#…I don’t fucking have a lawn but you know what I mean
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Bluffing Season
Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist
Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍
Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.
Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
Late October
Beep Beep Beep
Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida.
You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.
“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.
He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”
Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?
“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.
He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor.
-
Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him.
But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!
You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks.
“Hey!”
Not again.
“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster.
“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon.
…Is he fucking for real?
You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit.
“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”
He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.
“I guess not.”
“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.
The fucking nerve of that man.
The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door.
-
The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case.
“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”
“Sure! Which one would you like?”
“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle.
“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”
“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”
You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious.
“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle.
“Black is fine.”
You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks.
You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?
You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out.
“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”
“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter.
The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan.
“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!”
She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you.
“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving.
Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst.
Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated.
…Or so you thought.
Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year.
You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally.
Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?
You know what, why not?
You respond with:
Oooh, what time and where?
You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You check your phone and Ally says;
7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there.
She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling.
You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?
Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…
You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face.
“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder.
Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”
Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys?
“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder.
“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before.
“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand.
“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile.
“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair.
“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”
“Uh, she’s not coming.”
“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”
“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out.
“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy.
He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter.
“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.
“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”
He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife.
“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”
“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly.
You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.
“You want me to leave the fish?”
“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.
“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design.
“That better?”
“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”
“I get that-”
“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter.
“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start.
“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders.
You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling.
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly.
“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”
“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face.
“By all means,” Frankie says.
“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”
“Hard cider?”
“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator.
You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick?
You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly.
“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says.
“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced.
Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally.
“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember.
Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking.
“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty.
“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him.
Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head.
“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”
“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?
You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets.
And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.
You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?
“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.
“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond.
Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone?
But also… why not?
You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!”
You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost.
“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs.
Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”
The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”
You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?
“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny.
“Down the hall on your right,” he says.
You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings?
You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny.
You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”
“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”
“I’d like that,” you smile.
You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.
“Happy birthday by the way,” you say.
He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?
You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics:
1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks.
2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up.
3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him.
4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole.
And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him.
-
Mid-December
Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time.
The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever.
From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all.
But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too.
Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving.
“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone.
“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone.
“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”
“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”
“Uhh-”
“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”
“I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”
“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”
As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?
“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”
As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway…
“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.
“Hi,” you say awkwardly.
“I need to ask you for a favor.”
“Okay…”
“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”
“Spit it out.”
“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”
Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not being serious.”
“I am.”
“But… why?”
“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”
“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”
“It’s not funny.”
“I know it’s not.”
“So, you’ll help me?”
“Why can’t you just go home alone?”
“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”
“What’s in it for me?” you sigh.
“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”
“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”
“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”
You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once.
“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself.
He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.
“Wait!”
He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”
“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.
“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.
“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.
“How long are we there?”
“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”
It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?
“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”
“Savannah, Georgia.”
Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.
“Okay,” you sigh.
“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”
“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”
“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”
You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”
“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon.
You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time.
“Hello?”
“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.
“What happened with your neighbor?”
“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”
“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”
“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”
“And that is?”
“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”
“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”
“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”
“What’s his name?”
“Frankie.”
“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”
Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.
“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”
“Alright. Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?
-
It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you.
“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”
“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes.
You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind.
It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.
You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course.
For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”
“Okay…” you say awkwardly.
Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again.
“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”
You were dreading this conversation.
“Yeah…”
“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”
“I know,” you sigh.
“Think you can do that?”
“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”
“Right…”
You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go.
“I guess we have to get to know each other.”
“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”
“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”
“Gotcha.”
“What about you?”
“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”
“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”
“I joined right after I got out of high school.”
“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”
“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”
“Gotcha. What do you do now?”
“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”
“We don’t have to talk about-”
“Our friend passed.”
“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”
He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic.
“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”
“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”
“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”
“I pretended I was sick.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”
“Right.”
“She didn’t even know my full name.”
The cake that you made.
“Yeah…”
“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”
“About that.”
“Hm?”
“Do you know where she got that cake from?”
“No.”
“She came to my store.”
“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”
“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”
“I know…” he sighs.
“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”
“You did?”
“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle.
“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat.
“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask.
“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”
“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”
“That about sums me up I guess.”
“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”
“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”
“And also not cutting your lawn.”
“Listen-”
“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease.
“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”
“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically.
“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”
“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”
He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet.
It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you.
-
You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”
“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn.
“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”
“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”
You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.
“I noticed,” you say coldly.
Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!
“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”
“You and your friends are just… loud.”
“Oh.”
“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”
“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him.
“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not.
“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”
“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”
“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases.
“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”
“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”
“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm.
“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”
“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”
“I think so, too.”
Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead.
“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say.
“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot.
“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door.
“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side.
He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.
“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom.
“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods.
You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance.
You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up.
“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag.
You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got.
“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”
“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”
“I think I’m all set,” you nod.
You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.
“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag.
“Oh god, why?”
“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”
“Okay.”
“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”
“You’re the baby of the family?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. It just tracks.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”
“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this.
“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”
“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”
“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”
You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to.
“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face.
“I think so?”
“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”
“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”
“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”
“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”
“That sounds tough.”
“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.”
“I understand,” Frankie says softly.
“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”
“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”
“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”
“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”
The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug.
“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head.
“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”
“You know I like the hat, Ma.”
She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met.
“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands.
“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile.
“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”
“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house.
It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples.
“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her.
“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”
“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”
“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”
“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth.
“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”
“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet.
“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”
“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”
“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”
Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Tired?” you chuckle.
“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”
“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says.
“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically.
“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.
“Where did you put the lemon bars?”
“In the refrigerator.”
“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”
“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”
“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs.
“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs.
“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie.
Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left.
“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him.
“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost.
“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture.
“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment.
“Definitely my dad,” he says.
You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s.
“Are you tired?” he asks.
“A little,” you yawn.
“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly.
“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
“Oh, right. Just making sure.”
He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other.
“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”
He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes.
“…I won’t while we’re home.”
“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes.
“Goodnight?” he says.
“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle.
…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?
“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to be cold.”
“What’s your solution then?”
“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”
“No, do not do that.”
“Or there’s the other option.”
“Uh huh…”
“I could hold you.”
“…You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.”
“…Fine.”
You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something.
“Better?”
“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”
As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass.
…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?
Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep.
-
You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence.
Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?
Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side.
“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily.
“That was nice of her.”
“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”
“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.
“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge.
“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”
“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”
“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…
“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”
You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits.
“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.
“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”
“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off.
A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be.
“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”
“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza.
“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”
“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie.
“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says.
“I could tell,” you snicker.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.
“What about you, dear?” his mom asks.
“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”
“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”
“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”
“Whatever,” Frankie sighs.
“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink.
You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid.
“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head.
“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare.
“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”
“No,” Frankie says quickly.
“Oh yes,” you laugh.
“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh.
Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.
“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”
“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs.
“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her.
“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says.
As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”
“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell.
“You want to shower?”
Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”
“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”
He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet.
“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet.
“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…
What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?
You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs.
A knock on the door brings you back to reality.
“Can I come in?” Frankie asks.
“Uhh-”
“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”
“I guess.”
He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself.
But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute?
You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…
That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable.
You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while.
Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent.
-
The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy.
You roll over and ask, “You okay?”
“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”
“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”
“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”
“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”
“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”
“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.
“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”
“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”
“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”
He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.
You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove.
“Good morning you two,” she smiles.
“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”
“Thank you, honey.”
“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”
“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”
“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”
“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”
“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you.
To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”
As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite.
“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter.
“Yeah?”
“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”
“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”
“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?”
“Nah.”
That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida.
Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”
“Around five or so.”
It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower.
“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind.
“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”
“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove.
You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family.
Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara.
He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink.
“You look…”
“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him.
“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide.
“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”
“No rush. Take your time.”
You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.
“You look beautiful, honey,” she says.
“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her.
“Francisco’s in the shower?”
“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets.
She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table.
“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.
“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches.
“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says.
“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.
“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”
Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again.
“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags.
Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”
You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?
“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs.
“Hi.”
