let me guess, you’ll forgive me if we can get McDonald’s on the way home?”

Bingo. Sarah tapped on the tip of her nose and Joel huffed a laugh.

“Well, Uncle Tommy drove, but we can ask-”

“We?” Sarah looked at him like he was crazy before shaking her head. “I think I’ll handle this one on my own.”

“What’re you trying to say?” He asked and her lips curved into a half-cocky, half-play smirk that screamed teenage girl. A stage of life he felt rather unprepared for, even more so than diapers and potty training and 6th grade math. The teenage years were bound to be harder than statistics and exponents and long division.

“Come on, dad. When has Uncle Tommy ever said no to this?” She showed off her best puppy dog eyes and alright – yeah, poor Tommy didn’t stand a chance.

But Joel didn’t tell her that. He couldn’t. He was too stunned that the little girl who used to hide behind his legs at the grocery store was the same one who was strutting down the hallway now without even glancing back.

He shook his head in disbelief and looked over at Teddy. “I don’t know where all this confidence of hers has come from recently,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the now-shut door. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with you.”

“Me?” She fluttered her lashes like she was clueless – definitely something she wasn’t.

“That’s right,” he replied as he approached her desk. Her area always smelled clean and homey like fresh laundry in a field of wildflowers. The last thing he wanted to do was invade her perfumed bubble with the stench of his sweat and that specific twang that came from being outside all day. So, when he caught a strong whiff of her perfume, he stopped and propped his hip against the desk before saying, “I think you’re rubbing off on her.”

“And is that such a bad thing?” She squinted at him and unlike Sarah, she could actually keep a straight face.

“No.” He firmly shook his head. “In fact, I meant that as a compliment.”

In an instant, her flat-line lips split into a wide grin. He smiled in return, stupidly pleased with himself for making her light up like that. His gaze momentarily dropped from her lips to the single button left undone on her shirt. The charcoal gray fabric shined in a way that reminded him of moonlight over Travis Lake. It looked soft and smooth as butter. And not to mention expensive. Joel bet if he touched it, even so carefully, the material would immediately snag under his callouses.

Teddy motioned for the file and when he handed it over, he felt a draft under his armpit from the hole in his shirt. He glanced down at his jeans, covered in dirt and mud and sawdust. Filthy. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness. It was hard not to feel like a mess next to her sometimes when she was always dressed so goddamn professional with her pressed slacks and tucked in shirts. Anyone who saw her would think she worked for some big corpo with a koi pond in the lobby. Not a Morton building with more garage than office space.

“They didn’t show?”

Teddy’s voice jolted his attention back to her face. Her lips were pinched, her cherry red fingernail was bleeding into his own pissed-off pen marks. He mentally cursed himself for being too wrapped up in his own stupid head to warn her about the concrete guys. Good going, idiot.

There was nothing he could do about it now, except frown and shake his head. “They called and said-”

“Let me guess, they’ll be there first thing tomorrow?” She bitterly scoffed, clipping the folder shut. The manila spine crunched under her grip before she abruptly turned away from him to face the wall of cabinets behind her. She never said it out loud that it bothered her, but clearly it did and rightfully so.

Working here this long Joel had witnessed these same people treat her dad with respect only to now try and walk all over her. He found it complete and utter bullshit, but was it a surprise? Sadly, not really. Enough years around construction sites and his tinnitus resembled cat-calls more than a compressor.

Still, he fucking hated it. His left eye flinched watching her file away the folder in silence. The protective lobe in his brain flared as his fingers curled and burned into a fist at his side. God – he wanted to go to Harry’s Concrete and give that bald loser a piece of his mind and maybe a black eye, but he didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

No – instead, he continued to bite his tongue until his mouth flooded with the taste of pennies. He’d become used to the tang of copper in his mouth after the roofers, the plumbers, even the electricians that tried her in the past. The only reason he held himself back was because of her. Because she asked him to let her deal with it, and she was perfectly capable of handling things herself. Better than him at it, in fact.

Teddy slammed the drawer shut, rattling the entire cabinet. “I’m not gonna fire them.”

“Okay,” he said without having to think twice. He didn’t expect her to fire them, honestly. She’d explained to him before that she’d never burn bridges prematurely. The grass was not always greener on the other side, especially not in Texas. Especially not in this line of work.

“Or - I should say I’m not going to fire them yet, anyway.” Her voice was steady – determined. “But one more and it’s over. I’m gonna let Harry know that he’s on his last strike when I call him tomorrow.”

“Give ‘em hell,” he encouraged her. Whatever she said in those calls had, so far, been enough to whip everyone who crossed her into shape. Just once, he wished he could be a fly on the wall to witness her in action. She didn’t look particularly tough, but he imagined her being like an asp caterpillar, fuzzy and harmless until poked.

She didn’t linger on the topic, and instead asked about his day. He did the same. Neither had much to report outside the usual.

“So, how was Sarah today? Did she talk your ear off about the homecoming dance coming up?”

She giggled, gathering up the papers on her desk and stacking them into a neat pile in the corner. “How did you know?”

“Cause she found out Monday, and hasn’t talked about anything else since.”

“Oh and it’s only just begun,” she said with a smirk. “Welcome to your life for the next few weeks, Joel.”

Joel scratched at the spot where his temple was already beginning to throb. Why did they have to announce it so early? It was great seeing Sarah so excited, but she kept asking him about his own first homecoming. He hated lying to her, but he couldn’t very well tell her the only thing he remembered was Rachel Borthwick and how she let him feel her up – the first boobs he ever touched – underneath the gymnasium bleachers. The thought of Sarah being that same age made him want to throw up.

He swallowed the thought before it came out all over her desk. “Were you the same way at her age?”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure if you asked my dad, he’d tell you I was worse.” She snorted, almost seeming embarrassed by her younger self. “For some odd reason, I had it built up in my mind that it’d be like that prom scene from Grease. Minus the broadcast and all that-”

“Wait, your dance wasn’t on the news?” He tried to keep a straight face, but he was just as bad as his daughter.

“Shut up.” She playfully shoved his arm and he rubbed it like it hurt. She rolled her eyes, but continued anyway. “My dad didn’t have the heart to tell me, so it was a pretty huge letdown when they didn’t even play Born to Hand Jive. I think I even requested it.”

“How did you survive?”

“It’s a miracle,” she said, and he huffed out a laugh. Three years later, and she still surprised him with every new story she chose to reveal.

There was a split-second where the only sound in the room came from the buzzy-white fluorescent lights above him. Teddy stole a quick glance towards the hallway, as if checking if Sarah was back. She had still not reappeared and he wondered if Tommy had baited her into helping him unload the truck or maybe just sticking around to talk.

Teddy clicked her fingernails on the counter in front of him. “Real quick, I wanted to ask,” she said before clearing her throat. “Have you and Sarah talked at all about dress shopping?”

Joel shifted back a step, his boots scratching against the cheap, gray carpet. “Dress shopping?” He forced the words from his throat, then shook his head. He looked away, feeling a pit in his stomach that reminded him of Muffins for Mother’s Day in elementary school – Mommy & Me at the daycare.

Again – dress shopping was another one of those things girls usually did with their mom’s, but Lisa wasn’t meant to be a mom. She’d even said so herself in the note she left next to her engagement ring on the day she vanished with their dog. Joel wished his own mom was still around to help fill in when the gaps felt too big for him, but sadly, she had passed away before Sarah turned 4. Since then, it’d only been just Tommy and him.

“The only reason I ask is because,” Teddy started, clutching at the dainty gold chain around her neck, “Well, she sorta asked me to take her.”

“Oh.” Joel didn’t know what else to say. Not that it offended him or anything petty like that. God no – he wasn’t delusional enough to think that he would be Sarah’s first choice when it came to fashion. After all, his idea of dressing up was a flannel and whatever jeans were clean. Teddy made a lot more sense than him.

“I didn’t give her an answer, just so you know. I wanted to check with you first.” Her voice was rushed, slightly pitchy, and he realized this was the first time he’d ever seen her even remotely nervous. She must be just as cautious as him about crossing whatever line was supposed to exist in this…relationship? Dynamic?

Joel smiled at her, softly, hoping to ease her anxiety. “Well, thank you,” he said and she appeared to relax at his calm tone. “I have no problems with you taking her, as long as you wanna do it.”

“Of course, I want to, but are you - are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us if you want. We could all go together?”

The offer was tempting, but he declined. He knew Sarah would enjoy it being just the two of them. It could be girl time or whatever.

Teddy pulled out her planner to check on what dates would work best when Sarah came back in. Once she heard the good news, the victorious grin on her face somehow grew even bigger. The last time he saw her that excited was when he surprised her with tickets to Six Flags for her 11th birthday.

Teddy and her started to discuss which stores to hit and what mall would be best, basically a foreign language to him. He should’ve started on closing duties, but instead he found his gaze drawn to Teddy. How she appeared equally as thrilled as Sarah. He always could tell when she was excited by the way she talked with her hands. That smile was downright infectious and –

He noticed Sarah watching him. Her quizzical eyes were glued to his face. Shit. He was staring. Quick. Joel forced a smile at Sarah that hopefully said nothing-to-see-here. He didn’t stick around to wait for her reaction and instead, fled into his office.

For a few minutes, he pretended to check over files and went down the list of closing duties, completely avoiding them until the only thing left was setting the alarm. Finally, he dared to look in their direction again. When he saw Sarah’s focus was entirely on Teddy, the tension drained from his shoulders.

He thought he was in the clear.

—-

“Dad, do you think Teddy’s pretty?”

Joel’s head whipped up and a sharp, pointy fry was lodged into the back of his throat. It burned and stabbed its way down to his esophagus. For a second, he thought he was going to choke and die at his own dining room table from a McDonald’s fry.

“What?” His voice crackled like sandpaper from holding in a cough.

“She asked if you thought Teddy was pretty?” Tommy repeated, loud and clear with a smug grin that he didn’t even try to hide behind his Big Mac.

Joel’s gaze flickered from one set of brown eyes to the next. He was cornered, his back against the bay window. No way out and no one to blame but himself for this mess. He was, after all, the dummy who got caught.

Joel held up a waiting finger, then slowly sipped on his coke to calm his burning throat. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he wrapped his head around what to say. Lying was out of the question. It seemed more damning than the truth.

The thing was – there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything. It wasn’t like she was asking if he liked her. Not that he did like her. Well, maybe just a little. Just a teeny, tiny crush but it was nothing really. Stupid, honestly. For the most part, he could ignore it.

Joel cleared his throat and gave a casual shrug. “Uh yeah, she’s uh - she’s pretty.”

Despite his best attempt at cool, Sarah’s lips still flickered. Only the corners, as she continued to bathe her fries in a pool of ketchup.

“Have you ever thought about - maybe asking her out?”

A deep laugh barked in his ears and bounced around the tile floor like spiky ping pong balls. “Come on, Teddy’s way out of his league.” Tommy’s hand collided against his shoulder with a hard thwack. It slightly stung.

But Joel didn’t take it too seriously. Tommy hassling him over Teddy was nothing new. Ever since she started working the front desk, it’d been Tommy’s favorite gag. In a weird way, Joel considered it a good thing that he saw it as one big joke. If Tommy had any idea about his silly crush, he would’ve kept his mouth shut instead of teasing him. Tommy might’ve been a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel.

Sarah didn’t seem to care whether it was a joke or not and scolded her uncle from across the table. She gave him a hard glare before turning back to Joel. She blinked expectantly, not letting him out of this.

Joel sighed. “Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He licked his teeth and sucked a stuck piece of meat from between his molars. There was a laundry list of reasons, but he went with the least complicated. “We work together.”

“So? Two teachers at my school are dating, and it’s no big deal. They didn’t even get in trouble.”

“Wait,” Tommy piped in with a mouthful of bun and sauce. “Isn’t she dating someone?”

Joel swallowed down the salty taste in his mouth, bitter like vinegar. He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You think so?” Sarah looked at him with clear suspicion. “So, she didn’t tell you that.”

“Well…no. But-”

“Then, how do you know?”

Joel crinkled the empty wrapper into a tight ball, then tossed it into the paper bag. “Somebody sent her flowers at work. Nice ones too.” Too grand to fit in her car, so instead they lived and died in the tiny break room directly across from his office.

“When?”

Three months. “I don’t know, not that long ago.”

“Well, how do you know they weren’t from her dad?” Sarah asked, not backing down. “Or maybe her friends sent them?”

Joel shook his head, recalling the stupid plastic holder that had poked out at him like a giant weed among the long stem roses. “The card said Happy Anniversary.”

At that, Sarah sank into the chair like a deflated balloon. She shoved a whole chicken nugget into her mouth – no sauce. Each dry crunch-crunch grated against the silence.

This recent interest in his love life was new. He wondered if it had something to do with her age or maybe all those rom-coms she watched. She’d never cared about him dating or – she did try to set him up once, a few months ago, with her best friend’s recently divorced mom, but when he shot it down she had quickly moved on.

But she didn’t even finish her chicken nuggets. He noticed a faraway look in her eyes – his eyes, one of the only things she inherited from him. She was somewhere deep in her head, in that big brain of hers that definitely didn’t come from him.

She did eventually perk up when Tommy brought up the new season of the Bachelor, but still wasn’t her usual self. So after Tommy left, Joel settled in beside her on the couch to watch Friends. This show was like her pacifier. Sick or just a bad day, one of Joey’s jokes could cheer her up instantly.

Not today, though. A whole episode later, and she’d barely said a word. Barely laughed, which had him really concerned. He got the sense that whatever was bothering her was something bigger than just Teddy.

“You’re quiet tonight.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and snugged her closer. She collapsed into him like a domino. Full cheeks squished against his shirt. She didn’t respond, and he didn’t press. Only can-laughter existed in the space between them.

Laying like this reminded him of when she was a baby. So tiny, a full head of hair even then. She would fall asleep on his bare chest while waiting for Lisa to return home from work. Looking back, the signs had always been there that one day she would run. She’d practically lived at her job after her maternity leave was done. Hell, she didn’t even take the full 6 weeks. Post-partum, the doctor called it, it’ll get better in time. But it didn’t. There was no medication cocktail that could make her want this life – that could make her want to stay.

“Can I ask you something?” Sarah’s eyes didn’t leave Phoebe and Monica.

“Anything,” he murmured against her hair before placing a light kiss to the top of her head. She no longer smelled of Johnson & Johnson or desitin, but coconuts and lime.

“Are you lonely?”

Even with her feathery-soft tone, the words hit him like a sucker punch, square in the jaw. Where the hell did that come from?

“Do I seem lonely?” The words left him like a reflex, automatic. It was the second time tonight she’d caught him off-guard.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her shoulders sliding along his t-shirt. “Are you?”

Slowly Sarah lifted her head – her big eyes bore into him and when he could trace every concerned line on her young face, the guilt smothered him like wet mineral wool. It was his job to worry, not hers.

He urgently shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

She silently stared at him, squinting as if somehow it would give her Professor X’s ability to read his mind. Clearly, he did not convince her and so he tried again. Harder.

“Sarah, listen. I am perfectly fine, alright?” He brushed a curly strand of hair from her face, firmly holding her gaze. “If I was lonely, I’d go do something with Uncle Tommy. He’s always asking me to do things after work-”

“Why don’t you?”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at her confusion. Of course, she wouldn’t understand. Teenagers always wanted to be out somewhere, doing something with their friends.

“Cause I’m old. And I’m tired. And honestly, I’d rather be home.” With you. The last part never slipped through the gap in his bottom teeth. He never wanted to make Sarah feel guilty for leaving him and living her life.

“You’re such a hermit.” She nudged at his chest, a smile sweeping across her face. Exactly what he’d been missing.

“I prefer homebody,” he corrected, making her burst into a giggling fit. He waited until she went quiet to say, “Either way - you ain’t gotta worry about me, alright?”

Once again, her expression turned very serious. Her eyes darted once, twice, across his face. “Swear?”

“On my life.”

—

Later that night, Joel laid awake in bed fighting to find a comfortable position. Even sprawling out in the middle didn’t work. The sheets were tangled around his legs, his feet – his thoughts equally twisted up from Sarah’s question earlier.

Are you lonely? Was he?

Joel had never considered himself to be lonely. Not really. Or not all the time, at least. For the most part, Sarah and work kept him busy enough that he never gave it much thought.

If he did think about it though, he supposed crawling into bed alone every night could get a little depressing. He was still human, after all. Intimacy was a basic human need. It was just simple biology when he occasionally craved a soft touch or someone to talk with before drifting off to sleep. It’d been a long damn time since he experienced either of those things.

Maybe Sarah was onto something. Maybe it was time for him to get back out there, but oh God. Just thinking about it made him light-headed.

Where would he even start?

His last serious relationship was his only serious relationship. After Lisa left, there was hardly any time for that. Being a single dad, dating wasn’t his top priority.

Sure, he’d managed to squeeze in a few first dates over the years, even less second ones, and he couldn’t for the life of him recall a third. If so, it’d been nothing worth remembering.

Honestly, the only person he’d considered asking out recently was Teddy. It was just a dumb idea that crossed his mind sometime in late spring when too much tree pollen and dust mites must’ve gotten into his head. He’d luckily come to his senses and fast. A few short weeks later, those damn flowers showed up.

If he was being honest, no one else really interested him.

And how could they?

It wasn’t even just about her looks, she was sweet and smart and surprisingly funny. Joking or not, Tommy was right – she was way out of his league and why was he thinking about this right now? Joel cleared his mind with a hard shake of his head. He needed to stop, get some sleep. He didn’t want to know what time it was already. Without looking at the clock, he flipped onto his side, fluffed his pillow, then shut his eyes.

Within seconds, Teddy slithered back into his mind with her perfect smile, the delicious scent of her soap, and those jeans she would undoubtedly wear tomorrow. Casual Friday might actually be the death of him. Denim on her hips was seriously a sin.

Just thinking of her fully-clothed ass made his cock twitch inside his boxers. Somehow that was enough to get him half-hard, the tip snagging over the soft-cotton.

Joel groaned in unison with the bed springs as he flopped onto his back. His palms itched to reach down and squeeze at his cock for a little relief. But he resisted, and forced his mind to somewhere far less pleasant. Broken wires. Wrong-size headers. Clogged drains. A memory of her gripping a PVC pipe invaded his brain and suddenly, it was her small hands wrapped around him instead. How would she look on her knees for him? Would she be able to fit him all in her two hands? If not, would she use her –

“Fuck.” Joel gritted his teeth and fisted at the comforter. Get a grip.

He felt like he was going crazy. Probably from the lack of action outside of his own fist. It was finally catching up with him. Tommy did warn him this would happen and fuck – he hated when Tommy was right.

Joel thought back to the last time he had sex and cringed. Two years ago, but the memory was tattooed in his brain just like the monarch butterfly on the random woman’s lower back. It happened at a sleazy bar where everyone knew Tommy by name. He’d taken too many shots of Wild Turkey, then found himself fucking the woman in a one staller, quick and sloppy, right next to a clogged toilet. Not his proudest moment. He’d go to the grave blaming the whole thing on Tommy, who treated their rare nights out like the bachelor party he was still pissed off that he didn’t get to throw.

The truth was though, even before Joel’s current involuntary celibacy, his sex life had been relatively non-existent.

He hadn’t had sex on a semi-consistent basis since his 20’s. A casual hookup with a lady named Amy, who lived in the same apartment complex as him. No-strings attached. An arrangement born out of pure convenience rather than desire or intense lust. She lived in the apartment below him, and once a week came up after Sarah went to sleep and left before the condom hit the trash can. No surprise it ended once he moved out, and ever since then, it’d been random hookups and one-night stands whenever Tommy and him went out for a night.

Joel sighed and stared up at the moon-stain ceiling of his bedroom, careful not to make any sudden movements in hopes to fight down his erection. While still and quiet might’ve worked to spook a black bear, his boner was sadly proving more resilient.

With every passing minute, the warm tingly feeling in his belly spread like weeds through his body. His fingertips down to his toes. Fully hard, now. It became clear ignoring it was useless. He would just have to get this over with, so he could get some sleep tonight.

Joel forcibly kicked off his blankets, then shoved down his boxers. His cock thwacked against his stomach and the tip was already shiny. He preferred to do this in the shower to avoid a mess, the steady stream of water helping to cover up his dry, cracked hands better than saliva. But something was better than nothing. He spit into his hand until his mouth was dry, then wrapped it around his cock.

Whether in the shower or in his bed, it didn’t matter, Joel always jerked off like it was a chore. Hard and fast strokes where he could barely catch his breath. No need for soft and sensual, just a tight fist to take the edge off. This way, he found it easier to keep his less than friendly thoughts of Teddy at bay.

He tried his best not to think about Teddy while doing this because friends don’t imagine their friends while fucking their fist. And that was all she was, all she would ever be – a friend. If he could he wouldn’t have thought of anyone at all, but he needed someone to imagine to get off.

Instead of Teddy, he pictured a cover model from a 90’s Penthouse Magazine that he’d found in the guest room after Tommy moved out. A pretty brunette with big natural tits, who he didn’t have to work with tomorrow.

His room steadily filled with the wet slap of his hand, the low thrum of the oscillating fan as he pretended the nameless woman was riding him. He was brutally fucking his fist when the woman shape-shifted into Teddy. So abruptly that he could barely register that it was her taking him down to the hilt. Her rolling her hips. Her fingernails scratching over his ribs, his shoulders, his chest with a little smirk even more sinful than her tight jeans.

“Shit,” Joel hissed when he realized, but too late – his hips surged forward as he came. So sudden, so fast, it almost gave him whiplash.

Joel was not usually loud during sex, more of a grunter than anything else, but it had never been so vivid. So real. He could practically feel the wet-heat of her cunt clenching around him. He had to snag his bottom lip between his teeth to keep every needy and desperate sound from bleeding out of his mouth as his cock pulsed and throbbed against his palm. He wouldn’t let himself find out what her name tasted like when he moaned.

Clearly, this was not the first time she’d popped into his mind and he doubted it would be the last. He wouldn’t feel nearly as bad about it either, but there was a fuck-ton of cum on his stomach. Even a little on his chest. Fuck – he came so hard it made him lightheaded.

He let the shame simmer down and once he caught his breath, he carefully dug out a travel-pack of Kleenex from his nightstand. He didn’t even wanna count how many tissues it took to wipe the syrupy-hot evidence from his skin.

He’d be sticking to the shower from now until forever.

—

The days had come and went and over a week later, Joel had not jacked off again. Not in the shower, and definitely not in his bed. But that had nothing to do with Teddy. Seriously. It was just a coincidence.

Work had picked up. The heat wave had died out, giving way to more 80 degree days. Fall was fast approaching, by far their busiest season. There was a brand new neighborhood of bland cookie-cutter slab houses that had him working doubles everyday and judging by today, this week would be the exact same way.

The streets were dark and mainly deserted by the time Joel dropped Tommy off at his apartment complex. Joel glanced at his phone – once again – for any missed calls before heading home. Still nothing. No new voicemails – 0 messages.

The first and last time he heard from Sarah was after Teddy picked her up from school, right before heading into the mall. He’d told Sarah to call him once Teddy dropped her off, but she must’ve forgot. The same way she always forgot to lock the front door. He would be home in less than 5 minutes or else he would’ve called. But he would rather give her a talking-to in person.

For a second, he wondered if she and Teddy were still at the mall, but it was late. Nearly 9.

No one could spend 5 hours there. Hell, he could barely spend more than 2 without going stir-crazy.

The last thing he expected when pulling onto his street was to see Teddy’s car parked in front of his house. The pearly white shell was perfectly lit up underneath a street light.

What was she doing here?

He thought she would drop Sarah off and dip after their shopping trip, but obviously not. Dear God, he hoped she wasn’t waiting on him. Joel whipped into his driveway and hopped out without bothering to grab his tool box in the back.

Inside, the living room was lit up with every lamp turned on, but otherwise empty. It was still tidy from the cleaning he did on Sunday, thankfully. He threw his keys on the console table, shutting the front door with his foot. He heard movement upstairs and headed that way.

“Sarah,” he called out, mainly to give a heads-up and not scare them. “I’m home.”

“Finally,” Sarah said as he stepped into her room. It smelled like that Body Works store at Barton Creek that Sarah loved, but always had him leaving with a headache.

He stayed close to the fresh air and leaned against the door frame. Sarah was perched at her vanity, the counter in front of her completely buried under make-up, nail polish, and a bunch of other crap.

“Teddy’s helping me decide what to wear with my dress.” Sarah swiveled around in her stool to face him.

“Yeah, I see that.” Joel looked over at Teddy, who was standing behind Sarah with an earring pinched in each hand. The smile on her face was genuine. If she was in any real hurry to leave she didn’t show it. “When did y’all get back?”

“I don’t know. 8:15? 8:20? Somewhere around there.” Sarah shared a shrug with Teddy. A little over thirty minutes, not bad. With the mess, he would’ve thought closer to an hour.

“Dinner took a bit longer than I thought it would,” Teddy explained and his brows furrowed.

“Busy night at the food court or something?”

He noticed Sarah and Teddy share a secretive glance, and of course, they didn’t eat at the food court. He should’ve known better than to think Teddy would just take her to Sbarro. But out of every chain restaurant – did she have to pick the damn Cheesecake Factory?

Sarah was raving over the Mac & Cheese balls that definitely cost more than the 10 dollars he sent for baked ziti. Judging by the amount of shopping bags in the corner, Sarah had used her extra spending money on clothes instead of Chicken Costoletta.

He waited until Sarah turned her back to nail Teddy with a knowing look. She swatted it away like a bothersome fly. She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

Later, he would deal with it. Money was not a topic he liked to discuss in front of Sarah. Besides, there were more important things at the moment.

“So, are you gonna show me this dress of yours?”

Sarah eagerly nodded and bounced over to her bed, picking up the black garment bag. It didn’t even allow him a peek at the color, not even when she hugged it tightly to her chest.

“Well, come on - don’t leave me hanging. I’ve been waiting all night.”

“Dad, you gotta see it on me or else you won’t get the full-effect,” she sassed, a duh implied in her tone. “Go downstairs, you and Teddy can wait-”

“Now, hold on there Sarah. It’s - it’s getting pretty late,” he pointed out, and Sarah’s fraying smile told him that she knew what he was trying to say. He hated disappointing her, but this was the right thing to do. “So Teddy, if you need to go home, don’t feel like you gotta stay.”

Selfishly, Joel wanted her to stay, but why would she? She had already seen the dress, already given up her entire evening for Sarah. This was a free out, and he expected her to take it.

Instead, She crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant child. “No way you’re getting rid of me that easily, Joel,” she said. “I’m sticking around to see your reaction.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she slid past him, her chest brushing against his arm. She motioned him to follow and he did without question.

She led the way downstairs as if she’d been here before. But the few times she’d come by before to drop off paperwork she never made it past the front porch.

His pulse slightly hiked up seeing her in his living room for the first time. Her gaze scanning the camel-colored walls, the pictures of Sarah throughout the years, his guitar that he rarely found time to play. Above the DVD and CD rack was the only real piece of art in the room – if that’s what people would call the painting of waves he’d found at a garage sale, the same one where he got the mismatched pillows on the couch.

Interior design wasn’t his strong suit, but he was still proud of his home. Proud of himself for buying it on his own, for being able to prove this kind of place for his kid. All of this, from the rug to every decoration and lamp. It was best attempts to make this space feel homey – lived in for Sarah’s sake. She would not be the only kid in class growing up in a bachelor pad.

“So, this is Joel Miller’s house?” Teddy spun around to face him and he found that she looked really good next to his coffee table. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, toeing the tile-carpet line that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Especially the Cowboys decor.” She pointed her thumb at the framed blue star logo that was hung up by the stairs. “Did you know I used to wanna be a cheerleader for them?”

Joel’s mouth went drier than when eating pretzels. He rapidly shook his head, mainly to erase the mental image of her in that skimpy little outfit. It would probably haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life.

He cleared his throat and took a seat on the couch. “I’m surprised Sarah didn’t give you a tour.”

“Oh, she did.” Teddy plopped down on the couch with him, keeping a friendly distance of a cushion. “But don’t worry, the grand tour didn’t include your bedroom. She said that was off limits.” She puckered her bottom lip, pouting as if actually disappointed.

“Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

“But isn’t that where the magic happens?”

Joel accidentally let out a snort. Magic. Nothing close to magic had ever happened in that room, unless what he did last week counted. “I think you’ve been watching too much Cribs.”

Her lips parted, her eyes lit up with a wild look of amusement. “Does Joel Miller secretly watch MTV?”

“Only against my will.” He jerked his chin towards the stairs. “She loves all that shit.”

“Yeah. She did talk a lot about True Life while at din…ner.” Teddy clipped her lips together, catching her slip.

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” His tone carried a smug edge, making her huff in annoyance. “So, how ‘bout you tell me how much I owe you for it?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Teddy,” he warned. Still, she insistently shook her head, refusing to make things easy for him.

“Sorry, but I can’t let you pay me back,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Really? How come?”

She straightened her posture, the brown leather groaning underneath her. “Well, for one - it was my decision to take her there, wasn’t it?”

“So?”

“So, it doesn’t make sense for you to have to pay for something I decided, now does it?”

Joel licked his teeth at her loop-hole logic. She was eyeing him with a very serious expression, as if this wasn’t over 30? 35 bucks? Hell, there was probably enough in his wallet right now to cover it.

If this were anyone else, Joel would’ve already said fuck this and drained his wallet of every nickel and dime, just to be safe. He wouldn’t accept no for an answer because he didn’t need anyone’s help or handout. He made enough money to support not only himself, but his daughter perfectly fine. Thank you.

But this wasn’t just anyone – this was Teddy. Whether it was because she did his payroll or because she was so bullheaded, he didn’t know, but she had a funny way of making him fold.

“Secondly.” She lifted a second finger before he could raise the white flag. “It wouldn’t be right for you to pay me back for your own gift.”

Huh? “Gift?”

She hummed in response. “There might be a little early birthday present waiting for you in the fridge.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone, other than Sarah, got him a birthday present. Most of the time, not even Tommy did; his presence was the present or whatever bullshit he said. But she’d thought of him. Him. The idea made his chest begin to swell like metal on a blazing summer day. He ducked his head to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

“You didn’t need to get me any-”

Teddy grasped his arm, instantly turning the rest of his sentence into sawdust. His gaze flickered from her hand on his forearm, to her eyes. She really was beautiful, especially in the warm pool of lamp light in his living room.

“I wanted to,” she assured him with a voice as soft as her touch. Her thumb gently skimmed over his arm hair and he held back a shiver with the clench of his teeth. “It’s just Classic Vanilla Bean Cheesecake. A little boring, but Sarah said that’s your favorite.”

“It is.” His voice cracked like a pre-teen and embaressed, he averted his eyes. How ridiculous. He needed to get a grip. Pull himself together. He was acting like a fucking virgin. Joel swallowed and stiffly nodded. “Thank you.”

She gave his arm a small squeeze before pulling away. The spot where she touched him still tingled, still burned.

“It’s the least I could do, since I’ll be missing it.”

Joel brushed her off with an easy wave of his hand. Other than work, he didn’t have any plans, so she really wasn’t missing anything. “I think you’ll have more fun in Phoenix, anyway.”

“Just don’t let Tommy set the place on fire while I’m gone.”

“Do you have that little faith in me?” he asked – teased. It was only a few days. Leaving Thursday, back in the office by the following.

She lightly nudged his arm, just as a door opened.

“Are you ready?” Sarah called out, and his focus shifted to the bottom of the stairs.

“I was born ready, kiddo. So, come on, let’s see it.” Joel drummed his hands excitedly against his thighs.

Waiting there reminded him of the fashion shows she used to put on for him. She’d wait at the top of the stairs until he popped in the Whitney Houston CD. For the big finale, they would dance around the living room to I Wanna Dance With Somebody.

But Sarah didn’t appear in a bright-pink princess costume, but instead a pretty little purple dress. Her heels were real, not made out of cheap plastic or from the Dollar Tree. His little girl looked so grown up. The realization that she was grown up made the back of his eyes burn.

Joel scrubbed a hand down his slack, scruffy jaw, watching Sarah twist from side-to-side. The shiny material swished around her knees.

“Baby girl, you look - beautiful,” he said without trying to hide the crackle in his voice. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Sarah giggled, almost bashfully. “That’s exactly what Teddy said.”

“Well, that’s because it’s the truth,” Teddy stated earnestly. Sarah’s entire face lit up and God – she had such a killer smile. He would never get tired of seeing it.

When Sarah pulled back her hair to show Teddy two different pairs of earrings, she immediately went over to get a closer look.

Discussing jewelry and lip gloss, Sarah’s shiny wide eyes clung to her every word as if it was wrapped in gold, as if it held some infinite wisdom. It suddenly hit him that he’d never seen Sarah look at anyone like that. Not her favorite teacher. Not her best friend’s mom. Not even Mrs. Adler who lived next door and used to babysit her after school.

Poor Mrs. Adler, she meant well but Sarah and her could not have been more different. Thinking about it, Teddy was the first woman that Sarah shared anything in common with, who she didn’t have to share with the rest of the class or came second to a friend.

For once, Sarah had some special bond for herself.

His breath caught in his throat watching Teddy fuss with Sarah’s dress. Her eyes barely leaving Sarah’s bright face as she untwisted a strap and smoothed out a few spots in the back. For a second, he imagined her here with them every night – thought about how seamlessly she would fit into their lives.

Holy shit - what the fuck is he doing? Stop it.

Joel forced himself to look away, pruning those thoughts before they grew. The light, liquid warmth in his chest ran cold. It turned into mercury when it settled in his belly.

Luckily, Sarah and Teddy were too preoccupied with finishing details to notice him obsessively picking at his fingernails. He didn’t know what got a hold of him.

This was insane. She was his friend, his business partner, and whatever she was to Sarah that was more important than a stupid crush. No – he would not complicate a good thing with his feelings. Feelings she didn’t reciprocate. For God sake, she was dating someone else. Get over it.

Joel thought it might be a good thing that Teddy would be gone for a few days. More than ever, he needed some distance. Some time to help screw his head back on straight.

—

Too early on Tuesday morning, Joel sleepily fought the coffee machine until dark liquid gurgled and spewed into the pot.

“Have you heard from Teddy at all?” Tommy asked as Joel filled up a to-go cup.

“Oh yeah, hear from her every night before going to sleep.”

“Really?”

Joel shoved the coffee pot back inside its home, and blinked at Tommy. “Of course not. She’s on vacation. Why would she call me?”

He figured she’d brought whoever she was dating on the trip with her. They were probably going to her cousin’s wedding, meeting her college roommates new baby while he was here - in Texas. Alone. When he thought about it like that, it put everything into some much needed perspective.

Joel didn’t give Tommy a chance to respond before barging out and heading to the garage. He still was not used to seeing her empty desk instead of her warm smile, telling him to have a good day.

“So, do you miss her, yet?” Tommy asked while loading up the truck.

“She’s only been gone a few days,” Joel snorted, as if it was a ridiculous question to ask. “Why? Do you miss her?”

“Miss her coffee, that’s for damn sure.” He grimaced at the cup before taking a tentative sip. “Shit sucks. You add too much water.”

“I’d like to see you do any better.” Joel obnoxiously slurped on his drink, then winced. It did kinda taste like dirt. “She does make it better,” he conceded. “It’ll be nice to have her back.”

The distance had been a good thing for him, though. It was much easier for him to think without her dizzying perfume. What happened in his living room had been just a moment of weakness, of panic. Blown completely out of proportion.

The thing was – he’d always had a crush on her. It was nothing new, and he was perfectly happy with just this. With never being anything more than friends – her in his life, that was enough for him.

It had to be.

“Well, speaking of Thursday.” Tommy spoke in a tone that almost always meant he wanted something. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I gotta leave work early that day.”

“Why? Got an appointment or something?”

Tommy shook his head, then spewed a sob story that lasted nearly the entire drive to the site. His buddy Aaron had just broken up with his cheating girlfriend, and needed help moving out of their apartment. Too bad it wasn’t a different one of Tommy's military buddies or Joel would’ve immediately said no, but Aaron actually wasn’t a douchebag.

“Well, what time would you leave? Cause we gotta finish that block by Friday-”

“She works the night shift, so not until like 3 or 4,” he said, swaying him further. “And Aaron said he’ll pick me up from the site, so you ain’t gotta do anything.”

Joel shrugged, whatever. Fine. They would just have to work late tonight and tomorrow.

—-

So far, Thursday had not gone at all like Joel had anticipated. His reunion with Teddy this morning was disappointingly quick. It wasn’t like he expected her to run into his arms and hug him or anything dramatic like that, but he did think it would be more than just a few minutes of small talk where Tommy dominated most of the conversation with his plans for later.

Which turned out to be total bullshit by the way. 3 to 4 ended up being more like 1:30, ruining his chance to see Teddy this evening. The inspectors would be here tomorrow morning, so the frame had to be finished tonight with or without an extra set of hands.

Now, at 6:30, Joel was just leaving the site. He picked up Wendy’s to make up for his crummy day, only for the burger to be loaded with pickles and onions when he specifically asked for ketchup only. He still scarfed it down, along with a medium dry on the drive back to shop where the only thing that would be waiting for him was an empty office and a fat-ass stack of paperwork. Some supply sheets that could hopefully be knocked out before Sarah needed to be picked up later.