“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”
“I hope so,” you say.
You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly.
You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening.
“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts.
He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!”
You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”
“She’s the oldest?”
He nods. It makes sense.
She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand.
“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases.
“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”
You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged.
Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name.
“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”
This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”
“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say.
But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations.
“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie.
“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”
“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”
Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive.
And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived.
Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.
You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course.
Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”
“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.
“Go ahead,” Rosa says.
“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”
Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”
The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect.
“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching.
“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair.
He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”
“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand.
“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”
The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two.
With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off
“Frankie?”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”
He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.
“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”
He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story.
“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”
“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.
“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”
“I get it,” you say softly.
“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”
He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity.
“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath.
You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty.
“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”
“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”
“Understandable.”
“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”
“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”
That actually gets him to laugh.
“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”
You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie.
“I know that was a lot…” he says.
“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him.
“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”
“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear.
“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep.
-
You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful.
And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend.
“Frankie?”
“Yeah?”
Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight…
Whatever, worry about that later.
“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”
“Already took care of it.”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?”
“Right,” you say, lying on your back.
“Merry Christmas,” he smiles.
“Merry Christmas,” you respond.
“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”
You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase.
“What did I get her?”
“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”
“Ooh, good idea.”
He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it.
“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”
“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs.
You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree.
You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away.
“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was.
Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”
The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you.
Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table.
The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars.
Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.
“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.
That earned him a smack on the arm.
Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.
“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.
“Where are we going?”
“For a walk,” he says.
You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”
“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”
“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.
He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.
“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”
“Look at the back,” he says softly.
You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you.
He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”
“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.
And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night.
“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.
“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”
“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”
“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.
After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”
You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time.
Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more.
“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”
“You’re sorry?”
“Well yeah, I-”
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”
“How long?”
“Soon after you moved in next door.”
“Really? I thought you hated me.”
“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”
Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.
“Even when you were with Heather?”
“Mhm.”
“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”
“...Maybe,”
“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.
This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.
“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.
“Yeah?”
“What about like… your mom?”
“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before.
He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already.
“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.
Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.
“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.
He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so.
Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you.
“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.
“Oh??”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”
“Uhh-”
“Your bathroom window faces mine.”
“...It does?”
“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”
“Oh yeah? And then what?”
He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”
Your whole body shudders.
“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.
“Are you begging, cariño?”
“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.
“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.
“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.
“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”
It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.
“Y-yes…” you confess.
“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips.
“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”
“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.
“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”
“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.
“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.
“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.
You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.
“Look at me,” he softly commands.
You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.
“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.
“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.
“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.
“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.
You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.
New Year’s Eve
You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.
You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.
“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”
“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back.
Tag list: @wannab-urs @noxturnalpascal @hiddenbabynyc @littlegrungegirlaf @hyzer34 @catchallfangirl @pamasaur @paleidiot @runningmom94 @butiknewyoudlinger @sydneyinacoma @yorksgirl @wilderwizard @hnt-escape @axshadows @fanficlover1414 @lavema @yazsos @tarot-freader @dundienominee @pedropascalfan221 @khindahra @janaispunk @tuquoquebrute @perotovar @clawdee @immarocketman @whoreofabuckethead @grogusmum @idungoofed @fluffygoffpanda @meveispunk @beefrobeefcal @magpiepillsjunior @pr0ximamidnight @elvinaa @survivingandenduring @lincolndjarin @missladym1981 @heavennumber2 @covetyou @anoverwhelmingdin @hellfire-state-of-mind @joels-shitty-puns @stevie75
#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales smut#francisco morales#frankie catfish morales#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier#pedro pascal characters#pedrostories#pedro pascal fanfiction
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her lips on your neck — j. maybank
meant to have this up last night, but i got fucked up lolz
❝ since you admitted it,
i keep picturing
her lips on your neck,
i can't unsee it ❞
pairing: cheater!jj x fem!reader
context: late at night, you get back to the obx from a week-long trip to new york with your parents and decide to surprise your boyfriend and best friends.
words: 1.4k+
warnings: cheating (i don't condone it!!), might break you, no happy ending, ANGST ANGST ANGST
"what the fuck are we suppose to tell y/n?" you hear pope mention your name, as he sat with john b in the enclosed back porch of the chateau and immediately stop yourself from joining them, curious as to what else they had to say.
"dude, i don't know," john b shrugged at him, the expression on his face looking as if he was torn between some hard decision.
what could they possibly be talking about?
"i mean, it's not like they meant for it to happen, right?" john b continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of something.
"do you really think she'll see it that way?" pope asks him. "jj just slept with kie."
john b winces at pope's words like they were too hard for him to hear and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your eyes becoming blurry with tears as anger starts coursing through your veins.
"we gotta tell her," pope adds.
they didn't even hear that you'd entered the porch, now only standing a few feet away from them.
"you just did." the sound of your voice causes them to snap their heads towards you, both of them now completely at a loss for words. "is jj here?" you speak slowly to stop your voice from shaking.
when neither of them reply and just exchange glances, you repeat yourself. "where's. jj."
"y/n…" john b starts to stand from his seat, but you don't let him finish or get any closer, before you're barging into the chateau.
you feel your body shake as jj comes out of one of the rooms chuckling and pulling his muscle tank down.
"you didn't," you shake your head as he looks at you.
"y/n…"
when kiara comes out of the same room and steps up behind him, you get your answer.
"you did," you say, your eyes shifting from kie to jj.
"babe, i-" jj begins, taking a step towards you.
"no," you immediately cut him off and hold a hand out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer. “we’re done.”
that was two weeks ago. you hadn’t seen jj, or your friends since then, actively trying to avoid them as much as possible. that didn’t stop them from texting though.
john b and pope have checked in every now and then to make sure you’re doing okay, while kie and jj blow your phone up 24/7 with empty apologies.
j<3: i’m outside. please let me explain.
you stare at the text on your phone for a second and hop to your feet to peek out the window, where surely enough, you saw jj perched against his bike on the curb of your front lawn, waiting.
letting out a deep sigh and against your better judgment, you walk towards the front door and open it, only to find that he had walked up your front porch and was about to knock.
“hey…” his voice is small, and his baby blue eyes light up at the sight of you, making your heart ache.
by the prominent eye bags under them, you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but wasn’t that how it should have been? he was the one who cheated on you.
you don’t say a word and just turn to walk further into your living room, jj following after you and shutting the door.
“i know you don’t owe me anything,” he continues, as you turn to look at him again, your arms crossed across your chest.
“you’re right, i don’t,” you say, trying to be cold.
it was hard, though. there was a piece of your heart that still yearned for him. a piece that you had a feeling would love him forever. no matter how badly he’s just screwed you over.
“why’d you do it?” you ask.
“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “i don’t know why i did it. we were drinking… and talking… you weren’t here, and i- i guess we just…”
“what?” you feel your hand start to shake as he tried to come up with an excuse. “got caught up in the moment?”
“y- yeah…” he glances down, and you scoff.
“god, i am such an idiot!” you run your hands through your hair and take a seat on the armchair behind you.
“y/n that’s not…” he slowly approaches you while you shake your head at him.
“i should’ve known,” you say. “it was her before me.”
jj shakes his head as he closes the distance between the two of you and crouches down in front of you, a hand landing on your knee. “baby, that’s not true.”
you glance at his hand on your knee before looking at him again. “but it is.”
“look, i fucked up, okay?” he said, his tone desperate now. “i know that. but please… please believe me when i tell you that it was a mistake. and it’s never going to happen again.”
“how can i believe that?” you ask, tears threatening to brim along your lower lashes.
“just trust me,” he tells you.
a bitter scoff falls from your lips as you stand up and cross the room, half angry and half confused, not knowing what to think or believe.
“i did trust you, j!” you say, turning to look at him again with tears in your eyes as he gets up from his crouching position and faces you. “and you screwed me over anyway.”
“y/n…” he walks towards you, and you feel your weight shift to one foot, your body feeling a little limp.
there was a part of you that still loved him—feelings don’t disappear just like that—but you knew you deserved better. that there was someone out there who wouldn’t even think about doing what he did.