He pulled in through the back entrance and was taking his sweet time unloading the truck. Lowly humming Wedding Bells by the great Hank Williams when the door opened with a screech. The sound echoed around the steel walls of the garage and he jerked, nearly dropping a nail gun on his foot. Somehow, he managed to catch it just before it slid off the rack.

He turned around and - “Teddy?”

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said in a sweet drawl that made his pulse race for an entirely different reason.

He stared at her dumbly, blinking rapidly to make sure this was not just his imagination. She was still here. He wet his throat with a hard swallow. “You surprised me.”

“I can tell.” She giggled and embarrassment swarmed his neck like fire ants. He couldn’t believe she just witnessed him flail around like an idiot. He promptly went back to gathering up the last of the wooden boards and stacking them in the corner. “Did you not see my car out front?”

“I came in off 77th,” he explained, brushing the dust from his hands onto his jeans.

“I could’ve helped.” She leaned against the door, opening it wider as he walked over.

“Nah, I got it,” he said with a casual shake of his head. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that shirt, anyway.” His eyes dipped over the satiny material, this time a deep maroon.

“It is a great shirt.” She playfully bumped into his side with her shoulder when he stepped inside. The delicious scent of her soap sent an electric jolt up his spine. He matched her steps down the hallway. “What’re you still doing here anyway?”

“Well, there’s the Fox Ridge pitch tomorrow and there’s two more next week. And I have been gone for like a week.” She tucked herself back behind her desk. “Remember?”

Oh yeah, he remembered.

For a few minutes, they caught up on work and talked about homecoming, which was Saturday, and Sarah, who was currently at her friend’s house making posters or whatever for the big game tomorrow. He asked if she enjoyed her trip, which she obviously did from the glow around her. He almost asked about the wedding until he noticed all the files on her desk, the neat stacks of paper labeled with post-it notes that clearly showed she was busy.

He decided not to be selfish and take up anymore of her time and instead went into his office.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she told him before he closed the door. He left it slightly cracked in a way that seemed inviting before taking a seat at his desk. He would’ve just left it wide open if he thought it would be possible to focus. But even the back of her head could be enough to distract him.

Just like the rest of the shop, his office had been recorated by Teddy when Danny retired. He’d actually offered her the office, multiple times, but she refused. She preferred the natural light in the front, and he couldn’t blame her when the one window in here was puny and overlooked the trash cans.

Without her, Joel would’ve left the walls as blank and as white as Danny, the bookshelves just as bare and dusty, and there wouldn’t be a single lamp, let alone two. But he definitely appreciated the lamps this late in the day when the overhead light would burn too loud and bright.

Supposedly, she’d gotten them for free from a friend that was moving. He’d believed the story, at first, until one day she showed up with a giant picture of Yellowstone River, two more of different landscapes. A Golden forest. A mountain range. She’d just stumbled upon them at a Goodwill for the same price as a pizza. And then she’d filled the bookcases that framed his desk with architectural books that would likely never be read and tiny fake plants, which he couldn’t kill. Those she’d claimed were found at a garage sale for the magical price of a gift card to her favorite nearby lunch spot.

She would’ve decorated the office for her dad if he would’ve let her. Danny didn’t care though if she found the space so depressing when it came down to money. But Joel could not find it in him to tell her no when she looked so damn pleased with herself afterwards. She’d done such a nice job that he wished he could use the office more. One day he probably would when Sarah moved out. He had a love-hate relationship with being home alone. The quiet could be peaceful, then other times forlorn.

After finishing up two supply lists for upcoming projects, Joel went to start on a third when his door jarred open with a soft knock. Teddy was hovering around the threshold with a file in one hand.

“Are you busy?”

Joel shook his head, shoving the folder aside then signaling her to come in. She stepped inside, nudging the door shut with her hip. It didn’t latch. No one else was here, otherwise he would’ve pointed it out. But he didn’t know why she shut it in the first place, honestly.

“Sorry to bother you-”

“You’re not bothering me,” he interrupted. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s the Fox Ridge pitch.” She sauntered over to his desk, hips swaying and squeezed into a pair of black jeans. Her shirt was gaping open in the front from the top two buttons being left undone and wasn’t it just one earlier? It was always one, right?

He realized it would’ve been easy to catch a peek of her bra when she bent over to hand him the file, but like a good person – like a good friend – he looked away. His gaze remained firmly fused to her face until she sat down in the chair across from him.

She wanted his thoughts on the pitch, and he agreed to take a look. Based on the first page it looked perfect, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be much help. After all, she was the brains of the operation where he was just the muscle.

“So, how was the wedding?” Joel flipped onto the next page without looking up. “Your cousin’s right?”

“Good memory.” She hummed, sounding pleasantly surprised. Her nails clicked along the steel arm of the chair. “But yeah, the wedding was… it was nice.”

“Was it?” Joel glanced up at her with a suspiciously quirked brow. “Cause, you ain’t gotta lie to me. I won’t tell.”

She clicked her tongue as if her reluctant tone wasn’t what led him to such a conclusion.

“I’m not lying, it was really nice. A lot of family that I haven’t seen in a while was there. And my cousin has amazing taste, so the wedding was gorgeous. It was small and intimate, but.” She let out a big breath. “It’s just everyone except my dad and I had dates.”

“Did you not bring your-” Too late, the words had poured out before he could think twice and he cursed his stupid, overly curious mind. He had no idea what to say to cover up his lapse, so he just didn’t. It just hung in the air and he turned to the next page without reading the last.

“Bring my what, Joel?” Her voice made it sound more like a challenge than a question. He peered up at her and she looked him directly in the eyes. It was as if she knew what he was going to say. It was as if she wanted him to ask.

Joel screwed the blue pen into his grip. “I thought - I thought you had a boyfriend.”

At that, she reclined back in the chair. She crossed her legs and tilted her head as if to study him. “What made you think I have a boyfriend?” she asked with such wild amusement that it confused him.

Didn’t she? Tommy had seen the card, the flowers as well, so it wasn’t something he just made up in his head. She was or used to be dating someone. Oh – maybe it wasn’t a boyfriend, but a girlfriend. Not that he was about to ask. God no. He’d butted into her personal life enough for one night.

“Well, you know.” Joel scratched the back of his head, then pointed in the direction of the break room. “There were those flowers, remember?”

Her eyes widened – her lips parted. “Yeah, I remember. I just, I guess I didn’t think you would.”

“Well, it ain’t everyday someone gets a garden delivered here.” He meant it as a joke, but it came off rather jealous. He tacked on a chuckle for good measure. She snorted, so it must’ve worked.

“Okay fair. I was dating someone, but that’s over. Been over. We broke up like 4 months ago? So, not long after that, actually.”

Joel grimaced. He could barely focus on her being single when he felt like shit. No one wanted to be reminded of their ex. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She brushed off like it was no big deal.

Still, he remained silent as the grave because what the hell was he supposed to say now?

“I was the one who ended things, just in case that makes you feel better.” Of course she was. No one in their right mind would break up with someone as amazing as her. “But since we’re on the topic and all - what about you, Joel?”

“What about me?” Joel finally met her eyes and her lips twisted into a mischievous smirk that made his stomach swoop.

“Do you have anyone special in your life?”

Joel stiffly shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”

“Anyone not special?” she nudged him, suggestively wiggling her brows.

Again – a shake of his head. “I don’t really date.”

“What a shame.” Her voice was almost husky, breathy. She leaned forward slightly. “I’m sure all the single mom’s at Sarah’s school are devastated.”

Joel batted his hand in the air with an ugly snort.

“What? I’m serious,” she said without twitching. Her eyes momentarily flickered towards his lips, and suddenly, his throat felt like the mostly burnt bagel he had for breakfast. “I bet you have all of them wrapped around your finger.”

“You’re just - you’re just saying that.”

“Am I?” Her voice was silky, even silkier than her shirt. There was a cool confidence radiating from her as her fingernails galloped in a slow rhythm along the arm rest.

She was staring at him, pinning him against his seat. The hair on his thighs lifted and tickled the denim. The energy in the room had shifted, the air between them had bent and blurred into something that Joel could not quite describe. But he could feel it, sense it when it surged and rippled between them and sent an electric shiver up his spine.

She licked her lips and rolled them together until they were shiny with her spit. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal trapped and he wanted to pounce over the desk and taste her spit. He nearly did until he felt a stirring in his jeans.

What the hell was going on? What was he thinking? He needed to get his head screwed back on straight before he did something incredibly stupid.

Joel shot from his chair like a firework. Abrupt and loud and white-hot. He turned away and towards the filing cabinets on the back wall. He didn’t have a plan, but there had to be something in there that he could pretend to need.

She was quicker than his flustered brain and rose to her feet before he could make it past the edge of his desk.

“Joel.”

It stopped him, his feet stuck to the floor like wet cement. She approached him like a frightened deer. Steady. So quiet. Her steps barely scratched against the cheap carpet.

Joel realized now, right now was the time to speak. To say something. Anything. Find an excuse. Stop standing here like a dumb-struck baboon. But there was only one word that managed to leave his lips, a breath -

“Teddy.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered into the shrinking space between them. “I know.”

I know? He had no clue what that was supposed to mean, but before he could ask – she cradled the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. Joel’s eyes widened and all he could see was the soft planes of her face, her fluttering eyelids, the fan of her raven-stroke lashes.

She was kissing him. Holy shit. She was actually kissing him. When he finally registered that, he closed his eyes and was overcome by the taste of her spit and a hint of Burt’s Bees chapstick, which he found oddly arousing.

For a moment, he was too damn stunned to do anything but move his mouth along hers. Then, he realized his arms were hanging like spaghetti noodles at his side and reached out and clutched onto her waist. His thumbs delicately swirled the fabric of her shirt. So damn smooth, just as he expected.

Joel gulped when she drew back, just far enough to meet his eyes. He had no idea what the fuck this was – let along if it was anything at all. Perhaps, this was it. Just a stolen kiss, late one night in his office.

Joel braced himself for her to yank away, to tell him it was a mistake, that she didn’t know what she was thinking. Let’s forget the whole thing.

But she didn’t.

She just continued to toy with the curly ends of his hair, twirling them around her fingers as her other hand fisted the loose collar of his shirt. He was wedged between her warm-heaving body and his desk. The edge was slightly burrowing into his lower back, but currently he couldn’t care less.

Her gaze dipped to where his jeans were painfully tented. A hot burst of shame ignited behind his earlobes. The flex of his fingers bit into the hollow below her ribs.

“It’s - it’s been a while,” he found himself explaining because there was no good reason, at his age, to be this turned on from just kissing.

“Do you want me to stop?” She slid up against him, sealing herself against his chest. It appeared she knew the answer before he could dumbly shake his head.

This time – his lips met hers somewhere in the middle. Where the first kiss was gentle, testing the waters like the first sip of fresh coffee, this one was deeper. More intense – a whole gulp. Her urgent lips captured his starstruck mouth and right then he knew nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. Not even close.

The way she kissed was like some special art form that only she could master. It felt so damn good to have her fingers molding through his hair with baby scratches over his scalp and the scent of her soap flooding his chest with heat. It consumed him, his body, his mind. The rapid pulse in his ears muted his every coherent thought.

When she gently nibbled on his bottom lip, he moaned – Teddy. She licked her name from his lips, then eagerly tasted it on his tongue as if she couldn’t get enough.

And oh God – her tongue was equally as impressive as her other skills. The tip of it dragged over his top palate, making it tingle like a buzz off tequila. She stroked and swirled and twisted around his tongue as if knotting a cherry stem. No one had ever taken the time to explore him so thoroughly. Frankly, he didn’t know there was that much of his mouth to explore.

Despite her exploration, Joel’s hands were burning into her waist, still holding her at 10 and 2 like a student driver. Like this was a chaperoned middle school dance. Slowly he roamed them down to grip her hips, but no further. He didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to spoil this moment from something stupid like getting too greedy.

Joel was fully okay with her in the driver seat. Even though he was usually in charge, he was happily letting her lead. Well, actually, he didn’t know if he was really letting her or if she just was. He didn’t care either way when she was touching him.

She broke the kiss and her lips swerved to his cheek. His jaw, paying extra attention to the patch in his beard where no hair could grow. His head tipped back when she buried her nose into the crook of his neck and deeply inhaled. After a hard-days work he likely smelled of sweat instead of his soap, but she groaned anyway.

“Have you ever thought about this before?” She breathed against his neck.

“I mean, I-” He choked on his words as her tongue slicked over the thick vein beneath his jaw. “I - I tried not to.”

“But you did.” He could feel her lips split into a grin before she sucked on a spot below his ear. He hoped it would leave a mark. The idea of seeing it tomorrow in the mirror made his cock twitch and throb and it ached.

“Uh-huh,” he whimpered, rather pathetically. It actually sounded like it fucking hurt.

“You know what?” She playfully nipped at the spot that would soon sadly fade. She then met his gaze with a coy grin. I thought about you too.”

“You did?” he croaked.

She hummed in response, her fingers trailing down his chest. His stomach quivered, his breath catching before she stopped just above the band of his jeans and whispered, “But unlike you - I didn’t try to stop.”

Joel growled, unable to form a coherent thought. His brain was too preoccupied trying to process how any of this was happening. It had to be a dream or an optical illusion or some shit. No way it could be real. But her small hand cupped his cock and that certainly felt real.

“Fuck - you feel even bigger than I imagined.” She palmed at his bulge with a light pressure. His knees nearly buckled despite the thick, denim barrier.

Now, he was really wishing he jerked off last night – or anytime in the past week or so. God – he was pent up. It wouldn’t take much for him to break.

“Can I see it?”

Joel’s mouth went half-slack and she blinked at him without flinching.

“Yeah,” he managed to squeak out. Not great, but at least coherent.

She sank to her knees, her eyes never leaving his. Pretty. Pretty. So damn pretty. Those two undone buttons exposed the tops of her breasts, the peek of a plain white bra that he found sexier than he should’ve.

His restless hands found solid ground on the desk behind him. Just in time as she balled the hem of his shirt in her tiny fists and bunched it towards his waist. The office air blew cool over his newly bare skin.

Joel wondered how he compared to the type of guy she usually dated. Did she like meatheads with six packs? Or guys with scrawny arms? Or did she like them somewhere in the middle; someone more like him? His body used to be more solid in his 20’s, but softened with age. He was still strong though, still firm in most spots aside from his stomach.

He caught himself sucking in as her wild eyes wandered over his husk-tan skin and across the dark scatter of hair around his navel. Then, she devoured it, mapping every inch with her wet, hot mouth.

It was a miracle that he managed to stay upright under her attention. Any attention was new. He was not used to any teasing or foreplay or whatever delicious torture this was called.

No.

Joel was used to his own calloused hands. Quick, rough fucks with women who called him Joe or Jack or something else entirely because why did it matter if it meant nothing.

But did this mean anything? To him, yes. To her – he had no clue. Dear God – he hoped so, though.

With a smirk she unzipped his jeans and shoved them down by his knees. The wet spot on his boxers was impossible to miss. Of course, he’d worn light gray today instead of something discreet like black.

“It’s been awhile,” he sheepishly reminded her. He didn’t want her to think he was always this big of a mess. Because he wasn’t. Seriously, he really wasn’t.

“It’s alright, just relax.” She leaned forward and mouthed at the stain.

But it was impossible to relax when her nose nudged the underside of his cock, her mouth was so close to the tip that every muscle in his body tightened. He gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring with the remnants of his dwindling self-control.

She must’ve realized she was ruining him because she pulled back with a wicked grin. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband and tugged. His freed cock nearly smacked her in the face. The flush red tip was weeping.

“Shit, you’re thick,” she gasped. Women had told him that before, but he much preferred hearing it from her. The sweet honesty in her voice, the clear surprise. It stroked his ego and filled him with a strange sense of pride as if he’d actually accomplished anything profound, and not just good genetics.

She licked and spit into her palm before stroking his cock with a loose fist from root to tip. Her thumb swiped over the blunt head, smearing his pre-come and making his hips jerk and involuntary spasm.

Joel opened his mouth to apologize, but was quickly silenced by her tongue: warm, wet, the slightly rough texture tracing over the thick vein that ran down his length.

He gripped the desk until his knuckles bleached. She placed her free hand on his hip as if to help steady him before guiding him between her perfect, plush lips. Just the tip, at first. But it still was nearly enough to finish him. He didn’t remember the last time someone put their mouth on him.

Joel desperately wished to witness this moment. He wanted to memorize the glossy gleam in her eyes, the way she looked in front of him and on her knees and how her mouth stretched perfectly around his cock. But it was too much. The weight between his thighs was becoming oppressive. If he watched, he’d shatter. And he’d be horrified if he finished that fast.

So, he focused on the ceiling tiles instead. On the black specks that formed different shapes as she took another inch of him into her feverish mouth.

Already, she had him panting like a dog. Unable to fully catch his breath even when she released his cock with a loud pop. She continued to pleasure him with long strokes of her fist. Her tongue dipped into his leaking slit, lighting up nerve endings that he didn’t know existed. It ripped an ungodly sound from his mouth.

“Oh, you liked that?” she asked, very smug. Then repeated the movement once, twice, before eagerly swallowing his cock again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hand flew to her shoulder and squeezed as she took him deeper – deeper. Holy shit. Where did she learn to do this? This was like pornstar level good.

She had taken him halfway down her throat when he felt a shock run across his spine, a familiar tugging in his balls. His release was building and brewing in his lower belly like a thunderstorm.

But Joel clenched his teeth. No – he could not come. Not yet. He needed to get himself under control before he finished in less than five minutes.

He shut his eyes, but not even the rumble of his eardrums could drown out the loud, lewd squelch of her mouth. It was fucking filthy. The swirl of her expert tongue around his shaft had him unraveling fast like a loose spool of thread.

“Teddy,” he moaned her name as he got close – too damn close.

He tried to tell her to slow down, but the words stuck in his throat. Nothing came out except grunts. Just short groans. Her lips kissed the cusp of her fist, completely engulfing him in her honey-slobber and the softness of her hand.

His hips instinctively bucked, the head of his cock bumping the back of her throat and she gagged. The walls of her inner mouth shuddered and pulsed around him and –

“Shit.” His eyes flew open but before he could warn her – she hollowed her cheeks and sucked.

He groaned her name, low and unrestrained, as the pleasure electrified his spine. It arced down his thighs before he could push her off. For a moment, he lost himself in the high, in the tide of her mouth. His cock twitched and throbbed on her tongue as he came.

Hard.

As if he hadn’t come in months – years.

In a daze, he blinked down at her and saw his cum dripping down her chin, leaking from the corners of her mouth as she continued to twist her fist and suck down the aftershocks. It would’ve been easily the most erotic sight, if it didn’t suddenly hit him how fast he came.

The light-headed euphoria quickly morphed into vertigo. He was horrified, mortified, staring down at her.

He didn’t know what to say, and for once, it seemed like neither did she. She released his cock from her mouth, but otherwise didn’t move. Not even to wipe the come off her face.

She swallowed, and opened her mouth. But a familiar ding tore through the thick, sticky air. The bell above the front door.

“Joel? Teddy?”

No way. It was motherfucking Tommy.

—-

The idiot had forgotten his house keys in Joel’s truck. In the cupholder, nonetheless.

Joel had somehow managed to button his jeans, and hand her a tissue before Tommy busted into his office. She’d pretend to blow her nose to clean the come off her face, riddling him with another level of shame. So embarrassed that he could barely look at her without feeling like he swallowed a handful of nails.

He threw Tommy the car keys to get rid of him, but found out that Aaron had left. Tommy had told him that Joel could just drive him home without even asking. And usually it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But Tommy was so goddamn clueless. He just swung around the door frame, blabbering about how the girlfriend showed up and there was a big blow up in the parking lot and Joel was just waiting for him to notice the smell of sex and sweat or even the cloying embarrassment. Or Teddy’s swollen and suck-plump lips and surely Joel looked like a flushed-beet wreck.

So how did Tommy seem to remain completely oblivious?

When Sarah called a few minutes later, Joel left. Well, first he made sure everything was locked up and she was safely in her car, but otherwise fled like a coward.

The shop had officially disappeared from his rear view mirror and now Joel couldn’t remember if he even told her goodbye. She just gave him the best blow job of his life, and he couldn’t even wave?

“Are you gonna get Sarah or drop me off first?” Tommy asked and Joel snapped at him like a venus fly trap.

“Doesn’t really make sense to go out of my way just to drop you off first, now does it?”

Tommy threw up his hands. “Well, fuck. How am I supposed to know where Sarah’s friend lives?” He hurled himself against the passenger seat and mumbled under his breath, “Asshole.”

Joel winced. He was kinda being an asshole, taking out his anger on Tommy. He wasn’t even mad at Tommy. Annoyed, yes, but not mad. The only person Joel was mad at here was himself.

He was mad at himself for cumming too fast, and even more so for running away afterwards like a scared hound with his soft, spent cock tucked between his legs. Recalling the complete shit show, Joel’s grip coiled around the steering wheel until the leather squealed in protest. He could still feel the ring of her spit drying around him.

Joel sighed and stared out the windshield at the night sky, the truck bouncing along the uneven back road full of potholes. Why did it feel like he just fucked everything up?

“Hey, are you alright?” Tommy’s voice was lower, quiet – concerned.

Joel scratched at his jaw, at the bald patch she’d kissed, before nodding his head.

“Yeah, sorry - I’m just tired.” He’d rather die and be reincarnated into a gnat than tell Tommy about how he just prematurely ejaculated. He’d had enough embarrassment for one night.

“Did I-” Tommy paused and for a moment it seemed like he decided to keep his mouth shut. Until he sighed. “I don’t know, but did I interrupt something between you and Teddy?”

A little too late to start being observant, Tommy.

Joel approached a red light, the truck crawling to a complete stop.

“Come on. What would be going on between us that you could interrupt?” Joel looked over at Tommy and his brows were furrowed. In the pool of orange light from the street lamps that speckled the cab, Joel saw the realization flash across Tommy’s face. The moment everything clicked into place.

Joel abruptly turned away, not in the mood for pity. After what felt like forever, the light finally turned green.

“Joel, I didn’t realize that you-”

“Don’t.” His voice was quiet, stern without being rude. “Just don’t.”

For once, Tommy didn’t demand to have the last word. Instead, he slowly and silently fell back into the seat as if to fade into the shadows. She still had a boyfriend as far as Tommy knew, and Joel would not be informing him otherwise. This way was easier.

The rest of the drive was filled with Willie Nelson’s album Always on My Mind, the rumble of the engine, and the buzzing of Joel’s thoughts.

How was he supposed to face her tomorrow?

—-

On Friday morning, Joel drove to the shop with a terrible pit in his stomach. His eyes felt gritty, and there was a dark shadow of gray underneath from a restless night sleep. He ate a bland piece of toast for breakfast, and even that made him feel sick. When he turned onto the street, he thought it might reappear all over the windshield.

But Teddy was not there. Just a pink post-it note on the full, freshly brewed coffee pot.

Fox Ridge pitch - Wish me luck.

He’d forgotten that it was this early. Joel supposed he’d have to get here on time this evening to see her.

Joel spent the day trying not to go insane. Despite the pounding of his hammer, memories of last night beat against his skull. Anytime he touched his lips, or the spot behind his ear, he could practically feel the ghost of her kisses. They had been desperate, heated. Hadn’t they? It had seemed she’d wanted him, just as much as he’d always wanted her. She’d even admitted to imagining him in some sexual way.

But what about now?

He didn’t have a clue.

Eight hours later, and halfway from a complete tailspin, the truck decided not to start. The engine clicked and clicked and clicked, but never went. Even though he begged for it to start. The concrete guys had tried to jump it with no success. It’d taken everything in him not to sock Tommy in the jaw when he gave him that told-you-so look while calling a tow truck.

The concrete guys were still on their best behavior and gave them a ride to the mechanic shop. It was run by one of Tommy’s highschool friends, Zach, who was nice enough to stick around past 5 on a Friday night.

5:25 and this was a fucking nightmare. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to die. As if he hadn’t fucked up enough last night when he bolted, the last thing Joel wanted as her thinking that he was avoiding her. The least he could do was extend the same courtesy she had this morning.

So midway through Tommy and Zach examining what was under the hood, he broke away to call her.

Joel slapped his cellphone against the flat of his palm as he headed outside the entrance. With a deep breath he dialed the shop’s number. The ring-ring-ring in his ears made his chest feel like it was about to explode.

“Teddy’s Company, how can I help you?”

“Hey Teddy.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s Joel,” he said, very awkwardly.

“Hey! Hi. What’s up?”

Joel kicked at the loose rocks by his feet. “Well, the truck - uh the truck’s acting up. We had to get a tow, and Tommy and I are - the mechanic’s checking it over right now.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted you to know - I don’t know when we’ll get back to the shop.” Joel lightly hit the center of his head with the circle of his clenched fist. He sounded like an idiot.

“No - yeah. That makes sense.” Silence crackled on the other line and it was unbearable.

Joel scratched his temple, unsure what to say next. He wanted to talk about last night, just to get it over with, but it wasn’t the right time. That was not a conversation to have over the phone. Not like at work was much better, but still.

“Well,” Teddy broke the silence. There was a rustling of something on the other line – papers? Her bag? “Do you need-”

There was a massive boom behind him – Tommy pounded on the glass door and motioned him inside.

“What was that?” she asked and Joel mouthed at Tommy to give him a second.

“Sorry, it’s Tommy. I think the mechanic’s done with the inspection.”

“Okay - well, I was just gonna ask if you guys-”

Tommy banged again – harder. It was Friday, so he probably had a date with his favorite dive bar. Joel glared at him and flipped him off.

“It sounds like you need to go,” she said.

“Sorry.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck and he was gonna kill Tommy. “But uh - have a nice weekend, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, you too, Joel.”

Once Joel found out the battery just needed to be replaced, Tommy’s pissy mood made a lot more sense. It would be a decently fast and easy fix – at most an hour.

Joel plopped down in a chair in the lobby and mindlessly flipped through a car magazine. He didn’t even register the pictures that swished by, too busy reeling from that awkward phone call.

Had he really told her to have a nice weekend? He wanted to melt into the cracks and scuffs in the black-and-white tiles. Real smooth, Joel. He sucked at this shit.

What was going to happen next?

He couldn’t tell where her head was at from the phone call that somehow didn’t even last as long as him last night. God – she probably thought he had some type of erectile dysfunction and he couldn’t even blame her. There was no excuse for a man at his age to cum that fast from a blow job, nonetheless. He was not a fucking teenager.

The longer he sat there in the empty lobby with the melancholy of Johnny Cash’s voice, the more he began to doubt. It spread and swelled in his lower abdomen like a virus. Syphilis. If it festered for too long, he felt like it might turn him insane.

He didn’t know how he would survive the weekend like this.

—

Saturday was usually his day for relaxing. All his responsibilities could wait until Sunday, but he couldn’t sit still.

Up early, he and Sarah went to the Farmer’s Market and ran errands until lunch time. He deep cleaned the house in the afternoon. The entire main floor was vacuumed and swept, the kitchen counters looked brand new, and even his bed was freshly made with dryer warm sheets. He was determined to keep busy instead of wallowing in his looming conversation with Teddy.

It might’ve worked if Sarah didn’t innocently keep bringing her up. With homecoming tonight, she was apparently in the mood to reminisce, especially after she’d gotten all dolled up.

They were halfway to her friend Ashley’s house and the drive had been filled with Teddy. Their mall trip – the dress – the tiny details Teddy helped pick out.

“I brought my polaroid camera.” Sarah pointed at her overnight bag in the backseat of his truck. “So, you can take a photo of me and show Teddy on Monday.”

“Oh, yeah. She’ll like that.” Joel forced a smile as the hand of his knee flexed, biting into denim.

He couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt every time Sarah mentioned her. Teddy would never cut Sarah out, he knew that, but things were bound to be different now. It couldn’t go back to what it used to be, not after she’d seen his cock and swallowed his come. The relationship would inevitably change between them.

He just hoped their friendship could be somewhat salvaged. For Sarah’s sake, especially.

Joel was able to push that out of his mind when they arrived at Ashley’s house. The Murphy’s had been nice enough to invite the entire group, including parents, to come over and take photos. He couldn’t imagine fitting 14 teenagers and their moms in his puny backyard where he could barely fit a playset. Luckily, the Murphy’s lived on a big, well-landscaped lot that backed up against a man-made lake, and not directly into a neighbor’s house.

The few other dad’s who showed up were all huddled together under the covered patio with their eyes transfixed on the TV screen. The Longhorns were taking on the Wildcats. Still in the first quarter, so it wasn’t even a good game yet.

Instead of cracking open a beer, Joel joined the mom’s by the rose bushes.

“Oh my God, Joel. Sarah looks beautiful.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Stunning.”

They all complimented Joel as if his genes actually put up a fight. Sarah was Lisa’s exact twin. Even more so when her gorgeous thick curls were pulled back into a loose bun with a few loose strands framing her face. The mom’s were right though – Sarah did look beautiful. But then again, she always did; with or without all the glitter and make-up.

Sarah’s date was a scrawny, soccer player with red hair who was her best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. Eric. Joel could hardly believe his daughter was at an age to even have a date, even if it was just a set up. It made him feel incredibly old when the kid called him sir.

Based on first impressions, Eric seemed nice enough. The kid took a few photos of Joel and Sarah together in front of the Mexican bush sage. The purple flowers were almost an exact match to Sarah’s dress. Joel had hoped that somebody would offer when he’d changed out of his dusty clothes earlier and into a different, slightly nicer white t-shirt and a pair of his best dark wash jeans.

Still, while Joel wouldn’t threaten the kid with a fist or scare the shit out of him with a war story like Tommy would, Joel did give Eric the look – Don’t try anything, bud. When Joel shook his hand, it felt like wet paint.

Good.

Joel thanked the minivan moms for driving, Ashley’s mom for hosting the sleepover afterwards, while snapping enough pictures to fill up two of Sarah’s bulletin boards.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he told Sarah one more time before hugging her goodbye.

She promised to be good and handed him the developed Polaroid, specifically for Teddy. He stashed it safely away in the middle console of his truck then drove away.

At home, an empty living room quietly greeted him. Not yet 6 P.M. – the sun continued to shine and slice through the curtains onto the beige carpet. Joel had no idea what to do with the rest of his evening. Football, he supposed. Maybe rent a movie – Ocean’s Eleven or Training Day, something Sarah had no interest in ever seeing.

He whipped up a ham and cheese sandwich and cracked open a beer. Rather than eating alone at the dining room table, he set up on the couch and ate in the company of Longhorn football.

It didn’t take long, not even halfway finished with his sandwich, before a Folgers commercial came on and he thought about Teddy. She never even used Folgers, but just coffee in general made him think of her. At this point, it was actually pathetic how everything reminded him of her.

For a few minutes, Joel debated on calling her and figuring this shit out already. This limbo was killing him. He even pulled out his phone from his back pocket, found her name in his contact list and let it taunt him, his thumb hovering over the call button for longer than he’d like to admit.

But what would he say if she answered?

It had been two days and he still had no clue. He was still trying to figure out how to navigate this whole situation. He wanted to handle it with care but it felt like holding a dandelion puff in his rough calloused hands. Inevitably, it would break and fall apart with something as simple as a gust of wind. Joel carelessly tossed his phone on the coffee table and groaned.

At halftime, he went and cleaned off his empty plate in the sink. Using his hands always helped distract him. Maybe he needed a hobby. He could always play his guitar, finally learn Never Going Back Again. He’d always wanted to try out woodworking since it used to be his dad’s favorite pastime.

Joel was drying off the dish when the doorbell rang.

“Hold on,” he yelled, wiping off his hands with the rag. He didn’t know who that could be, but he’d bet everything in his wallet right now it was Tommy. He knew Sarah would be gone all night, and probably wanted to drag Joel to some bar across town for a wild night out.

Joel was coming around to the idea of spending his night in a smoky, loud bar instead of cooped up in his house when he opened the door. It was definitely not his brother, not even close.

“Teddy.”

She was on his front porch in a pale blue sundress that instantly made his mouth water. The buttery light from the budding sunset sky behind her framed her silhouette.

“Sorry to just stop by.” She smoothed down her dress and tugged at the hem. “But can I come in?”

—-

She didn’t say why she was here when he let her inside, but he supposed she didn’t have to.

It was actually Joel who broke the silence. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked. His mom would lurch from her grave if he didn’t act like a good host.

“Water,” she said with a small smile. “Tap’s fine.”

It was a good thing she didn’t follow him into the kitchen. His hands were shaking so bad that he nearly dropped the glass on the tile floor.

When he came back into the living room, she was sitting on the couch. He handed her the glass, his fingertips brushing over hers. She politely thanked him before taking a tentative sip. The cushion whined under his weight when he sat. These were the exact same spots from the night she was here with Sarah. This time, however, the empty cushion felt less like a safety net and more like a boulder about to crush him.

He turned off the TV, the newfound silence giving further evidence of what happened the other night.

She clinked the glass onto the coffee table, then clasped her hands stiffly in her lap. On the very edge of her seat, she looked ready to bolt at any moment. “I knew Sarah would be at the dance or, at least dinner.”

“Yeah, dinner. I think the dance starts around 8,” he said and she nodded. He wished he would’ve remembered to bring the Polaroid inside. Maybe it would’ve helped ease the tension.

But no – he needed to quit procrastinating and apologize for how he reacted the other night.

Buck up – do it.

For a moment, Joel searched for what to say, scratching the skin around his neck where it felt thickest.

“Joel,” Teddy said before he could speak. She shifted in her seat and when she opened her mouth, he braced himself for her to call it nothing but a mistake. “I wanted to come by and apologize about the other night.”

His brows furrowed.

“Apologize?”

“Yes, Joel,” she answered, very sternly. He noticed a pained look in her eyes before she stared down at her stark white tennis shoes.

“What? I - what?” He sounded like a bumbling drunk and for once, he wished the right words would just come naturally to him.

She sighed.

“After our phone call yesterday,” she started, only stopping for a split-second to clasp her gold necklace between her fingers. “I feel like I might’ve pushed things too far the other night. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable-”

“Uncomfortable? No. Shit.” Joel insistently shook his head. He would personally damn himself to hell if he sat here any longer and let her take any blame for this. Exhaling, he scruffed a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’ll admit - I panicked, but that ain’t on you.”

“How is it not?”

“Cause you did nothing wrong. Fuck. I’m the one who should be apologizing, alright? I acted like a goddamn idiot, Teddy. It’s just-” Joel let out a self-deprecating laugh, bashfully tucking his chin towards his chest. “I don’t usually, ya know - that fast. Just got embarrassed, that's all.”

He absently rubbed at a patch of distressed leather on the arm of the couch.

“Well, I never wanted to make you feel embarrassed.” She scooted closer – closer. Slowly. For what felt like the first time since the night in his office, Joel properly met her eyes. “All I wanted was to make you feel good, Joel.” Her voice was husky, almost seductive. She smirked and his heart banged inside his chest like a caged feral cat.

“You did make me feel good,” he admitted, rather shyly. “Just wish I could’ve made you feel good, too.”

“Who says you can’t?” Her eyes darted across his face, to his lips, to the rise and fall of his chest. She gripped his shoulders for balance before swinging her legs over him. Her knee lightly bumped into the arm of the couch and his hands instantly went to her hips, helping to steady her on his lap.

Joel stared up at her dumbly for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. His thumbs toyed with the hem of her dress, bunching it up further until he could brush over the bare flesh of her thighs. Goddamn, she was so soft. So pretty.

“What do you want, Joel?”

Everything. “Whatever you’ll give me.”

“No, Joel. What do you want?”

The last two days – hell, the last two years bulldozed into him. Every feeling and thought he’d suppressed and ignored crashing into him like a wrecking ball. He’d spent so long convincing himself this would never happen, but now – everything he ever wanted and never thought he would have was right here. Right in his lap.

And something inside him suddenly snapped.

“You gotta know by now, Teddy. You gotta know.” The words spilled out of his mouth and he hated how it sounded. It didn’t make any sense. Joel shook his head and ran his hands down her thighs to lightly squeeze at the spot above her knees for stability. “Fuck, I ain’t any good at this shit,” he said, in a rare moment of vulnerability.

She cupped his face so delicately like he was made of porcelain. With a small nudge, he met her gaze.

“This is gonna sound very middle school, but do you like me, Joel?” she asked and he snorted.

It did sound juvenile, but he instinctively tugged her closer and nodded his head.

“Good. Cause I like you and I want you, Joel. Only you,” she said. “So what do you say? Wanna give this a shot?”

“You fucking know I do.” His hand slid behind her neck, his thumb traced over the perfect curve of her hair line. “Now, come here.”

When his lips met hers – it was desperate and sweet like cream soda. His mouth crashed against hers with every bottled up dream and fantasy of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. It surged hot and bright through him.

His hand was a firm weight on the small of her back as he pulled her in as close as humanly possible, until only denim and a dainty sundress could separate him from her.