"i love you…" he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and push your hair back, your first instinct causing you to lean into his touch, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you lock your eyes with his. "pretty girl." he closes the distance between you two, his forehead resting against yours, a tear trailing down your cheek as you closed your eyes. "i am so so so sorry. i promise— i promise, i won't ever hurt you again."
you wanted nothing more than to believe him. to forgive him. to forget. but you knew, deep down, that wasn't possible.
you shake you hear against his, sniffling. "j, i can't…"
"no, no, no," he replied. "you can. you— you have to, i can't-" he tilts his chin upwards to kiss you, and though you want desperately to let him, you push him away.
"no, jj!" you shout. "you— you can't just kiss me and think it's all gonna go away!"
"okay, okay, i'm not," he backs off a little, and then takes your hands in his, baby blues pleading. "but you need to forgive me. i could never live with myself if you didn't. i— i can't go on without you… without…" he brings your hands together and clasps his hands around them as he brings them up to his lips to kiss them softly. "your touch…" he moves a hand towards your cheek again, caressing it just like last time. "your smile…" he trails it across your collar bone and down your arm to place it on your chest. "your love… god, y/n i’ve never been loved by anyone like you."
his face falls limp against you and he drops to his knees, arms immediately locking around your hips as he rests the side of his head against you.
"please… please forgive me," his voice sounds desperate now, breaking your heart even more.
"i— i can't…" you wrap your hands around his arms and try to pull him off you, but it doesn't work—he just clutches onto you tighter. "you're just not the same person to me anymore…" you shake your head. "the jj i fell for would've never ever done anything to hurt me, but now…" you bring your hands up to your head, trying to keep it together. "god! every time i look at you… all i see is her and what you did… i— i just keep picturing you guys together and-"
"and we can fix that," jj pulls away and gets back on his feet to look at you. "i mean, it's gon' take time, but eventually… you— you can forget it, right?"
there was a hopeful look in his eyes, but you knew that wasn't enough to fix things.
you shake your head and sigh, the hope in his eyes immediately diminishing. "no, i don't think i can."
"but that— that would mean that this…" his voice cracks, his mind clearly in disarray as he motions a hand between you two. "no. this can't be over."
your watery eyes lock with his, which were now red from holding back tears. "then why is it?"
if you happen to also be a rafe girl, consider this part 2 & part 3.
reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33
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↳ Index [Snippet #43 - Date Night]
"When you and Jungkook have your bi-monthly date night."
Genre: married life!AU, slice of life Fluff, Smut
Warnings: this is a two part story where one is a cute date and the other is them being kinky, a cute at-home dinner date, stargazing at the beach, i don’t think you guys understand. they’re in fucking love, cuddles, loving kisses, comforting intimacy, silly jokes and happy giggles, they share a blanket, he's a cutie, but also way too hot to handle, making out, neck kisses, the rest of the warnings are for the smut, rough but also soft Dom!Jungkook, sub!Reader, she's deep in safe subspace, he's so greedy for her orgasms, thigh humping, use of leather handcuffs, he is pierced & tattooed, lingerie kink, perfume kink, ass spanking, hole spanking with his cock, hair pulling, they use the traffic light system and he does something very sexy with it, besties i need him to run me over, he calls her princess & babygirl, praise, good girl kink, dirty talk, sexy possessive talk, oral in multiple positions (f.receiving) -> face sitting & propped up against pillows, vaginal fingering, strength kink, nipple sucking, he's both gentle & rough with her, multiple intense orgasms for her & him, he makes her squirt more than once, use of lube, he spits on her hole jjsj, passionate pronebone, rough doggy, he uses her handcuffs as leverage, the fact that he is both a head pusher and a hip puller, i need to be restrained, he's also an ass man, which means he will rub her hole as he fucks her and talks about fucking it, creampies, remember how i talked about wanting to include the Daddy kink at least once with this couple? this is the drabble, and as someone who normally has the Daddy kink on her no-no-list let me tell you that IT IS HOT, besties i'm losing it what is kook doing to me, cuddly & giggly aftercare, they're in love and kinky <3
Wordcount: 15.5k it's long but you sluts get a cute date AND kinky sex
a/n: you guys don't understand. you guys don't understand. jungkook consumes my every thought. fuck istfg it's so hard being a jungkook stan. i fucking blame him and his recent attidute. like, i always knew he is a greedy lover but it's escalating. this man doesn't need the sheets to be wet after, he needs them to be SOAKED and i know that i'm right. i fucking can't take it anymore i need to be put down like a rabid animal. enjoy besties 🧡 ps: i apologise for the long warnings hahaha i always wanna make sure you guys KNOW what happens in my smut
You are genuinely obsessed with your husband. If there was ever a competition of wife most obsessed with her husband you would win it.
You love the way he looks when he just woke up, making breakfast in nothing but his briefs and his hair still a total mess. You love how he greets you in a groggy yet loving voice and how you always end up with him as your warm, toasty backpack as you listen to the morning radio and watch the sunlight catch in your window crystals.
You love the way he looks when he comes straight out of the shower, hair still damp and lower body hidden behind a towel. You love when he wears a face mask and how he always smells especially good during those post-shower moments where you cuddle into him and smell his skin.
You love the way he looks when he leaves for work, all well-put together and you love how he looks when he comes home again, just a little less well-put together. You love that he always greets you with a hug-kiss-combination and that he says goodbye the same way.
You love how he looks when he comes back from a work out or swim and how he always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a nonchalant “the workout was especially good today. I feel like I can do anything” and how on most days, he gives you a little cocky flex of his muscles.
You love how he looks when he works in the garden, how he mows the lawn and cuts the scrubs, how he renovates the decking or sweeps the driveway.
You love how he looks when he works in the house, when he cleans or does laundry or cooks, when he does repairs and silly little tasks.
You love how he looks when he is relaxing next to you in nothing but scrubby sweats and a wrinkled shirt, when he is watching TV or sketching tattoos.
You love how he looks when he is cuddled up in bed ready for sleep. When his eyes are just a little droopier than usual and he takes ages to finish a sentence because he is so sleepy and yet he still wants to talk.
You love how he looks when he is eating and drinking and laughing and having fun. How he looks when he smiles, but also how he looks when he cries or gets angry.
You love him, you love him, you love how he is so perfectly himself in every single moment of life.
And tonight you can’t wait to have him with you again.
It was your turn to cook tonight because you weren’t working today while Jungkook had been busy with responsibilities since the early morning. So early in fact, that you missed out on post-wake-up-Jungkook. You missed out on so much.
Next to today being your free day, it was also a very special day. Bi-monthly date night. In theory, today’s theme would have been outdoor activities, but you and Jungkook agreed via text not to go out today and instead stay in.
Which was perfectly fine with you because it meant that you could cook his favourite food and prepare a cozy evening. You love cooking for him. It brings you a lot of joy to prepare something yummy and to know that he finds happiness through delicious food.
And tonight, you made it look especially pretty. You even decorated the dining table and slipped into one of Jungkook’s favourite dresses, wearing the jewellery he got for you throughout your years together.
You are just about to put the last finishing touches on the plating when the door to the garage opens and closes.
“Sweetie! I’m home!”
“In the kitchen!” you tell him, feeling giddy in excitement.
You work quickly to bring the food to the table, managing just in time before Jungkook already enters the kitchen.
He is smiling the second he lays eyes on you, looking dishevelled from a long day and carrying a bouquet of flowers and a box of cake from Seokjin’s diner.
“Wow look at you, you’re beautiful”, he says as he places the cake on the island counter. He meets you in the middle, allowing you to pull him down as you throw yourself around his neck. He snakes his arm around your waist, caressing your lower back as happy giggles leave him, “happy date night, sweetheart.”
“Happy date night, Kookie”, you are talking into the crook of his neck, swaying your bodies from side to side. He smells like outside and motor grease because he helped Hoseok in the garage today with some bike repairs, “how was your day?”
“Long and exhausting, but not bad. I’m happy to be home with you.”
“I’m proud of you, baby. You managed today”, you praise him which makes him giggle and squeeze you, “and I made you food because I love you.”
Jungkook sways with you, resting his chin on your shoulder while his eyes drink in everything you did. They lower more and more as your presence is relaxing him immensely.