She clutched onto his shirt collar before gently rocking her hips against his growing bulge. He tensed his thigh, catching on her panties. She whimpered, already so sensitive, and he couldn’t wait to learn all the sounds she made.

He couldn’t fuck her on the couch, though. Not properly, at least. Definitely not like he wanted to or how she deserved. Still, he let himself enjoy this for a few minutes. Dry humping like teenagers in her parent’s basement before breaking the kiss with a soft peck to her top lip.

“Would you wanna go upstairs?” He dragged the back of his hand over her thigh, his knuckles hiking up her dress to reveal a little more skin.

“Oooh. Am I finally gonna see Joel Miller’s room?” She gave the tip of his nose a quick kiss before crawling off of him.

She held his hands the entire way upstairs until he led her into his room. “Told you, you weren’t missing much.”

“I don’t know about that.” She glanced at the navy blue walls, at the painting of a grazing deer in what appeared to be somewhere in Montana. It hung above his golden oak headboard. She pointed at the basic beige comforter, three pillows lined up against the frame. “I’m gonna be honest, though, I didn’t take you for the type to make your bed.”

“I did a little cleaning today.” Joel shrugged as she kicked off her shoes by his laundry basket.

“Well, isn’t that convenient?”

Joel managed to only kiss her twice before getting on the bed. He scooted into the middle, using two pillows to prop and cushion his aging lower back. Again, she eagerly climbed over him. She yanked her dress over her head, leaving her in only a lacy black bra with a pair of matching panties that cut high on her hips. The tiny, pink flower on the waistband was just the cherry on top.

She must’ve noticed the look on his face because she giggled as if she was completely innocent. “Do you like it? I wore it for you.”

“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Look at you, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” His hands roamed from her ribs up to paw at her bra and he squeezed just hard enough to watch them pour out over the top. He growled from deep in his chest before shoving his face in between her breasts. He traced the lacy material with his tongue before kissing along his slick trail. “Can I take it off?”

Smirking, she reached behind her and unclipped it for him. The bra joined her dress on the carpet in seconds. He licked his lips and admired her bare skin – the curves of her body in the coppery-golden glow from the sunset spilling in from the window. When he cupped her breasts, he swore they were made for his hands. His thumbs slid across her sensitive peaks, feather-light, but her breath still hitched – her head tip back and even the column of her neck was gorgeous.

He replaced one of his thumbs with his tongue, flicking the tip of it over her nub again and again. Kitten licks that made her clutch the back of his head. The way her fingers rooted into his hair was almost possessive and she held him flush against her chest as he sucked her nipple into his needy mouth.

Her breathing grew ragged and she tried to find friction. She rutted against him, but his hands captured her hips, holding her still before she could graze his cock. Too much dry humping and he’d be actually come in his pants like a teenager.

“Be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured and she whined. He didn’t allow her another chance to complain before his mouth switched to her other breast and adored it with equal attention. It’d been ages since he took his time like this and he lost himself in the feeling of her soft, scented skin on his face.

“Joel,” she moaned. It was desperate and raw and hands down the most erotic sound he’d ever heard in his life. It snapped him from his reverie and he grazed his teeth once more over her spit-swollen bud.

“I know.” He petted her hips before cupping her sex. The lace was soaked and sticky around her cunt.

Her hips bucked into the flat edge of his palm and for a moment, he watched her shamelessly ride his hand. Her brows furrowed – her fingers clutching his shirt for support. He was suddenly aware that he was completely dressed, and he found it strangely erotic. A part of him enjoyed it, maybe a little too much.

“Let me take care of you.” He patted her on the hip before ordering her to lay back. She didn’t need to be told twice.

Joel moved, so she could take his spot in the center of the bed. He tore off his t-shirt and threw it with her clothes. She watched him with glossy, moon eyes as he crawled between her spread open thighs. He captured her lips in a tender kiss before swerving to the swell of her cheek and down the slope of her neck. Gently, he nipped at her collarbone and she wiggled impatiently.

But he still went slow when dragging the tip of his nose from her breasts and along her stomach where he placed a soft kiss above her belly button.

When he settled back on his knees, he saw her chest rising and falling. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth and she was fisting the comforter. It was hard to believe she was really here, even as his fingers stroked her thigh. She was actually in his bed in nothing but soaked black panties.

Joel laid down on his stomach, spreading her thighs even wider to make room for his broad shoulders. Face-to-face with her lace covered cunt, he could smell the sweet, primal musk.

He sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling nervous. He enjoyed going down on women, but it had been awhile since he did anything more than just enough to get someone wet enough to take him. And he really wanted this to be good.

It felt like it had to be good, after his last fuck up.

“Joel? Are you okay?” She brushed back a tuft of hair that had fallen flat on his face.

He shut his eyes but there was no hiding when his face was mere inches from her pussy. “It’s just been awhile.”

“Well, we don’t-”

“No. God - I want to.” Joel groaned and dejectedly dropped his head against her thigh. He kissed at a mark above her knee. Her skin felt so warm against the stubble of his cheek. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

A moan dripped from her lips as he mouthed his way to the dip where her thighs met her hips. His nose nudging along the elastic seam.

“I’m not usually like this, but fuck - I wanna make you feel good.” He sucked at the spot directly above that damn tiny pink rose and her hips lifted off the bed, almost chasing his mouth. “Want you to know I can take care of you.”

“You can - you can,” she practically chanted. “Just God. Please, Joel.”

“Okay, I got you. It’s okay,” he whispered before peeling off her panties. He lifted the flimsy to his nose and inhaled without thinking. She smelled so delicious, musky, like sea salt and jasmine. He lost himself in her womanly scent and stuffed the fabric into his mouth and oh God – the taste. Dully sweet, a citrusy-tang that tingled his tongue. He devoured it.

It wasn’t until her panties were licked clean that he came up for air. His eyes opened to find her staring at him. Her mouth gaping – pupils carbon-black.

With a shy smile, he tossed the panties, now soaked with his spit, behind him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she panted. “Fuck, that was hot.”

He snorted.

“Well, you taste damn good, sweetheart,” he said, situating himself comfortably between her thighs. Now, there was nothing, not even skimpy lace separating them. She was completely hairless, which was actually a first for him. Joel didn’t have a personal preference, though he did like how easily he could see how turned on she was. Her entire sex was swollen and glossy and perfect. Licking his lips, he peered up at her. “I wanna make you feel good, so let me know if you don’t like something, alright?”

She quickly nodded, her chest hitching with anticipation. She wanted this. She did.

He kissed the top of her mound then experimentally licked her slit, keeping his tongue soft and flat. He deliberately stopped just before her clit, avoiding it. For now. He planned to build her up slowly, steady. Words had never come easy to him, so instead he’d show her what he could not articulate.

Despite his own painful desire, his focus remained solely on her as he lapped at her cunt: He teased and nibbled and sucked on her folds. Letting her little sounds and sighs guide him to find her most sensitive spots. He didn’t know what he’d been so worried about before. Eating pussy was just like riding a bike.

“More,” she pleaded, and how could he deny her after she’d been so patient?

Her back arched when the tip of his nose grazed her clit. He smirked against her cunt, the pit in his belly stoked by how worked up she was. It fueled his confidence and his tongue swiped over her clit. She wound her fingers through his hair and tugged.

Hard.

And Oh – that did something to him. His cock twitched, or at least, tried to. Pack so tightly against the seam of his jeans. Again – he swallowed the urge to hump the sheets for some relief, snubbing his own arousal for hers.

As he toyed with her clit, his fingertips skimmed over her slick, hot-heated sex. The thick bulb of his pointer finger caught on her entrance and she immediately clenched, as if trying to capture him. Greedy little thing.

Still, he peered up at her for permission that she happily granted. He started out with one finger and inched inside her until he could not physically go any further. He cursed under his breath. She was warm and soaked and so tight.

When finally he squeezed in a second finger, her knees slightly bowed. Even though she was wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance, he rocked into her slowly, mindful to let her adjust. He curled his fingers, trying a few different angles before finding that spongy spot.

Immediately, she jerked with a deep, filthy moan.

Got it.

His fingers worked just as relentlessly as his tongue that was circling and swirling and flicking her clit. So responsive. Her walls spasmed around him as he thrusted into her a little harder. A little faster.

“Oh my God.” Her voice was as shaky as her thighs. He could feel her starting to swell under his tongue.

Joel didn’t want to stop, but he needed to see her come apart. When he leaned back on his knees, her hand shot out. She latched onto his forearm with a death grip.

“Wait! Wait! Joel!” Her voice was high-pitched. Frantic. Her cunt clenched furiously around his fingers as if she could not bear to let them go. “I’m almost there. I swear, I’m close.”

She bore down, attempting to fuck his hand as if she needed to prove she was telling the truth. Like he could do nothing but sit here, and she could get herself off. Joel felt something ugly and bitter twinge in his chest. It made him wonder how often she was left high and dry and unsatisfied by the people she fucked.

Well, not anymore. Not with him.

Once his hand lightly pressed on her abdomen, she stopped. Her gaze found his. Her eyes glossy and wild and fucked out. It looked like the only thought in her head was how badly she needed to come.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t done with you, sweetheart,” he assured her as his hand on her stomach moved lower and lower. “Just wanna see you when I make you come for the first time.”

A filthy moan split her lips when he circled her clit with his thumb. The panic on her face was instantly replaced with relief. Pleasure. She looked gorgeous on the verge of an orgasm.

“Does this pretty little pussy feel good?”

“Yes - yes - don’t stop,” she cried out. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it.” And he could. “I got you.”

She moaned his name as she came undone underneath him. Her arousal was dripping down his knuckles and onto his sheets. He caught himself grinding into the air, desperately wishing it was his cock instead of his fingers making her come.

Her clit pulsed under the pad of his thumb like a beating heart. Insatiable, he sucked the taste of her off his fingers then wiped his mouth.

She drew him down into a sloppy, wet kiss. The painful bulge in his jeans catching on her bare flesh. By some miracle, though he didn’t burst right then and there.

She pawed at his bare shoulders. “I need you,” she murmured against his lips that were still buzzing with her wetness. “Please Joel, I want you.”

“Greedy,” he mumbled, grinning against her cheek. He gave her hip a playful pinch before jumping onto his feet.

Quickly, he shed his jeans along with his pre-come stained boxer briefs. His cock was heavy. The head swollen into a furious shade of red, closer to purple than pink.

The light outside was starting to fade into gauzy, gray dusk. So, Joel flipped on the bedside lamp before pulling out a fresh box of condoms from the nightstand. He tore through the plastic wrapping with his teeth, but slowed down when opening the tin-foil packet.

“How do you want me?” She asked as he securely rolled on the condom.

Up? Down? He didn’t care. “Surprise me.”

She shot him a mischievous smirk before flipping onto her stomach. Rising onto all fours. This woman. He had no idea what she would pick, but his first guess never would’ve been doggy.

He admired the dream-like curve of her spine and she invitingly wiggled her ass. Seemed she was trying to give him a heart attack. Did she know how sexy she was to him? She had to. She had to know what she did to him.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Joel growled his approval. He climbed in behind her and palmed at the plump flesh of her ass.

She opened herself wider until he could see everything. “Shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, marveling at where her sex glistened with his spit and her orgasm.

Joel had to squeeze at the base of his cock before dragging the tip through her slick folds, all the way up to her puckered hole. Even that felt good. Almost too good. And he wasn’t even inside her, yet.

Once Joel was lined up with her entrance, he noticed how small her cunt looked next to him and didn’t even try to push in. He questioned whether or not he could fit. It was just a fact that he was thick. Even though she was soaked, this would be a tight squeeze.

Fuck. Now, he was really regretting only using two fingers instead of three.

“Joel” she whined, but he still didn’t move.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No, I can take it - I promise,” she whimpered. “Joel, please.” She tilted back against him, making it impossible to say no.

“Okay. Alright,” he said soothingly, calmly rubbing the arc of her hip. “I’ll go slow.”

And he did. For both his and her sake, he inched into the heat of her cunt. His gaze was welded to the painted deer above the headboard. Watching himself disappear inside her would’ve been too much. The feeling of her pulsing around him was already almost too much for him to handle. Without the condom, this would’ve been over before it could even begin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re big,” she choked out, her walls fluttering around him. “I need - I need a second.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Yeah – he needed one too.

There was a long minute where the only sounds in the room were of his harsh breaths, her suppressed whimpers. Then, a slight creak of the bed.

He leaned forward, his chest lightly pressed against her back. His arms caged in around hers, palms flat on the bed to help support his own weight as he draped over her body.

“You feel so good.” His lips brushed over the top of her spine and she shivered. “I know it’s a lot. I want you to know it’s a lot for me too.”

“Oh, Joel,” she mewled as he buried his face into her neck. She smelled and tasted just like salted caramel.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So good.” He kissed behind her ear, along the back of her neck. “I’m gonna move now, alright?”

“Please.” The word dripped from her lips – the only answer he needed.

He stayed close to her, his breath puffing against her neck as he fucked into her. Nice and slow and tender, at first. She met his thrusts in perfect sync. Each one allowing him deeper and deeper inside her and he didn’t even know how that was possible. It was as if her pussy was molding to fit him, to take even more of him. It felt very intimate and overwhelming.

He thought if he was staring into her eyes that he might’ve cried. Sex had never felt like this before. Not with Lisa, not even when they accidentally made Sarah. If he was being honest, sex had always felt somewhat impersonal; stilted, distant, like a glory hole in a gas station, just minus the sketchy bathroom wall.

But here, right now with her – this felt sacred. He had no clue how he ever managed to live without this.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Joel laid his damp forehead between her shoulder blades and picked up the pace.

“Joel.” She gasped. His name seemed to be the only word she could say. It was as if he had completely consumed her. Her mind. Her body. Her every neuron. He kissed each vertebrae within reach, claiming more of her.

More.

“So damn long,” he answered. “And so fucking bad. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and look at you now, sweetheart. Just taking it. So good, just like I knew you would.”

“Oh God, Joel.”

He felt her shake, her arms appeared ready to give out and collapse. He wouldn’t let that happen. So, he widened his stance, the comforter bunching up around his knees. Carefully, but without warning, he fully pulled out and she wailed like it physically hurt.

“I got you.” He shushed her, wrapping his arm around her waist and sealing her to his chest. “Come on, come here.” He guided her upright along with him and she groaned once the weight was off her arms.

She sank back down on his cock instantly, her ass flush against his thighs. He felt even closer to her, somehow, in this position. Her skin was on fire, the sweat making her back stick to him like gum. Her pussy was drenched and dripping down his balls.

He could feel her all over him. Everywhere. It amazed him how he managed to last this long.

Joel gripped her hip, his other hand went to cup her breast. When he gently rocked forward at the perfect angle, she clenched.

“Goddamn.” He squeezed her breast, continuing to hit that same spot. “How are you so tight?”

“It’s you, Joel.” She gasped. “No one - no one has ever been this deep.”

The dormant, possessive part of his brain lit up and he growled. Joel buried himself to the hilt, until he could not claim another inch. No one but him had ever touched her here.

Just him.

Only him.

His.

She was soaking wet, white-hot, and he could feel himself throbbing inside her. Joel wanted to come so badly. The spicy-musk of her skin was swirling in his lower belly with a powerful, burning heat. On the brink of bursting.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He pinched her nipple as his other hand went down to play with her clit. “I wanna make you come.”

Her only response came in a whine, a frantic nod.

Joel thrusted into her with long, deep strokes that made the bed shake. The headboard hit the wall in a dull, rhythmic thud that filled the room. Just like her trembling, needy moans, his own low groans, and the heady-salt scent of sex.

She threaded her fingers into his hair and haled his mouth toward hers. She kissed him, or more so, tried to. It was more of just lips devouring whatever was within reach: cheeks and chin and the curve of mouths. It wasn’t the best angle, but it didn’t matter.

In this moment, nothing else mattered to him but her.

Despite the tightness in his balls, Joel somehow held back his release. He gritted his teeth, burrowed his face into her neck, and quickly rubbed her clit. The high-pitched sound of his name lingered on her swollen lips as her walls squeezed around him like a fist.

It wasn’t until her cunt was spasming around him that he finally drove forward. He was buried so deep inside her that he practically snarled when he came.

He spilled into the condom, but pretended to be filling her up instead. He would watch his cum drool out of her, only to stuff it all back in with his fingers.

Joel clutched her against him as his hips gave a few final jerks. He would have liked to stay inside her until he went completely soft, but the condom was overflowing. Cum or her slick or more likely a mix of both was soaking into the hair between his thighs. He decided not to test the durability of this specific condom brand. The last time he did that, well – it was obvious how that turned out.

Holding the condom at the base, he slipped out of her and dropped onto his ass with a few pops and cracks. Damn, he really should stretch more.

His eyes fell to where her legs were spread and her sex was still gaping from him – for him. His mouth went dry. He wanted to lean over and quench his thirst, fill her with his tongu-

“What’re you lookin’ at there?” The sound of her lilted voice made his gaze abruptly snap to her face.

He must’ve been blushing because her lips split into a smug grin. Clearly, she knew what caught his attention. But even after two orgasms, she was still a little sassy. Still too damn perceptive for her own good, meanwhile he could barely form a coherent sentence.

She straddled his thighs, careful to avoid his semi-soft cock.

“It’s okay, you can look. I mean, it’s yours now, isn’t it?” Her soft, small voice cut through the post-sex fog in his brain. She was looking so vulnerable, so exposed, completely naked in his lap. Even he was more covered up than her, and all he had covering him was a flimsy, full condom that he had not yet found the energy to get up and throw away.

Isn’t it? Joel got the sense it was not a genuine question, but more of a reiteration – a confirmation. Are we on the same page?

Whatever she meant, he nodded his head.

“It is.” He cradled her cheek. “But only if it comes with the rest of you. I’m a greedy man, sweetheart. I want it all.”

She beamed at him.

“Well, that makes two of us,” she declared while brushing a sweaty tuft of his hair out of his face. “I want everything you come with, Joel. And when I say everything - I mean everything. The whole package.”

She might’ve not said Sarah’s name, but he knew that’s what she meant.

His lips parted, amazed by how easily the words came out of her mouth. That was the first time a woman had ever acknowledged that he came as a two-for-one deal without even a hint of cynicism in their tone. Obviously, Joel realized a kid was a lot to take on. Especially since Lisa wasn’t in the picture at all, but there were some women who made it sound like Sarah was baggage, which was insane. Sarah was the best part of him.

Speechless, Joel kissed her firmly on the mouth. It was warm and sweet and surging through his chest like an electric current. This is what it was supposed to be like. He could feel her lips break into a smile before he pulled away.

“Stay here. Let me get you cleaned up.”

She laid back on the bed without argument, and he disappeared into the bathroom. Joel stuffed the condom into the tin-foil wrapper, then buried it under wads of tissues and empty toilet paper rolls at the bottom of the trash can, just in case Sarah used his bathroom. He didn’t want her to see that.

After cleaning himself up, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. She looked pleasantly surprised, a little shocked. Wordlessly, she parted her legs with enough space for him to fit.

“Such a gentleman,” she finally said after he gently wiped down her thighs.

“Maybe.” He moved over her tender, swollen folders with even more caution. “Or maybe I just wanted to get a closer look.”

He winked and she giggled.

“You had your face buried down there like twenty minutes ago - don’t think you can get much closer than that.”

True. Joel snorted and tossed the washcloth into his laundry hamper. He went over to his dresser and dug out an old, oversized t-shirt from the bottom of his drawer.

“Caught this at a Longhorns game from one of those t-shirt cannons,” he said when handing her the folded shirt with her panties on top.

“Ooooooh impressive.” She playfully wiggled her brows, just slightly taunting him. He didn’t expect anything less.

His boxers from earlier were still damp, so he put on a fresh pair.

“So, what time are you picking Sarah up?” she asked, seemingly waiting to bring up his kid until he wasn't butt-ass naked.

“Actually, she’s staying at her friend’s house tonight.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

Joel hummed his response. He was grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the closet when suddenly the home phone on the nightstand lit up, ringing. Only solicitors called that phone, anymore – shit, his cellphone was downstairs.

He would’ve ignored it, but what if it was Sarah?

Joel raced to the phone with his pants still clutched in his hand. Once he saw the caller ID, he groaned.

“It’s Tommy.”

She nodded for him to answer, and so he did. Very reluctantly. “Hello?” Joel swore if Tommy was in jail again, he was going to let him rot there until next week.

“Hey there, Joel.” Definitely not jail – too happy. “What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Joel paused and looked at his bed where Teddy was laying in only his t-shirt and a pair of panties. What a beautiful sight. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself; Tommy wouldn’t believe him even if he told the truth. Joel tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he could put on his pants. “Nothing.”

Teddy grinned at him like they were teenagers lying to their parents.

“Nothing? Huh?” Tommy snorted. “Then what’s Teddy’s car doing in your driveway?”

Oh no.

Joel nearly tripped over his pant leg on his way to the window. The street lights were on, but the sky was still a light enough blue where he could clearly see Tommy standing in the driveway, waving with a classic little brother grin on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was coming by to drag your ass out and wait - are you fucking shirtless?”

Joel cursed, backing away from the window like it burned him. The cover was blown and he hoped Teddy didn’t mind, but it wasn’t his fault that his brother came over uninvited. He looked at her and she was just smiling, appearing wildly amused.

She shrugged, then yelled. “Hi Tommy.”

Tommy howled in his ear, loud enough that he could hear it through the glass. She immediately burst out laughing, no longer having to hide. Joel shook his head, but he couldn’t even be annoyed or mad. Not right now.

“You dirty dog.”

Fucking Tommy.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miler x reader #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller

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wh0relibrarian · 4 months

Text

sunshine

a/n: a continuation of this post, although altered to be a summer break instead of winter. completely got lost in that 😭 please excuse any informalities, i’m still getting used to writing in second person (or smut for that matter), and tumblrs post format! so don’t be mean ;(

context (if you don't want to read the previous post): Reader is visiting her hometown for the summer. A rising grad student who just so happens to bump into Sukuna at the airport. After quick introductions, he gives her his number in case she gets too lonely...

content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, afab!reader, d referred to as dick bc i don’t like using “cock”, v referred to as cunt or pussy, age gap (reader in her early 20s, sukuna is in his early 30s), cowgirl, daddy kink, rough!sukuna (but he’s still a softie), needy!reader, clit stimulation, nicknames such as sweetheart, princess, baby/babydoll, creampie, ass/face slaps, lots of praise, a decent amount of plot

word count: 3.9k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’ve been texting Sukuna for a week now. Off and on, trying not to seem too interested, but interested enough to keep his attention. It sucked that he was a man very obviously out of touch with technology, because you can’t find pictures of him anywhere. Not even a Facebook page. You’ve just been grasping at straws, trying to remember each detail of his face. Each tattoo. You didn’t even get enough time to admire the one’s on his face, way too engulfed in his general appearance.

And oh, Sukuna. That poor man. He knew from the moment he saw you that you’d keep him up at night. From the curvature of your lips— only being the opening act to the beautiful smile you had hidden beneath. He tries to remember what color your shirt was, but can only remember how plump your tits looked. Practically spilling out of a… tank top? Or maybe it was a crop top. You had a jacket on, which he knows was gray because you kept trying to wrap it around your waist like you were embarrassed by your body. He couldn’t figure out why, though. You’re beautiful from head to toe, every part of you.

But today, today was the day you’d ask him to take you out. Or just ask to go out in general. Hell, you’d take anything at this point.

You: Hiii Sukuna. How’s your wrist feeling? I know a couple days ago you said it was progressively getting worse, any updates?

Sukuna: Hey babydoll. I think it’s all good now. Nothin a lil icyhot can’t fix. How are you?

You: I’m happy to hear that :) and I’m okay, just bored, per usual.

Sukuna: Ya know I’m always around.

You: It’s funny you mention that… I was wondering if you were busy later today? Or tonight. Either or, whatever works best for you. If you would even want to do anything of course.

Sukuna: City girl finally ready to get some sunshine?

You: Don’t make fun of me 😑

Sukuna: Oh I’d never do such a thing. Are you free right now? My lunch break’s comin up, could use the company.

You: Yes I am! I can be ready in 15, I’ll send my address.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be. You know you looked good, you felt good. You put on a casual outfit, just a pair of bell bottoms and some old t-shirt your mom left around. This wasn’t a date, and you didn’t want to scare him, so you treated it like a normal hang out with a friend.

He picked you up in an old pickup truck, run down from the years spent riding on dirt roads and an occasional swamp. (Things can get messy the further south you go.) It was normal where you’re from to have at least one beat up truck per household, so his car was not a problem. You were all smiles, nearly skipping your way to the passenger side. Sukuna rolled down the window and he too had a bright toothy smile plastered on his face. It almost looked malicious, but you overlooked it once you got in. Something about his presence had you in a trance, you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

When you opened the door, he stretched his arm out to help you into the chair. You made it a point to act as if you were struggling to get in and shut the door, nerves suddenly keeping you from wanting to look him straight in the eye. “Damn sweetheart… just look at you,” he said while leaning his body back, taking a moment to take in your appearance. “Hiii Sukuna, you aren’t too bad yourself,” you said giggling.

“We’re just goin’ up to Milo’s, hope that’s luxury enough for ya.”

“You think I came dressed like this for somethin’ luxury?”

“Well if that ain’t luxury, I’d be curious to see what is.”

Smirking, Sukuna went back to putting his full focus on the road. The butterflies in your stomach had died down, finding his presence incredibly inviting and safe. You were looking out the window for a while, until his hand found yours which was resting on your thigh. You turn around to him surprised, only to see his eyes still trained on the road in front of him. His hand clasped yours and gripped it tight, and you found the silence warm, like a gentle hug you wanted to last forever.

The lunch date was sweet. You both ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and a large sweet tea; reveling in its taste since it had been some time since you had genuine sweet tea. He started asking you about your schooling, learning that you’re majoring in business and will soon start working on your master’s degree. This charmed him— you were both alike even if it was in different ways. You’ve always provided for your mother, and so has he. You won’t stop reaching new opportunities, and neither will he. As the date went on his attraction only grew deeper. Your physical appearance did not mean much to him, you were to die for, but right now he wanted to know every single thing about you and didn’t care about anything else.

But… this wasn’t to say he’s not a curious man.

When ordering the food, you took a step back to look at the entire menu. This caused your skin tight shirt to rise up ever so slightly, showing off your cute tummy and belly button piercing. You noticed him staring, and he was never one to lie.

“Sukuna, order some damn food and stop looking at me like that,” you slapped his large bicep jokingly, making that same smirk from earlier slowly grow on his face.

“Mmm, you hidin’ that accent from me girl. Soundin’ so pretty bossin’ me around.”

You could tell the cashier felt a bit awkward at this point, so you pushed Sukuna in front of you to get him to focus.

Even though he would have moments like those, you didn’t feel like he was objectifying you. It never became the focal point of your conversations. It seemed like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you and it made you feel so… different. Sure you were young, but you’d never experienced such a natural yet interesting conversation with a man. You were shocked by it, to say the least, and it only made you want him more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After that day, you two were basically inseparable. He made it a point to try and see you after work, and if there was a day where he couldn’t do it, he’d make it up to you x2 the next day. He immediately started spoiling you, whether it was food or sending you money for new makeup, it’s like he couldn't do enough for you. You were always beyond grateful, and would even tell him to tone it down a bit, but he’d always say, “Princesses deserve princess things.”

It’d been around four weeks of this, the dates would get more romantic, and his time with you only more cherished. Although the flirting continued to grow, he never made a move on you. You definitely didn’t want to be the one to initiate anything. Maybe there was a reason for him not wanting to get physical, but not even a kiss? It was killing you at this point, every night you spent just dreaming of what his pretty lips felt like on yours. Not being able to help your hands traveling down to your aching pussy. You were so horny it hurt, and nothing you did could satiate the feeling; knowing good and well that his fingers— let alone his dick could reach spots you didn’t even know were there. Your own fingers would suffice for now, but you would be leaving in just a few weeks, you needed to know what Ryomen Sukuna was like in bed.

So, the next time he picks you up, you make sure to look drop dead gorgeous (not like he didn’t think that about you regardless.)

A few days ago, he paid for your hair and nail appointments. Large knotless braids with curly pieces coming out of them, and the prettiest french tip set you’d ever got done. You told him you wanted everything to be a surprise, and that you were planning to get a new outfit as well AND that he didn’t have to send you money for that. But you know he did anyway. The plan for this night was a drive-in movie closer to the heart of the city rather than where you both resided. There was a wing place you loved, different shops, and the movie would be the last activity.

After picking up a new sundress, a black one with thin straps and a slit at the bottom, you felt confident enough that tonight would go well. You took a shower when you got home, lathered your skin with shea butter from head to toe, and put on all the gold jewelry you owned.

There’s no way he wouldn’t want to fuck you dumb.

As always, dinner with Sukuna was to die for. He was such a gentleman, making sure to pull your chair out for you, telling you to get whatever you wanted from the menu. “Don’t be scared sweetheart, want you nice ‘n full.”

You shopped for a little while after, well, it was really window shopping. You felt so bad that Sukuna was paying for everything, even though he always insisted. You decided to just point out all of the things you liked, kind of like a test— if he really liked you then he’d remember all these things for a future event.

The drive-in was dead. Which I guess isn’t too surprising, you can’t remember the last time someone talked about seeing a movie here. Nonetheless, this was your dream scenario. With basically no one to catch you guys, it was the perfect breeding ground (literally.) The movie was some rom-com looking thing in black and white which you begged to watch, only because you knew neither of you would want to pay attention. Once he grabbed some popcorn and soda from the concession stand, he pulled up in front of the big projection, claiming he needed to be as close as possible because of his eyesight. After a few minutes of pretending to be interested, you turned to him and finally broke the ice.

“‘Kuna, do you like me?” Sukuna couldn’t believe the question.

“Of course I like you baby, why else would I be here?”

“Well,” you started, “I don’t know…”

“Oh, you know.”

“I know you like me, it’s just like— we aren’t like… you know.”

“Gonna have to use your words sweetheart.”

You looked forward as you tried to find the best way to say this, you decided to just rip the bandaid off.

“We haven’t kissed! Or anything! You just hug me or wrap your arm around my waist, but we haven’t done nothin’ ‘kuna. And I’m not sayin’ that’s any indicator of how much you like me, I’m just sayin’ it’d be ni—”

You anticipated this kiss, not only because you did everything in your power to set it up, but you could feel Sukuna’s eyes latching onto the way your lips moved while talking. His lips were just as soft as you imagined, tasting like cherry carmex and popcorn. His hand found its way to the side of your face, cupping it gently until he moved it to tilt your chin up towards him. Your mouth opened a little from the change in angle, giving Sukuna’s tongue access to the warmth yours had to offer. He melted deeper into the kiss, and so did you, as it continued to get more sloppy and wet. You could tell he was eager, swirling and dancing on the tip of your tongue, sucking it harshly like he was trying to gather as much saliva as possible. Just to pull back and have it leak out of his mouth, dripping down both his and your chin. It was downright nasty the way your fluids were colliding, but it turned you on an unbelievable amount. Whining and groaning into him, rubbing your thighs together, lacking the correct amount of friction from wearing a dress instead of pants.

Your hand started traveling to his chest and lower, and he could tell you were really riled up at this point simply from the way you were tugging on his shirt. He pulled his lips off yours, making you reach out for him still since your eyes were closed. When you opened them, you were able to see the true mess you two caused. Sukuna was drooling, his heavy lidded eyes not daring to move from your frame. His hair was everywhere, and you couldn’t be happier with your hairstyle of choice.

“Fuck baby,” he said while rubbing on the sides of your stomach, “I really need you. I’ve been needin’ you. Yer just so damn sexy, of course I’ve been wantin’ to do stuff. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek and up to the shell of your ear, “Never want you uncomfortable.”

And that sent you over, you cupped his face with both of your hands, kissing him hard. He growled from your sudden dominance, and with a few swift movements, pulled his seat back and slid you over the middle console and into his lap. Your dress hiked up to your thighs once you straddled him, allowing Sukuna to feel just how wet you were. With one hand on your face, and the other on your waist, he slowly made his way down to your cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” he whispered against your lips, making slow circles on your puffy clit. “This f’me? Say it’s for me babydoll.”

“It’s for you ‘kuna, it’s all for you. Please–” His fingers slid your panties to the side, revealing just how sticky you were for him. Your pussy was basically crying to be touched, and Sukuna was a gentleman, of course.

His mouth never left yours, left hand now resting behind your neck, while his other is furiously rubbing your bare clit. Your moans were being swallowed by Sukuna’s mouth, and when the pleasure finally got to be too much, you suddenly threw your head back with a yelp. Catching yourself immediately, you press your forehead into his.

“‘M sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry— it’s t-too much.”

“Don’t apologize princess, I love seein’ you act like this. So slutty.”

Your tits have barely been able to stay concealed in your already showy dress. They spilled out on their own from your sporadic movements, and once Sukuna could see one, he dropped everything to unveil the other and fondle them both. You kept grinding on his very hard dick, keeping up the rhythm he set up for you while he went to town on your boobs. Massaging them, pinching and flicking the nipples, mumbling things like “fuckin’ shit they’re so soft,” and “need to fuck you.” It wasn’t long before he popped one into his mouth, sucking on it, making it soo much more sensitive. You were squealing at this point, Sukuna looked up at you to see the tears forming at the corner of your eyes. With a ‘pop’ he brought his attention back to your beautiful face. Somehow fucked out just from dry humping. How cute, he thought to himself.

“Look at me, princess.” You struggled, but your eyes met his, still striving for your release. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay? Is that what you want?” You started nodding your head yes like a damn puppy.

“Need to hear you say it princess. Tell me you want it.”

“Wan’ it s-so bad baby, fuck me, I need you to fuck me.”

The thing about pick-up trucks is that there’s not really a backseat, which means you’d have to ride him right where you were. This wouldn’t have been a problem, until Sukuna quickly pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing probably the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. It was the fucking length that scared you. It wasn’t too thick, but girthy enough that it, plus his length, would have your legs shaking for days. He gave his dick slow strokes while you took off your dress, suddenly feeling embarrassed from being the only one naked. He could see you get self conscious by the way you try and hide yourself like the day he met you.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for,” his eyes were still focused on yours while he prepared himself, licking his lips like he was genuinely going to eat you later.

“I can’t look at ya? You just look so damn good sweetheart. Can’t believe yer all mine.”

“You don’t have to gas me up now,” you said looking away.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to his, “I’ma always tell you how good you look. Don’t act so shy now baby.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing at his statement, still leaking from the previous foreplay. He pulled your forehead to his lips, kissing it tenderly, and when he let go of your face he asked you one last time if you were ready. You whisper out a shy yes and grab his dick cautiously, lining it up with your entrance as you slowly lower yourself onto it. You let out a sharp grasp as Sukuna rests his hands on the sides of your hips, trying to assist in any way he can. Once you’re close to bottoming out, he starts whispering praises.

“Doin’ so good babydoll.”

“Look at you takin’ me so well.

Every time he spoke your pussy would clench around him, making him hiss and choke back a whine. Once he was all the way inside you, you let out a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding. You raised your head to look at him instead of the way he was stretching you out. There’s that smirk again. One of his hands finds it’s way back to your clit, rubbing slow circles like before to help you relax. You were so tense but you tried to keep a level-headed face, even though it literally felt like you were being split in two.

You felt your walls get used to his size and shape, feeling them contort and mold into Sukuna’s cocksleeve. With that, you start riding him slowly, using his shoulders to stay balanced. You got the hang of it quickly and began picking up pace. He was still stimulating your clit, using his other hand to keep guiding your body up and down. It was clear that you were struggling to take him all in though, pausing every few seconds to catch your breathe or readjust yourself. And this would just not do for Sukuna.

He gripped and slapped your ass hard.

“Gotta do better than that baby.”

Smack

“C’mon sweetheart, put your fucking. back. into. it.”

Each emphasis on a word was coupled with a hard thrust and loud whines coming from the depths of your throat. The sounds you were both making at this point bounced around the truck. There wasn’t a moment of silence and you felt blissful. Lulling your tongue out just for Sukuna to catch between his teeth; moving his hand back to bully your clit, and using his free hand to grab your face and continue fucking his hips up into yours. He was growling obscenities into your ear, “Yeah baby, just like that keep fucking me like that.”

“Sukuna, please! Fuckfuckfuck I can’t,” you were bouncing on his dick beautifully, tits bouncing in unison and he truly believed you were unreal.

“Yes you can baby,” he gave your face light slaps, “keep those eyes open, keep lookin’ at me baby. Doin’ so good, I promise.” You were leaking like a faucet down his dick and balls, and with a certain thrust, you were sure he was hitting your cervix. The string of cries that came out of your mouth made him go faster, harder, knowing that he finally found the spot that makes you weak.

“Am I makin’ you feel good baby?”

“Mhmm, y-yesss, so so good.”

“Yes who?” Your eyes were crossing trying to look at him, confused at what he meant at first, but as his thrusts got rougher you knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Y-yes daddy, it feels so good.” You were slightly embarrassed by the things you were saying, the noises too. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. Searching for your release that was so close.

Sukuna was close too, but he didn’t want that to come before he made you gush all over his dick. When he found his way to your neck, kissing and biting and sucking on your precious skin, you were done.

“Fuck daddy right there!”

“Here sweetheart? You like this?”

“Yesyesyes don’t stop please don’t stop–” and with a cry you were creaming all over Sukuna’s dick. Your pussy clamped down on him so tight, he couldn’t help but look down at the beautiful mess you made all over his thighs. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, causing you to become incredibly overstimulated. Sukuna was getting close, you could tell by his relentless strokes, forgetting any type of consistent pace. His hands were on your hips now, pistoning up into you as your head rested gracefully on his shoulder.

“Mm babydoll gimme a kiss, c’mere.”

When your shaky lips met his, he was sent into overdrive.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum. Fuck baby, where do you want it.”

Absolutely fucked out, you tried to come up with some sort of cohesive thought. “I-insi..de ‘kuna. In m-me.”

“You sure? Tell me you’re fuckin’ sure, yer milkin’ me baby.”

“I’m s-sure. Please please just cum inside me!”

“Oh, fuckkk…” Sukuna’s load filled your pussy to the brim, leaking out to coat the sides of his dick. He made you feel so full and warm. Finally stopping his thrusts, you hunch over his shoulder and he begins rubbing what feels like hearts on your back, humming into your ear how good you were for him, dick never leaving your pussy.

“Did such a good job princess. So fuckin’ good, are you an angel? Must be an angel, the way you dropped into my life like this.”

“Mmmm I’m your angel ‘kuna. I was made for you only.”

Although the moment was wholesome, your mind immediately flooded with the thought of you leaving in a few weeks.

How were you supposed to leave after this?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hope you enjoyed ;) and let me know if i missed anything as far as my content ahead section goes!

tags: @aiyaaayei

#📕 my books #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x black reader #x black fem reader #jjk men #ryomen sukuna #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #had so much fun with this #need more #but it took me a solid 24 hours #off and on #😭😭

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

Note

when i think of my snookums stink stink bookie pookie nut pumpy umpy umpkin baby onyankopon, i think of u/grownuprileyfreeman on reddit 😩 i be drooling a lil bit, im not gon front 🙁🤞🏽

oh baby boo when i tell you i downloaded the app, created an account and took off all the nsfw settings just to witness this real time….. AND WHEN I TELL YOU I GASPED?!!?!? stink stink’s voice is usually a lot deeper but the smoothness of this guy is so up his streeeeeet 😩🫶🏾💖 I just HAD to a lil schum schum to it

Based off of this audio

Triple N — Onyankopon x Fem!Reader

word count: 1.1k

content: afab!reader, fem!reader, established relationship, making out, slight dom!reader, use of petnames, handjob, male ejaculation

“G’morning baby…”

Turning onto his side, Onyankopon places a soft kiss to your collarbone. An automative action at this point. His eyes are barely opened as you nestle your cheek against the top of his head.

“Morn.” You croak back.

He kisses your skin again before asking: “What time is it?”

You know he has work today. It wasn’t usually his favourite thing in the world but just being able to spend these morning moments with him made it all the better. Slightly perking up, you squint to check the clock on his bedside table.

“Just gone pass six.” You say before resting your neck back down.

“Damn.” He mumbles and you let out a breathy laugh in reply. Onyankopon enjoys the way your laughter shortly vibrated within your chest, allowing him to feel motions, feel you.

“I gotta get up soon…but not yet.”

He lets out a sigh through his nose but he makes no effort to move away from you. Which in practice, means you could feel every part of him, including his poking morning wood against his leg. You slightly pause before asking him about it.

“Ony, you’re hard.”

You can tell the question has thrown him off guard, or at least confused him because for a moment, you feel him still.

“The fuck?” He grumbles. “Babe, it’s first thing in morning. How do you expect me not to be? Also got this sexy ass woman laying up next to me, rubbing on me all night. What else you expect?”

Valid response, but it doesn’t mean the problem was solved. Almost expectantly, your hand starts to wander deeper underneath the duvet.

“Want me to help you with it?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Why?” You frown.

“I’m doing Triple N.”

Without intending to, you feel your forehead crease with a frown.

“Triple N? No Nut November?” The man doesn’t reply. “Seriously Ony, for real?”

The lack of answer was all you needed in order to confirm that Onyankopon was indeed being for real. With a breathy snort, you snuggle into the man’s warmth with a faint smile.

“You’re gonna fail.”

Onyankopon makes a half choked noise.

“Fai— Oh, you have absolutely no faith in me.”

An unsure noise leaves your throat but your hands are soothingly running over the man’s arms. Innocent enough to be inauspicious.

“No, I’m sure you can do No Nut November easily. Your problem is me.”

By now, Onyankopon’s eyes have shot right open. You can tell by the way you can feel him blinking right into the skin of your chest.

“Oh, yeah you right. You know I can’t resist you.” He muses. “Which is even more reason why you gotta heeelp meeee not to looooose.”

Your lack of reply scares Onyankopon because unless you verbally agree to help him, he knows you’re not going to.

As opposed to giving a verbal answer, you instead only move your head down to capture Onyankopon’s lips into a kiss. It’s wet and slow — just like how you usually have it in the mornings. And Onyankopon enjoys it, almost a bit too much, because once you airily brush your hand alongside the upside of his dick, he shudders with a groan into your mouth.

“Baby, you’re making it hard for me.” He whines into the kiss.

“I can’t make it any harder than how much you’re willing to win.”

You don’t let up your actions as your brushing turns to delicate stroking and your throat starts to produce moans. Even Onyankopon, who feels so conflicted about his Triple N sabotage is slowly bucking his hips into the loose shape of your curved hand.

“Babe, please.”

He says, despite keeping your hands locked onto his shaft.

“You really telling me you want me to stop?” You muse.

“It’s No Nut November.” He huffs. “As long as I don’t cum, right?”

You raise your eyebrow in contemplation but don’t question his resolve. You both know you’re not kidding anyone with that excuse but it’s amusing to entertain the fantasy.

“Whatever you say. Just tell me when you’re close so I can stop.”

You quip with a shrug and so you continue to languidly stroke your hand up and down his shaft. And you figure that if he’d been as faithful to the challenge as much as he says he was, then he was going to be a lot more pent up than he’d usually be.

His moans are almond sweet but directed specifically for you. They’re so uniquely him but equally alien to hear.

It was then you realised how rare it was for you to ever take the reins like this.

“I…”

Onyankopon can’t even speak properly, let alone warn you when to stop. His mouth breathes hot air onto your collarbone because of how good you feel. Your fingers are ever so tailored to the shape of his cock, his tip your Frequent Friend and his veins a Forbidden Lover. You have such a relationship with him that you can only know how to please him properly despite him always being the one pleasing you.

“Baby, you’re close.”

You teasingly whisper the words just above Onyankopon’s cheek, his hands grappling at your warm skin in retaliation. The telltale signs of his impending orgasms are familiar to you now.

“Mmpgh.”

Still, he doesn’t tell you to stop, and so you can only take that as a sign to carryon.

“Oh, you’re so sexy like this.” With a grin you kiss just behind his ear. “Cum for me, daddy.”

His fingers are pinching at your skin now, whimpering for you to dare not stop. His slick hard cock so delectably ready to burst, you can’t help but edge him on more. It’s clear that you’ve neglected his goal of abstinence and that he was okay with that.

“Wanna have your cum all over my fingers.”

You finish with a moan of his name and it’s enough to easily push him over the edge, his hips stilling in a buck as he warmly finishes over your closed palm. As you continue to milk him to a halt, you undoubtedly don’t miss the small repeated huffs of ‘love you’ that Onyankopon was staining into your skin.

Once he comes down from his high, the man places a juxtaposing kiss to the temple of your head.

“God, that was hot. How can I not fuck you after that?”

Onyankopon hasn’t even given you a chance to lear your hand of his milky cum. He’s already fondling your body into an accessible position for him to slide himself into. You let him with no qualms but not without a raspy laugh.

“What happened to No Nut November, huh?”

You say with one of your thighs already being elevated from the crease of your knee. The man shrugs as he preps his cock at your entrance.

“I mean, I’ve already failed, right? Now I can go all out.”

#onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon aot #attack on titan #aot x black reader #aot x black reader smut #aot x reader smut #aot x reader

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a3risbaby · 1 year

Text

what we whispered in the dark [m]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 stardew valley : sam x afab!reader (no pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Between the sneaking around and him nearing cumming in his pants from a heated kiss, you don't feel like a pair of twenty-somethings who are three and a half seasons into their relationship. And something about that makes your heart soar. He always finds a way to make you fall in love like it's the first day all over again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 smut (minors dni), fluff, established relationship, face-sitting, vaginal fingering (barely), cross-posted on ao3 | 1.9k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 my first x reader smut! i was going to continue, but i figured that this was a good stopping place. let me know if you liked it :)

On your first day in Pelican Town, you tried to greet everyone, introducing yourself as the new farmer taking over your grandfather's dilapidated farm. The reactions varied from the gruff Get the fuck out of my face (Shane, your favorite grouch) to the stand off-ish Oh...you're not what I was expecting (Jodi, who's warmed up a little) to the pleasant Nice. I'll see you around (Alex, one of your fastest friends).

And Sam? Sam was sweet, you realized immediately, and your impression hasn't changed since. With his bright hair and even brighter smile, he always passes you with a chipper wave, kicking off on his ever present skateboard, and you find yourself saving all of your fished-up Joja Cans just to see his face light up. Sam is sweet and kind and nice and just a little dumb and funny and currently doing a really shitty job of sneaking out of his house.

"Can you be a little quieter?" you hiss from the bushes, wincing as his knee hits the windowsill for the second time.

You're not worried about Kent. In fact, he's watching the two of you right now from his usual spot underneath the front yard tree, the smallest frown marring his features. The last time you were rushing to avoid the 2AM fine, you made a point of stopping and asking Kent for his blessing. Less because it mattered and more because he often sat here until late, and you weren't sure if you could avoid both his insomniac habits and the town's curfew.

"His mom leaves the house around ten," Kent murmurs. "Make sure to set an alarm before you get distracted with playing your video games."

"No worries, sir, I'm up by sunrise," you say, eyes not leaving your boyfriend. He's finally making his way down the makeshift rope ladder. "Can you please teach him how to sneak out properly next time?"

Over your shoulder, Kent snorts softly. "Sure."

It's been years since either of you were a teenager, but Sam breathes a youthful energy back into you, taking your hand as soon as he hits the ground and running off with one last glance at his dad. You keep up with his long strides, the wind whipping at your straw hat and clothes, and have to suppress a giggle as he nearly trips over a rock. He's really bad at this. You slip an extra glowstone ring onto his thumb.

"That's the first time I actually made it out undetected," he says, a laugh bubbling in his chest. "I need to tell Seb tomorrow."

"How does it usually go?"

"Well, I barely get out the front door—"

See? A little dumb. You bite back a silly comment, shooting him a smile that he returns instead.

The journey from his house to yours isn't far—go past Leah's cozy cabin, take a right at Marnie's expansive ranch, follow the newly laid stone path until you see the telltale stable—but it's long enough for your floating moods to sink into something akin to anticipation. At the stoop, you drop your keys once, then twice. It doesn't help that Sam's trailing his fingers along your sides, dropping kisses along your shoulders.

"You should just leave the door unlocked next time," he suggests when you finally get the key in. You barely managed to pull together the plan for tonight, and he's already talking about next time. "No one's out here this late."

"Except us."

"Except us," he echoes.

You kick your shoes off, but you're not sure where they land because Sam has you pressed against the closed door, lips moving against yours, clumsy in his haste. His hands are tight on your hips as he pulls you into him. You're tempted to lose yourself in the urgency.

"Sam, wait," you manage. He hums in acknowledgement, moving to brush his nose along your jaw. "I need to take a shower first. I've been foraging in Cindersap all day."

"You could be covered in slime goop, and I'd still find you hot," he says with so much sincerity your knees almost buckle.

"Thanks, but it's not a matter of whether or not I'm attractive." You push his shoulders squarely. He yields. "I feel gross. It'll take five, ten minutes tops. You can wait upstairs for me."

"And what if I get lost?" He raises his eyebrows. "I feel like I should follow you to the shower."

You roll your eyes. "Heel, boy. I'll be right there, okay?"

His excitement is endearing. Between the sneaking around and him nearing cumming in his pants from a heated kiss, you don't feel like a pair of twenty-somethings who are three and a half seasons into their relationship. And something about that makes your heart soar. He always finds a way to make you fall in love like it's the first day all over again. As promised, you're done washing off in seven minutes. For a second, you entertain the idea of walking into your bedroom with only a towel, just to gauge his reaction, but you throw on a tank top and shorts instead, foregoing underwear since it'll all be gone anyway.

You find him on the edge of your bed, sorting your mail into two piles on your nightstand. He looks up with a smile.

"JojaMart's having a sale on seeds," he reports. "You can use my employee discount and get a little more off."

"Yeah?" You step between his open legs and brush blond hair away from his forehead. Your beautiful, radiant boyfriend. "How much off?"

"I don't remember. Like 10%, I think?"

"Just ten?" You shimmy your shorts down an inch. He follows their journey like a hawk. "I thought it was more than that."

"Maybe it was twenty, I'm not sure."

"That's all? A shame." You push them down further, exposing your hips, and his eyes light up as he catches on.

He wets his lips and says, voice strained, "No, it was 100%. Definitely completely off."

You let him tug your shorts down, and when they pool around your ankles, you kick them off. His gaze flickers between your exposed skin and your face, impossibly reverent. He doesn't pray to Yoba like his family, but his expression, here and now, is one of a worshiper. Devoted and devout until the end of time.

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouth open to swallow your moans, and falls back onto your sheets. Your legs straddle his hips, and you whimper as he ruts his growing bulge against the apex of your legs. The material of his sweatpants drag against you—you definitely need to throw it in the laundry before he leaves.

"This wet already, baby? The night's barely started," he mumbles against your lips. Under normal circumstances, the stain on his pants would embarrass you, but anticipation thrums in your veins. The hands on your waist force you to still, and it's pathetic how close you are to begging him to keep going. "As much as I love it, I'm not going to last long like this and I want to finish in you tonight. Okay?"

"Okay," you manage, "but you better keep your word."

He laughs. "I always do. Now how much of a discount do I need to promise if I want you to sit on my face?"

You're a sight that Sam can never tire of. He isn't the wordy kind of person, but if he was, he'd likely wax poetic about how beautiful you look right now. Something about how the crescent moon spills from the open window and falls over your skin like liquid silver.

Huh. That actually wasn't bad. Maybe writing lyrics for the band has made him better at this sort of thing. He settles on the pile of pillows on your bed, murmuring encouragements as you shift forward and straddle his face.

"Are you sure?" you're asking for the third time, and he has to hold back from rolling his eyes.

He tries his best to look you in the face, which is hard considering everything else tempting his gaze. Yoba, this is a perspective that he needs to get more often. "Babe," he says, trailing kisses along your thigh. "Seriously. I already said it before, but this is exactly what I want. You're stunning. Amazing. Perfect. I'd rather die between your legs than anywhere—" And the rest of his argument is lost on his tongue as you finally take a seat and Sam considers quitting his day job at JojaMart to do this forever.

He inhales the dampness of your pussy, flattens his tongue, and basks in the way you keel forward, fingers curling around the headboard to keep steady. A shaky breath from you and he sets out in earnest, one hand digging into your ass, the other skimming its way up your body until it lands on your chest. He's not the type to curse much either, but fuck, your tits are amazing. He grasps at them firmly, just how you like it, until you yank your top over your head and he can finally get a full view.

His hands move again, this time to spread you further apart as his tongue laps at your dripping cunt, and if your growing cries are any indication, he's proud to say that he's gotten good at this lately.

Can you be a little quieter? he's tempted to echo the complaint you had at his house earlier, but he holds back from teasing for two reasons. One, he actually hates it when you bite back your moans. Your volume is exactly why you can't do this at his place, and he relishes in the way your noises go straight to his dick, currently straining to be freed from his sweats. And two, truthfully, he doesn't think he can separate from you long enough to say anything.

So he expresses his pleasure with guttural groans and pants as you grind down into his face, your clit clipping his nose in a way that has you squirming in his hold. You're fucking amazing, and he hopes you know this. He feels like he doesn't tell you that enough.

"So good, a-ah, Sam, fuck...just like that. Keep goi—oh my—"

Your pace stutters when his lips finally suction around your clit, and his name becomes a breathless mantra on your tongue as he unravels you on his. You rock against his face, previous hesitation forgotten as you chase after your high.

"'m so close," you whimper, your hands kneading your chest desperately. "So, so close—Sam, please—almost there."

Without warning, he sinks a finger into you, the metal of his glowstone ring cold against your flushed folds, and it's enough to send you over the edge. A flurry of broken curses spill over as you ride it out, and Sam swears he can drown in your pussy, lapping at your orgasm until you push off of him and slide onto your back.

"You're too good at this for a newbie," you insist, voice petulant as you catch your breath.

He wants to kiss you so bad, make you taste yourself on the slick that runs down his chin, but he cleans himself up and waits beside you patiently until you tug at his hand. A sign that you're ready for him to make good on his promise.

#stardew valley smut #stardew smut #sdv smut #sdv sam smut #stardew sam smut #stardew valley sam smut #a3risbaby.fandom

659 notes · View notes

silentcryracha · 9 months

Note

I'd like to request a horny filthy absolutely deranged drabble about this Hyune look because I still haven't managed to get up from the floor iykwim

https://twitter.com/hyunesz/status/1684902894401921024?s=20

link - OH hun if only you knew how many asks I got about this specific look LMAO, glad we're all on the same horny boat 🤝

warnings: non idol au, strangers to lovers, drugs are mentioned but not used, smut 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex (don't), fingerings, oral (m receiving), kind of public sex?, afab reader, kinda dom Hyunjin

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The ambient felt hot and a little overwhelming. Just enough for __ to feel annoyed, but not suffocate her. The fact that it was completely dark except for the blue and purple lights that illuminated the dance floor enhanced this feeling.

She took another sip of her drink, keeping a small piece of ice in her mouth to refresh herself. She was bored, no question about it. Her colleagues dragged her to this expensive club after a cocktail event, as if the alcohol wasn't flowing enough as it was.

She truly couldn't give a fuck about a party organized by the man, who was essentially overworking his employees, that desperately needed to rub in everyone's faces the fact that he got promoted. Hence more money and power for someone who didn't deserve it. But hey, at least he was offering.

That club was not a normal, cheap club though, It was one of those hyper private and expensive places which only a specific range of people could access. Which is the main reason that convinced her to check it out, curiosity. But it was nothing different from a normal club aside from the crazy drink prices, the people were elegant and the drugs were not directly shoved in your face. It was also a lot cleaner, which was the best aspect.

At some point she heard a light shove, which made her turn her head to the side. A man dressed in an elegant suit, with light brown hair and glasses, also looked down at the woman sitting at the bar with an apologetic look. Even though __ could tell that he wasn't sober.

"Apologies" he slurred, shamelessly checking her out quickly before being pulled to the side slightly by another man. He was also dressed elegantly, with a black shirt that had the first couple of buttons undone, showing just enough of his collarbones.

She coulnd't help but stare for a couple of seconds at how beautiful that man was. Was he even real?

"Stop embarrassing yourself, Jisung" he said, glaring at him. __ was too starstruck to realize that she was still staring, but as soon as the black haired man locked eyes with her, she immediately woke from her daze and looked away. Yeah, stop embarrassing yourself too, __, she scolded herself mentally.

"C'mon man, don't you want to have some fun? A guy is selling some pretty dope stuff, if you know what I mean" the brown haired man nonchalantly hinted at sniffing his finger, and laughed when the black haired one rolled his eyes at him.

"I don't need cocaine to have fun. You do you though. But don't come fucking crying at my door when Chris fires you again." he warned him, taking a sip of his own drink before dismissing his friend. She didn't mean to be nosy, really. But they were just a little too close to her hearing area, so oops?

She still wasn't looking in their direction, pretending to be interested in stirring the small straw in her half finished drink. It was basically half ice and half fruit so she wasn't feeling the dizziness at all. Besides, she had decided to actually eat at the cocktail party, mainly out of boredom and to avoid making conversation.

"Ah, shut the fuck up, Hyun" Jisung scoffed, leaving his friend's side before disappearing into the dancing crowd. __ sneakily glanced at the man sat not too far from her. But with her surprise, he was already looking back at her. So, this time, instead of being a coward, she played it off with the hint of a smile.

The man tilted his head to the side slightly, the shadow of a smirk on his face, so confident and calm in his demeanor. It was almost intimidating, and she felt herself blush, a string of shivers running up her exposed spine.

She did feel quite overdressed, even for such a place. She was wearing an elegant black, silky, cowl back slip dress, that had a split on the right side. Her hair were tied up, so all her back almost down to her butt was exposed, as well as her neck, collarbones and some cleavage. Was it a little too much for a cocktail party? Actually not, but it was quite sexy and she knew it.

"I apologize for my colleague's rude ways." her head snapped towards him as she realized that he was speaking to her. His voice was hard to decipher, a mix of teasing, apologetic and polite. As she looked at him she saw his dark, piercing eyes staring at her, waiting for a reaction.

"Oh" she said, waving a hand dismissively, "It was nothing. I hope he gets home safe." she added, absolutely not knowing what else to say. And she was convinced that the conversation would've ended there, but the man didn't let it.

"He'll be fine. He's a lucky man." he replies, finishing his drink in one shot. "What about you?"

"What about me?" she retorted the question, carefully thinking how much she could trust that man.

"I'd ask if you're here alone, but it just seems to me like you were dragged here by someone else. Or else you would be enjoying yourself." she smirked, mimicking his head tilt.

"Do I look like I'm not enjoying myself?" her voice was between irony and curiosity, but truly she was just amused. The man put down one foot and lightly dragged his own stool a little closer, so that now less than thirty centimeters were separating them. If she had turned to face him, their legs would've touched.

"Not really. Unless your kind of fun is brooding at a bar alone while everyone else is grinding, dancing and, well, probably snorting coke on a few surfaces." he nudged his head to where the dance floor and some couches were.

"Not everyone, though." the woman replied, also finishing her fruity drink before continuing, "You're also sat here, at a bar, alone. So, are you also a type who doesn't want to have fun? Like your friend said?"

The black haired man raised an eyebrow, amused with how well you were keeping up with him.

"That's also true. So what, then? Are we really two people who can't have fun? Or maybe this isn't the place for us." this time it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Was he hinting at what she was thinking he was...?

"Do you have any suggestions, mr...?" she already knew that they were gonna end up fucking, so might as well gather some important info before any shit goes down.

"Hwang. Hyunjin Hwang." he answered without hesitation, still maintaining his cool aura. "And, about the place. It depends on which kind of fun you like." she didn't miss the way that his eyes checked out her whole figure, with a particular attention to her exposed back and valley between her breasts.

So she decided to play his game, and to send him a message loud and clear she elegantly turned her body towards him, crossing her legs. Effectively making her exposed calf brush against his clothed one. Hyunjin looked up at her with sharp eyes and a newly fueled hunger.

"I don't have preferences. Why don't you take me somewhere?" she asked seductively, leaning down to speak just enough to give him a new angle to her cleavage. He inhaled a sharp breath when her leg brushed against his again, so after that he decided that he had enough.

Hyunjin stood up, offering his hand to her, which she took. After that he led her through the mass of dancing and sweaty bodies in the dark, until they reached a small corridor. She thought that he was going to lead her into the bathroom, cliché but it will do for a quickie.

But suddenly he got in front of her, effectively caging her with his arms against the wall, to which her back was now pressed. She got tense for a second, until he detached one of his hands from the wall, bringing it up to caress her cheek.

"What's your name?" he asked, casually, as his hand kept on going down, from her cheek, to her neck, collarbones, his pointer finger lightly tracing the shape of her breasts that could be seen from the neckline. Her breath hitched at his every move, so featherlight, yet capable to make her shiver.

"__" she answered, breathy. Hyunjin hummed as his face got closer to her neck, leaving a small kiss on it, making her lightly gasp.

"Do you want to do this, __?" he murmured, against her skin. The loud music was now muffled to their ears, which allowed some sort of silence.

"Yes, I do" she breathed out, starting to touch his chest with her hands, until they slid around his neck to pull him closer. "Do you, Hyunjin?"

He didn't even answer and instead moved his head up to crash his plush lips to hers, the kiss immediately turning passionate and leaving both of them breathless. __ felt two hands on her ass, but before she could realize what was happening, Hyunjin had picked her up, making her legs wrap around him automatically.

He led them to the bathroom, and picked the men's one. Just because they would've just gave up by finding a locked bathroom, he was sure. Nothing would've ruined that moment.

He kept kissing her as she sat her on the expensive marble in between the sinks, then walked away to lock the door behind them. The bathroom was of course huge, clean, with dim lights and a wall long mirror behind the sinks.

She was still panting, both from the kiss and the adrenaline of the moment. Hyunjin swiftly unbuttoned the center jacket button and let it slip off his shoulders, placing it nearby. Then he unbuttoned and dragged up to his elbows his dark shirt. Actions that were so simple, but done by such a handsome and sexy man, were driving her crazy.

As he walked closer to her, his eyes were not leaving her at all. She instinctively spread her legs enough to accommodate him, which made him darkly chuckle. One hand went to her waist while the other to the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her chin.

"Don't let me wait" she said with a husky voice, teasing the small v of his open shirt with her pointer finger. He laughed lightly, starting to kiss her neck and jaw, while his fingers started to trail up from her nude calf, to her knee, to her thighs, and bringing her slip up dress up to her sides as he did so.

"I'd love to play with you longer, but unfortunately you're right, we can't take too long" he said in between kisses, to which he had started to add some licks. She moaned, grabbing the side of his beautiful face and pressing it to her own, kissing him openly and sloppily.

She gasped into his mouth as Hyunjin's fingers were now gently rubbing her clit over her silk panties. She was losing her mind, and needed more, and she needed it now.

"Please Hyunjin..." she whimpered, her fingers clutching the fabric of the shirt on his shoulder. He hummed in her mouth, leaving it to speak "Tell me what you need, gorgeous"

"I-I need you to touch me. Touch my pussy, feel how wet it is for you" she grazed his ear while grinding on his hand. He used both hands to remove your panties, throwing them to the side somewhere near his jacket on the sink.

Then with his pointer and middle finger pressed together he started to rub up and down around your vulva, making you whine when he teased your hole and your clit respectively. A low, mocking chuckle escaped his full, pink, lips.

"You are drenched already. All this for me, you say?" he teased, with his two fingers now circling her little hole. She nodded eagerly, her lips continuously kissing, grazing, and licking at his skin, she felt drunk on him.

"Yes, just for you. Please, sir-" she didn't realized what had slipped her mouth until after she said it. Her eyes widened from the embarrassment, but Hyunjin on the other hand just chuckled, kissing her.

"Such a good girl, I've barely touched her and she's already so wet." he praised, "Let's see if she's also ready to take my fingers" he murmured to her ear, before slipping two fingers into her. The sudden action and the feeling of fullness made her gasp and moan at the same time.

Hyunjin started quite slowly with his in and out movements but as his fingers got wetter and wetter, her walls also relaxed a bit. Not too long after he started to finger her faster, more roughly, hitting exactly her spot.

Her fingers grasped both of his shoulders as moans and whines were leaving her mouth, mixed with his name, like a prayer.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me and cum, mh? Make me feel you drench my fingers, c'mon, good baby." Hyunjin kept on praising her as he maintained his relentless pace.

"Oh- oh fuck, yes sir I'm gonna cum, please" she pleaded, closing her legs around his back, while he spit on his other hand and started rubbing her clit fast. That was it for __, as he gushed around Hyunjin's fingers.

She released a long sigh, in between whines because of how overly sensitive she was. "Shh, you did so well, good girl. Look how you drenched my fingers, baby" Hyunjin reclaimed her attention, and with dazed eyes she looked at him putting those same two fingers in his mouth, and suck.

Her mouth was agape, cheeks red, forehead sweaty and a beautiful fucked out expression. Hyunjin was already more than hard in his pants, but seeing her like that, so sexy and beautiful, made something snap in him.

"I want to fuck you so bad" he breathes out, unbuckling his pants, "Will you let me, mh? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little pussy?" he nuzzled her nose with his, desire dripping from his words.

"Yes! Fuck please, Hyunjin, sir" she was still so fucked out from her previous orgasm, but as desperate for another that she was stumbling on her words.

"Shh, baby. I'll give it to you. I'll give it to you so so good, okay pretty girl?" he cooed, while simultaneously wetting the tip of his dick with her juices, to then thrust in all in one go. She squealed by the surprise and tightened the grip on his butt with her legs, effectively pushing him even deeper. This time it was Hyunjin's turn to groan.

"So fucking tight- " he said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to hold himself back a bit. But her clenching and unclenching were not helping him, so in the end he decided to just go all in, and started to fuck her strong and fast.

"Ah, yes! Fuck yes, Hyunjin you're doing so well, please don't stop!" she exclaims in between moans. But he had other plans, because he swiftly pulled out, then dragged back to the edge of the sing __ , making her come down on wobbly legs, just to bend her over it.

They could see their reflections on the mirror now, which gave everything an even more erotic vibe. They both moaned loudly when Hyunjin penetrated her again, from behind. He picked up his fast pace pretty quickly, which made it feel like there hasn't even been a change in positions.

"You feel- so so fucking good, I'm cumming!" she exclaimed, gripping the edge of the marble sing with all her might. Hyunjin also knew that he was close to releasing, but he needed her to come first so he could've pulled out. So he licked two fingers and reached between her legs to rub her clit.

"Does that feel good? uh? Does my cock make you feel that good?" he grunted, keeping his fast pace, She just hummed in approval as she was too fucked out to talk. But Hyunjin wasn't having it, so he slapped her ass once, making her gasp and respond quickly.

"Sorry, sir. Yes it feel so so good" she cried, "I love your big cock making me feel so full. Are you close, Hyunjin?" she panted, as her breasts were dangling out of her dress by now. Braless, Hyunjin noted.

He groaned in response, speeding his ministrations on her clit. which made her orgasm explode immediately, He let her ride out her high,and then slowly pulled put.

"I want you in my mouth" Hyunjin turned around to see you jumping down the marble and getting on your knees. He pumped himself a few times before he let her take charge. Both of her hands pumped him at the same time, as she sucked and licked the red head.

"Mmh- __ I'm about to come" he warned, and then stilled as he emptied himself on your tongue. A few drops escaped the corners of her lips but she promptly caught them with her fingers, cleaning them too. Hyunjin moaned and sighed, having to lean back on the wall to support himself.

Before any of them could say anything, they heard a loud knock on the door. They both stood straight up, and got dressed and presentable as best they could.

Hyunjin hurried her to hide in one of the stalls, but without even hearing her out he forced her and said to "trust him". So she picked one and closed the door behind herself, listening.

She heard footsteps and then the door unlock, and then some voices.

"Sorry man, I think I might've closed it by accident." Hyunjin spoke, with his usual cool demeanor. She didn't hear him anymore so she assumed that he was gone. But she saw some elegant shoes going for a bathroom stall next to yours, so you waited until the man was in and then escaped from the men's bathroom.

She were about to search up the phone to call an Uber, since that was gonna definitely be the end of the night, but a am leaning against the corridor wall made her stop.

"I thought you'd left me there" her words were supposed to be a joke, but came out more embarrassing than anything. He leaned back from the wall and started to walk towards you.

"I would never." he answers, seriously "Would you like me to call you and Uber? I don't have my own car tonight so I can't take you home."

She smiled shyly. "We can share on if you'd like." she offered. He smiled at her and nodded, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"Then, if it's okay with you, I'd like to ask for your number." he said. She nodded, with a big smile of her own.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

199 notes · View notes

banquetwriter · 9 months

Text

୨୧ stupid expensive couch ୨୧

pairing: rookie!Leon Kennedy ♡︎fem + AFAB!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡, not proof read, smut, feeling of abandonment, implied non aftercare, crying after sex (lol), just so much smut lmg

summary: ʚ after hooking up with your best friend once, you two have to finally admit your feelings ɞ

words: 5019

AN: This is a very OOC representation of rookie leon just leave me alone <3, HEAVILY inspired by this audio :>also consent is not specifically asked for in this fic however it’s implied reader and leon have hooked up before and consent and boundaries were set then, neither party was taken advantage of!!

⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈

“Leon, why aren’t you eating more of your going-away cake?” you mumble through the sheer fullness you felt. Leon's face flushed red from the alcohol, he shakes his head furiously “You can’t keep feeding me this stuff! It has so much sugar in it I swear!” Leon commented pointing to it. “What? Scared you're gonna get fat and they're gonna turn you away at the door? You have to be fit to be a policeman you know.” you mumble, taking yet another sip of your drink. The alcohol seemingly scratches your throat on the way down. “Mmm fuck.” you mumble setting your drink down.

Leon gives you a fake and dramatic scoff, “I'm not gonna get fat from some horrible “cheese-cake” he mumbles with air quotes. “Hey, what's with the quotes?” you ask, biting your lip slightly and tracing the rim of your glass. “This isn’t cheesecake, y/n! It’s just candy!” he tells you leaning back on your couch.

Ugh, the couch, your boyfriend- well… ex-boyfriend bought it. It was always the same with you, going after guys who never usually meant much to you. It’s not like you wanted to use them, you just wanted to fall in love! In love with anybody else except for Leon, your best friend in the whole wide world.

Your best friend was moving to fucking Racoon City for fucks sake. “Whatever Leon, how are you feeling?” you ask through a small giggle, tilting your head to the side. Leon looks up at you, his eyes slowly filling with thoughts. That's always something you have known about him, as expressionless as his face tends to be; you can always see in his eyes what's wrong. Your eye contact only holds for a moment before he looks down at the base of your coffee table.

He lets out a deep sigh before looking up again, this time not at you. You could see it, he was searching for words. “I'm nervous I mean, they tell me to stay away from the place the week I'm about to start? What does that mean? I’ve already looked it up but I can't find anything online about it.” he rambles, standing up.

The alcohol must have hit him… you let out a small giggle. “I meant the drinks, Leon,” you say eyes following his pacing. “Oh… well fine then. I’m barely even buzzed,” he says walking back over to the couch and sitting down. You smile looking down, Leon lets out a borderline pornographic moan as he lays back on the couch. “My god Leon!” you exclaim looking at him.

He lets out a toothy grin, “Hey this couch is very comfortable… are you still paying this thing off?” He asks, sitting back up again, reaching for his drink. You open your mouth to tell him that you did not pay a penny for it and instead your ex-’boyfriend’ bought it for you because he was *going* to move in before you broke up with him.

Leon doesn’t let you get a word out though, he moves the cup down from his lips and swallows. “Oh wait I forgot your boyfriend bought it for you heh, you little couch princess,” he mumbles the last part into the cup before drinking again. Ah Leon, ever the flirt. “No Leon I didn’t pay for the couch and me and *him* broke up,” you say avoiding his eyes and taking a swig yourself. This was not going to be an easy conversation.

“Oh..” Leon's voice was quiet as he looked down at the table. No matter how drunk or unexpressive he may be, it was clear to you the disappointment and regret on his face. Your stomach suddenly swirled, maybe you shouldn't have eaten so much of that cheesecake and then used it to soak up alcohol. You quickly set the glass down nervously rubbing your sides.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He mumbles, gesturing with his hands. “It’s ok Leon, honestly it's been a few months,” you confess, looking at him. You can feel a small anger bubble in him. “Fuck really? You wanna talk about it?” he asks scooting ever so closely. Your heart falls as he shifts forwards. Fuck you thought, booze was liquid confidence. You were feeling very confident, just dizzy.

“No, not really,” you mumble feeling the heat from his body. He was so warm… I mean in a heated apartment in jeans and a sweatshirt… plus he was probably drunk right now. “You care, Leon?” you ask, a small amount of surprise seeps up through your throat and into your words. His eyebrows furrow. “Yes of course I fucking care. I mean it makes sense you two broke up I mean fuck it's getting pretty late, there are drinks and well he isn’t here you know? I wouldn't be comfortable letting you go have drinks with another guy late at night if we were dating.” he says, moving his elbows to his mid-thighs and using his hands to talk.

He doesn’t seem to know what he is saying. You two dating, god it sounds like a bad nightmare being desperately in love with your best friend and him joking about dating you. You're not sure what to say, your mouth is drying up. “You couldn't have told me this when we called the other week?” he asks, getting loud. Fuck, no not the calls. The calls you two would spend together with each other for hours, desperately flirting with him even when you were ‘dating’ someone.

Again you go to open your mouth but just like on the calls you can’t bring yourself to say anything, it would ruin it all. “I knew you weren’t doing in a good place but fuck y/n you don’t tell me anything anymore. I know what you said ok, about us being different after we did what we did but I thought we were still best friends!” he rambles, his alcohol fueling his anger. A raging fire that's been there for some time.