“You made my favourite”, he says, smiling.
“Mhm yeah I did. It’s date night after all.”
“I love you, baby”, he says and tugs you closer, “mhm and you’re wearing my favourite dress. Sweetie, you’re looking too good to be true”, he says and runs his hand to your ass to grab it and squeeze. He doesn’t do it with an ulterior motive in mind. Grabbing, squeezing and slapping your butt is merely one of Jungkook’s love languages. It’s as normal with him as giving cheek kisses.
“I dressed up for you”, you say
“I’m so blessed. Shit, I can’t believe I got lucky enough to marry you. You’re the most beautiful woman, ___”, he says and hums, wrapping you up in a strong hug as his lips attack your cheek with the biggest smooch in humankind. It makes you giggle and squeak because it feels so good to be adored by him.
He steps back afterwards, keeping his hand on your hip as he guides the flowers into your vision.
“For my one true love.”
“Gosh, Kookie. Thank you so much. I love them”, you accept them with a fluttering heart, inspecting them giddily, “oh my god, my favourites. There’s so many of my favourites in the bouquet!”
“Do you like it? The flower lady said that they’re one of the last of the season. I would have gotten more, but she didn’t have any more.”
“I love them. Oh, I love them so much. Thank you so, so much”, you say and lean in for a kiss.
The kiss lasts around two seconds and then Jungkook breaks it again. He licks his lips, covering his mouth with his hand.
“I feel like I’ve got bad breath, sorry”, he says.
“No, it’s okay. You’ve had worse”, you assure him.
“Wow, that’s reassuring”, he jokes, breathing into his own hand to check, “it’s bad, isn’t it? Sorry, I didn’t eat or drink anything today.”
“You just taste hungry, it’s fine”, you tell him and giggle, “I gotta put the flowers into water. Get comfy and start eating already, sweetie.”
Jungkook smiles, “I will. Just gotta hop in the shower quickly. It’ll take five minutes. I hope you don’t mind. I feel really disgusting.”
“No, I don’t mind. I already planned in your shower in my schedule”, you say, making him chuckle.
“Thank you, baby”, he says as he leaves the kitchen, “I got Seokjin’s cheesecake for dessert.”
“I know, I saw. Thank you so much”, you call after him as you store the cake box he put on the kitchen island in the fridge for now.
Jungkook comes back looking as handsome as ever. He changed out of his work clothes into some jeans and a jeans shirt which he kept unbuttoned to show off the white t-shirt underneath. He also styled his hair a little and brushed his teeth.
“Ooh look at you”, you say and whistle.
“Thank you, thank you”, Jungkook says, striking a pose, “I tried”, he says and turns to show off his butt, “look at my ass”, he says, looking over his shoulder.
“Gadyam that ass is to die for”, you say in a funny accent, whistling passionately to really get the message across.
“Yeah, right?” he slaps his own ass.
“The real cake’s your ass, baby.”
Jungkook laughs, stumbling because of it. You snicker, scrunching your nose.
“You look so handsome, Kookie”, you say.
“Yeah, heh”, he lets out a soft giggle, touching the side of his neck, “thanks.”
“Now look at the food please. I worked so hard on it”, you say, pushing him to the dining table gently.
“Uuuh show me pretty food”, he coos, doing a little dance as he gets shoved to the table. He lets you sit him down, looking at the food intently, “wow darling, this is the prettiest plate I ever saw. I don’t wanna touch it ‘cause I’ll ruin it.”
You give his shoulders a gentle massage, bouncing on the spot excitedly, “no try it. Try it.”
Jungkook cuts off a piece of the perfectly grilled meat, dips it in some sauce and guides it to his lips. He eats it deliciously, frowning the deepest frown instantly.
“Mhm”, he exhales, dropping against you in a dramatic faint. He keeps his eyes close, chewing deliciously as his frown lines grow.
His reactions to good food will always make you snicker. He’s so adorable.
“Like it?”
Jungkook looks up at you, frowning at you. He nods his head.
“It’s amazing. Thank you baby, I love it”, he says with a full mouth.
“I’m happy to hear that”, you say, smooching his forehead. You give his shoulders one last squeeze and then hurry to your spot. You picked the chair at the end of the table and next to Jungkook so you could be close but still look at each other.
You pull it out halfway and then Jungkook jumps up.
“Wait! Let me”, he exclaims, snatching the chair from you.
“Oh? Well, thank you good sir”, you snicker, letting him help you with sitting down.
“Of course my beautiful lady”, he says and fixes the chair for you. He touches your shoulders, running his hands down your arms as he leans in for a loving kiss to the side of your neck.
You tilt your head, allowing him access. His lips are soft, his piercings tickle your skin, his content purr swirls over your neck.
“You’re wearing perfume”, he rasps, dragging his nose up and down your neck while his fingers feel up your upper arms.
“It’s date night.”
“Fuck baby, I feel like I gotta do more. You’re looking like a goddess and smelling like heaven and I’m over here looking like shit”, he says.
“No, you don’t. You look handsome.”
“I smell like grease. I washed my arms so thoroughly, but I still smell like it.”
“It’s a sexy smell. Don’t worry”, you say, “I like it when you work in Hobi’s garage. It’s hot.”
“Mhm, you’re too good to me”, he says, kissing the shell of your ear, “if you let me, I’m gonna make you see stars later”, he whispers, biting your earlobe gently and sending shivers down your spine with it.
“Don’t talk like this”, you whisper.
Jungkook chuckles, “why not?”
“Because it’s making me shy.”
“You are not shy, come on baby”, he laughs, “you like it. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”
“Whatever”, you murmur, “eat your food, you sweet talker.”
“Mhm, I will. Food’s amazing.”
Jungkook eats with a frown, humming and moaning in enjoyment. His reactions make cooking so worthwhile. Preparing food wouldn’t be the same without the aspect of Jungkook aggressively enjoying it afterwards. You can’t stop watching him, feeling your heart flutter.
You are truly so obsessed with your husband.
“Did you finish the bike today?” you ask him, fighting the urge to reach out and trace his features.
“Yeah, we did. Wah baby, you have no idea what a struggle that was”, he says and purses his lips in a pout.
“Yeah? What happened?”
“The oil fuse acted up and we had to disassemble so much more than we initially planned. Wah and then the new one didn’t wanna fit, I seriously. Seriously”, he squeaks the last word to really pronounce how much he wanted to do it, “wanted to throw the whole bike.”
“Wah that sounds annoying. Did you fix the issue?”
“Mhm of course”, he is smirking cockily, lifting his brows, “your hubby knows what’s up with bikes, ‘course I fixed the issue.”
“You’re so cool”, you say, ruffling his hair gently, “I married a genius.”
He scrunches his nose, wiggling his shoulders happily, “yeah, heh”, he is talking cutely again, gazing at you with sparkling eyes.
“And the tattoo? Did she really come?”
“Mh-hm yeah”, he nods his head, “she got it and then we even agreed on a second appointment for another tattoo.”
“Oh? That’s nice. In the same style?”
“Yup, she wants it to match. I already have ideas for it, but I can’t draw anymore today.”
“Course not, it’s date night”, you say, nudging his cheek.
“Yeah obviously that’s the main reason”, he says, making you chuckle. He smiles and shoves a big bite of the amazing food into his mouth. He chews happily, washing it down with another bite. He really loves the food. He will never take it for granted when you cook. He feels so lucky to be yours, he really does.
He swallows the food and takes a sip of the beer, then talks.
“What’s your plan for tonight?” he asks.
“I was thinking dinner first and then we take dessert down to the beach and do some stargazing.”
“I love it”, he says, smiling dreamily.
“You do?”
“Mhm yeah”, he brushes the back of his hand down your cheek, ending it with a gentle touch to your upper lip.
“Don’t. I’m wearing lipstick.”
“Oop. Sorry”, he gasps, pulling his finger away, “baby don’t wear lipstick, I mean you look beautiful and it fits you so fucking good, but what about the kissies?” he whines, making you laugh.
“As if you ever cared about getting lipstick on yourself. You can still get your kissies.”