‘After we did what we did’ are words you never wanted to hear tonight. It hadn't been your fault entirely; it takes two people to tango. But taking your best friend's virginity and then leaving before he even fell asleep after… you felt sick. You hadn't meant for it to happen, you didn’t want it to go down the way it did. You were barely giving him anything as he is near crying from happiness… The L bomb nearly slipped out.

The memories from that night flooding back to you. Your drunk brain is finally losing the internal battle you fought with yourself. Finally pulling him in for a kiss. Telling him that it would change us. It didn’t seem to matter to him though. It was disappointing, for both of you… You only had the guts to go so far before you backed out.

Jerking him off then telling him you couldn't deal with anymore that night, letting him lay down, and then leaving him in that stupid hotel. You swallowed thickly being brought back to the present. A not-so-innocent Leon looking back at you. “Leon I-” you finally started your voice shaky, “No don’t ‘Leon’ me! Why don’t you tell me anything anymore? For Christ's sake, I didn’t even know you had broken up with your boyfriend. I know that dress y/n… when you get sad you buy things, for yourself or your apartment. If you bought something new you would have worn it tonight, for me but you didn’t. You’re wearing that fucking dress…” he points to you, you look down really it wasn’t anything bold. Very simple in fact. Just a tight black dress with a red streak on the side.

Your face heated up. God, he knew you so well. “I knew something was wrong because I saw all your new apartment decorations y/n, I saw them on the call ok? You would never normally buy this shit. I knew you were struggling and I couldn't bear to ask you if you were ok because I already knew the answer to that question. If I had asked you that question,” he leaned in forward. His breath was laced with sweets and liquor… “You would have lied and told me you were doing fine,” he says almost out of breath.

You were out of words watching him, he had stepped back now going back to his pacing. You bit your lip looking at him, he was waiting for you, To say something, anything you supposed. You couldn't keep disappointing him. “It’s always been the same for me, Leon! What else do you want to hear?” you question trying to ignore the sadness weighing on your chest.

“Please talk to me y/n! You never talk anymore, you never tell me anything and it makes me wonder…” he starts and you can almost see tears in his eyes. “Wonder?” you ask. “Yes y/n wonder, do you ever talk about me anymore? I know we aren’t in school anymore but you still talk to people from school I know you do!” he almost shouts. God why? Why did he have to know you so well>

“Do you ever mention my name? Does anyone else mention my name? Ask how I am. What do you say y/n? Do you say ‘Oh Leon is doing great he is gonna be a cop!’ Is that what you say knowing you don’t know me anymore?” he asks chest heaving. Fuck he looked so pretty all worked up like this. You couldn't help but think about him like that. It’s how you got into this mess in the first place.

The truth was you didn’t talk about him with anyone, no one except yourself. You couldn't bear it, saying anything about him that is. You would ruin things if you did. “Did you tell him about me? Your couch-buying boyfriend?” it was clear he was jealous as he always has been. He is a gentle person when he wants to be. Never telling you how when a guy would wrap his arms around you it made him sick. He never said it but you saw it in his eyes, you knew it was true. “Did you tell any of your ‘boyfriends’ about me? Huh? About how you fucked me?” he asks, his voice going quiet.

His chest fell and rose. His anger flowed out of him. “Leon I’m so-” you try to stand up too, but again his eyes betray him. Guilt floods over his features. “No please I’m sorry I shouldn't have said all that, I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.” His voice was soft, unlike the borderline yelling from his a second ago. “You know I always promise myself I’m never gonna see you again, you know?” he asks, sitting down again. Your heart falls even deeper into your body.

“I promise myself every time I leave here that this will be the last time. I will leave and never come back until you're marrying some stupid rich guy. Every time I see your name on my phone asking to call my heart fucking sinks. Because you have trapped me, and I can’t get out. I know that I can’t hold myself back when I see you. I will flirt and plead and beg for you even if you don’t see it. God I want you so fucking bad.” he mumbles, burying his face into his hands.

Your heart is thumping. You're so scared, this is all you have ever wanted. Maybe you didn’t need to be so scared… “It always goes the same way for me, Leon,” you mumble, he peaks up at you moving his fingers from covering his eyes. Your head was spinning with nerves, your brain screaming at you not to tell him what you so desperately wanted to. Your heart was pleading for something else… and for the first time. You listened to your heart.

“I always fall for some stupid guy who turns out isn’t what I want so I freak out and break up with whoever it is. I never like the guys I date because, well I don't want to date them! I want to date you, so badly. No guy can ever replace you. And I’m so sorry I do this to you. This little cat-and-mouse game. I keep pulling you along for shit I know I shouldn't. I’m sorry for ever fucking you in the first place. I should have done it right… you looked so fucking perfect that night. You were just wanting to be loved by me and I screwed it all up. I got scared so I ran. It's what I always do.” you ramble letting your years-long feelings finally seep to the surface.

Leon was still covering his face with his hands but you can tell by his dreamy eyes that he is happy. Of course, he is. “But I'm trapped too, I ran from you only to run right back. You never want to see me again because of the way I push and pull you.” you sit back down facing him finally. “Flirting with you because I can’t bear to let you go completely yet I can’t commit enough to be with you because I’m so scared. I would do anything to change that night, to give it my all, and love you the way you deserve. But I can’t go back. I can only try and fix what I have done now.” you had started crying. Your face is tear-stained.

The room went silent minus your occasional sniffles and deep breaths. Leon slowly drops his hands from his face, a very big red blush dusting beautifully on his features. You give a small breathless chuckle licking your lips slightly. The silence seemed like it filled the room. A small tension sewing its way between the two of you.

“Thank you. For uhh saying that. I thought about that night a lot since it happened. It felt like my dream was coming true but it wasn’t. Jesus, I even cried after you left. You must think I'm so pathetic.” he mumbles wiping his hands on his face. Your face fell, “I don't think your pathetic Leon.” you say scooting next to him and grabbing his hands.

His face looking at yours. “I'm so sorry for what I put you through, and you're very brave. I mean fuck, you want to risk your life to help others. You're Not pathetic for crying after I left. Ok?” you spoke in a hushed serious tone. That was a rare occurrence for you and Leon. He just smiled nodding slightly but you weren’t gonna have that. Your hand comes up to his jaw, “Ok?” you ask again, and he gives you a sheepish smile. “Yeah ok,” he mumbles, this Leon contrasted the one from earlier. He was mad or loud and he was happy.

A tone seemed to have shifted between you too. “Do you think we should try that night over again?” you ask, letting your eye fall into a half-lidded pose. You lean towards him. His eyes widen ever so slightly, you could almost hear his heart rate increase. “What?” he asks. Oh how different this Leon was… so shy and cute.

You smirk, pushing his arms over his head. You used the pressure your hands had to hoist yourself on his lap. “W-Hat are you doing? Why are you getting on my lap?” he whined, unconsciously bucking his hips as you slid onto him. “Shhh,” you whisper smirking, pressing your finger against his mouth. He gives you the most pathetic look staring up at you.

You move your finger from his mouth, leaning down. Leon leaned forward, his lips meeting yours. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as a whine left his mouth. Your hand slowly moved to his neck squeezing it just a little. His hands found your hair entangling with his right hand while his left hand gripped your neck.

He was already getting worked up, his dick hardening underneath you. You moved back letting yourself catch your breath. “You told me you play a game of cat and mouse with me right?” he mumbled, biting his baby pink lips. “Good job listening,” you mumble in a condescending tone. Leon's eyes shift to an intense stare.

“I wouldn't mind if we kept playing… you as the cat and me as the mouse?” he asks, his voice raising in pitch, batting his eyelashes. You smirk, “Yeah I think I can arrange that baby.” you say pushing yourself off of his lap and walking over into your room. Leon smirks watching you walk to your room.

After a minute has passed you hear Leon’s voice from your living room. “What's taking so long?” you playfully roll your eyes. “Hold tight Leon!” you yell from, chuckling slightly. Leon shifts in his seat with anticipation. He couldn’t wait for whatever you had planned for him. He heard your soft patterns come out of your room and he turned his head. He saw you had a rope in your hand. “When the fuck did you get a rope?” he asks, looking at it.

Your hand leaves the rope to land a smack across his face. Leon whimpers at the impact, “Fuck I’m sorry, you can tie me up.” he whines out bucking his hips. “Good boy,” you murmur, rubbing your hands against his face. “Can I get naked please?” he asks, trying to give you the most innocent eyes possible.

It seemed to have worked because you started pulling down his pants and boxers. He took this as a yes and took his shirt off. He was now completely bare sitting against the very comfortable couch. “Can I tie you up now?” you ask, admiring his body. “Fuck yeah you can, god I wanna be your whore so badly,” he whined. You raised your eyebrow at his enthusiasm. He put his hands behind his back for you. You push his head down exposing the back of his neck.

You began tying his hands together and kissing his neck. “Ahh fuck.” he mumbles feeling the fibers burn his wrists. You fist a bit of the hair on the back of his pulling his head back up. You let your fingers trace over his thighs, moving slowly towards Leon’s almost completely rock-hard cock. It was flushed with pink and dripping with pre-cum.

You leaned down kissing him again finally letting your hand glide up to his cock. Gripping the base of it, Leon moaned into your mouth. You moved your hand painfully slow up and down on his cock. “Fuck please…” he whimpered. You pulled away from him, “Please I need to see you too.” he whined out of breath.

You pushed his shoulders back so he hit the couch. You slid the dress off your body revealing your entire body. You had decided against wearing panties. Leon’s eyes raked over you. “Fuck I should have known you wouldn’t wear any panties. You knew you were gonna fuck me huh?” he growled looking at you.

You slapped him again, his blush matching the bright red color on the right side of his face he adored. “Fuuuck,” he mumbled, looking back at you. “Please let me see your fucking pussy.” he whined trying to buck his hips into the air, his cock slapping his tummy. “Yeah, you wanna see my pussy? Yeah?” you asked, leaning down to Leon who was rapidly shaking his head ‘yes’. “Please, please, please Mommy,” he begged, his face bright red.

You sat down right next to him, the pudge of your thighs touching his. You spread your legs apart. Leon gasping at your body. Your left hand moving back to his cock, your right hand moving to your clit. You moved both of your hands gathering your slick occasionally with your right hand.

Leon was in heaven breathing rapidly watching you pleasure yourself while jerking him off. It was fucking beautiful but this isn’t how he wanted to cum. “Please, let me eat you out…” he whined looking at you. You slowed your ministrations. “You don't wanna cum?” you asked with feigned pity. “I do but..” he whined looking at your fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. “Fuck I want you to use me. I want you to cum first please, god I will do anything.” his voice was exasperated.

Sweat dripped down his face, his lips swollen, cock red and dripping with his arousal. You bite your lip looking at him. “Fuck please oh my god I want you to sit on my face so bad.” he damn near screamed struggling against his ropes and bucking into the air. “Beg,” you murmur. “Please Mommy, you have to let me eat you out. I know you want to come, please let me do it. Fuck! Please please please!!” he was screaming now.

Your hand slapped over his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks onto your hand. “You can eat me out baby calm down.” you ensure, staring at your sobbing partner. Cue the rapid “Thank yous/ your so good/ use me’s” he was dripping with tears, sweat, and precum. You straddled his head holding just about his face. “Are you sure Le- baby? I don't wanna crush you,” you say, hand rubbing the side of his face. “I WANT you to crush me, sit down please!” he begs trying to lift his head to your aching cunt.

You managed to keep his head down with your hand. “Ok baby if you're sure,” you murmur, you gently sit down. Your thighs smothering Leon’s face. You feel his tongue start moving in and out of your sopping cunt. You gasp feeling the burning pleasure slowly start building in your lower tummy.

“Leon- fuck.” you let out a whimper, white-knuckling the couch. You couldn't understand most of what Leon was screaming into your cunt but sounded a lot like. “Fuck fuck fuck! God your so cunt is so good. That's it ride my fucking face.” whatever he was saying was vibrating your clit making his tongue feel even better.

You went to sit up to give him some room to breathe but that was a mistake. “What are you doing, please? Come back I need you to use me like a free-use whore, fuck!” he was screaming again. Next to thrashing around for your cunt again.

Your hand landed on his cheek bringing him out of his tantrum. His pupils were blown, still gasping for breath. “You need to catch your breath before you get to eat me out again,” you warn. “I don't wanna breathe! Just fuck me!.” he growls. You bring your hand up to his throat squeezing. “Don't be mean you know you want to. I'm just a free dick and mouth for you. You and your beautiful body. I'm just here to please you. I’m just a fucking whore.” he whines at you, wrists burning from the rope.

“I'm not letting you taste my cunt again, just for that,” you growl, which makes his head spin. He can’t even throw another fit before you make him lay down. “Of course you make me lie down, you know my hands are still tied so I can’t do anything. M just a lil free use toy for my mommy.” he was teasing you…

You straddle his dick, slowly sinking into him. He unintentionally bucks up, dick hitting your cervix. “Ah, fuck I’m sorry I didn't mean to do that.” Leon mumbles and for the first time tonight gave you an earnest look. “Heh, it's ok Leon don't worry. Are you doing ok? Need anything right now?” he was balls deep inside of you and you were asking if needed anything…

Leon could have sworn he would have come just then. “No- no I’m good!” he says adjusting his hips, cock somehow slipping deep inside you. “Good,” you mumble, and you began moving up and down on him. Your hands brought up to your tits groping them.

“You like watching me play with myself on you baby?” you ask, to which he can only feverishly nod ‘yes’. Words have escaped Leon, his edging from earlier coming back in tenfold. “M gonna cum.” he whimpers out in fear. “Don’t wait for me first ok?” you mumble, feeling the coil in your tummy tighten your cunt hungrily absorbing Leon’s cock. “Fuck!” he shouts, wrists almost bleeding from how hard he was pulling them.

Leon’s brain was going completely blank, his neurons only able to produce TV static. “Please momma, you can come on my cock I know you can, fuck! You're so beautiful I can’t take it anymore! Just come Mommy for me please!” Leon begs his voice almost whispering.

“God your such a good fucking whore Leon,” you mumble, hands white knuckling the couch, bouncing your body up and down. Feeling your coil snap, cunt clenching around his cock. He clenches his jaw watching the most beautiful thing he has ever seen before in his life. Your eyes roll back with fever that makes him dizzy.

Your head falls back beads of sweat dripping on your face and neck. Cunt swallowing up his dick. Fucking hell he was in heaven. Your orgasm dies down, as you ride yourself through it. You are only able to give Leon a little nod, and he lets his orgasm rip through his body. “Fuck fuck fuck, y/n.” he whimpers, hot cum shooting inside of your cunt.

Both of you were breathing rapidly, eyes interlocking. “Good job Leon,” you mumble kissing his hairline. Slowly moving off of his dick cum leaking out of you. “Can you sit up for me?” you ask, trying not to let it come spilling off of your thighs. “Y-yeah,” he whispers while sitting up. His back was hot and sweaty. Beads of sweat dripped down.

You made quick work of the rope taking it off, your stomach turning slightly at the bright red and freshly bruised marks. You kiss his wrists ruffling his hair slightly. He gives you a puppy-like gleam, fuck he was so adorable. “Would you be ok if I left you for a second to clean up?” you asked, cupping his face.

“Mhm! I’ll be right here heh,” Leon said, you pulled him into a kiss before letting him go to clean yourself up. You went pee and grabbed a towel for him as well as a glass of water. You needed to do this right for him this time. You were going to make sure you never made the same mistake again twice.

Unfortunately, as you feared when you walked back into the living room Leon didn’t look ok. “Baby? Leon? Should I not have left? Are you ok?” you ask, rushing over to him, setting the water and towel down next to the couch. Leon's face was red but not with a blush but with tears. They prickled at the corners of his eyes, your arms pulling him close to you. A small sob racked through his body, hands covering his face as he fell into your touch.

“I’m so sorry Leon, I know this has probably been hard for you. I’m so sorry for that. I’m going to do better, I promise nothing we just did was real. It’s all pretend pretty boy. You're not a whore, your safe with me ok? I’m going to work hard to earn your trust ok?” you whisper into his ear, slowly stroking his hair. You know he can hear you, you also know letting him cry might be the best thing right now.

This no doubt has brought up a lot of feelings for him, and that's ok. “Can you try taking some deep breaths? You don’t have to stop breathing but I need you to breathe ok?” you ask in the softest voice you can muster. You place your hands on his chest. He nods against your thighs, wet tears smearing around. You can feel him calling himself down with the occasional hiccups. “Good job.” you praise kissing the back of his neck.

You coddled him for a few more minutes before he agreed to let you clean him up a bit. He sat like a kicked puppy on the couch letting you use the soft microfiber towel to clean around his groin and tummy. Holding his cup of water with both of his hands gulping some of it down.

He was quietly staring at your hands to clean him up. “Do you want a bath or a shower?” you ask, setting the towel on the side. “Um, can we have a shower please?” He asks, still feeling off from everything. You take his cup of water, set it down, and help him up to the shower, turning it on at the perfect temperature that nearly melted Leon as he stepped in.

“I’m sorry for crying, I just got reminded of that night. I felt so alone,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “Hey don’t say sorry for crying I’m sure you felt a lot. Let’s get you clean ok?” he nods, before wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not sure how this is going to work between us but if you want I would love to be your boyfriend.” He whispers into your ear.

You pull away from the hug hot water dripping down your bodies. “I would love to be with you Leon,” you whisper, kissing him. His hands snake around your waist pulling you flush against him. The two of you melding your bodies together.

After a very loving shower to contrast the feelings of earlier you two got dressed (you forced Leon into one of your shirts that was too short for him but you certainly didn’t mind. His arms wrapped around you, his nose nuzzling into your neck. His soft snores filled the room. You never wanted to let go of this moment.

If only you two knew what lay ahead of Leon in Racoon City…

#resident evil leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy smut #rookie!leon #rookie!leon kennedy #rookie!leon Kennedy x reader

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eoieopda · 11 months

Text

aphelion (knj)

aphelion (n): the point in the orbit of a comet at which it is furthest from the sun.

Kim Namjoon was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x AFAB!Reader Type: Flashback Prequel | Genre: Fluff & Angst, Smut | Rating: M (18+) AU: Strangers ⇢ Lovers ⇢ Exes, Lacunaverse (aka Lacuna!AU) Word Count: 19K Content Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST; gratuitously autobiographical; POV switches; Namjoon and MC are both musicians but not envisioned as "idols"; emotional support producer!Yoongi; self-insert!OC, jinseo; panic attack implied (crying, rapid breathing, chest tightness); depressive episode implied (lack of self-care, lack of appetite); a relationship dying in slow motion (ouch.) Smut Warnings: Vaginal fingering, lil bit of biting, implied unprotected sex, reader rides it like she stole it. A/N 1: This is the prequel to Lacuna and its sequel, Redamancy. It takes place over the course of two years (2020 to 2022 — we’re pretending COVID never happened, btw) and will have month/date info. at the top of each vignette. You can read the series chronologically (starting here) but I definitely recommend reading in the order it was written (Lacuna ⇢ Redamancy ⇢ Aphelion) because I think dramatic irony is fun and sexy. A/N 2: Endless thank you's to my emotional support moots, @jihopesjoint and @here2bbtstrash for beta-reading this unabashed entry from my diary. A/N 3: To my "Namjoon" — You were the best thing I didn't get to keep. I hope you found the sun. Suggested Listening: Spotify Playlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

2020/7/18; 18:23

As awful as he knew it sounded, Yoongi was grateful to have someone in his life who was equally riddled with social anxiety. That flicker of dread he felt in the pit of his stomach was easier to digest when there was a hand — metaphorical, mainly, because the real thing was the tiniest bit sweaty — to cling to whenever he had to feign extroversion. Before you popped up into his life, perpetually on vibrate mode in the way that he was, he’d ventured out of his studio even less than he did now.

With you, there had always been a silent understanding: neither of you ever wanted to attend the company events that appeared simultaneously on your calendars; neither of you ever successfully shook off the feelings of guilt and obligation that prevented you from bailing altogether; and neither had ever — would ever — consider attending without the other. Co-dependence at its finest, you wore each other like a backpack and held on tight.

One of the terms of this unspoken social contract was that, when it came time to rally for one of the aforementioned, godforsaken label parties, Yoongi rushed over whenever you put up the Bat Signal. Instead of a cartoonish symbol in the sky, it always came in the form of a text — usually with a minimum of six (6) very urgent emojis — declaring a fashion emergency. No questions asked, he showed up on your doorstep every time. Yoongi never had any valuable input to offer, but he could tell you when you looked nice.

You always did, but he tended to keep that part to himself.

When Yoongi finally arrived at your apartment this time, he didn’t bother knocking the way he used to. By now, he knew that part of your pre-party panic included unlocking your door for him whenever you sent out your SOS. So, he let himself in and left his shoes at the door. Immediately, he heard a relieved sigh waft out from your bedroom down the hall.

“Oh, thank god!”

He waited for the blush in his cheeks to fade before he continued his journey to you, willing his standard poker face back into existence before it ratted him out.

“Do I need to call in a helicopter evacuation?” Yoongi called out to you as he padded off in your direction. “How bad is the avalanche?”

Before he could get halfway to your bedroom door, you poked your head out through the doorway. You had those pink, plastic cylinders in your hair — the ones that looked spiky and uncomfortable, but that you somehow never complained about — and half your makeup done. Even in that cactus-printed bathrobe, Yoongi wouldn’t have been surprised if you wound up with a spread in the next issue of Nylon.

You grimaced. “Admittedly worse than the holiday party, but nowhere near as bad as the Great MAMA Catastrophe of 2017.”

“So…” Yoongi teased with a tilt of his head, “Yes to the helicopter evacuation, then?”

He didn’t have time to emotionally or physically prepare for whatever awaited him on the other side of your bedroom door because you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him inside as soon as he was within your reach.

Oh, good god, kid.

Yoongi opened his mouth to express how impressed — terrified? — he was by the explosion of outfits littering every surface of your room, but he quickly realized that no words would do it justice. He opted for a trademark, flat-line smile and a quiet grunt. You grimaced a second time, knowing full well what he hadn’t said out loud

Scurrying around him, you tore like a tornado through the immediate area to clear a path for him. You were clumsy enough to trip over every stray shoe but had reflexes — shockingly — quick enough to right yourself before your stumbling could send you to the ground. Once the carpet was sufficiently visible, you gestured to the small opening on your bed with a platform boot you’d unearthed somewhere along the way.

“You can, uh —” You continued waving the shoe in the direction of your bed, searching for the rest of your sentence. Yoongi watched in real time as your train of thought left the station.

More than a little endeared by your scattered brain, he offered, “Sit?”

“Yes!” You snapped your fingers and pointed a finger-gun at him with a sheepish smile, “That. Do that while I try to find my vocabulary. It’s gotta be somewhere in this blast zone…”

Voice already petering off, you wheeled back around to your regurgitated wardrobe.

Yoongi dropped into the only open spot on your mattress and leaned back to rest his weight on the palm of his hand. Settled into his usual space and routine, he fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time, as if the answer to that question would make a difference.

It was half-six.

Ugh.

As always, the pair of you would wind up late; and, as always, that would still somehow mean that you’d be the first to show up. No matter how hard you tried to avoid it — leaving later and later for every party — you were perpetually, dreadfully guests numbered one and two.

“I never know what to wear for these things,” you whined, once again a disembodied head appearing in a doorway.

When did you even sneak off into your closet? How were you physically able to reach it?

The rest of you reappeared underneath your head. You were clutching a dress in one hand and a skirt in the other, looking like your will to live had been hung up in their place. Worse, you had that little anime pout on, which didn’t bode well for the schoolboy crush Yoongi was secretly harboring, but you didn’t say anything. You just kept looking at him, eyes all pitiful and sparkly.

“Do you want me to ask him about the dress code?” he offered, unsure if that was what you were after but otherwise at a loss for solutions.

The look of mild-to-moderate panic washing over your face caused Yoongi to sigh. He knew you were thoroughly starstruck — he’d heard you gush over Namjoon and his new release for hours by now — but maybe he’d underestimated the extent. Your relief was immediate when he waved you off and said, “I’m not going to tell him that you’re the one asking.”

Yoongi [18:30]: on a scale of sweatpants to tuxedo, how hard do i have to try?

While he waited for an answer, Yoongi glanced back up to check your status. You’d once again disappeared in the few moments he’d glanced down at his phone screen. So damn sneaky. There was a significant amount of shuffling coming from the depths of your closet. Something shifted, then you yelped.

“You okay?” Yoongi called out, primed to get up and dig through the presumed rockslide for you.

Meekly, you popped back into view with one hand rubbing gingerly at the top of your head. You frowned. “I found my snow boots.”

“Sounded like your snow boots found you, kid.”

Yoongi’s phone buzzed in his hand. He ripped off the velcro-grip gaze he held on you and blinked down at the screen.

Namjoon [18:34]: Hyung, since when do you give a fuck about trying? lol

Yoongi chewed the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure what information to divulge: that he wasn’t asking because he gave a fuck; that you were the one who did; or that the only reason Yoongi was having this conversation at all was because you were the one that asked him to. He settled on something vaguely truthful.

Yoongi [18:37]: fuck off, joonie. since i’m bringing someone special and i want you to meet her.

The reply was immediate and three-fold:

Namjoon [18:37]: Call me Joonie again and see what happens 🤔 Namjoon [18:37]: Wear jeans in case I gotta chase you down for that. For real, though, it’s casual. Namjoon [18:37]: Also 👀

Yoongi shoved his phone back in his pocket without bothering to reply. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did, anyway. You weren’t the kind of person he knew how to summarize in a quick text; so he’d have to let your presence speak for itself. It always did.

When he looked back up from his hands, you reappeared in the closet doorway in a flouncy little dress. He had to stop himself from asking if you’d wear it to his funeral when he inevitably dropped dead. Once he succeeded at that, he swallowed thickly and focused on the two pairs of shoes you were holding, one in each hand.

Your face scrunched up while you mulled over your options. Without looking up, you asked absently and borderline shyly, “Did he respond?”

It took a beat for Yoongi’s brain to catch up; sundress season truly was the silent killer. In the pause, your inquisitive eyes flicked up to see if he’d simply ignored your question. He fumbled, pointed to the chunky, heeled sandals in your left hand, and then shot you a thumbs-up.

You rolled your eyes with a snort and knelt down to slip into his choice without further comment. As you did, you triple-checked that the ankle strap was secured and Yoongi didn’t have to guess why: the last time you wore them out, you hadn’t buckled yourself in properly. The thick tread had snagged on a curb; and your shoe didn’t come with you when you stepped up onto the sidewalk. You waited on one leg, the other foot bare in the wind, while Yoongi returned to the street to grab what you’d lost.

When you finished your ministrations, you stood back up to your full height — now with fifteen added centimeters — and brushed your hands against the back of your dress’ skirt. The expression on your face was somewhere between exhilarated and vaguely nauseous.

You clapped your hands together suddenly and sighed, “We doing this, Yoongs?”

He rolled his eyes so you wouldn’t get the wrong idea. He was endeared by that stupid nickname but unwilling to let you know as much. Still, he followed when you led him out of your bedroom; when you grabbed a laughably tiny and arguably useless purse off your hallway console table; and when you skipped out of your front door.

“Who’s driving?” Yoongi glanced over his shoulder at you as he hit the lock button on your door’s keypad. He didn’t need to ask — you had the alcohol tolerance of a newborn baby and couldn’t assume the wheel after more than two drinks — but he knew it made you feel better when he did.

Sheepishly, you pursed your lips.

He sighed with a microscopic grin, “Garage gate wouldn’t open, so I’m on the side of the building.” Then, he shuffled towards the elevator with you in tow. Even with the added height of your shoes, your short legs still struggled to keep up with his pace.

As soon as the elevator doors re-opened on the ground floor, you threaded your arm around his and handcuffed him to you with your elbow bent. Before he could make a joke at your expense, you raised a manicured finger and said, “Do not start with me, Min Yoongi.”

So, he didn’t. He simply opened his passenger door for you and closed it once you’d slid into your usual place. As soon as he slid into his and pressed the start button, your phone automatically hooked to his Bluetooth stereo; and he couldn’t even whine about that fact because you’d already queued up some song he’d never heard in a language neither of you knew well. True to form, you didn’t let that stop you from singing along as loudly as you could — all the way to the venue.

It didn’t take long for Yoongi to find a spot or to parallel park in it, much to your amazement. It did, however, take ten minutes of silent sitting for either of you to say a word.

“Do we have to go in there?” you asked, damn near inaudibly.

Where you sat, your left knee bounced at a speed almost imperceptible to the human eye. Yoongi only noticed because his knee was doing the same. He exhaled the breath he’d unknowingly held hostage and glanced at the time displayed on his car’s touch screen. He grimaced. “Shit started an hour ago. How much do you wanna bet that we’re still the first people here?”

You unbuckled your seatbelt. “Even if we are,” you started as you pushed open the passenger side door, “I’m not waiting to start the clock until guest number three arrives.” You shot him a pointed look as you slid out of the car. Adjusting your dress once you’d made it to your feet, you added, “One hour of kissing hands and shaking babies, then we’re out of here, right?”

Yoongi clamped his mouth shut, but it did nothing to ward off the laughter that made his shoulders shake. He nodded firmly, let his feet hit the pavement, then let his car door shut behind him.

“Compensatory lamb skewers, as usual?” He asked once he rounded the back of the car to join you on the sidewalk. On instinct, you threaded your arm through his to keep yourself on your feet, and your feet in your shoes. “But not from that place you picked last time. I’m ninety-nine-percent sure they clean it with a garden hose at night.”

You grumbled something about never being allowed to pick the restaurant before reaching for the door handle and petulantly jerking it open.

The second your respective feet stepped over the threshold, you both froze. It was the social equivalent of rigor mortis, the pair of you standing with locked limbs and gawking at the sheer number of people inside the hole-in-the-wall venue Namjoon had chosen. Clearly, he’d intended this to be as quaint as possible. Even more obviously, management hadn’t given a shit or fuck about that goal.

“This is,” you inhaled deeply as if you’d never get the chance again, and on the exhale, you wheezed, “So much. Oh my god.”

No matter how many times his shaking eyes scanned over the crowd ahead, Yoongi couldn’t find a single person he recognized, let alone wanted to spend an hour talking to. He snapped to look at you in the same moment you turned to him.

“What an hour this minute has been.”

“Lamb skewers?”

“Yes, please.”

Just as quickly as you’d entered, the pair of you turned to head out the door. Yoongi couldn’t grab the handle before a loud voice rang out from behind, “Hyung!”

A hand clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, spinning him around and leaving his emergency exit out of reach.

“So glad to see a familiar face,” Namjoon’s grin took up his whole face, but his mouth didn’t move with his words. They were forced out through gritted teeth, pleading the way his eyes were: If you leave me here, I’ll kill you.

Yoongi glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. He would’ve asked you — not with words, anyway — to make up some excuse to get you both out of there, to grab take-out and watch Naruto on his couch, but you couldn’t answer. Your starry-eyed gaze was aimed above you, and he’d venture a guess that everyone in the room had disappeared.

Everyone but Namjoon.

Damn it.

Somewhere, somehow, Yoongi heard a record scratch.

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi coughed, suddenly aware of his obligation as a mutual friend. Gesturing languidly between you and Namjoon, Yoongi reported for duty. “Joon, this is —”

Namjoon finally seemed to realize that you were standing there with Yoongi. He tilted his head to look down at you, and as soon as he did, Yoongi watched in slow motion as Namjoon’s eyes grew three times their usual size. Your name barely cleared Yoongi’s lips before Namjoon was extending a hand for you to shake.

Somewhere, somehow, the music seemed to swell.

Am I having a stroke?

The next minute that passed felt like an hour, too, and nobody said a word. It was you looking at Namjoon; Namjoon looking at you; and Yoongi’s eyes flitting back and forth between his friends with a kind of bemusement he couldn’t fake if his life depended on it. He’d crashed-landed in the middle of a drama, and he didn’t know what else to do, so he cleared his throat and said, “Uhh — shots, anyone?”

The next hour flew by in sixty seconds, and Yoongi couldn’t wrap his brain around how that could be. He’d lost faith in the concept of linear time, he knew that much. The two people he sat next to were meeting for the first time, but there was a familiarity present that he couldn’t put a finger on. Like you were both saying hello in this life after saying goodbye in a previous one.

Throughout the conversation, Yoongi couldn’t keep his attention on the words being tossed back and forth; not even the ones he was offering up. Huh, he thought, so, this is what it looks like when people meet who they’re meant to.

“Listen —” You smacked your hand down on the tabletop, swallowing down a laugh as you faked incredulousness. You pointed directly at Yoongi, causing him to choke on his whiskey. “I don’t care if I have to read translations on an app, Nas’ lyricism is unparalleled —”

“Facts,” Namjoon chimed in with a tip of his glass.

The way your eyes sparkled in response wasn’t lost on anyone.

Yoongi rolled his. “Okay, but from a production standpoint, we all know that —”

Simultaneously, you and Namjoon sucked in breaths. The arguments you let loose didn’t match in words, but the sentiment was the same, downright seismic in its intensity.

“Don’t you dare bring Kanye West into this!”

“Hyung, I swear to God, if the next name out of your mouth is Kanye West, I’m leaving my own fucking party.”

The eldest raised his hands defensively. “Fine, fine, fine,” he conceded. Yoongi slumped a little lower in his chair, accepting defeat. He glanced down at his phone to check the time — as if that wasn’t a lost cause — and when he looked up again, you and Namjoon had deviated down some winding tangent about the core of hip-hop being poetry.

It was odd, the way Yoongi’s stomach flipped then. Not jealousy, but fondness. Hunger, too, though that was secondary to the weird glimmer of pride he felt watching a bridge he’d unknowingly built link two spheres of his life together. There was a strange sense of clarity, to top it all off; one that changed all the question marks in his head to periods.

You and Yoongi would be friends.

Yoongi would be at peace with that fact.

The slightly sweaty hand that pulled you through that event wouldn’t be his; and he would be at peace with that, too.

Yoongi would grab lamb skewers on his way home and wait for your call tomorrow to hear how the rest of your night had gone without him.

With a signature, flat-line smile, Yoongi slid off his stool and slid his empty glass towards the bartender. Then, he clapped a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. The younger stopped mid-sentence with a start and blinked up at Yoongi, whose smirk immediately dropped, deadpan.

He glanced at you and confirmed that you were too busy ordering another drink to overhear. Then, he leaned down towards Namjoon and whispered, “Don’t fuck this up, Joonie.”

Namjoon gulped. Yoongi could hear it as he turned away, letting that smirk reappear once his back was to Namjoon.

He won’t.

2020/7/18; 21:06

Namjoon’s face hurt.

There was a telltale ache in his cheeks that confirmed it: he hadn’t smiled that much, that completely, in a long damn time. At the rate things had gone over the last two hours, he wouldn’t be surprised to catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror and find wrinkles demarcating just how crinkled his eyes had been. It was a wonder he’d been able to see you at all with the way his laughter leaked over his lash lines. Then again, your grin was burned into his brain already. Given the way you lit up, he was convinced that he’d see you — just you — even in the dark.

“Stop laughing at me!” you whined with your hand covering your mouth. Though you tried to hide it, Namjoon could still see you grinning, even with your mouth full. “I feel very attacked.”

He snorted. “Not an attack, just an observation. Can’t say I’ve ever witnessed someone order a beverage they don’t like just to eat the garnish.”

Quickly, you skewered another blackberry with the end of your straw and guided it under the hand covering your mouth. When you placed the straw back in your drink, the fruit was gone; your eyes were sparkling.

“Are you just jealous that you’ve never thought to do it?” You tilted your head to the side as you chewed. The little flex of your eyebrows made his stomach flip, so he swallowed hard and wondered if you noticed.

“Honestly,” he started with a sigh. He slumped down in his seat, looking as pathetic as possible while he eyed the remaining fruit in your glass. “Yeah. Little heartbroken, too.”

“Oh?” You pouted and Namjoon was on the brink of passing the fuck out.

The hand over your mouth dropped. You shifted on top of your stool, grabbed hold of your blackberry malt, and leaned in as you scooted it across the bar to Namjoon. The smile tugging at your lips was petal soft, though the flash of bright white teeth hit him like high-beams. He was a deer; he was frozen; and he didn’t give a shit if you ran right over him.

Elbows against the bar, you leaned even further. This time, when you tilted your head to the side, your hair gave way and left your bare shoulder in his line of sight. For the first time in his life, Namjoon finally understood why something as innocuous as a short-sleeve or exposed ankle was deemed pornographic a century prior. In the year 2020, he was losing his mind over an acromioclavicular joint and some — smooth, touchably soft — flesh.

“Because I haven’t offered to share?”

Jesus Christ.

He was seconds away from biting down on his fist to keep from groaning. That coquettish, candy-coated voice of yours was a problem in and of itself, but when you looked at him from under your lashes like that, Namjoon was ready to call in a bomb threat to his own party. He couldn’t simply fuck off with you, though — not without an excuse he could sell to Bang Si-Hyuk later.

Namjoon needed an out, now. Unfortunately for him, all he could think about was biting down on that shoulder, following the curve of it with his —

He needed to get a grip. Fast.

Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat. “Exactly. Rude.”

You smirked; he winked. To keep his mouth occupied, Namjoon grabbed the spare straw from your drink and speared a blackberry for himself. Holding his prize out in salute, he nodded his head with a smirk of his own. “Geonbae!”

You smiled sweetly again as you watched him pluck the fruit off the end of the straw with his teeth; but you grinned with all you had when the whiskey-drenched berry hit his taste buds like a punch. Sour, unbelievably potent after steeping so long high-proof liquor. Every part of him clenched at once, prompting you to laugh with your whole chest.

What a perfect fucking sound.

“Shit,” Namjoon sputtered. His face unpuckered and gave way to a grin that likely rivaled yours.

“How are you not tanked right now? Seriously, I’m twice your size and can handle my liquor. That —” He waved his hand towards your glass, “— nearly knocked me on my ass.”

You opened your mouth to respond — to tease him mercilessly, he hoped — but you were cut off by the horrendous sound of Namjoon’s phone vibrating against the bar and his own empty glass. The cacophony rattled in his rib cage. Both of you flinched at the sudden interruption, leaving him to wonder if you also forgot that anyone else existed.

Namjoon glanced quickly at the illuminated screen, then back up to you. He would’ve ignored his texts in a heartbeat — indefinitely, without hesitation — but you squeezed his hand as you slipped off your stool to your feet. With your promise that you were headed to the restroom and would be right back, he gave himself permission to look back down at his phone.

Yoongi [21:43]: you tell her about that comet thing? she’s an unrelenting nerd like you. she’ll be into it.

If he could have, he would’ve kissed Yoongi through the phone for two reasons. The first of which was that, in the time he’d spent talking to you, Namjoon had completely forgotten about the one thing he’d talked about incessantly for the past month: the upcoming appearance of Neowise. The second was that, once again, Yoongi had come in clutch with a reason to bail on a social obligation.

Namjoon [21:45]: You’re a lifesaver and I love you. Yoongi [21:46]: ew

Namjoon was still chuckling when, unexpectedly, he felt playful fingertips trail across his shoulder blades. You, he quickly realized as you walked behind him and sat back down on your stool. He shivered, even after the trace of your touch was gone.

“All good?” you asked with a soft smile.

Yeah, he thought, really fucking good.

Namjoon grinned automatically. He picked up the spare straw he’d used earlier and harpooned another blackberry, not having learned his lesson last time. The whiskey hit his tongue, burned beautifully on the way down, and emboldened him.

Without hesitation, he asked, “Do you wanna get out of here? There’s something I want to show you.”

Your wide eyes blinked back at him, then they scanned the room to confirm that, yes, it was still packed with people — up to and including executives from the label. Yes, he did just offer to ditch all of them for you, consequences be damned.

“Yes,” you responded, as if that was the easiest decision you’d ever made.

Namjoon got to his feet and held out his hand to you. “Not afraid of heights, are you?” His smirk all but dissolved when your fingers interlocked with his.

“Not if the fall would be worth it.”

He didn’t know what to say in response to that statement — one so simple, made so easily as if it was a thought you repeated to yourself often. You’d stunned him, really, and Namjoon was uncharacteristically lost for words. So, you both fell into a comfortable silence as he led you out of the venue, ignoring every wayward stare on the way out.

Even after he opened his passenger door for you and slipped himself behind the wheel, he couldn’t get over what you’d said. It took root in the back of his brain. In all the years he’d been in this industry, he’d determined that there were only two types of people: the ones who jumped without thinking and the ones who only ever did the latter. You, it seemed, were neither.

Not if the fall would be worth it.

As he drove, you hummed along to whatever played on the radio, gaze taking in the city lights. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the neon from roadside signs wash over your face as they passed. Pretty in all colors, he thought, in every light.

Five minutes passed before he realized that you hadn’t even asked where he was taking you. Maybe you’d made an assumption that you were headed back to his place, which, while true, still wasn’t entirely accurate. Or maybe you simply trusted him. Determined that he was one of those calculated risks worth taking.

Namjoon was warm all-over when he finally reached his parking garage and turned into his assigned space. By the time he rounded the back of his car to open your door for you, you were already standing and smoothing down the skirt of your dress.

God bless sundress season.

“Didn’t realize you were a fan of his work.”

He froze. Oh, fuck.

Swallowing down the embarrassment of broadcasting his thoughts out loud, Namjoon shrugged. The corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to ruin his nonchalance. “Credit where it’s due, you know?”

He then glanced down at his watch and confirmed that he was running out of time. When he looked back up at you, you were visibly puzzled but you didn’t question him. So, he questioned you:

“You didn’t develop a fear of heights on the drive over, right? Fall still worth it?”

Your response didn’t come in words. To his surprise, you held out your hand and stared expectantly — sweetly — at him until he took it.

You didn’t have the key code to operate the elevator or any idea where you were headed, but you tugged Namjoon along after you as you crossed the parking garage. It was then that he noticed the sheer height of the shoes you were wearing and how carefully you moved in them. Not like heels were foreign to you, but with deliberate steps as if you expected one or both of them to make a break for it. He made a mental note of it.

After typing in his access code to summon the elevator, Namjoon gazed down at you. Trying to hide his smile again would’ve been an exercise in futility, so he didn’t bother. Without thinking first, he mused, “You know, you still haven’t asked where I’m taking you. That’s a lot of trust.”

“I mean, if my untimely end comes at the hands of Kim Namjoon of all people, my ghost will have a really interesting story to tell.”

Your snicker made his knees wobble. You stepped into the elevator as it opened, leaving him to stand starstruck outside the doors.

“Coming?”

When Namjoon finally regained use of his limbs and joined you in the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor, overshooting his own by three. With every second that passed as the two of you ascended, the centimeters slipped away — overcome by what Namjoon could only assume was a gravitational pull.

He’d orbit you if he could.

“This way,” Namjoon instructed. He gestured to the door at the end of the hall with a sign that promised roof access.

You stayed close, your hand so near to his that he could’ve grabbed it and held it a thousand times before you reached your objective. He held the door for you and watched you duck under his arm as you stepped through, damn near salivating at the way your perfume lingered in your wake.

The door in question opened to something halfway between an exposed patio and a fire escape. If Namjoon had to venture a guess, none of the other residents knew this place existed; it was exclusively for maintenance staff who needed to access the electrical meters contained in the locked room in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at it, understandably struggling to figure out why Namjoon had brought you to a place like this.

Sensing your confusion, he nodded his head towards a steep metal staircase which led up to the building’s roof. Staircase was a generous description, really. The only difference between those steps and a ladder was the presence of handrails and a slightly more forgiving angle.

When you caught sight of them, your confusion dissolved into surprise. You paused. Anxious eyes darted down to your heels as you shifted your weight from one to the other.

Weighing your options, Namjoon figured. Bare feet or twisted ankles.

He offered a third and crouched down in front of you, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Coming?” He quoted.

You looked at him in disbelief, like he couldn’t possibly be offering to take you up those steps on piggy-back — but he was, and he was dead serious. He said as much, and you had to bite down on your lips to keep your shy smile to yourself. As had been the case all night, your reciprocal offer was intrinsic trust.

Once you secured yourself on his back, you looped your arms gently around his neck. A quiet giggle immediately flooded his ears. Namjoon peeked at your face hovering over his shoulder and smiled when he saw that you were, too. Your laugh was music, more than anything else.

“This feels like that scene in Twilight.”

Because Namjoon has a sister, he automatically knew what you were referring to, as embarrassing as that was to admit. It was worth it, though, when he bought into your bit. You beamed like the fucking sun when he warned, “Hold on tight, spider monkey.”

He kept one hand on the railing and the other secured over your crossed forearms as he took the steps slowly. When none were left, it was just you, Namjoon, and an uninterrupted expanse of orange and pink.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, squeezing his bicep.

He took your silent cue and ducked back down so you could return to your own two feet.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon kept his voice low as if he were in a place of worship.

In a way, he was.

You wobbled, not because of your shoes, but because you were staring straight up, spinning slowly in your spot while you drank in a fleeting, tangerine sky. As the sun continued to sink, bright white stars popped up to take its place. You seemed intent on counting them, but they couldn’t hold Namjoon’s attention — not with you fawning underneath them.

“Reminds me of home, kind of.” You matched his tone like this mattered as much to you as it did to him. “The buildings are always in the way here. After a while, I stopped bothering to look up.”

It felt natural, the way you reached out for his hand to keep you tethered. The same was true when he tugged gently and pulled you closer. You tucked yourself under his arm, nestled into his side. There was heat rising from his chest to his cheeks, but he still shivered.

Trying to keep his focus on the point of all this, Namjoon glanced down at his watch to confirm that the sun’s interference would be gone within minutes. Softly, he dropped his arm so he could place his hands on your waist. You let him turn you until you stood with your back to him; then, you followed his pointed finger with your eyes.

“Keep your eyes on the Northwest, alright?”

Playfully defiant, you turned your head to smirk up at him instead. “I’m admittedly shit at directions.”

Namjoon wouldn’t have noticed if the stars above him disappeared. For all he knew, they’d relocated to the dilated black of your pupils. There was a hint of a challenge twinkling there, too. He wasn’t known for backing down.

“This is the southeast.” Namjoon covered his fondness with a feigned frown and tapped your left hip bone with the pads of his middle and ring fingers. “The sun’s behind you.”

“I know it is,” you acknowledged. Despite that fact, you were still gazing over your shoulder at him.

Oh.

His eyes widened when he caught your meaning; yours crinkled at the corners. Namjoon didn’t have a single clue how you could smile that warmly without using your mouth at all.

It’s decided, he thought. Wherever this night takes us, I’m down for the ride. You lead, I’ll follow.

There was a distinct drop in his body temperature when you eventually — belatedly — followed his directions. Instinctively, Namjoon pulled you even closer so he could properly wrap his arms around your waist. Your shoulder blades pressed into his chest as he leaned down to your ear.

This time, you shivered.

“See that up ahead? Under the Big Dipper.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely searching for whatever secret he was pointing out to you. There was no room for doubt when you finally did see it because you gasped for the second time.

Breathless, you asked, “What is that? A meteor?”

Now visible against inky black, Neowise burned on the horizon.

“A comet,” he gently corrected you. “A new one — well, one we didn’t know about until March. It’s just now coming out of perihelion.”

At the forefront, its bright white mass led a slow charge down the sun’s gravity well. The tail was smeared behind it as if someone had dragged a paintbrush through the cosmos. Once-in-a-lifetime wasn’t scientifically accurate; and heavenly felt pretentious. Namjoon couldn’t think of a word in any language to describe the way he felt in that moment, but he prayed it would last.

You were equally awestruck. For a while, it was simple, silent wonderment as the two of you kept your eyes on the horizon. Peaceful, despite the faint blare of car horns wafting upwards from the streets below. Namjoon might venture far enough to call it perfect.

“What happens now?” You eventually asked. He glanced down at you when your voice cut through quiet, though your starry eyes didn’t register his movement. Thoroughly transfixed, you stayed still.

Namjoon felt himself frown. The answer was scientific fact, but it sounded like an unhappy ending.

Like leaving.

“Aphelion,” he sighed. “It’s headed for the point in its orbit that’s farthest from the sun. All that light you see right now comes from gas made by solar heat, so… it’ll grow colder the farther away it gets. Then, it’ll get so dark that it’ll be more or less invisible.”

You repeated that word quietly to yourself like you were testing the weight of it in your mouth. Aphelion. There was an undeniable heaviness to it. Namjoon wondered if you felt it, too.

He continued, “Not sure if or when it’ll ever be like this again.”

2020/7/18; 23:12

If you could have, you likely would’ve stayed on that rooftop until morning.

The back of your dress would be even dirtier from sitting down on the concrete the way you had; and your elbows may ache a little more after additional time spent leaning back onto flattened palms, but it’d be a small price to pay. Calm like that was invaluable. Until you stared at that uninterrupted sky, talking through every thought you’d ever had with someone who understood them all, calm like that was foreign to you.

You never had the opportunity to sit still, much less settle. Never got to be quiet, never got to linger. On that rooftop, you received a necessary reminder that your universe was bigger than a schedule full of obligations. Bigger than hotel showers, each less user-friendly than the last. Bigger than drinking boba tea alone in an airport, letting life carry you like a dandelion seed all over the map.

It was endless.

You wished that moment had been, but the news helicopter hovering nearby had said otherwise. As it turned out, television coverage of the comet was more important than your personal enjoyment of it. The loud chop of propellers against air had been bad enough; the gusts of wind those propellers kicked your way were even worse.

Even though he’d been sitting right next to you, Namjoon had to shout for you to hear him. You’d squinted as if that would make sense of the shapes his mouth had made — it didn’t. You’d heard his voice but not his words.

I need to learn to read lips, you’d thought. The problem with that realization was that the harder you’d focused on his, the more you wanted to nibble on them. And then the urgency you’d felt no longer had anything whatsoever to do with the aircraft. You hadn’t gotten the message until Namjoon stood up and offered his hands to help you stand, too.

Through the climb back down to the door, the walk up the hallway, and the elevator ride to his floor, Namjoon hadn’t dropped your hand. Now, it was taking longer than you imagined was usual for him to unlock his apartment door because the thumb of his dominant hand was still roaming over the back of yours.

“Finally!”

His sigh was half-exasperated, half-relieved, all swoonworthy when the key — at long last — did what he’d been begging it to do. Namjoon pushed the door open. This time, neither of you had to urge the other to come along.

The second your shoes crossed the threshold into his apartment, you damn near crumpled on the ground they occupied.

Holy shit —?

Less of an apartment and more of an archive, Namjoon’s space was artfully curated. In the literal sense. Everywhere you looked, there was some painting, some exquisite sculpture. All of it was breathtaking — and shockingly breakable, which made you wonder how they’d survived ownership by someone so endearingly clumsy.

He chuckled sheepishly when he saw the way you gawked, open-mouthed, at his collection.

“You didn’t tell me you lived in a museum!” You were dizzy. “I swear, you’re going to have to get security to escort me out at closing time. I’ll stand, and ponder, and muse all day; and I’ll never leave.”

In hindsight, that sounded more like a threat than a warning.

Suddenly rushing so that you could explore more fully, you moved to bend down and undo the ankle straps of your heels. That was, coincidentally, the moment Namjoon attempted to address his own shoes. Your heads collided with a thud that made you both hiss and retract.

“You good?” Namjoon frowned apologetically. As he did, he lifted his hand to run his fingers gingerly over the bump likely forming on the crown of your head. You were too busy vibrating to do much more than nod.

Is one touch all it takes? This doesn’t bode well for you.

As if his goal was to kill you where you stood, he dropped his hand slowly, caressing the side of your jaw with his knuckle and a touch that was barely there. Deep brown eyes smoldered as they focused on you. Then, that husky voice completed the attack combination.

Knock out! Game over!

He tapped your chin with the pad of his thumb and said, “Stay here.”

As if you’d want to be anywhere else.

Before you could wrap your brain around the turn of events, Namjoon knelt in front of you. His right foot remained planted on the ground, leaving his thigh parallel overtop. Thank god for his black jeans. If you drooled at the sight of his quadricep straining against the denim, no trace would be left.

Knees wobbling, you followed his cue and shifted your weight to one foot. The other was guided up to rest against his thigh so he could address the ankle strap for you.

Is your mouth hanging open? Why is it so dry?

Your body shouldn’t have clenched the way it did at something so innocuous. Really, he was being polite. Self-preserving after your eagerness nearly left him concussed. But he must have heard your heart hammering against the wall of your chest because he looked up at you and — no, there was nothing polite about the way his eyes trailed over your body.

Nothing innocuous about his low voice wrapped in velvet saying, “You look like an angel when you look down at me like that.”

It was a miracle that you didn’t break skin with the way you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth.

You must have blacked out after the first shoe was discarded; you weren’t mentally present to notice the other one’s removal. When your soul re-entered your body, Namjoon was back to standing at full height — and he was significantly taller now that you stood barefoot on his doormat.

Incapable of eloquence, you simply peeped, “Hi.”

Either you were going insane, or there really was a faint buzz of electricity humming in the few centimeters between Namjoon’s body and yours. Something was conducting through every nerve of your body, tingling.

“Hi.”

His little half-smile made your stomach flip. You didn’t know what to say next because the only thought in your head was something between a prayer and a plea.

kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me

When the tip of his tongue broke through the seam of his lips to wet them, the only conclusion you could draw was that he’d read your mind. He didn’t listen, but the glint in his darkening eyes confirmed it: Namjoon knew exactly what you wanted and he was holding back. Instead of his mouth, he gave you his hand.

Not bad for a consolation prize.

His fingers slotted between yours like they were the reason those spaces existed in the first place.

That’s the thing about magnets — they attract what they’re meant to. You didn’t need to look for him to find him. Unpaired electron that you were, you knew it intrinsically when someone was spinning in the same direction you were. Even though it’d been the furthest thing from your mind in every moment leading to the present, you couldn’t deny it now:

You found someone that clicked.

There was static sparking in the air when Namjoon led you from the foyer into the living room. Every breath was charged, even the one that caught in your chest when you saw the full extent of his collection.

“I feel like I’m walking barefoot through the Met,” You hummed, eyes flitting from portrait to portrait. Traditional, contemporary, modern — all of it chosen thoughtfully and displayed the same way. “What’s it like to live in it?”

He paused and you paused with him. He looked shy for the first time all night. “Like I’m not alone with my thoughts, if that makes sense?”

Perfect sense.

“You’re not coming home to an empty apartment if you’ve got a piece of Yoo Youngkuk’s mind on the walls.” You gestured with your free hand to a painting hanging to your right. It filled the otherwise neutral space with bright blues, greens, and yellows. “Gotta have some enrichment in the enclosure, or the fishbowl we live and work in will drive us crazy.”

When you glanced back at Namjoon — who was silent and completely still — he looked as if your words had punched him in the chest. Not like he was in pain, but as if the wind had been knocked right out of him. He was silent, though his mouth was slightly parted, and he blinked slowly back at you. You didn’t know what that look in his eyes meant, but it was a far cry from the lust in them before you started rambling.

Now, you had to worry about whether you’d offended him somehow. Fuck. You’d done it again, piggy-backed off someone’s statement to add the two cents no one asked for. Have you ever kept a single thought to yourself?

You quickly pointed to a different painting.

This one, unlike the abstract pieces you’d examined so far, was earth tones in oil paints. Sitting in the center was a young woman in white, staring down at her bare feet as if one of them had stepped on something sharp.

“What’s her story?” You asked.

Namjoon cleared his throat to reactivate the vocal cords you’d seemingly paralyzed earlier. “That’s Eurydice on her wedding day. She married Orpheus, if his name rings any bells.”

It doesn’t.

“She got bit by a snake on her wedding night, which is — uhh, admittedly not ideal.” Namjoon visibly struggled to hide his smirk when you snorted in response. He continued, “She died, which is even worse, but Orpheus went to the underworld to save her.”

“Did he?”

Namjoon grimaced. “Orpheus was not great with rules.”

“Did Orpheus leave his own reception to chase a woman?” You teased with a raise of your eyebrow.

You watched his eyes darken in real time. Viper quick, he tugged at the hand he never let go of and led you right back to him. To keep yourself from colliding fully with his chest, your free palm flattened against it. His pulse raced at your touch, but you couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the searing warmth radiating off of him.

“I suppose he did.” He leaned down, nose tip nearly bumping yours. “There’s an important distinction here, though.”

Namjoon’s hand left yours, lifted up to rest with his fingers under your jaw and his thumb above it. You were sure that your shallow, useless breaths were fanning over his chin, given how close in proximity his mouth was to yours. His breath hit your lips and left them tingling.

The best you could do was whisper, “And what would that be, Namjoon?”

“Orpheus went home empty-handed.”

You didn’t mean to growl in response the way you did, but he’d awakened something feral in you, and there was no turning back. No caging it in. Just your hands gripping tight to his shirt, pulling him down to kiss you the way you wished he had hours ago. That was primal, too. All teeth and tongue with his fingers threading through your hair, and —

And he laughed.

His shoulders shook just enough for you to notice. It was the quickened exhale of breath through his nose that gave him away, more than anything else.

“Is something funny?” You questioned him when you pulled back breathless. His eyes were crinkled, swimming with mirth.

Tease.

You and your now-unoccupied lips changed targets, dipping down to assault the exposed underside of his jaw. Mumbling against his skin, you urged, “Share with the class.”

He opened his mouth, and for a moment, he seemed to be on the brink of answering. Whatever words he might have found were lost again in an instant when your teeth nipped playfully where his neck met his shoulder.

“All those blackberries you ate — oh, fuck.” Namjoon groaned, even more so when your tongue flicked over the faint indents you’d left behind.

After leaving an opened-mouth kiss on his collarbone, you looked up at him from under a curtain of lashes. His head was thrown back, but he sensed your stare; half-lidded eyes fluttered down at you, transfixed. It was a look you felt everywhere, downright pulsing as it shot straight to your core.

You weren’t ready for the hands in your hair to migrate, and that fact was made abundantly clear by the tiny gasp he stole from you in the process. He reveled in it; the corner of his mouth twitched triumphantly upwards. His left hand resettled on your hip while the knuckles of his right hand brushed over the space just below your belly button.

Namjoon must’ve known he had you spellbound because his smirk was full-fledged when he pinched the fabric of your dress between his fingers. Gently, he tugged what he’d claimed, causing the hem to flutter against the tops of your thighs. You were left damn near liquified. More puddle than person, dripping dizzy under such a torturously soft touch.

He didn’t know you were kerosene until he struck the match.

“If your kiss tastes like blackberries...” He trailed off, head tilting to the side. His right hand dropped further. It hovered, red hot, just millimeters away from your core. “How sweet is the rest of you?”

You erupted in flames when his fingertips finally made contact with your clothed cunt. Clenching your desperate thighs together did nothing to extinguish the blaze, nor did the arousal that slicked the innermost parts of them. Swallowing down the whimper building in your chest, you did your best to keep cool.

Eyebrow arched, you whispered, “Asking questions won’t get you answers, Namjoon. You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

The intention might’ve been to wind up in his bedroom at the opposite end of his apartment, but the execution was short-sighted. The farthest your lip-locked staggering got you was the adjoining, open kitchen — more specifically, the kitchen island. The chilled, marble countertop forced a hiss out through your teeth when the undersides of your legs settled on it. With Namjoon’s hands scorching the tops of your bare thighs, though, you were far from frozen.

Fingers raking through his hair, you let him kiss you stupid — until you couldn’t remember how it felt not to. Whiskey-laced and wanting, you licked into his mouth with a stifled whimper and came to two irrefutable conclusions. They spun pirouettes in your brain as his fingernails scratched up your thighs and under the hem of your dress.

Kim Namjoon was made to be kissed.

Up, up, up, his hands moved slowly until you felt his index fingers hook over the waistband of your underwear. He didn’t have to ask for your help; automatically and eagerly, you dropped your hands until your palms flattened against the countertop and lifted your hips. Down your thighs, off your ankles, tossed carelessly over his shoulder, gone — accomplished with his bottom lip kept as a souvenir between your teeth.

Kim Namjoon tastes like blackberries, too.

He was panting when he finally broke away. Large hands slid under your knees and pulled you forward. Now sitting at the very edge of the counter with Namjoon’s body between your thighs, you could feel him throbbing behind too-tight jeans. You were seconds away from reaching out to touch him, but he was the quicker draw.

The tip of his middle finger slid through your folds, wading through the slick that had pooled there. He moved slowly from the button of your clit to your entrance. That teasing filled your head with static and the silence with obscenity: you cursing under your breath as your forehead dropped to rest against his shoulder; you gushing, though he’d barely begun to touch you.

“All for me?” He hummed. Namjoon’s eyes were locked on your face, as if he was collecting mental snapshots of the fucked-out expression he’d put there. “Sweet thing.”

His lips connected with the underside of your jaw in the exact moment his digit finally slipped inside of you. You were sure he felt the way your mouth fell open, even if neither of you heard your breath catching in your throat. It didn’t take much effort on his part to coax it out of you, though; just a few slow pumps, and then you were whimpering near his ear.

You had to rely on your arm around his neck to keep you tethered. If you let go, you weren’t sure where you’d end up — floating off to join Neowise in its orbit, or crashing down into a heap at Namjoon’s feet. But then he added his ring finger, and you clung to him so tightly that you might’ve wound up in his rib cage instead.

“Oh, s-shit,” you keened as his fingers curled upwards. He’d found his target and attacked it slowly, forcing you to walk towards your orgasm rather than sprint — the way you needed to. The way you were willing to beg for. “Namjoon, please. I n—”

You felt the curve of his smirk against your skin. Before you could finish asking, he murmured low in your ear, “Say less, beautiful.”

The kiss he placed on your temple was the last thing you remember before his increased pace lit the fuse waiting deep in your abdomen. His thumb pressed against your clit, winding quick spirals, and he didn’t let up until he blew your mind sky-high.

When the smoke cleared and your pieces fell back into place, you had to blink to get the stars out of your eyes. “You should’ve warned me,” you panted. Namjoon was puzzled, which only made you beam. “You didn’t strike me as the dexterous type.”

The feigned shock on his face didn’t stick for long; it was quickly replaced by a shit-eating grin that made you tingle for an entirely different reason.

“These hands are good for two things, and two things only.”

You snorted, flexed an expectant eyebrow. “Breaking shot glasses, and…?”

Namjoon shook his head. His fingers were still shining with your orgasm when he brought them to his lips. It was ridiculous how he could still look pensive with you dripping down to his knuckles.

“Making you cum, first and foremost,” he corrected you matter-of-factly, like it was an undeniable truth dictated in one of the many books you’d seen littered around his apartment — and really, it should’ve been.

He took those glistening fingers into his mouth to clean you off of him; you couldn’t look away from his tongue as it ran down their length. You swallowed hard when he did. Then, he released them with a lewd pop that made you clench around nothing. “And making you cum again.”

You rolled your eyes, as if you weren’t still irreparably charmed by him. Namjoon bit back a grin, like he didn’t already know.

“My hypothesis may be confirmed, by the way,” he mused.

The magnetism you’d felt earlier brought him back to you again. His arms snaked around your waist so easily that you had to remind yourself — over and over — that they were strangers to you, not a home. That this was adrenaline; this was infatuation; this was one night.

You hummed in response, “Is it?”

It felt like home when Namjoon kissed you, softness laced with eagerness. Or like wax pooling on an envelope, the deed now signed and sealed.

“I’ll have to re-run the experiment, of course. Scientific method and all that.” He waved his hand, as if this was obvious. Yours landed a playful swat on his bicep that only deepened the dimple at the corner of his smile. He kissed you again and you let him. Lips still flush to yours, he mumbled, “Your pussy may be even sweeter.”

2020/7/19; 01:04

You should’ve been exhausted. Your social battery — and your physical battery — should’ve been depleted. You, an introvert and a homebody, should’ve been halfway to sleep in your own bed by now, in your own clothes.

When you left your apartment all those hours ago, you were already prepared to hibernate for twice as long as you’d spent on the outside. That was the way it always worked. A plan you never deviated from; one you never wanted to. But you’d been firmly rooted in the moment — every moment — since you arrived at that party, and you hadn’t spent a second since wishing you were elsewhere.

Your voice cut through the music flowing from the speakers built into his bedroom walls. “I’m not buying it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You twirled at the center of the rug and watched the fabric of Namjoon’s loaned t-shirt attempt to keep up with you. It hung over your frame like a potato sack, leaving a comforting weight as the excess material spilled over your shoulders and landed halfway down your thighs.

Funnily enough, it fit like the dress it’d replaced.

Pausing to swallow down the last sip of the soju you’d been splitting, you gestured towards him with the empty bottle. From where he sat on his bed, Namjoon raised his hands defensively. That sheepish smile admitted that he knew your offense was justified.

“You’re a musician who is fluent in English. You’re also a human being living in a society,” you huffed. “There is simply no way that you don’t know the words to this song.”

He had to cover his face with his hands to muffle his laughter. Even before he hid behind his palms, you could see the way his mirth made his eyes swim. They sparkled even more in that moment than they had in the thousand other times he’d looked at you throughout the night. Once again, you tried to convince yourself that it was due to the rose-colored glasses you couldn’t seem to shake off.

A trick of the light.

You were doing it again, and you knew it — conflating relief and hope; confusing the temporary sense of belonging somewhere with the ability to stay anywhere. You weren’t looking for this, weren’t looking for him, because you knew exactly what you couldn’t have. But you also knew that your heart was racing in your chest, and its rhythm was starting to sound more and more like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

Apparently, you’d been staring. Looking at Namjoon for too long made your knees wobble more than your sore muscles did, so you had to avert your eyes when you snapped back to reality. Brushing off that odd flutter in your chest, you brought the empty bottle back to your lips, tilted your head back, and belted out the lyrics you knew he knew.

“Oh, wake me! I'm shaking.”

You took your clumsy choreography to the next level with an exaggerated shiver. Namjoon watched through the cracks between his fingers, unable to ignore the person coming unzipped mere meters away. Undeterred, you threw the back of your hand up to rest against your forehead.

“Wish I had you near me now.” Then, you wiggled your hips in time with the ad-lib. It was barely audible underneath the chuckling from the audience. “Uh-huh.”

His hands dropped to his lap as yours shot straight up into the air, where you held them. The expression on his face was indecipherable when he gazed back at you. Whatever it meant, it was quickly morphing maybe into something more hopeful and — terrifyingly — committal.

“Said there's no mistaking —”

Namjoon said it on an exhale, weightless and without any effort. It sounded natural tumbling out of his mouth and into the space between you. It sounded a lot like:

“I think I love you.”

Without missing a beat, you reeled your arms back down and set the soju bottle onto a nearby dresser. Head tilted to the side, you crossed your arms and smirked. “How sure are you? Enough to wager on it?”

He didn’t seem at all surprised by the way you bought in immediately. You wondered if you truly expected him to be. After all, you weren’t, even if a reasonably well-adjusted person should have been. Perhaps, you thought, you weren’t one of those.

Namjoon’s response came just as easily as his first admission, a perfect volley. “At least seventy-nine percent sure.” You couldn’t see the way you lit up, but you’d have liked to imagine that it matched the way he did. Quicker still, he added, “And yes, I would. All in.”

There’s that magnetic pull again.

You skipped back to where he was waiting on the bed and crawled over the mattress to settle in front of him. Up close, you could see the sakura tint to his cheeks; it blended perfectly with the faint freckles dusting over the heights of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. You’re beautiful, you thought, and it’s no wonder that the sun found you worth kissing.

Something about his proximity to you made you bold; you didn’t fight it. You simply smirked, “Then let’s make a deal, Joonie.”

Intrigued, he raised his eyebrows but didn’t interrupt.

“Two years,” you hummed as you tilted your head to the side. Then, with a thoughtful finger tapping at your chin, you elaborated, “If in two years’ time you realize that you were right — and you’re one-hundred percent sure — you’ll win a prize.”

Namjoon nodded firmly. He put his hand out to shake on it, but you sat up on your knees. His gaze followed, leaving him to stare up at you as your fingers slid through his hair. You kissed him to finalize the contract, like all true devils do.

“Deal,” he murmured against your lips.

It scared you, just a little, how melting into him already felt like a routine. Like you’d done several times already that night, you spilled into his lap with your knees on either side of his thighs. Namjoon’s arms accepted you immediately; they enveloped you, kept you anchored against his chest.

This time, it was you who laughed.

Namjoon nudged your cheek with the tip of his nose. “What was that about sharing with the class?”

“I just — I’m not normally like this, you know? Completely unable to keep my hands to myself,” you snickered. “Can’t stop touching you.”

To emphasize your point, you removed your right hand from its place at the nape of his neck. Once your fingers were no longer woven through his hair, your fingertips traced light, languid lines, starting at his collarbone. Your eyes followed as your ministrations led you over the slope of his left pectoral muscle, down the bare warmth of his chest.

“So, don’t.”

When your eyes flicked back up to Namjoon’s face, you got the impression that he hadn’t stopped staring at yours. Right hand trailing further down, you maintained that eye contact and watched his pupils blow when you reached the bulge in his boxer briefs. Experimentally, the pad of your index finger whispered along the length of his cock; you relished the subtle twitch you received in response.

“Is this where you want me to touch you?” You asked.

He was throbbing under your touch, growing hard once again, as if you hadn’t been at this for hours already. That didn’t stop you from driving him further wild. More breath than words, you teased, “Or here?”

With a light hand, you flattened your palm to encompass him more fully and squeezed, prompting him to curse.

“Fuck.”

Namjoon’s eyelashes fluttered, but he seemed entirely unwilling to let them close. Desperate brown eyes pleaded with you, sending heat straight to your core.

“Need you, pretty thing. Hand, mouth — doesn’t matter, just fuck me.”

Your fingers slipped away from the base until they resettled at the crown. Even without looking, you could feel the spot where his leaking tip had soaked through the fabric. He groaned when your fingers pulled away, though he stopped in his tracks when he realized where they were headed.

Namjoon shuddered when your hand dipped under the waistband of his briefs and picked up exactly where you’d left off.

“How do you want it, Namjoon?”

As you stroked him, you pressed your lips to his. Slow, hungry, like you’d die before you’d get the opportunity again.

To the best of his ability, Namjoon rolled his hips forward with each pass of your fist. And when you redirected that teasing pressure to his balls, he downright jolted, let loose some deep sound from the bottom of his chest. The sound hardly had time to dissipate before you felt the hem of your shirt lifting above your hips.

Breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head, it was gone in an instant, landing somewhere unseen off the edge of the bed. Ridding him of his briefs was a more concentrated effort. You pushed up on your knees so he could shimmy them down far enough for you to discard them entirely.

“How are your legs, pretty girl?” His palms warmed the tops of your thighs as he massaged his way from your kneecaps towards your hips.

Dipping his head down, Namjoon nipped affectionately at your earlobe and earned a squeak from you. His low chuckle vibrated through you. He was quick to redirect himself, though the teasing didn’t end at his teeth.

“You seem to like being bossy, but I can take over if you’re tired.”

You feigned a scowl. “Are you baiting me?”

The wicked grin on his face answered for him, but it was quickly replaced with wide-eyed surprise when you pressed your hands against his chest and pinned him back against the pillows.

He shrugged, eyes still sparkling with mischief. “Not my fault if you take it, sweets.”

“Never would I ever have assumed that Kim Namjoon is a pillow princess.”

You pointed accusingly at him with one hand while the other slid into the space between you to line yourself up with his cock.

Impish grin still locked and loaded, he leaned up on his elbows until your extended finger was centimeters from his face. He kissed the tip of it chastely between his words, like his own tip wasn’t dripping with you, seconds away from obscenity.

“Hook — line —”

You dropped down on his length, and it shut him up immediately.

Though Namjoon was certifiably, world-endingly thick, you’d acclimated well enough to the stretch of him in your time together so far. He didn’t seem prepared for you to take him to the hilt in one fell swoop, if the way his head crashed back against the pillows could be taken as a hint.

With a swirl of your hips, you grinded down into his lap. Coquettishly, you finished where he left off. “Sinker?”

“Christ,” Namjoon groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut, then followed up immediately with a sheepish laugh. “Feel like I can’t even watch you do this. You’re too fucking good — never gonna make it out of here alive.”

Pride bloomed in your chest at the compliment, even though he was prophesying his own downfall between your spread legs.

You imagined he could feel it for himself: you weren’t any more likely to survive. Not full of him, with your slick spilling down his cock as you bounced. Definitely not with the sick sounds of your ass colliding with his pelvis, squelching with every thrust.

There was something blooming below your navel, but this time, it wasn’t pride. A tingling heat coiled tight, desperate to snap again. You needed it, but the burn in your thighs was stronger by far.

“Joonie,” you whimpered, incapable of caring about how pathetic you knew you sounded. Your head, previously thrown back, drooped forward to find him and his flushed cheeks fighting to maintain composure.

God, he looked as fucked out as you felt.

Namjoon focused on you immediately, attentively, and your heart leapt of its own accord. He curled his finger and beckoned you to lean forward.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he sighed.

Less gracefully than you would’ve liked, you all but crashed into him, sweat-slicked chest to chest. Arms wrapped around you like they were made for that very purpose.

Anchored.

Dangling from the last, frayed thread of your resolve, you were damn near speaking in tongues. Namjoon pushed up onto his heels and buried himself in you — over and over and over — at a punishing pace, hellbent on unraveling both of you at once.

Your moan was halfway to a sob. All the words you knew had been knocked loose some time ago, leaving only his name and please. They rattled around your skull, alternating as they spilled out of your mouth.

“Say less, baby,” he panted.

There was a kiss pressed to your forehead, and then there were stars bursting behind your screwed-shut lids.

2020/11/2; 07:22

Namjoon sat across from you at his kitchen island with a mug of coffee in one hand and a book he’d forgotten the name of in the other. He’d started it over an hour ago, though the two turned pages might indicate otherwise. Instead, he’d spent his time attempting to read whatever scrunched-up, pensive expression you had written all over your face.

You hadn’t said much since the two of you sat down, just pushed your sliced fruit around your plate with chopsticks that had yet to pass your lips. Every now and then, you’d hummed in response to the random thoughts Namjoon relayed out loud. Ultimately, whenever you’d realized he said something at all, your eyes widened; and you’d blinked your way out of whatever daydream you’d gotten lost in.