“Yeah true”, he grins, looking at your lips. He moves in for a kiss, teasing you just a little by nibbling on your lower lip. He gives you a playful smirk as he moves back, letting his eyes run over your face, “you’re so pretty”, he says and eats a big bite of the food, “mhm and food’s amazing. Wah, so good.”
“You make me happy, you know?” you say and eat as well.
Jungkook smiles, “you make me happy too, baby.”
You clean the kitchen together before leaving for the beach. Jungkook is wiping the counters while you busy yourself with loading the dishwasher. Except that you get as far as loading the plates and one pot before Jungkook turns around at the noise of it.
“Baby, what are you doing?”
“Loading the dishwasher. We’re quicker together.”
“But you already cooked. Baby, don’t do that”, he laughs and hurries to you so he could hug you from behind and walk you away from the dishwasher this way. He blows raspberries on your neck as he does, making you belt out a squeaky laugh.
“Stop that, eek”, you squeal, fighting him with squirms.
Ones Jungkook easily manages. It results in him attacking your neck once again and for you to almost choke on your laughter.
He laughs, giving your neck a little bite to end it with. He twirls you in his arms and lifts you on top of the kitchen island. He runs his hands up your torso to cup your cheeks and squish them gently.
“That was so awful”, you laugh, wiping at your neck.
“No, it wasn’t. It was fun.”
“Says that person who did the slobbering.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t slobber”, he laughs, squishing your cheeks more vigorously.
You snicker, giving him a look which lets him know that you were teasing him. His eyes soften.
“My cutie”, he says, pulling you in for a kiss.
You sigh and touch his neck, hoping for so much more but getting nothing than a gentle peck. He puts distance between your faces, soothing over your face gently. His eyes spill over with adoration.
“Come back”, you say, pulling him close by the front of his shirt.
Jungkook lets you, grabbing your hips. He is smirking, studying your face.
“I want you to kiss me properly”, you say as you touch his undercut, “not just a stupid peck.”
“Mhm, I can do that”, he says in a seductive voice, leaning in for a proper kiss.
You sigh happily, keeping him close with your legs around his waist, while Jungkook increases the closeness by grabbing your ass. His hands feel so warm, gripping you with a comfortable strength.
You break the kiss with a soft tug on his lower lip, eliciting a happy purr from him.
“That was better”, you whisper, watching in delight how Jungkook gazes at your lips.
“Mhm yeah”, he rasps quietly, “it was pretty fucking good.”
“Yeah”, you giggle sweetly, wiping the lipstick from his lips, “now let’s go eat cake by the beach.”
“Wah baby, you’re mean. Kissing me like that and then expecting me to be normal.”
“Mh-hm yep. I’ve got what I wanted.”
“So you were just using me?”
“Mhm, yeah.”
Jungkook chuckles, squeezing your ass. His eyes sparkle, showing how into the flirting he is.
“I’ve got something waiting for you on the beach. Do you wanna see?”
“Oh? Another surprise?”
You give him a wiggle of your brows and a mischievous grin. Jungkook squeezes your butt in reaction, looking excited.
“Fine”, he chuckles, “let’s go eat cake by the beach.”
You hold hands as you walk through the garden, enjoying the mild night. You take the steps down to the beach, using the faint stair lights as your guidance. Jungkook holds your hand the entire way down, making you feel so much safer.
Once you are almost down by the beach, you turn. You grab Jungkook’s small waist, beaming up at him.
“Close your eyes.”
“Now? On the stairs?”
“Yeah.”
“But baby, what if I fall?”
“Trust me. Imma keep you safe. Please Googie.”
“Okay?” Jungkook says and closes his eyes, “baby, you gotta hold my hands now.”
“Here grab ‘em.”
“Where are you? Baby”, he whines making you laugh.
“Right. Here”, you intertwine your fingers, “you doofus, stop panicking.”
“It’s scary stuff, good ma’am”, he jokes, eliciting yet another laugh from you. You won’t ever stop laughing at his antics. He is truly the funniest person alive.
“Just follow me. There are two more steps and then we’ll be in the sand. There we go, just keep walking. One more step, careful you’re at the edge, okay step down. And we’re down.”
“Can I open my eyes now?”
“No. Follow my voice, I’ll guide you.”
“You’re making it so dramatic. What did you prepare?”
“Something. Almost there. Aaand open your eyes.”
Jungkook obeys, letting out a loud gasp instantly.
“Wow baby, this is beautiful!”
You set up a picnic blanket on the sand. You didn’t dare to go too close to the water because you know how high the ocean can rise overnight. Instead, you picked out a dry spot close to the steps, using fairylights to illuminate the night.
You pick up a vase of flowers from the blanket, presenting it to him.
“We had the same idea. Happy date night, baby”, you say.
“You got me flowers? Baby. Thank you”, Jungkook gasps in a breathy voice, accepting the flowers with gleaming eyes, “they’re beautiful, wow baby.”
“Do you like them?”
“Of course I do. Wow, thank you”, Jungkook drapes his arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. And another kiss on your cheek with a loud, “mwuah.”
You giggle, rubbing his chest gently.
“Thank you so much. Wah, my heart’s racing like crazy.”
“I know. I can feel it”, you scrunch your nose happily, “wanna eat the cake now?”
“Yeah. Wow, I still can’t believe you got me flowers. We can put our bouquets next to each other so they’re a couple too.”
“That would be so cute. Yes, let’s do that.”
You and he get comfortable on the blanket. Jungkook places the vase in the sand while you open the cake box, revealing two pieces of cake. Your fairylights and the stair lights give you enough vision.
“Mhhm that looks amazing”, you say, handing Jungkook his fork.
“Yeah, it looks yummy. Uh! Uh-uh”, he stops you from poking your cake, fighting off your fork gently.
“What’s with you?” you ask in a chuckle.
“Let me”, he says and breaks off a piece.
“Fine. A woman can’t do anything here.”
“Exactly”, he says, making you snort and laugh in amusement.
You watch him with fond eyes. He lifts the piece to his lips and kisses it, before guiding it to your mouth. You accept it with giggles, looking deep into his eyes because he is enchanting you like crazy. Once the piece of cake is in your mouth, Jungkook leans closer and kisses your lips.
You and he chuckle into it, ending it with a gentle nose rub.
“Thanks”, you say, chewing the cake.
“Mhm ‘course. My queen shouldn’t have to work”, he says and pokes the cake with his fork. He breaks off a piece and eats it, furrowing his brows in approval.
Your heart flutters. You can’t take it anymore. You love this man so much. You close the distance so you can fall into his side and rest your cheek on his shoulder, letting out an almost girly giggle as your eyes gaze up at him.
Jungkook cranes his neck to kiss your forehead, then rests his head against yours. He drapes his arm over you, rubbing your skin gently.
“God baby, you’re freezing”, he gasps, “do you want my shirt?”
“It’s not that bad.”
“No. No, it’s not okay. Come on, take my shirt”, he says, scrambling to get it off. He gets on his knees behind you and drapes it over your shoulders, smoothing his hands down your arms.
The shirt smells like him. His warmth lingering in the jeans fabric seeps into your body. You weren’t even cold and yet it still feels so much better with his shirt hugging you.
“How’s that?”
You crane your neck to look at him.
“Better. Thank you.”
“Mhm”, he leans down to kiss your forehead.
You enjoy it with closed eyes and a racing heart.
Jungkook sits down next to you again after the forehead kiss, breaking off a piece of cheesecake to eat.
“No”, you push it off his fork.
“Hey, not cool”, Jungkook laughs.
“Let me”, you say and pick up the piece. You guide it to your lips for a kiss before feeding it to Jungkook.
“You used my tricks. That’s cheating”, he giggles and gets his complains kissed away. Two kisses on his lips and one on his jawline. He leans into the jawline kiss, closing his eyes.
“My king shouldn’t have to work”, you whisper and kiss his favourite spot on his jawline
“Mhm, you feel good”, he purrs.
“Mhm and you smell good”, you whisper, giving him one last kiss before sitting back again. You break off a piece of the sweet cake and eat it.
Jungkook glances at you, shuddering visibly.
“You made tingles go down my back”, he confesses, “that spot feels good.”
“Yeah?”
He nods his head, shoving a piece of cake into his mouth afterwards. He chews with his eyes just slightly widened.
“I liked it too.”
“Yeah, my sweetie”, Jungkook murmurs and relaxes with a sigh. He lets his eyes drift to the dark ocean, enjoying another piece of cake as he does.
You do the same, eating it while your heart is going haywire in your chest. You stay like this until you finish the cake. You can’t take the heart palpitations anymore. You glance at him. Jungkook notices and meets your eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing, just making sure that you’re real.”
“And? Am I?” he is smiling.
“I don’t know yet”, you say, leaning closer, “I don’t know if I’ll ever really believe that I’m living my life. It’s so perfect.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking epic.”
“And you’re so perfect.”
“Come on, I’m far from perfect”, he flusters.
“You’re perfect to me. Being with you just doesn’t lose its spark.”
“Yeah, I feel the same”, he says, draping his arm around you, “I think it’s really fucking amazing that we both put so much effort into our relationship. It means a lot to me because I want to put work into us, so it feels good that you reciprocate it.”
“Of course I do. It’s a lot work, but I’m not exhausted by it at all and I enjoy it so much. It’s work I look forward to and I get the most joy out of.”
“I enjoy it as well, sweetie. It never feels exhausting. I actually really love it.”
“Yes, I love it too.”
You cuddle into him. He rests his head against yours.
“I love date nights. They’re the best.”
“They are”, he agrees, “I’ve already got ideas for outdoor date night.”
“You do?”
“Mh-hm. What do you think about burgers at Seokjin’s and then bowling down in Saint Marco?”
“Yes, I’d love that. But we gotta take pics at the photo booth this time around.”
“Yeah, right”, he chuckles, “still can’t believe that we didn’t do it last time.”
“Yeah we were idiots.”
“Yeah”, he chuckles and kisses the crown of your head.
You and he share a few snuggles and enjoy the quiet of the beach. The waves come and go in quiet gurgles. The far away road is louder than the ocean right now. The sound of a bike passes you by. You wonder if it was one of your friends. Maybe Taehyung is on his way home, maybe Jimin finished his shift at the club. Perhaps Yoongi is on his way to his husband, bringing flowers like you know him. Or maybe it was a stranger passing through town. Whoever it might have been, you hope that they arrive safely at their destination.
“I’m so obsessed with you Kook, it’s literally mental”, you break the silence and laugh, “you still manage to give me butterflies.”
“Good, cause you’re givin’ me butterflies too. Like, so many.”
You smile, craning your neck to look at him. He meets your eyes and smiles, leaning in for a kiss. He tastes like cheesecake and smiles. You taste the same. The kiss is so nice. So perfect. So amazing.
Being with each other is the best thing in the world.
You stub each other’s noses to end the kiss, turning your attention to the dark ocean afterwards. The stars are bright tonight, courtesy of the moon missing as it is currently a new moon.
You glance at him again. You thought that you can handle those tingles by now, but you can’t. You fall into him again, hugging his waist and nuzzling your nose into his upper arm as little giggles leave you.
Jungkook lets it happen with a fluttering heart.
“You’re so touchy today”, he says, draping his arm over you.
“I just love you so much”, you say, swaying him from side to side aggressively.
“I love you too, sweetie”, Jungkook chuckles, letting it happen. It ends with you and him falling down onto the blanket. The cake box was thankfully empty because you sent it flying with a clumsy kick.
“Careful”, Jungkook laughs.
“Sorry, god, lost balance”, you snicker.
“I figured”, Jungkook giggles and rolls to his back, staring up into the dark sky with his hair tousled on the blanket. You do the same, reaching above your head to turn off the fairy lights. The automatic stair lights already turned off by now, so you and he find yourselves in total darkness
“Woah, dark”, Jungkook gasps.
“Sorry, should have warned you. We can see the stars better this way.”
“Yeah right”, Jungkook settles into the blanket, “I love this”, he says and goes to hold your hand.
“Me too”, you answer him and hold his hand as tightly as possible.
You don’t feel like you age with Jungkook. Of course you and he grow older and it’s the best feeling in the world to know that you do it together, but you don’t feel older with him. When you are with him, you will always feel young. And when you hold hands, you know that just for a short moment in history you and he can actually stop time.
Only the moving stars and the singing ocean are proof that time never stops. It’s okay though, because you have Jungkook and Jungkook has you. A cool breeze swirls over your bodies.
“Brrr”, Jungkook lets out and cuddles into you, “I’m cold. Gimme sum of that shirt”, he says as he tries to wiggle himself under it.
“Wait Kook, I’ve got a second blanket”, you laugh and sit up to snatch it.
“You really came prepared, didn’t you?”
“Of course. It’s date night”, you say and unfold the blanket with the help of the wind, “and we need something to stay warm for stargazing”, you add as you lie back down.
You hand Jungkook one end of the blanket and together, you manage to cover your bodies with it. Jungkook wiggles happily, rolling to his side so he could drape his arm over your stomach and kiss your cheek.
“So cozy”, he mumbles, kissing your cheek again.
You nuzzle closer, “yeah, cozy and warm.”
“Mhm, yeah”, Jungkook is whispering as he can’t seem to stop kissing your cheek and jawline. He gives you a soft squeeze, exhaling against your neck, “you smell so good.”
You lean into his kisses, closing your eyes halfway. You reach up to run your hands along the arm he has around you, sharing in comfort this way. It feels so nice to be with each other.
“No but seriously, how do you smell so nice?” he whispers.
“I put on perfume.”
“I know, but it’s insane how good you smell like”, he nuzzles his nose into you to the point where it squishes, “I can’t get enough of it.”
You giggle, moving away just a little because the movement tickled. Jungkook soothes it with kisses.
“And you’re so pretty in your dress”, he continues to fanboy, caressing your side with his fingertips, “and the jewellery fits you so well and then your makeup looks flawless. Wah baby, you’re seriously making my heart race.”
You giggle, feeling like bursting in happiness. It feels so good to have your effort appreciated. You feel even prettier than you already did.
Jungkook sighs happily, cuddling closer.
“My wifey”, he whispers, squeezing you gently, “my lovely wifey.”
“Kookie oh god”, you squeal and overtaken by happiness, you roll over to attack his face with kisses. You squish his cheeks between your hands for it, making him giggle.
You have the upper hand for a second before Jungkook rolls you onto your back and scoops you up in his arms, attacking your face and neck with kisses and nuzzles.
You squeak at first but soon end up cackling in a rather unflattering manner. To Jungkook, it is the sweetest sound ever. This is what your true happiness sounds like. You couldn’t fake this even if you tried to.
“Mhm baby”, Jungkook stops his kisses, lifting his head. He’s got your hands pinned above your head, clutched tightly in his fingers. You gaze up at him, feeling so safe like this. Jungkook studies your features. They look so pretty, “fuck baby, you’ve got me wanting to act up. I love it when you laugh.”
“Koo”, you whisper, squeezing his hands.
This nickname. Jungkook knows that it only falls from your lips when he’s got you feeling submissive. It’s during those moments when he made you feel safe and giddy and taken care of. It won’t ever lose its spark for him.
“Mhm, baby?” he asks, placing his elbows on each side of your head. Your arms stretch further above your head, his fingers tighten around your hands.
“I don’t know”, you breathe, looking at his pierced lips, “just wanted to say it.”
“You’re so cute”, he whispers and steals a kiss. You make sure he doesn’t leave by chasing him.
Jungkook allows you to kiss him and play with his lip piercings. You love to trace them with your tongue, suck them between your lips and gently tug on them with your teeth. He loves when you do that. It feels so good to him, getting him all riled up for you.
The blanket is keeping you warm. Jungkook is halfway on top of you, having one of his legs between yours. The ocean is rushing in the background, but the only sounds you really take in, are Jungkook’s little noises. He is such a vocal kisser, always letting you know that he loves it. His hands are pinning you down, his grip is so gentle yet strong.
You break the kiss because you needed to squirm and look at him, “Koo”, you keen quietly, rubbing your thighs against his leg. His jeans feel rough against your skin.
“Yes, princess?” Jungkook whispers in a raspy voice and his eyes gleaming in fondness.
You giggle, growing smaller in safe submission. Jungkook chuckles deeply, lowering his eyes halfway.