He loved that about you, your internal wanderlust. Even if he didn’t always know where your train of thought was headed initially, he’d board it with you regardless, find out on the way.

Eventually, you plucked a blackberry off your plate and popped it into your mouth. Your eyes were still glued to your laptop when you started to chew. Then, he suspected that the tartness of it truly hit your tastebuds. The lightbulb switched on and you were back, beaming across the countertop, warming him like a UV lamp.

“Hi,” you peeped.

Namjoon loved that about you, too. Infinite hellos sprinkled throughout his day at random; feeling like you missed him whenever you looked away, and that you found it necessary to greet him when he finally stepped back into frame.

He lit up, too. “Hi. Where’d you go just now?”

You swallowed. Whether it was exclusively the fruit or anxiety, too, he didn’t know. That is, until you claimed your bottom lip between your teeth and mumbled, “Got a weird email from the Overlord.”

The sip of coffee Namjoon had taken while he waited for your answer was a bad idea. He sputtered, nearly spitting it out onto that book he couldn’t care about. The would-be spit-take made your brows raise on your once-crinkled forehead; your amusement was palpable, even if you did him the courtesy of not laughing in his reddening face.

“If Bang finds out you call him that, he’s gonna want it on the nameplate outside his office,” Namjoon coughed. Clearing his throat, he bumped his fist against his chest to shake loose any coffee that might be lingering near his airway. “Weirder email than usual?”

You nodded, then you waved him over to you. It was an odd thing to be grateful for, but he was glad you didn’t just turn your laptop around and scoot it towards him to read. You always took any opportunity for closeness.

When he crossed around the island to you, Namjoon threaded his arms around your waist and ducked down to rest his head on your shoulder. The second he laid eyes on your screen, he was paralyzed. You had so many browser tabs open that none had enough space to display what they contained.

Is this what the inside of your brain looks like?

“Jagi,” he started, breathing in deep to keep from laughing with his entire chest.

It was bubbling there beneath the surface, he could feel it. Begging for composure, Namjoon buried his face in your hair. Vanilla and honey. Instantly calm, perfectly prepared to nudge you further. “How — how did you even find your inbox?”

Just to fuck with you, he pressed his fingertips against that secret spot on the right side of your rib cage. It was the one place on your body he’d been able to confirm was ticklish.

Eventually, maybe, he’d learn his lesson. Today was not that day.

You squealed, thrashed wildly in his hold until your elbow wound up on the right side of his rib cage. It was hard enough to make your point, but way too gentle to hurt. Still, Namjoon had to capitalize on it. He sucked in a gasping breath and stood bolt upright to clutch his chest like he’d been shot.

With you watching wide-eyed, he staggered backwards — away from you, away from the kitchen — until the back of his knees hit the sofa in the adjoining living room.

At some point, Namjoon would have to shoot up a thank you to the God of Entertainment. Somebody had clearly been looking out for him when open-concept apartments came into existence. His slapstick would’ve been so underwhelming if there were doorways involved.

Flopping backwards, his limbs splayed out across the backrest and cushions. Whatever parts of him didn’t fit spilled over the edge and dangled above the floor. He froze that way, playing dead with his tongue jutting out of the side of his mouth.

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

“Hope you watered the plants before you died, Joonie,” you called out. You sounded distant, like you hadn’t gotten up from your stool. “If you left it up to me, they’ll be dead soon, too.”

Joonie.

God, the way his heart still fluttered at that. Coming from you, that nickname didn’t sound stupid, or inspire him to choose violence. It wasn’t patronizing, wasn’t followed by some shit-eating grin. It was soft. Made him soft.

Jooniejooniejoonie.

“Actually, for all you know, I’ve got a tab open somewhere with an article on how to keep plants alive.”

Namjoon heard the faint scrape of the stool as you pushed it away from the counter. Then, the soft pad of your slippers coming his way. The hints were lost once you hit the plush living room rug, and so were you — until he felt your knees slotting on either side of his legs.

You settled down on top of him with your cheek pressed to his chest and your hair tickling his nose. Bravely, he didn’t sneeze.

Hand slipping down to the small of your back, he rubbed spirals into the space between the hem of your sweatshirt and the waistband of your sleep shorts. He hummed, “What’s on your mind?”

For more than a few moments, you were so quiet — so still — that Namjoon had to wonder whether his ministrations had put you straight to sleep. If that was the case, he’d keep going, blow off his to-do list for as long as he could just to keep you like this.

This.

Neither of you had settled on precisely what this was.

For nearly four months, this something was one of few constants in his life. Yours, too. It wasn’t a secret that needed keeping, but whatever this was felt too important to share. It belonged to the two of you, not anyone else — with the sole exception being Yoongi, who would’ve noticed the massive, tectonic shift whether or not he’d been the one to kick it off. Everyone else, though? Non-factors, as far as Namjoon could tell.

Until —

“Label’s expanding overseas.” It came out muffled, either because your cheek was smushed against his sternum, or because you really had fallen asleep in the pause. You continued, slightly clearer, “Putting a flagship sub-label in Los Angeles to crowbar their way into the American market.”

Namjoon wasn’t surprised, not really. Si-Hyuk had been daydreaming about this leap for as long as Namjoon knew him. It was only a matter of time before he got his little contractual ducks in a row. If anything, Namjoon was surprised that it took him this long to do it — what, with American money and American awards on the table.

But he knew you, knew that you didn’t give much of a shit about executive decisions, so long as they didn’t get in the way of your decisions.

That was precisely why he knew you were bringing this up for a reason.

“The hard launch is at the end of the month, so Bang is hoping to sign some of us over in the meantime. He’s trying to boost the curb appeal, I guess.”

You sighed and Namjoon felt the rush of air leave your lungs.

Namjoon nodded carefully to avoid knocking the top of your head with his chin. He sighed, too. “To water the plants.”

You didn’t say the quiet part out loud, but he could sense your brain working overtime; damn near hear your train of thought as it picked up speed. He half-expected to feel heat seep from your head to his chest while all your synapses fired off at once.

The warmth came from your eyes instead. You shifted so that your chin rested in the space between his pectoral muscles; and as soon as your gaze settled on his face, the crease between your eyebrows relaxed. Your pupils dilated, too, blown wide enough for him to notice the shift.

So, that’s what love looks like.

Not merely a neurochemical reaction or some grand, Hallmark-style gesture. Love looked like you, looking at him, while a wave of patent relief smoothed out the worry digging trenches in your features. And if he had to describe how it felt, well… The only word that came to mind was home.

“Is he asking or telling?”

Part of him wondered; the other part knew there usually wasn’t much of a difference between the two.

Even more quietly than before, you responded, “Asking — like, actually asking.”

The wrinkle in the center of your eyebrows reappeared, informing him immediately that you were split between the answer you wanted to give and the one you felt you should. Namjoon wouldn’t dare to make that call for you — to press down on either side of the scale — so he leaned forward and kissed you in the middle, right on top of that conflicted little crease.

“Joonie,” you started in a tone split three ways. Shy, sad, and sparked with a sense of hope that made you wary.

Bang Si-Hyuk wasn’t alone in his daydream. You brought it up considerably less than he did, but Namjoon sensed that this was because you didn’t want your motives to be speculatively linked with the prospect of profit. That would be the furthest thing from the truth.

For you, it was about your craft — Namjoon felt comfortable calling it that — and the million ways you could improve it with new collaborators, new ideas, new experiences.

For Namjoon, it was about you; and hoping that when you dove into life head-first, you never touched the bottom. Wanting everything you wanted to fall straight into your hands like confetti. And, if he could remain just a little bit selfish, he wanted to stick around and watch you catch them all.

If you wanted him, too, the rest of it would fall into place, one way or another. It’d have to, because Namjoon was struggling to remember how his days passed at all without you laughing through them. Maybe he’d have to reacclimate to sleeping without your knee pressed into his back, but he was confident that he could.

He could wait for you until this detour was over.

He would wait for you.

Without needing to think twice about it, Namjoon kissed your forehead and smiled with his lips still pressed to your skin. It was routine, as easy as breathing when he said, “Say less.”

You both stayed there on that couch for a while, though he couldn’t guess how long. Simultaneously minutes and months, but somehow — confusingly — it didn’t feel like the clock was moving at all. He could’ve easily believed that the universe has pressed pause on the moment, but you peeped and he had proof to the contrary:

“I’d be there by Thanksgiving.”

The realization clearly made you a little bit giddy. If your tiny gasp hadn’t given you away, your pulse would have. Namjoon could feel that hummingbird heartbeat against his own rib cage, and — shit, did that fondness squeeze his heart with a vice grip

You sat up, wild-eyed and urgent. “Is pumpkin pie just for colonizers, or are they obligated to share it?”

Fuck, he loved you.

“Joonie, this is serious.” You pouted and it was all he could do to bite back a grin. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

He nudged your cheek with the tip of his nose and smirked, “Just do what they do.”

“Steal it?” You snorted, devolving into a fit of giggles when he began to pepper kisses down your cheek, then along your jawline.

Eighteen in total, one for every stroke.

Saranghae.

Namjoon hummed in agreement, “Steal it.”

2021/6/19; 04:11

Most people — normal people — were in bed at four o’clock in the morning. You were not most people, though situations like this were becoming more and more normal to you. Unfortunately, you’d been forced to learn that normal and easy weren’t interchangeable. If they were, you’d have gotten used to taking the red-eye by now.

This was your third late-night flight. Not at all coincidentally, this was your third trip home since you left it for Los Angeles. You’d spent seventy-eight hours in the air, making this trip; flown more than 57,480 kilometers in less than a year.

Seven months, technically, but who’s counting?

The elapsed time seemed to run in dog years, though the calendar maintained that only seven months had passed. At the rate they slipped through your fingers, it felt like seven years of trying your best to take advantage of every break in your schedule. Flinging yourself across a black sky on a semi-regular basis, even if you’d just gotten off a tour of your own. Praying that the odd hours and lack of layovers meant your thirteen-hour trip didn’t steal a second more than was absolutely necessary.

Time, you’d learned, was a luxury you failed to properly budget for. Unable to do much else, you accepted whatever scraps you could afford. Make them worth it, you’d demand of yourself each time you landed at Incheon. Every time, your excuse would follow: I’m trying, I swear, but I’m so tired.

Instead of a bed, you were slumped in Namjoon’s passenger seat, clutching the small bouquet he’d brought you in a hand too exhausted to register the brush of soft, white petals. You’d never lose track of his fingers interlocked with yours, though. His touch was inimitable, and the warmth of it stuck with you long after it was gone.

“Pretty,” you mumbled, gaze zeroed in on the flowers. You lifted your right arm to bring them in for closer inspection. It was futile, mostly, given how bleary your eyes were. You guessed, “Baby’s breath?”

This airport ritual of his combined two of your favorite things: the careful consideration he made in choosing flowers that conveyed messages, and the dimple that appeared on his cheek when you guessed correctly. Gifting you an additional prize, Namjoon raised your clasped hands off the center console. Without taking his eyes off the road for too long, he flashed a sleepy grin at you and kissed your knuckles.

Fuck, you loved him.

He turned onto the expressway, let your hands drift back down between you, and yawned. Automatically, you yawned, too.

As he drove, Namjoon’s sleep-drenched brain did its best to ask about all the updates you might’ve acquired since your last phone conversation. He asked about the extended play you were writing, the weird leak in your apartment, and the only friend you’d truly made in the time you’d lived there.

“What’s their name again?” He asked, visibly embarrassed that he’d forgotten. “Jisoo?”

With a chuckle, you corrected him, “Jinseo.”

He echoed you firmly under his breath, clearly determined to commit it to memory this time. Word association was apparently part of that process, you realized. Your heart fluttered wildly when Namjoon proceeded to state the first thing that came to mind about her, proving that he did listen when you talked.

“Jinseo��s the attorney who tried to slide into Yoongi’s Instagram DMs,” Namjoon stated, as if he were being quizzed. “He never looks at them. She’s been checking for three weeks to see if he’s even opened it.”

The way he recited this fact made it sound like he’d learned it from a book, rather than overhearing your friend’s complaints directly while he spoke to you on the phone. Still, he glanced at you for confirmation that he was correct. You nodded, proud.

Then, you provided the update he’d been seeking: “For the record, he still hasn’t.”

You mustered enough energy to laugh along with him, but neither of you was awake enough to keep the conversation going. At least, you hoped that was the case. The alternative — that you’d run out of things to talk about — was worse. It was all you could think about, and now silence crept into the lulls, sitting heavy.

Namjoon was the first to speak again, after a long pause: “It’s lunchtime back home, isn’t it?”

It was an innocent question — a caring one, checking in on you — but it struck like a sucker punch, nonetheless. There might come a day that association didn’t sting, but you knew intrinsically that this wasn’t it.

Los Angeles wasn’t home, even though you’d lived there for the better part of a year. Seoul wasn’t home, either. You had no real roots in either location, continuously jumping back and forth between the two. Namjoon was home, though he was beginning to feel temporary, too.

“It’s so early for you, Joon.” You squeezed his hand. “We can go back to bed, and grab food later. I’m not hungry yet, anyway.”

A lie, but a well-intentioned one. You hoped your stomach kept quiet, kept your secret.

Though he wasn’t looking in your direction, there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes that you couldn’t have missed if you tried. You were sure it matched yours whenever the sixteen-hour time difference made you miss his calls. His schedule lately had made them fewer and farther between.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighed.

He meant it, and he emphasized as much with a reciprocal squeeze of your hand. It stung, knowing that he was apologizing for all of it, up to and including this moment; and that neither of you was at fault for any of it.

“We’ll be back in sync in no time. I’ll —”

You cut him off with a whisper and your best attempt at a smile, “Pssssst.”

Thankfully, Namjoon was stopped at the only red light that still separated the two of you from his parking garage. Otherwise, the way his alarmed eyes flitted in your direction may have had consequences.

“Say less,” you mimicked, like any of this felt the way it did before. He beamed, but his grin left just as quickly as it appeared.

Namjoon looked away when the light changed, unaware that your face fell before you could catch it. Something that insignificant shouldn’t have had the power to make you that sad; but it did, and you didn’t know what to do with that fact.

The rest of the ride continued in silence. If Namjoon also felt like that silence was suffocating, there were no hints about it in his expression or his posture.

Does this feel easy to you? Am I the one making it hard?

He had to let go of your hand to park in his assigned space, and he forgot to reach for it again when he finished. You knew it wasn’t intentional, but that didn’t make it hurt less. Didn’t make the tears biting at the corners of your eyes any less embarrassing.

For two people as jet-lagged and otherwise exhausted as you were, it didn’t take long to drag yourselves from his car to his apartment. It took even less time for Namjoon to begin shuffling off towards the bedroom. Halfway there, he realized you weren’t still close behind.

“Where —?” He turned his head to search for you before he turned his body fully. Ultimately, he found you hovering near the kitchen island. The relief in locating you was quickly diluted with concern. “You okay?”

Are we? Is this?

“I think I left my phone in the car.” You patted down the pockets of both your joggers and your jacket, brows furrowed. Then, you picked up the keys he’d just set down on the counter top. “Gonna run down and look for it.”

Too tired to be steady, Namjoon swayed slightly where he stood. You couldn’t help yourself. That magnetic pull tugged you over to him, pushed you up onto your toes, and demanded that you kiss him until that confused frown curved upwards.

For a moment, you smiled, too.

“Go back to bed,” you whispered, leaving a kiss at his temple. You hadn’t meant to speak so softly. Your voice was caught wherever your breath was, and they refused to cooperate. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

He nodded, accepting a proper kiss before his bedroom-bound shuffling continued. Out of sight, you heard the thump of his lead limbs collapse back into his mattress. You felt it in your chest, which was tightening by the second.

You turned for the door, ready to run, only to stop dead in your tracks. Just ahead of you, tending to a snake bite, was Eurydice. The sight of her portrait hanging on the wall threatened to rip out the sob you’d worked to keep buried. She was all you could think about when you slipped out the door, and stumbled down the hall.

Maybe Eurydice would’ve lived if she’d never met Orpheus.

Shoulders shaking by the time you reached the stairwell, you shoved your hand into your pocket as you crumpled downward onto the concrete steps. You pulled out your phone and gripped it tight, like closing your fists around it could keep you together, too.

With the extent of your tears, you couldn’t make heads or tails of that bright, white screen. You did what you could, though, like you always did. Warbled voice bouncing off the walls around you, you found a loophole and slipped through it.

“Hey, Siri —”

The swirling grey, red, blue, and green at the bottom of your screen looked more like a life-preserver than anything else. Automatically, you pleaded, “Call Yoongi.”

It was a fifty-fifty chance, calling him at this hour.

He’d either be awake because he never went to sleep in the first place, or he’d have just drifted off. Either way, you were already sorry for bothering him. When he picked up on the first ring, that was the very first thing you said to him.

Immediately, his tone shifted from the grogginess of his initial greeting. Now, he sounded worried. You wondered if you’d woken him up, but you didn’t ask.

“Hey — whoa, whoa, whoa — what’s wrong? Your plane didn’t crash, did it?”

He wasn’t trying to be funny and you didn’t mean to laugh, but you did. Sort of. It was some odd, gasping sound that felt wrong as it came out of your mouth.

“I’m fine,” you kept repeating, as if you could manifest the outcome. “I’m fine. I just — I need someone to tell me if I’m crazy, or just doing this whole thing wrong —”

“Doing what wrong?” Yoongi cut you off. “It doesn’t sound like you’re breathing properly, if that’s what you mean. Can you take a deep breath? Count to five on the inhale and on the exhale.”

You did what he said. It helped with what it was meant to, but hyperventilation had been the least of your concerns.

“Sit on the floor if you aren’t already. If you can, lean your back against a wall and flatten your palms on the ground, okay? That’ll help you feel anchored.”

Halfway compliant, you slumped against the metal railing next to you. You threaded your left arm over the lower of the two rungs and held on tight. Part of you wanted to laugh at this, too. It wasn’t much different than the safety bar on a rollercoaster; the way your stomach dropped was identical.

“I can come get you if you tell me where you are,” Yoongi continued. “That twenty-four-hour place has lamb skewers now. We can eat, and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

You didn’t know where to start. All of it, you thought, it’s all wrong.

The answer you blurted out was, “I love him.”

“I know, kid,” Yoongi sighed, and it sounded like an apology. He didn’t need any further explanation. “I know you do.”

Your voice broke when you continued, splintering painfully in your throat. It wasn’t a question you had any conscious intention to ask. It was simply shrapnel flying out of your mouth:

“Is loving someone supposed to hurt this much?”

2021/11/13; 14:36

Your fourth trip home felt different than the rest. There was something in the air that you couldn’t quite put a finger on. Whatever it was, it’d kept your stomach in knots from the time you left your apartment until you wandered through customs in Incheon.

It’d only gotten worse when you finally reached the sidewalk outside the airport. Your first instinct had been to cry, though not for the reason you usually did; you’d swallowed that urge with a hastily taken sip of boba. Just like he had for your three previous homecomings, Namjoon was waiting for you, flowers in hand.

Flower, singular.

Of the two of you, he was the one with encyclopedic knowledge of floriography. Regardless, you knew enough to understand what that lone, white tulip said. It was an apology; and by now, you were well acquainted with those. Even still, you hadn’t gotten any better about accepting them because he still hadn’t done a single thing to be sorry for.

Sorry.

That word had slowly mutated into a punctuation mark over the last year. It’d wormed its way into every sentence, whether or not it had any business being there.

Hi, sorry, I was in the studio when you called. I love you, sorry. I miss you, sorry. I’m so proud of you, sorry, I wish I could have been there.

You heard it even when neither of you spoke, felt it in every bit of quiet. It sat between you on the drive from the airport to that restaurant you used to like — the one by the lake. It filled your unoccupied hands on the walk in from the parking lot, rested like a centerpiece in the middle of your table.

Neither of you ate much. You wished you’d had some semblance of an appetite, if only to fill the pit growing in your stomach. To distract from the way Namjoon’s eyes went glassy whenever he looked at you, or to keep your bottom lip from trembling.

Silent and sorry, the two of you watched the wind force waves; which, in turn, forced anchored row boats to collide with the dock.

Anchored.

There was that word again.

It’d been sitting untouched in the backlog of your vocabulary for longer than you’d care to admit. You knew its dictionary definition, of course, but it’d never been a word you’d ascribe to yourself. Leading up to last November, it wasn’t a feeling you’d knowingly craved, either. If you were honest, you might have hated it and its synonyms, too.

Rooted. Tethered.

They were on the tip of your tongue now, finally yours to taste. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that your resistance to them had always been a coping mechanism. Your amygdala trying to intervene.

Until you met Namjoon, stability had been unfamiliar and elusive. It’d outrun you for so long, there’d only been one conclusion left for you to leap to: You didn’t deserve to catch it.

But you did catch it. You found him, opened yourself up to believing that you were the kind of person who got to have roots. For a year, you tried so hard to nurture them, loved the beautiful thing you’d grown in spite of yourself.

You earned them, so why couldn't you keep them?

Namjoon noticed your breathing pick up. He knew you well enough to see precisely what direction your brain was spiraling in; and that you needed a gear shift. So, he hummed, “Been thinking about changing up my hair.”

“Oh?”

It certainly caught you off-guard, but you figured that was the point. You weren’t sure if you should have — or why you felt you couldn’t — but you reached up to run your fingers through it. Longer than last time, lighter.

“I’m not sure if the blonde has ever actually suited me,” he laughed. “What do you think? And, seriously, give it to me straight.”

You nibbled on your lower lip as you studied him. No matter how many times you stared at his face, you uncovered some new, favorite feature. Today, it was his irises, warmer than you remembered them being. Namjoon became more beautiful the less you saw him, as awful as that thought felt.

“I do like the blonde,” you mused. His cheeks blushed, just barely, but it squeezed your heart to know that was still a reaction you could pull from him. “But I think it would be nice to see Kim Namjoon as he exists naturally, you know? I haven’t met him yet.”

He smiled — genuinely, with his eyes and all his teeth — and it ached.

“I’ll make a note of that,” he promised with a laugh. Then, he gestured to your largely untouched plate “D’you want a box for that before we go?”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. It slipped out before you could stop it. “Sorry, I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.”

The corner of his mouth lifted again, less happily than the last time. You knew as soon as you saw it that his half-smile was an apology, too.

2021/11/25; 19:59

Over the last week, Jinseo Kang had spent more time in your apartment than in her own. The spare key you’d given her at the start of your friendship was intended for emergencies, and while this wasn’t what either of you had in mind back then, that was the only word she could use to describe the state of you now.

In twelve months of knowing you, she’d gathered enough trivia about you to fill a memoir. Of the facts she’d collected, two came to mind immediately whenever Jinseo thought of you. The first was that you were a workaholic to a borderline clinical degree; so resistant to rest that the mere thought of being unproductive gave you hives. The second was that, despite the cursed hours you kept, you were never not in contact with Min Yoongi.

Since you’d flown back from Seoul, you’d done neither.

Jinseo didn’t have to ask to know what happened; you didn’t need to say a word. In fact, you hadn’t — not that she’d heard — since you touched down at LAX, two days ahead of schedule. The only reason Jinseo even knew to pick you up was a direct reply on Instagram that didn’t look a thing like she’d hoped. Worse, the only way she’d been able to recognize you in her passenger seat was by the signature, mint green headphones clenched tightly in your hands.

Immediately, she’d noted the absence of your smile. That was a seismic shift, in and of itself. As was the case with those pastel headphones, that smile of yours wasn’t something you’d ever be caught dead without. Part of you never got off that plane, she’d thought then. Looking at you now, crumpled on your couch, Jinseo knew better. A piece of you was missing long before you boarded that return flight in the first place.

From your kitchen, she glanced over at the heap of blankets, though she didn’t know why she bothered. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t done much of anything since you shuffled out of bed at two o’clock in the afternoon. Still, she had to check for proof of life. Proof that you were still there, somewhere, even buried.

Illuminated by the television screen and underscored by A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, there was movement. Half-hidden by a pile of knitted throws, she spotted the top of your head. Like it did every other time she saw the tangled bun sitting crooked there, her heart sank. I know you’re in there. I’ll find you, I promise.

In the absence of an instruction manual, she’d have to make one. This was a crash course — what to do when love dies in slow motion — and Jinseo was flying by the seat of her fucking pants. Maybe she didn’t know how to pull you out of this pitfall you were trapped in, but she could hold your hand and refuse to let it go.

So, that’s precisely what she did.

Before making her way to you, Jinseo grabbed the dish she’d been preparing off the counter. Spare fork in hand, she rounded the kitchen island and made a beeline for you. You didn’t react when she reached you, unless you counted the way you hugged your knees a little tighter to your chest. Jinseo certainly didn’t; she would’ve sat directly on your feet if you hadn’t cleared the space.

This close to you, she could see the way your jaw was still clenched. Going on eight days now, it was impressive, in some sick way, that the unrelenting pressure hadn’t left you with a mouth full of dust. See? She wanted to grab your knee and shake it, make sure you heard it loud and clear: Look what you can survive!

She didn’t, though. Jinseo simply held out the plate in her hands and stared at you expectantly until you sensed her gaze on you. Red-rimmed and glassy, your eyes lifted to meet her face and she was not going to cry at the sight of you. Nope. Swallowing thickly, she glanced pointedly at the plate, then back up to you.

You were unfazed, barely conceding a blink. You didn’t even look down.

Please, sweet bean. Please eat something.

She tried again, nudging your knee with hers. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

For whatever reason, that holiday greeting was the only thing to reach you in a week. Finally, you looked down.

Jinseo hadn’t finalized her expectations prior to this moment, but the short list had included an eye roll, a groan, something. Even if you didn’t reciprocate, she would’ve been grateful for a response of any kind. Her list hadn’t included you bursting into tears over a piece of pumpkin pie, but that’s exactly what she got.

Charlie Brown can go fuck himself. There’s no such thing as good grief.

It was a reflex, dropping that plate onto the coffee table like it’d bit her. With her hands now free, she grabbed your shaking shoulders and pulled your limp body towards her until you all but collapsed in her lap. Even then, she squeezed you tighter.

I will not let you shatter. I will not let you slip away.

The two of you stayed there, just like that, for however long it took you to let go of the tears you’d stockpiled for eight straight days. And when you were finally quiet — finally still — Jinseo thought for sure that you’d finally fallen asleep.

“I think I hate him.”

Your voice was weak from lack of use; so much so that Jinseo could barely register that you’d spoken at all. Once she did, she didn’t know where to start.

Quietly, she asked, “Namjoon?”

With your head in her lap, Jinseo felt it shake. Again, you surprised her.

“Yoongi,” you whispered. God, you sound so broken. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I know it makes me a bad person, but I’m so fucking angry at him. I went to that party because he begged me to. I wouldn’t have — I wasn’t looking for him.”

Your voice cracked. “I wasn’t looking for him, for anyone. I’ve lost everything, and I don’t know what to do now. I’m so angry that it hurts.”

“That’s grief, sweet bean,” she corrected you gently. You sniffled, glanced up at her from the corner of your eye. “Not anger. Grief is just love with nowhere left to go.”

At this, you sat up more fully than you had in eight days, albeit looking more hollow than you ever had. Face tear-stained and bottom lip quivering, you croaked, “I don’t know what to do with it all.”

“Call Yoongi,” Jinseo hummed as she squeezed your knee. “If you need a place to put all that love you have left, then write one.”

2022/7/7; 00:00

Namjoon couldn’t remember the last time he had a day go the way it was supposed to; and frankly, he was getting sick of his own shit.

That morning had started off fine.

Scratch that.

It started off as well as he could possibly expect it to, waking up in an empty bed with no kneecap pressed into his spine. He drank coffee at his kitchen island, alone, and ignored the blackberries he’d unwittingly scooped onto his plate with the rest of his fruit. Dumped them in the trash before he lost his mind over a berry. Read half a book and remembered none of it.

All things considered, Namjoon was doing just fine.

Unfortunately, things started going off the rails somewhere around sundown. He and Yoongi had wrapped up the last track on Namjoon’s upcoming release; and for once, Yoongi agreed to leave his studio. Agog and aghast, Namjoon dragged his favorite recluse to every sordid bar in that pocket of the city. As he piloted his tailspin, Namjoon repeated one thought, over and over:

Any dive he stumbled into was better than an empty apartment.

As he spiraled, he drank enough to blur the image of you, which was plastered on every television and burned inside his brain — but not too much. Namjoon learned a long time ago that he couldn’t sleep if he went to bed alone, so he made a habit of not doing that. After all, he didn’t have to like himself; he just needed to live with himself.

Whatever her name was, Namjoon only fucked her because she looked like you.

Her presence on your side of the bed might’ve summoned you because, when he finally checked his phone, your name was tied to a missed call. Better — or worse, he hadn’t decided — there was also a voicemail. The thought alone left him dangling precariously between wanting to cry and needing to vomit. Phone in hand, he staggered toward the bathroom before he’d made his choice.

Closing the door behind him, Namjoon leaned back against the wood. Everything was spinning, though none of it could be attributed to the whiskey he’d had several hours prior. This was all you.

You and that gravitational well he couldn’t ever seem to leave, trapped at his furthest point from you and growing colder all the time. Darker, too.

Aphelion, he remembered with a humorless laugh, not sure if or when it’ll ever be like this again.

Fuck!

Namjoon startled himself when he slammed his hands down on the counter, less due to the involuntary action and more due to the fear of breaking his phone. In a panic, he glanced down. It was perhaps the one thing left that he hadn’t shattered.

Typing in the code to his voicemail felt like disarming a bomb, given how urgently his fingers moved. He needed it, whatever it was that you deemed important enough to say to him. Needed you, but this was the closest thing he had, and that was fine.

“Hey, Joonie. It’s me — well, that much is probably obvious, I guess? Uhh — Anyway, Yoongi mentioned that you finished cutting the album today. I just —”

Namjoon’s racing heart stopped dead in its tracks. You’d paused for so long that he feared the recording stopped there. Thankfully, you started up again, taking his pulse along with you.

“I just wanted to say, congratulations. You’re — I’m sure it’s incredible,” you sighed, “I hope you’re proud, and I hope you’re doing well.”

He was neither of those things. It’d been months, and it still hurt to breathe whenever he thought about you. He thought about you all the time, asleep or awake, no matter what — or who — he attempted to distract himself with. No matter how much of himself he lost track of in the process.

You were all he wanted, all he wants, all he’d ever want.

Namjoon caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Purposefully avoiding his own eye contact, he looked up, just above his crumpled brow. That bleached blonde hair still didn’t suit him, now even less so than when he asked for your opinion that day by the lake. He made a note of what you’d said, just like he'd told you then. It’d been sitting inside his medicine cabinet since the day after his whole fucking world exploded.

Jaw clenched, he broke the magnetic seal between the mirrored door and that bottle of black dye.

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

tagging: @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @jihopesjoint @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @bbyorchid @persphonesorchid @quarter-life-crisis2 @zelchena @withluvjm @firesighgirl @whatthefsposts @iadelicacy @chimmisbae @cowboylikeyoongi @sailoryooons @axialitae @ugh-yoongi @minholykingofkorea @kookstempo @gimmethatagustd @Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhintothevoid @yoongiphoria

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dokk-fukuro · 9 months

Text

Your Relationship [Howard Lovecraft]

Minors DNI

TW: SMUT, awkward Lovecraft (lol), afab reader, mentioned of using Lovecraft abilities (Oh dear Lord...)

Lovecraft as your friend:

• A very specific friend, to be sure. Not quite human, therefore, he does not fully understand the nature of some human emotions, but he is always glad to learn something new;

• He can't trust you right away, so be patient. Lovecraft is the type of "people" who take a long look at their surroundings because they are used to thinking that they are wanted to be used;

• He has a slightly idiosyncratic way of speaking, so be prepared for odd Old English expressions or outdated variations of certain expressions;

• Howard has a fairly extensive knowledge of languages, which is extremely surprising, considering that he looks like a man in his early thirties;

• You don't get to spend as much time together as Lovecraft doesn't really like sunny days and spending his energy on walks. Most of the time, you can wake him up by accident. At such moments, he turns on the “Morgenmuffel” mode, that is, “Morning Grumbler”;

• If you walk somewhere, it happens in the evening and near water. Lovecraft occasionally likes to philosophize about water;

Lovecraft as your boyfriend:

• You contacted the Great Old One... Well, here you need to be prepared for anything, since this is one of the most ancient deities or... beings. You still haven't figured it out, but you still need to be careful;

• Takes things like relationships very seriously, though doesn't fully understand what they're for;

• When you confessed your love to him, he was already getting ready to call you his wife. Just explain to him that it's a little different how it's supposed to work;

• It still not so easy to him to trust you, but more because you might be afraid of him when you find out his “little” secret;

• Feels a bit embarrassed when you take his hand. Lovecraft is a follower of the old traditions... sometimes it seems that they are even ancient, so for him a public display of affection is a little unacceptable. Be patient, he is just learning to live in the modern world;

• At one point, when you asked him about the oddities that sometimes you observe, Lovecraft hesitated a bit.

"Do you really want to see it? Mind you, it might drive you crazy, my... wife.” His voice is low, a little hoarse when Howard is standing in front of you. You bite your lip in anticipation and nod.

This isn't the first time you've shared a bed, but for the two of you, every time is like the first.

“I give you my word, my love, that I won’t turn my back on you, no matter what happens.” And those words, in a way, give Lovecraft a bit of resolve. One of his arms ceases to resemble a human limb. Instead, it now has three tentacles, one of which is right next to you.

You freeze, trying to comprehend what is presented to your eyes. However, to Howard's surprise, you're not scared at all. Even his eyes, which look more like the Abyss in person, don't scare you. The man is almost certain that you have lost your mind.

“Touch me,” you whisper, and a herd of goosebumps runs down his back, every cell of his body tenses when his tentacle touches your bare chest, leaving sticky, reddish suction marks. Your sweet moan echoes to his ears, and Lovecraft understands that you love him.

#My writing #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd smut #headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs headcanons #howard lovecraft #lovecraft bsd #bsd lovecraft #lovecraft x reader #lovecraft smut

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bit-dodgy-innit · 1 year

Text

Seeing Double

Set in The Shape of Youniverse

Summary: Your first ultrasound for Baby Number Two includes a surprise twist

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, Marc x afab!reader, and Jake x afab!reader. Reader is married to the system

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: G (for once!!!!)

CW/TW: A dose of angst and anxiety, mentions of pregnancy and past trauma, heinous fudging of how medical technology works, plus lots of fluff and soft!moon boys

A/N: HI HELLO ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE SEE THE SHAPE OF YOUNIVERSE IS NOT OVER!!! 😅😅 This is the first of the asks that have been collecting dust in my inbox while I was filling celebration prompts and ~trying to live~ Cheers to the lovely nonnie who requested it!

“Oh my days, that's wonderful!!”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Dr. Slater had been your OB/GYN for nearly ten years, and delivered Nyla, but this disparity between your and Steven’s reactions was the first time you’d ever rendered him speechless. “I, um…I’ll give you two a moment.”

You stared at the ultrasound machine’s screen in shock, while Steven gazed upon it in awe. The word kept ringing in your ears. Twins.

“Blimey, do you reckon they’re fraternal or identical? It’s a good thing we sprung for the larger place after all, innit…oh my goodness, just wait until we tell Nyla there are two babies in your tummy! Her little mind will be blown, right darling? Darling…”

You couldn’t imagine Nyla’s reaction to the news, because currently, it was your little mind that was blown. Twins. Two more mouths to feed, two more school tuitions, two more little bodies to push out of you. Simultaneously.

“You alright, darling?”

“We’re going to be outnumbered.”

“Nothing we can’t handle…hey,” Steven sat himself on the ledge of the examination bed and put his hand on your arm. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head back and forth, and when you spoke, your voice was thick with tears. “I don't think I can do this.”

Sobs promptly followed after your admission, and Steven gathered you into his arms right away. “Hey, hey no…it’s going to be grand, okay? Awww sweetheart, seeing you like this is breaking my heart.”

“It’s just…it’s a lot to take in, and it’s not what we planned!! We have to double everything and it’s all going to be happening at once and what if–” you paused to heave and hyperventilate, pulling much-needed oxygen into your lungs, “ –what if I can’t handle it?”

“Shhhhhh, you’re going to be brilliant,” he assured you, then pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Besides this isn’t your first curveball now, is it? What with Nyla being a surprise, not to mention your ex-avatar husband having D.I.D and the like.”

“I’m juh…I’m just scared!” you wailed.

“It’s alright to be scared,” Steven didn’t hesitate in validating you. “But darling, you’re not going to be doing this alone.”

“I know, but I have to do the hard bit,” you pointed out plaintively, using Steven’s self-coined jaunty term for the burden of motherhood.

“That’s true, but even so, we’re all going to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. You have us, and your parents – we wanted to ask them to come out earlier anyway pre-due date– then there’s Charlotte and Harry, Doctor Slater, we can even book Pippa again too so she'll start right away if you’re worried about latching. Everyone wants to help you, my love. ”

It was moments like this you remembered exactly why you married your husband. The sobs wracking your body prevented you from articulating your gratitude, so instead you burrowed into his chest, likely rubbing some of your makeup onto his shirt and definitely smearing ultrasound gel across his trousers.