“My princess”, he rasps, eliciting another giggle from you.
You can’t explain what he makes you feel. It’s a sensation deep in your chest. Your heart races and you can genuinely sense a giddiness around it. Safety and comfort fills you as well. And the desire to be completely and utterly his’. All you know is that you love this feeling and that tonight it feels especially good.
“Koo, I wanna kiss you.”
“I wanna kiss you too, princess”, Jungkook says and abandons your wrists for the sake of cradling your cheeks. You cup his face instantly, pulling him into a kiss.
Jungkook purrs happily, finding your rhythm without problems. He kissed you enough times by now that he knows exactly how you like it.
Your hands slide to the back of his head, feeling up his prickly undercut. Jungkook moans softly, tracing your upper lip with his tongue to let you know that he likes the touch. You like it as well, repeating it over and over again.
You witnessed most of Jungkook’s hair phases. You witnessed his permed hair, his short hair, his long hair and every length in between. He currently keeps his hair short and with an undercut. You always help him keep it neat. It feels so good under your fingertips. Prickly when you dance them up and soft when you move them down again.
Jungkook is moaning a lot which makes it feel even better. Bear in mind that his sounds aren’t of completely horny nature. No. Your husband also moans because of yummy food or a relaxing massage. His noises right now merely meant that he is enjoying this as much as he can.
He rolls hips into your thigh, purring deeply. His knee rubs against your middle this way, sending warmth through you. Okay, perhaps there is also desire in his noises.
“Fuck baby, you’re perfect”, Jungkook rasps and breaks the kiss for the sake of worshiping your neck, “my perfect princess. Mhm, babygirl. My babygirl”, he murmurs as his puffy lips dance over your neck and jawline.
“Koo”, you sigh, “Koo, I wanna go back.”
“Yes?”
You nod your head.
“If that’s so. Come, princess”, he says and sits back on his heels, pulling you up with him. Like this, your legs are around him and he can touch your upper arms.
He is so much taller than you in this position, keeping your eyes locked on his face by doing nothing but existing.
“My pretty girl”, he whispers, caressing your cheek.
You giggle, “Koo, stop teasing. I wanna leave.”
“Fine, okay”, he laughs, “let’s go.”
You and he pack up together and go back to your house, holding hands as you do. You leave the blanket outside, wiping off your feet before entering. Jungkook carries the empty cheesecake boxes while you carry the blanket you used to cover yourselves with. You discard it on the armchair by the glass door while Jungkook leaves for the kitchen.
You and he meet in the hallway.
“Come with me”, you say, taking his hands.
“More surprises?” he gasps.
“Yeah”, you turn so you are facing him as you walk, “in my room.”
“Baby, goddamn it. You’re doing too much. My heart can handle only that much”, he gushes, making your own heart flutter.
“You’ll love it.”
“Of course I will. God, com’ere you perfect woman you”, he says and sweeps you off your feet to kiss you.
You giggle into the kisses, squeezing your legs around his waist as he carries you to your room.
You left the door open so it’s easy for Jungkook to enter the room without accidentally knocking you into the door. He knows that you and he arrived because his feet know the layout of your home blindly. The floors in your room are softer because you have most of it covered with vintage rugs. He sets you down, snaking his arms around you as his right hand naturally grabs your ass and squeezes. He hums into the kiss, tingling like crazy when your fingers scratch his undercut greedily.
“We gotta stop”, you murmur into the kiss.
“Why?” he asks into the kiss.
“The surprise.”
“Mhm you gotta break it”, he says and goes to kiss your neck, “I can’t stop without your help. Mhm baby, my baby”, he adds as his lips suck spots of sensitivity onto your skin.
“Koo”, you sigh, melting in his arm. You don’t want him to stop. He feels so good. Your entire body tingles and feels electric at the same time. You don’t want to stop, but you have to. It will be worth it. You push at his chest gently, breaking the kisses this way.
Jungkook stumbles back, licking his puffy lips hungrily. He touches your waist, gazing at you longingly.
“Close your eyes please”, you tell him.
“Fuck, you’re messing with me”, he says in a deep chuckle, but obeys. He even covers them with his hands as he naturally begins to play with his own lip piercings.
You work quickly to get ready. You don’t want to stop kissing either, so being apart from him is just as torturous for you than it is for him. You take off your dress and the shirt he borrowed you, but keep the jewellery on. You check to see if the set of lingerie you picked out sits nicely on your body and then get on top of the mattress. He has his back turned to you
“Okay, open your eyes”, you tell him.
Jungkook obeys, “huh? where are you?” he asks and looks around the room.
“Here.”
He turns.
“Holy fuck baby”, he gasps, falling to his knees instantly, “look at you. What are you doing? Baby”, he asks in an enchanted laugh and his hands cradling your cheeks instantly.
You kneeled down on the mattress, presenting a pair of black leather handcuffs to him.
“Look at you. Holy fuck, look at you. Baby, fuck babygirl”, he babbles as he lets his hands run over your body hungrily, “is this a new set? I’ve never seen it before.”
“Yeah, it’s new. Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it. Holy shit, you’re so fucking beautiful. babygirl, please just”, he comes closer and squeezes your waist, “holy fuck, just holy fuck.”
He exhales shakily and finally looks at the handcuffs you present perfectly on the palms of your hands.
“What’s that?” he asks and picks them up.
You turn your back to him and present your wrists to him behind your back. You make sure to arch so he can have the perfect view of your ass and just how little fabric is covering it.
Jungkook growls hungrily, placing his big hand on your hip while his lips begin nipping on your shoulder desperately.
“Did you wear this under the dress?” he asks.
“Yeah”, you sigh, rolling your head back to rest it against him.
“Holy fuck and I had no idea. Oh my fucking god, I might pass out”, he gets out and rolls his crotch against your ass, “I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, babygirl. You’ve brought this upon yourself, I hope you’re aware of it.”
“Yeah”, you whimper, meeting his needy grinds, “Koo please tie me up. I need to be punished.”
“Yeah you do”, Jungkook rasps in his sexy Dom voice, biting your neck gently, “my sexy woman, fuck I could eat you up”, he adds and breaks away from you with a heavy heart. He wants to keep kissing you and grinding against you, but he has some hands to tie.
He works skillfully. Those handcuffs aren’t foreign to him. He tied you up with them a hundred times before and had the honour to be tied up with them just as many times. They’re a staple in your sexlife and up until now, they haven’t disappointed yet. He tightens them just enough that you feel pressure around your wrists, but not tight enough to cause pain. He checks the tightness with a finger asking you if you were feeling comfortable to which you said that you are.
He glides his hands to the back of your head. Your hair tangles with his fingers. He pushes, pressing you face first into the mattress. You let it happen with a needy moan and your ass chasing him in needy wiggles. He keeps his hand on your head while he undresses with his other hand. He makes sure that you can see it happening. His tattooed, bejeweled hand is working his belt open and later works on unbuttoning his jeans, all while his fingers are keeping a tight grip on your head. The aspect of power and feeling so vulnerable in his presence makes you dripping fucking wet. Jungkook slips his jeans down and somehow wiggles out of them.
“Stay down”, he orders in the end as he needs to use both hands to get them over his thighs. They’re huge thighs. No wonder he needs help.
You don’t even think about disobeying him. You rarely want to disobey him because you have such a great time being his sub that all you want is to receive, receive and receive all his attention. Jungkook is so smitten for you that he will be rough with you when you beg for it, so you don’t really feel like acting up. Not when you can simply beg for a punishment.
Jungkook keeps his briefs on. Tight Calvins, which seem so tiny now that his cock has grown so much. His bulge is huge, having grown all the way down his left leg as this is where he stuffed his cock. He takes off his shirt and throws it to the side.
Then he finally closes in on you again, connecting his crotch with your ass as he bends over. He buries his hand back in your hair, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear as he talks. His chest is pressed into your back, his nipple piercings are rubbing against you.
“You’re such a good girl. I didn’t even have to repeat my orders”, he rasps as he continuously grinds into your ass, “we’re gonna work with the traffic light system tonight ‘cause I need you to keep me in fucking check. Understood?”