“Esto es una bendición,” you heard Jake murmur, “We’ve both been through so much more, so much worse than this, nena. Today is a good day, and I won’t let you think any differently.”

“I’m processing, Jake.”

“Yo sé,” he acknowledged, “but I’m also not going to let you spiral, bien?”

“I don’t spiral.”

Jake snorted in disbelief. You pulled back to look him in the eye, a challenge. He met your questioning gaze with a single arched brow that told you he wasn't buying it.

“Well this is something that I’m allowed to spiral about,” you defended yourself, only to realize mid-argument, “oh God. I’m going to be huge.”

“You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll carry you everywhere,” he offered. The impracticality of his solution made you giggle. Jake rejoiced at his ability to get a rise out of you, “Ay, ahí está ella.”

“Gracias Papi,” you could feel yourself drifting back down into the land of rational thought, until you remembered who was missing, and your stomach became a lead balloon.

“Que ocurre?”

“Is Marc…what’s he doing? God, if I’m freaking out then he must be completely–”

“We’ll figure it out,” your husband interrupted you in his midwest-tinged American accent. “We always do.”

“Do you regret trying for another?” you asked him.

“No baby,” Marc denied instantly, pulling you close to him again. “Do you?”

“No…but this is a lot. It’s a lot,” you confessed.

“I know, and thankfully, they’re not coming tomorrow. So we have time, okay? Honey, you’ve been my rock through so much, it’s time for you to let us be yours now, deal?”

You sniffled, then agreed, “Okay.”

Marc’s sure fingers began to stroke through your hair. You luxuriated in his touch, your heart rate finally descending to a somewhat normal pace.

A knock on the door fractured the quiet moment you and your husband had found. You two sprang apart, Marc lunged for the counter to grab you a tissue, while you wiped your eyes and nose in a totally futile effort to hide the fact you’d been crying.

“Come in!” you called. Doctor Slater had seen worse, after all.

The doctor did just that, closed the door behind him, and only after he resumed his seat did he begin with “I owe you two an apology.”

Fuck, you thought. There was something wrong. You gripped Marc’s hand for dear life waiting for the ax to drop.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience, but we need to do the ultrasound again. I just found out that this is broken,” he revealed, gesturing to the machine next to him, still broadcasting the image of your two unborn children. “There’s a lag on the image, which means I’m not so sure you’re having twins after all.”

Thank goddess you were already sitting down, because otherwise you would’ve fainted, straight up. You did swoon however, and both Marc and Doctor Slater reached for you.

“I am so unbelievably sorry for the bait-and-switch,” he apologized further, “your body is undergoing enough. I’m ninety-five percent sure there’s only one baby in there, so if you can swing it diary-wise, we’ll move next door and confirm it.”

You wanted to say “Sounds good, doc”, but what came out was “I’m going to throw up.”

Your declaration sent your husband scurrying to grab the little room waste bin for you.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There’s going to be a firm talking-to between me and my staff once I’ve sent you home.”

“It’s okay,” you exhaled, unsure of who you were trying to comfort more, Doctor Slater or yourself. “It’s all good. When will the new room be ready?”

“It should be ready now,” he told you.

“Does she have to move?” your husband asked, his voice revealing that Steven was fronting again. “You’ve had quite the shock just now.”

“I’m okay honey, just help me up,” you assuaged him. You were barely ten weeks along which meant there was no bump to contend with yet, but given the emotional rollercoaster of the past twenty minutes, you wanted your husband to steady you.

“You sure you’re alright?” Doctor Slater asked. “We can get you a wheelchair.”

You shook your head to dismiss the notion and arranged yourself to dismount from the examination table. “No need, but it’s times like these I’d give anything for a drink, you know?”

Both men burst out laughing at your admission and you proceeded next door to the functional ultrasound machine.

*** On the ride home you asked Steven, “Are you disappointed there’s only one baby in there after all?”

“Not at all darling,” he instantly averred.

“I won’t be cross if you are. Even just a little.”

Your husband studied you to determine whether your question was a trap. After a long, careful pause, he at last spoke, “Maybe a little disappointed. But I’m over the moon either way.”

“I think it’s sweet how excited you were. You didn't miss a beat, while I went and had a proper meltdown,” you chuckled. “We’re going to have to start thinking of boy names.”

“Ooh yes,” Steven concurred, “I actually had an idea earlier, how do you like–”

“No names of famous anthropologists Steven,” you knew exactly where he was going with this.

He deflated a little, then tried again, “Alright what about–”

“Or archeologists, or anyone in the social sciences, okay?” If Steven had gotten his way with Nyla, your daughter would have been named Hortense or some other incredibly outdated name to honor a dead scholar. “The names have to be personal to both of us.”

Steven harrumphed and even though he didn’t say anything else, you knew this wasn't the end of the conversation.

“I want to…I’d like to include Ro–um, Randall’s name somehow.”

You took Marc’s hand at once. “Baby yes, that’d be great. Definitely adding Randall to the list.”

“I am happy, you know, that we’re having another,” he told you softly.

Your cheeks burned with shame, “I know, I’m sorry I panicked -- I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not mad,” Marc clarified, “But I don’t want you taking on my…shit, okay?”

“Well, I’m your wife, I can’t help it,” you shrugged, “besides that’s the point of having me right? Of us? We help each other with our shit.”

Marc bristled, “I know but–”

“Not buts Marc, other than your fantastic one,” you cut him off. You knew “feelings” were tricky for your husband still, so sometimes it was best to diffuse with a bit of cheeky humor. “You’re stuck with me, and this baby boy confirms it.”

“Alright, fine,” he surrendered. “I know better than to argue with you.”

You took Marc’s hand in yours and kissed the world-weary skin on the back of it. “Smart man.”

A/N: I’m not sure why when I got this ask I instantly was like “reader (me) would freak” but even with the angst, I hope I was able to give everyone a good dose of loving daddy!Steven and the rest of the boys too!

Translations:

Esto es una bendición - This is a blessing

nena - babe

Yo sé - I know

bien - okay

Ay, ahí está ella - Hey, there she is

Gracias Papi - Thanks Daddy

Que ocurre - What’s wrong?

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

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lovelybunn · 2 years

Note

Hi! Could I request Post covid Kyle Broflovski x fem!reader nsfw headcanons please? Tysm!

nsfw hcs w/ post covid kyle broflovski.

warning(s): sexual themes, uses of petnames, afab!reader

author's note: my brain instantly thought of this when i saw this request (also if you know me and/or follow me, if you saw this post, no you didn't.)

His kinks.

giving praise.

"you're doing so good, baby." making you feel good is kyle's number one goal, both mentally and physically, so verbal praise is a go-to. he just adores that cute little look on your face when he tells you how gorgeous you are while he teases at your most sensitive areas.

ㅤ

being called "sir".

you might have accidentally or purposefully called him sir at some point, and ever since then, it really turns him on. the way the word just slides off your tongue hits him in the right way. especially when you mewl it out, begging for him to touch you.

ㅤ

overstimulation.

not only will this man either have his tongue, fingers, or cock plummeting deep inside you, he will almost always have some kind of toy to further push you over the edge. but don't worry, kyle will always let you cum; he isn't cruel.

ㅤ

marking.

he doesn't ever bite too hard, he doesn't want to hurt you. but don't get it twisted, he sucks hard enough where that hickey will be visible, and he makes sure of that. his favorite places to mark you, (besides your neck of course,) is your waist and everything in-between all the way down to your thighs. there's something so addictive to their tenderness and the way you squirm around him with each gentle touch.

ㅤ

phone sex.

hear me out. him being able to hear your sweet moans while he's at work is pure heaven for him. he loves encouraging you, edging you on, until you finally hit your high, and trust me, that won't be the last one of the day. ;)

ㅤ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ㅤ

ㅤ

What petnames does he give you?

baby.

"you're my pretty baby, aren't you? say it." to put it simply, your his baby, so of course he's gonna call you that. he wants you to feel loved, for you to know that you mean the world to him.

ㅤ

sweetie/sweetheart.

"oh, you can't handle it, sweetheart? i don't care." he's says this more in a sarcastic tone, but he always means well. he uses this especially during angry sex, which, because of kyle's proneness to losing his temper very easily, is common.

ㅤ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ㅤ

Ass, Thighs, or Tits?

ass.

kyle broflovski, believe it or not, likes ass a whole lot. and he just loves groping and smacking on yours. wear some cute jeans that hug you just right? he'd totally tap that. wear a skirt that's just so short it's virtually impossible to cover your ass up? expect to not be able to walk tomorrow.

ㅤ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ㅤ

How vocal is he?

hmm, not very.

he usually just hums against your ear. but sometimes, when kyle's really close, he'll whimper and tiny squeaks of moans will come out, but other than that, he'd prefer to be able to hear you instead.

ㅤ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ㅤ

Head, both giving and receiving.

giving.

when i tell you this man knows exactly what he's doing, i'm being very serious. not only does that tongue work wonders, those delivish eyes could make you cum all their own. like i said earlier, he loves to pleasure you, so he goes down on you pretty often.

ㅤㅤ

receiving.

"that's it, just like that, baby.." though he does prefer to give it to you, he's more than down for you to wrap your pretty little lips around his cock. (he's a man, what were you expecting?) fair warning, prepare for kyle broflovski's true jersey shore to come out when you give him head.

ㅤ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ㅤ

His favorite position(s).

missionary.

kyle is a very peculiar man. any place where he can see your face he would be satisfied with. he'll place you where your legs rest comfortably at his shoulders as he looks down endearingly at you.

ㅤ

doggystyle.

ass is his thing, so being able to see all that jiggling in his face while he pounds into to you is heaven in his eyes. just being to squeeze your plump cheeks is enough to drive kyle crazy.

ㅤ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ㅤ

Aftercare: Does he do it?

yes, of course he does.

kyle can't stand being all sweaty and gross after having sex with you, so he almost always will invite you to go take a nice, calming shower with him to slowly come down from your high. but he never stops praising you for how amazing you did (even if you didn't do much of anything). soft, gentle kisses and tender massages against your tight muscles are something kyle will do every time. and the cuddly nap you two will have afterward? spooning kyle broflovski? im jealous.

#south park #south park post covid #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #south park hcs #i literally dont know #i hope no one reads this #theres like #no tags #for this #south park x reader #south park headcanons

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shroomiewrites · 1 year

Text

Assignment tutoring || Professor!Price x F!Reader

Professor!Price x F!Reader || 5,9k words || NSFW || 18+ || Minors DNI

Warnings: AFAB reader, explicit sexual themes, degradation, creampie, spanking, praise, dirty talking, v penetration, fingering, oral (m/f receiving), power play, subby Price, a hint of exhibitionism.

⁠✧.*⁠Previous chapter || Private Lessons*⁠.⁠✧

Synopsis: You and Price convinced yourselves the last time would be just that, the last one. However he's been on your mind all week, consuming you to the point of insanity, and it seems like you weren't the only one...

You really shouldn't feel as proud and satisfied as you did when John Price walked into class the following Friday with a black turtleneck that, oh so conveniently, covered his neck. You also shouldn't have felt your entire body jolt as he locked eyes with you, the side of his mouth twitching up so subtly most people wouldn't notice. But you did. Because he's all you had been able to think of for the entirety of the past week, touching yourself, imagining, craving, that it was him instead.

He hadn't reached out to you. Not that he could, if you were being fair. You two agreed on not exchanging phone numbers, promising that that would be the last time. What can you say? You lie sometimes. Because there's no way in hell you wouldn't have him in your mouth at least once before you had to part for good and forever miss the way he wet his finger, unnecessarily lewd, before turning to the next page, babbling about some case that you frankly couldn't care less for.

You didn't miss the way he sneaked a few glances at you, more importantly, at your naked legs that sprawled out of the tight skirt you chose to wear today, for no particular reason of course.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched voice near you.

"Professor, does that correlate to the recent Wyatt X Johnson case?" You rolled your eyes.

Is water wet? How can anyone even ask such a stupid question–

"Great observation! The precedent is the same, indeed. Smart girl." He winked at her and you felt the breakfast you had in the morning go up your throat as she giggled, clearly proud of herself.

If she was a smart girl for that, you must be corporate law's fucking Einstein. Rage bubbled in your stomach and you bit the inside of your cheek. Yeah sure he's still a teacher but the wink? The damned wink?! Fuck him. Without any sexual connotation this time, just a pure, old, ill intentioned fuck him. 'You're the first student I've ever fucked' your ass.

The rest of the class was spent with you furiously typing away in your laptop, not sparing a second glance to the Greek god, thigh clenching– No. You wouldn't give him the time of day anymore. You felt used and discarded. Maybe he'd go down to that bar again and give private lessons to the stupid brunette with the huge ass that sat on the first row. You didn't care. You didn't care to look at him again, to imagine his eyes glued on your ass, as you swayed your hips on your way to the door, in a completely self-indulgent and not flaunting at him all that he lost way. For all you cared he could get down on his fucking knees and beg for your forgiveness. You should've known men like him stay single for a damn reas–

"Miss." You stopped dead in your tracks, a thick, husky voice coming from behind you and you knew damn well who it belonged to. How did he even get there so fast?

"Yes?" You didn't turn around, slightly looking down at your side.

"I need to talk to you about the assignment for next week." You didn't need to look at him to know that he had a complacent smile on, eyes running you up and down.

"Send me an email." You smiled to yourself, pleased, still not giving him the luxury of eye contact.

The confusion in his silence was palpable, felt warm and victorious as you took another step forward, hearing his shoes walk rapidly closer.

"I'm afraid it cannot be discussed through other means," he said, voice laced with second intentions and a tad of desperation that reminded you of how sweet he sounded when he begged.

"I'll take it up with the class's tutor then, heard he's pretty good–" your sentence was cut off by a pair of strong hands on your shoulder, harshly spinning you around and pushing you backwards until your back was against the wall, the loud sound of the door shutting close making you squeak.

From your seat during class it's so easy to forget just how tall Professor Price is, such a thing isn't possible as he glared down at you, body dangerously close as his full underarm laid above your head against the wall.

"Nowhere to run now, bunny." His tone was soft, the contrasting burning fire in his glance making you gulp, "What's wrong?" You avoided his gaze, looking away at a random wall.

His other hand slowly came up to your face, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear, sliding his fingers down to your chin in a light graze. He gently turned your face to him, gaze softened as he looked at your lips.

"Talk to me, love…" Goddam. It was so fucking hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that. Like he genuinely cared, like his heart ached from your avoidance.

"I was stupid enough to believe your bullshit when you said you weren't a pervert who went after your students. I guess that's on me for being so naive." Your words were laced with venom, biting your inner cheek as you watched his face contort in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" Eyebrows furrowed and his agape mouth as he took in your words was such a damn good look on him, it enraged you even more.

"'Great question! Smart girl!'," you repeated his words back to him mockingly.

For a few seconds his eyes narrowed, until he closed them with a sigh, looking down. When his head came back up a small tender smile hung on his lips, gaze soft as he looked at you lovingly.

"Is that why ya avoided me for the rest of class?" His fingers laid on your cheek, thumb caressing it slowly. A scarlet tint washed over your face, biting your lip, you didn't answer his question.

A small hoarse chuckle erupted from him, your embarrassment quickly being replaced with anger.

"Ugh, fuck off, John," you said through gritted teeth, trying to break away from his grasp. There's no way he'd just toy with you and then be a dick when confronted about it.

His big hands swiftly held your waist, keeping you in place as he smiled brightly, watching adoringly as you squirmed under him, wanting nothing more than to simply dissipate into thin air.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," his words made you stop wiggling under him, looking up surprised, "it wasn't my intention to upset you."

Fuck him. Fuck him a thousand times and all his good communication skills as well. You wanted him to laugh at you more, call you crazy and obsessed, maybe even gaslight you a little so you could easily get over him and his stupid good looks instead of feeling butterflies flutter about in your stomach whenever you caught a glimpse of his kind gaze.

"I'm not– it's– I just…" You tripped over your words, trying to make sense of the incoherent thoughts flowing inside your mind.

"I never meant to make you feel like I don't respect you or the stunnin', strong willed woman you are."

Your wedding would be during spring. Maybe in a vineyard, the greens would suit his eyes, you looked good in pastels and liked wine. You could switch it up for the honeymoon, maybe a wintery location, like Switzerland or maybe you could spend a nice summer in the Bahamas. Ugh, he'd look fantastic in a bathing suit–

"Do you forgive me, bunny?" Your thoughts were interrupted by his raspy voice whispering in your ear, leaving a single peck on your cheek on the way. You weren't sure where he even got the pet name from, but secretly wished he never stopped using it.

"I…" Of course you forgave him. There's not a single cell in your body that didn't want to pull him in for a kiss and show that you'd completely and fully forgave him the second he looked at you with those bright, pleading eyes. At the same time… It couldn't hurt to take advantage of the situation just a little bit, right? Just to hear his words of praise dance around your ears a little more before you let him off, "I don't know…" you muttered, a pout on your lips as you turned away from him.

You felt his smile, his shit eating grin as he pressed another kiss under your earlobe. A low hum reverberating against your throat, body tingling with the way his hands roamed down your sides to your back, squeezing your ass over your skirt.

"Guess I'll just have to make it up to ya, hm?" Your legs already felt like jelly, the grit of his voice sending a heat straight down your core.

You sucked in a breath as his lips got lower, softly pecking your skin until he got to your neck, removing the hair that draped over your shoulder and noticing the remnants of the love bites he left there. You bit your lip, noticing the lustful gleam of his eyes, clearly proud of his work.

"They're almost all faded out now…" he commented lowly, kissing one, "Will have to make new ones, so everyone knows you're mine." You felt a shiver run down your back at the words, feeling the wet spot in your panties starting to form.

"Am I?" you whispered back, moaning softly as he answered by taking the soft skin of your neck between his teeth, sucking it until he let go with a small pop, licking the sore spot after.

You closed your eyes, taking pleasure in the way his hands massaged your bottom, mouth skillfully filling your neck and shoulders in kisses and hickeys. His hair tickled your cheek and you ran your fingers through his scalp, earning a groan from him that made you squeeze your legs together.

"You smell so fuckin' good," he commented, fingers digging into your flesh harder.

Your eyes shot open as his head slithered away from your fingers. His back hunched over, hands brushed the back of your thighs, until they got to your ankle. Your heart beat fast and hard against your chest, so loud you swore he could hear you too. Your mouth stood agape as you watched Price get on his knees in front of you, looking up at you with a smirk, his hands sliding back up your legs and taking the hem of your skirt with it until it revealed the red lacy panties you had set aside for the day for no particular reason.

"You're such a bloody minx," he chuckled, entertained by the way your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

When his fingers brushed against your clothed clit, you threw your head back, hand coming up to cover your own mouth trying not to moan, hearing steps and muffled voices from the other side of the wall.

"J-John, the corridor is right here, someone could catch us," You tried to be the voice of reason, knowing damn well that deep down you could not care less if the pope himself barged through that door.

"It's the lunch interval, no?" He glanced up, an innocent smile on his features as his hand wrapped on the side of your panties, ripping them from you, the sound of tearing fabric making your mind go blank for a split second, "And I'm hungry." You couldn't contain the moan that escaped your lips as his head disappeared between your thighs.

It was unholy, wicked even, how fucking good his mouth felt against your wet pussy. Lapping up your juices, hands groping your ass as he ate you out like a man starved. His nose bumped against your tummy, tongue swirling around your clit. Your legs shook with the sparks that zapped through your body, hand coming down to his shoulder for support, the other one still covering your mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet.

"I've been dreaming of tasting you ever since that day," he spoke against you, beard tickling your skin, "You're even sweeter than I imagined, bunny… So bloody good…" He went back to sucking on your lips and licking up and down.

"F-Fuck… John, please…" you whimpered, trying to keep your balance.

He hummed in pleasure hearing the way your name fell from your lips, so desperate and sweet it motivated him to go faster, one hand gripping the back of your thigh and yanking it over his shoulder, pressing you flush against the wall as he practically dived into you with the newfound angle.

Your mind was in a frenzy, trying to stop yourself from screaming his name, his pace unforgiving and relentless. The slurping sounds and his half lidded eyes that looked up at you as he groaned were sending you near the edge. As if reading your thoughts his other hand let go of your ass and one of his thick fingers entered you without warning. A loud moan escaped from you, being slightly muffled by your hand and he smiled against you, pumping his finger in and out of you while he devoured you.

Your chest puffed heavily, feeling completely overwhelmed by all the stimulus he provided. You entangled your fingers between his hair again, keeping him in place while you unsuccessfully tried to manage your oncoming orgasm.

"F-Fuck, I'm-I'm gonna- oh, God…" You could barely think straight to form a coherent sentence, feeling a second finger plunge into you, the wetness of your arousal and his spit providing the perfect lube for him to finger you repeatedly, relishing in the way your chest rose up and down, pulling on his hair as he swirled his tongue around your clit, putting more pressure on his movements.

You barely had time to register your high as it crashed down on you, your body shaking uncontrollably while he held you in place firmly by your leg, never slowing down for a second until you nearly fell on top of him, limbs completely giving out, gasping for air.

He let go of you, and the sight of him. Christ. The fucking sight of him. Nothing could prepare you for the unhallowed vision of John Price on his knees, mouth red and glistening with your wetness, his beard covered in his own spit and your own slick, cheeks flushed slightly. But none of that even gets close to his narrowed eyes, drunk on your taste, licking his lips to try and savor as much as he can, the bulge on his pants so big you were sure it must hurt. You wanted to remember every single detail of the scene, get a damn painting done so you could hang it in your room and just stare at it all day.

He got up from his knees, enclosing you against the wall again, wet fingers coming up to your mouth and you mindlessly took them in, sucking and licking them, tasting yourself as he watched you focused, breathing hard.

"Good fuckin' girl…" he growled in a whisper and you whimpered at the praise, legs rubbing together, feeling the way his saliva and your juices smeared on your inner thighs.

He took his fingers out of your mouth, immediately replacing it with his lips, one of his hands clutched the back of your thigh, raising it to fix it on his side as he pushed you against the wall, his dick rubbing your pussy harshly, desperately wishing for friction. His tongue licked yours, spreading your own taste around your mouth, moaning into the kiss.

"Goddamit, baby, you're driving me bloody insane. Can't stop thinking about you." His confession left you wide eyed, staring into his eyes to try and find a hint of doubt or sarcasm, but he just looked back at you, eyes dazed and soft following yours.

You didn't want to think of the implications and consequences his words had. No. Not now. You'd have time to regret it all later, after you had your fill of him, after you explored his entire body and mapped out every mole that adorned his skin. After you discovered every possible sound he could make with your lips wrapped around his cock and how his face would contort beautifully as you swallowed every last drop of him.

You palmed him through his jeans, feeling the outline of his dick. Somehow it's even bigger than you remembered, flashbacks of your sore legs filled your mind as you smiled to yourself. He threw his head onto your shoulder, a raspy moan left his lips as you pressed harder, aching to feel more of him again.

"Fuck…. my office. Now." His voice was commanding and impatient, letting your leg down.

Your eyes twinkled in excitement, lips curling up as you adjusted your skirt again, making your way to the small office room to the opposite wall of the auditorium. Price stopped for a second, looking around until he found the red lace of your panties, stuffing it into his pocket.

"You need to stop doing that," you chuckled, he looked at you puzzled,"Ripping my panties." His lips morphed into a lopsided grin, shrugging.

"It's for my collection." You raised your brows, unamused.

"Of students ripped panties?" He tilted his head approaching you, one arm snaking around your waist, pulling you to him. He planted a wet, loud kiss on your lips.

"Of your ripped panties." Your breath hitched, the words hitting you like a train and he looked awfully proud of it, slapping your ass once before walking inside the room, waiting for you to follow.

You giggled to yourself, trying to ignore the butterflies again as you made your way inside. He closed the door behind you, locking it and closing the blinds.

He walked to you slowly, eyes predatory and dark, wetting his lips.

"There's so much I wanna do with you, bunny…" His voice was as low as a whisper, tone alluring and menacing at the same time, igniting a deep desire in you that you almost found immoral.

You walked towards him, hands coming up his chest to his nape. You kissed him deeply, pulling at the base of his hair before biting down on his lip, delighted at the way he hissed.

"It's my turn now, professor." You whispered in his ear, enunciating each syllable of the word slowly and maliciously.

He groaned at your words, hands trying to skim up your body before you intercepted them. He shot you a confused look.

"On your chair." You ordered, smiling deviously. He bit his lip, smiling at you expectantly before walking to his office chair behind the desk, slowly sitting down on it, legs spread, giving you a perfect vision of his cock desperately trying to jump out of the confinement of his pants.

You took your time, taking one step after another, gaze never leaving his as you swayed your hips, fingers grazing the top of the table as you circled around it, before stopping in front of him.

"Have you imagined what I'd look like kneeled in front of you? Deep throating your cock?" Your tone was serious and stern, fishing a reaction out of him. You saw the way he twitched in his pants, eyes closing for a moment before opening again and staring at you.

"Every damn day." You smiled in victory. Taking another step until you were in between his legs. He raised his arm, trying to caress your leg but you slapped his hand away, the gesture making him look at you surprised.

"Then beg for it." The words left your mouth dripping in lust, his mouth agape as he looked up processing your words.

"What?" His voice was low and soft and you smiled, hands running through his hair. He melted into it, eyes fluttering close at the tingling sensation the scrape of your nails against his scalp sent his body.

"You heard me. You want me kneeling in front of you, mouth stuffed with your cock…" He sucked in a breath, invoking the mental image he had curated in his mind a million times, "Beg for it." You yanked his hair back into the chair, getting wet again by the whimper that escaped his lips.

He opened his eyes, gulping and biting his lip.

"Please, baby." You wish you could record it, the pleading tone of his words, desperate eyes scanning your features.

"Harder." Another yank to his hair and he hissed, a soft moan now reaching your ears as he shifted in his seat.

"Fuck- pl-please, please, baby… want you on your knees, to feel your pretty lips around me," his breath was ragged and loud, you smiled triumphantly at him, letting go of his hair and taking a step back, sinking to your knees.

The expression that flooded his face was the single hottest thing you'd ever seen, a mix of shock, lust and desperation. He looked inebriated and lost in thought, anticipating every move you made. You wanted to have him like that forever, aching for you, throbbing.

You ran your hands up his thighs, palms going over his clothed member as you fiddled with the button of his pants. You slid down the zipper and he slightly raised his hips, allowing you to pull the hem down, revealing his black underwear, cock pulsing under it. You nearly drooled at the view, imagining how he'd taste against your tongue.

The gasp of relief Price let out when you pulled him out of his underwear sent you reeling. You spread the pre cum on his tips with your fingers as you pumped him. He threw his head back, soft groans leaving his mouth in huffs.

"Look at me. Want you to see me take you in." You ordered and he obliged, half closed eyes looking at you in near pain. You opened your mouth wide, tongue sliding out as you licked a long stripe from the base of his shaft to his tip.

"B-Bloody hell-" he sighed, an immediate wave of pleasure washing over him.

His hand came up to your head, bunching your hair in his grasp. You shook your head, looking up at him innocently.

"No, no. No touching, or I'll stop." The flash of pain and distress that took his features shouldn't have made you as horny and wet as it did.

"Bunny, please-" You let go of his member and he growled, legs shaking before painstakingly removing his hand from your head, laying them over the armchair, clenching his fingers around the cushions so hard they looked like they'd explode.

You smirked, closing your hands around his dick again and he sighed in relief, looking down at you in pleasure. You kept your eyes glued on his as you licked his length again, stopping at the tip to close your mouth around him, swirling your tongue. He shook under you, a string of curses and moans coming out his lips. You could see his hands trembling slightly, clearly having to restrain himself from touching you and for a second you nearly pitied him. Nearly.

His gaze was fixated on you, the way your lips pursed around his head, hand holding the bottom of his dick in swirling motions while your tongue just danced around him, the sadistic pleasure that gleamed behind your eyes was terrifying in the most carnal, sexual way possible, it nearly made John cum right there and then. He obligated himself to hold tight, dreaming of it for days, there's no way he'd let it end quickly. Or that's what he thought.

"O-Oh fuckin'-" His head flew back as your mouth went down his cock, nose hitting his crotch as you sucked him. His fingers dug deeper into the chair, desperately trying to keep them away from you.

He looked down at you again, breath hitching as he took in the marvelous look of you deep throating him, eyes watering and moaning, drool pooling on your chin. He groaned at the sight and you felt your wetness double, the sound sending a warm throb down your center. You bobbed your head up once, twice, watery eyes never ungluing from his face, relishing in the way his brows furrowed and hisses left his mouse. You took him all the way in again, gagging at the way his head hit the back of your throat, a single tear running down your cheek.

"J-Jesus fuckin' christ-" he huffed out, angling his hips to fuck into your mouth.

"You like that, hm?" Your mouth left his dick, licking it down as you blinked innocently at him.

"You're so damn good, love," It came out as a near whisper, throaty and brittle, sending shivers down your legs.

It served as enough incentive for you to dive in again, keeping him in deep for a few seconds, using the incoherent babbles he spilled as a distraction to not gag at his size. You were out of breath when you let him go with a soft pop, using your hands to keep him going while you caught your breath.

"Love your cock so much, professor… Feels so good in my mouth," He trembled at your words, rutting into your hands.

You giggled and took him in your mouth again, going faster and faster, head dizzy as you heard him panting. His legs shook softly, the sounds of the leather squeaking as his hands dragged it in a failed attempt at staying still. One of your hands darted down to between your legs, feeling your own juices spreading around your inner thighs, you ran your finger up your clit, moaning on his cock as you touched yourself. You entered a single digit into yourself, the pleasure of tasting him and your wet hole nearly being too much.

"Just like that, bunny, f-fuck…" You kept your pace, sucking him harshly until his thighs writhed under you, coming to a halt as a hot, salty liquid poured down your throat, tears flowing freely as you tried your best not to choke on it.

Once you felt it slow down, you took him off your mouth, a drop of cum sliding down your chin until you caught it with your finger, putting in back into your mouth, swallowing it. John watched you with his bottom lip in between his teeth, breath ragged and eyes dark and dazed. You opened your mouth wide to him, showing that you had swallowed all of him and he smirked, hand coming up to graze your cheek in a tender gesture.

"Such a good girl for me…" he muttered and you licked your lips, a satisfied smile forming.

Your finger was still inside you, desperately wishing to be filled by something, anything. His gaze ran down your arm until he met the sight of your hand between your legs, a sloshing sound ringing in his ears as he chuckled maliciously.

"Couldn't hold yourself back, my little whore?" You trembled at the title, moaning and shaking your head, "You're lucky I've been craving that tight little cunt all week and that we don't have time, I should punish you for your little game just now," he rasped, eyes narrowing at you as you looked away from him, "Up." You obliged.

His hands met your hips, twisting you around until you faced the table. A harsh push on your back made you fold over, arms on either side of your body as you got bent over the wooden table, ass up in the air. One of his hands held the small of your back in place, the other coming down in a loud slap that made the entire table shake, the sound of the pens and pencils shaking in the holder calling your attention. You couldn't give it too much thought, feeling two of his thick fingers trace your wet slit, a gasp followed by a moan escaped your mouth.

"Look at this pretty pussy, hm…" He pressed down harder and you squirmed, "All mine. To eat, finger, fuck… Right, darling?" You nodded quickly, a broken cry echoing the room as he pumped two of his fingers into you without warning.

His hand slid from your back to your ass, massaging the flesh there and pulling on it slightly to get a better view of you as he was knuckles deep in you in fast strikes. You were starting to get used to the feeling when it suddenly stopped as he pulled out his fingers, the wet sounds and low hums indicating to you that he had them in his mouth, tasting you again. The mental image you made of it was enough to make you shudder, hips moving back until they hit his legs, anxious for any friction. His dark laugh filled the room.

"Look at you, baby… I don't even need to tell you to beg, your body does it on its own." Both his hands clutched your buttocks, sending you forward on the table again, until one left, coming down in a slap against your pussy this time and you jumped, a loud moan of his name making him groan.

Your nails scratched the table as you felt more tears come down your face at the delicious sting that warmed your core. Legs jolting as he did it again. He caressed your back, touch traveling up your body until it reached your head, where he raked his fingers through your strands, pulling them harshly. The wet, swollen tip of his cock brushed against your entrance and you whimpered in need. He rammed into you in an unforgiving move, his thighs hitting your ass, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. He thrusted deeply, staying still in you as pleas rained from your mouth, the spot he immediately hit setting your mind ablaze.

"You're so- so bloody tight. Even more than I- fuckin' remembered," he growled behind you, slowly pulling out until only his tip was in you before slamming back into you again, you screamed his name, the burning sensation sending sparkles all over your body.

He slowly picked up his pace, still hitting that same deep spot over and over again, his own moans mixing with yours in the sweetest of melodies. He gripped your waist, pulling you to him each time he lunged into you, the squeeze of your walls around his dick making him shudder behind you. You felt a hot, burning sensation flood your belly, high approaching as he mercilessly fucked you.

"J-John, please, fuck, fuck, fuck-" you sobbed and he increased his pace, sending you over the edge.

"You're gonna cum for me again, sweetheart? C'mon, cum around my dick, love." Your mind spinned, legs trembling.

"S'too much- c'cant-" you started but he pulled you into him harder, a scream flying from your lips.

"You can, baby. Take my dick like the good girl you are," he spoke through gritted teeth, heaving out the words.

You felt your body on fire as your orgasm washed over you, clenching around his member harshly, a scream scratching your throat as you shook under him, right as his own high hit, pumping you full of his cum. He thrusted into you a few more times before coming to a stop. The sounds of your heavy breathing and the smell of sex infested the ambiance, sweaty bodies brushing against each other. He pulled out of you, leaving a long kiss on the small of your back before plopping down on the chair.

You took a few seconds to regain your consciousness, sprawled over his table. When you finally felt good enough to stand up, John extended a water bottle to you, a content grin spreading over his mouth, beads of sweat accumulating over his brow.

"Thank you," You took it, gulping down until your throat didn't feel as dry anymore.

You left the bottle on the table, feeling his fingers feather the side of your thigh absentmindedly. When your eyes met his, he had them closed, still smiling. You couldn't help the delighted look that rose to your face, sitting on his thigh, arms hooking up around his neck as his own engulfed you, pulling you against his broad chest.

"You okay, my little bunny?" There go those butterflies again. You nodded, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, he opened his eyes, head turning softly to you, that same adoring gleam on his eyes.

"What?" you asked, feeling weirdly small.

"You're beautiful…" he whispered, voice far away, almost like it was a thought he didn't mean to say out loud. You smiled sadly, a sigh leaving your lips.

"We can't keep this up…" It was the truth none of you wanted to admit. The elephant in the room ever since the first drink you shared in that bar. Amidst your lustful thoughts about Price, you also had the anxious ones, the creeping paranoia of what could happen to both of you if anyone ever found out about your escapades.

His gaze softened into sadness, lips quivering down into a line. He sighed and looked away from you, hands still drawing small circles on your skin.

"I know." Was all he said, but you knew there was a lot more hidden behind that.

It was a 'I know, but you keep teasing me still', 'I know, but you looked fantastic in that scrap you call a skirt', 'I know, but your lips are so soft', 'I know, but you're all I've been able to think of for the past damn week'.

"If anyone found out we-" He shushed you in the middle of your sentence, leaving a trail of soft kisses over your face. You melted into it, trying to shake off the horrible feeling that bubbled inside you.

"Hey, look at me," he whispered, hooking his finger under your jaw and bringing your eyes up to his, "I'm never gonna let anything bad happen to you. Never. I promise, bunny." You shouldn't have felt as safe as you did, shouldn't have let out a breath of relief as the worries left your body and you let your body relax into him.

You knew the pang in your chest, the small pea under the mattresses and mattresses of lustful and crude thoughts was something else, not just worry for your academic career. It was something a bit more bittersweet, that you'd rather die than acknowledge now. It was hard enough as it is, you didn't need more complex thoughts plaguing your judgment. It'd be over soon, anyway. He'd leave, your old professor would come back, and you'd retell the tale of how you hooked up with your professor in a bar conversation 10 years from now. That's all you two were ever bound to be, a fling story.

For now tho, it was enough to just leave the future worries for future you. For now it was enough to feel the way his chest rose up and down softly with each breath he took, the sound of his heartbeat reverberating against your own body as you entangled yourself in him, not missing the way his arms tightened around you, like you were going to slip away from him at any point. But neither of you said anything, you didn't need to. That was your little tacenda. And you cherished it with your heart.

A/N: Is it painfully obvious that I'm in love with this man? T-T, anyway!! This chapter took a bit more work than the previous one, I didn't want it to have too big of a jump and lose all the good development of their relationship but also not be right after where we left, hopefully this was a good middle ground and I could do justice to all the ~emotions~ they're feeling now.

Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading S2

#Professor!Price #John Price #Captain Price #DILF Price #fanfic #cod mw2 #cod #smut #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty

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