“Yes”, you keen, wiggling your hands just to get a feel for his abs.
He tingles at your touch, rewarding you with a flex of his abs.
“Good girl. Let’s practice right now, okay?”
You nod your head as best as his tight grip allows you to.
“Good girl. I’ll ask you how you feel right now, then I’ll give you five spanks because you still need to get your punishment and then you’ll tell me again how you feel. Are we understood?”
“Yes”, your voice trembled as you spoke.
“Good girl. How do you-”
“Green”, you fall into his voice.
Jungkook chuckles, kissing your cheek, “fine, seven times. Naughty girl, falling into my question like that”, he rasps and straightens up. He runs his hand up and down your ass, holding you in place with his other hand on your hip.
You moan even if he is barely doing anything. You are so fucking needy for him. He knows exactly how to get your mind fucked. Making a play out of using the traffic light system is only something your husband could think of and it’s making you so needy that you want to keep chanting “green, green, green” over and over again. But you don’t. Instead you arch your back and wait for the first spank with your lungs barely wanting to work.
Jungkook lifts his hands and lands the first spank of seven.
“Ah”, you moan loudly and tremble. So much pressure released with this spank, but there is still so much left that it barely felt like relief.
Jungkook lifts his hand again. The connection is rough, forcing your ass to jiggle and you to moan. By the time Jungkook lands his third spank, you realise that he doesn’t relieve you of any of the pressure, on the contrary it is growing with each spank. With the fourth spank, you are fucking your hips back against nothing, moaning squeakily because the movement makes your panties grind against your clit and that feels so good right now.
“Stay still”, Jungkook orders, increasing his grip on your hip, “I didn’t tell you to squirm for me, did I?”
“Koo please”, you beg, arching your back.
“Yeah, that’s better. Keep arching your back, it makes your ass look so fucking perfect, babygirl”, he praises and rewards you with two consecutive spanks on your ass. Harsh and rough. Burning heat remains, pain crawls over your skin and stays because he keeps his hot palm pressed against you.
Only one more left. You wiggle your hands, spilling another moan. You are so sad that it’s almost over. He could spank you for the next hour and you wouldn’t grow bored.
Jungkook lifts his hand and lands the last spank, ending it by slipping his hand between your legs to rub your pussy over your panties. He does it with enough pressure to force your legs to tremble and for your voice to get incredibly squeaky as you moan.
“There we go. We did it”, he speaks as if he isn’t currently rubbing your pussy to a forced orgasm and making you shake like crazy in the process. His left hand still keeps gripping your hip to keep you in place. It’s like he isn’t even aware of what he is doing to you, “now tell me how you feel, babygirl.”
“Green”, you whine, “green, please Koo please.”
“There we go, such a good girl and so wet too”, he praises, slipping his hand away to instead grab your ass and part it for him. The fabric is small enough that he can see your hole this way. The most vulnerable part is still covered by your panties, but the pretty surrounding area is on full display just for him. You are clenching it needily, writhing in his hands.
“How was that for practice? Do you think you can do the traffic light system, babygirl?” he asks as he studies your hole. He is so obsessed with it, fighting the urge to lick you until you are soft enough that he can fill you with his cock. He shouldn’t be greedy. Not tonight.
“Yes, I can. Oh god, you’re hurting me”, you whine and sob softly.
“Needy?” he asks with a smirk.
“Yeah, please Koo please. Hurts. Wanna be fucked, please.”
He chuckles deeply and pushes your ass closed again slowly, “cute”, he says and gives your buttocks one last squeeze for good measures. He takes your panties off, making you moan with it. He doesn’t say anything to it however, which drives you so much more insane. It feels so nonchalantly to him while you are almost breaking apart. He places your soaked panties aside and studies you for a moment. Your pussy is wet and swollen and your hole is finally exposed to him completely.
“So pretty”, is all he says and then he breaks away from behind you to instead drop in the sheets beside you. You lift your head, looking at him with confusion. He wiggles to get comfortable and sighs once he is happy with his position, then he meets your eyes.
“Do you want me, mhm?” he taunts.
“Yes please”, you beg, sitting up so you can squeeze your legs together, “oh god, Koo. I feel so sensitive.”
“I know princess, I saw how you were shaking”, he taunts and smirks. He nods his head, “go sit on my face. I want you to.”
“Koo, oh god”, you get out. You love to obey this order even if it is hard to do so. You are so wobbly on your legs already and all he did was spank you and rub your clothed pussy. Yes, you are aware that he is doing so much more than that. The entire evening and the way he is taking control right now is adding to how wobbly you feel.
Thankfully for you, Jungkook helps you get on top of him, holding your hips safely.
“There we go”, he says, snuggling his head into the pillow as he helps you with those last few inches, “closer, babygirl.”
You obey, feeling your pussy throb in anticipation. You are pretty sure that you already dripped onto his face. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. He moans as he turns his head and buries his face in your inner thigh. He moans again, inhaling hungrily.
“Fuck baby, you smell so good”, he purrs, nuzzling his nose into your inner thigh deeper. He inhales and exhales, “did you put perfume there too?”
“I did, yeah.”
“Baby”, he growls, grabbing your hips to squeeze them desperately, “fuck, I’m gonna go insane. You perfect woman you. Fucking sit on my face, babygirl. I’m actually serious.”
You relax just enough that he can finally tug you on top of his face. He growls deeply, welcoming your sweet pussy with an eager mouth. He goes gentle on normal days, guiding you into the sensations with soft kisses and tender licks. Tonight he doesn’t care about etiquette. Tonight he forces you into the sensation with eager sucks and hungry, wet licks, sending shakes through your legs.
“Sensitive”, you squeak out, scrunching your face, “Koo, I’m sensitive.”
“I know”, he is growling, “try to breathe babygirl”, he orders and continues his starved licks. He knows that you can take them. You just like to whine for the sake of it. Of course you’re sensitive, but you’re his good girl. You can take it. You have to take it because Jungkook can’t go slow tonight. You’ve got him desperate in desire.
You put so much effort into tonight. Way much effort than he anticipated for and he doesn’t take it for granted. He feels overwhelmed in love for you, he wants to rile you up just to make you cum over and over again until you physically can’t have another orgasm again. Only feasting on you like a starved man helps with it.
You squirm above him, tugging at the handcuffs.
“Koo, I’m sensitive”, you whimper breathily, scrunching your eyes closed, “ah, mhm, ah plea- ah.”
He growls hungrily, grabbing your waist to keep you down on his mouth. He loves it when you shake and he especially loves it when you’re sitting on him as it happens. Your thighs are squeezing his head, worsening his hearing because they are over his ears. You feel so soft and warm that Jungkook hopes you squeeze him even harder. Your weight is perfect on his face to give him a sense of disorientation. He knows that he’s on your mattress, but if he didn’t have visual confirmation beforehand, he would have no idea where he is because currently all he sees, hears, feels, tastes and smells is you. This is the best kind of sensory distortion he could wish for.
Jungkook sucks your clit between his lips and begins suckling on it with deep moans rumbling in his chest. Your thighs shake around his head, you keen desperately.
It feels like burning electricity to have him eat you out. It is hard to breathe and yet you do way too much of it. You are panting, moaning between your breaths because this is all you can do. He already messed you up so much beforehand. His spanks, his words, his attitude and he nonchalant pussy rubbing he did, everything already made you so sensitive that you could have orgasmed right then and there. So to have his hot, dripping mouth make angry love to your pussy feels like too much.
“Sensitive, oh god”, you get out and then another wave of pleasure shakes your body, “Koo, oh god…”
The truth is, you love when he’s like that. Of course you love when he eases you into the sensations, when he is gentle and takes his time. But there is something especially hot about Jungkook losing his composure and eating you out as if you were his last meal on earth. He gets so rough with it, so disrespectful and messy. He doesn’t care about how dirty he gets or how many marks of sensitivity he leaves on your body. He is stronger and during those moments he doesn’t shy away from showing you just how much stronger he is. And that he will use this strength to keep you pinned on top of his eager mouth until you give him what he wants.
“Oh god Koo”, you whimper, convulsing on top of his face as he finally releases your pulsating clit to lick it quickly. He managed to get her so swollen and engorged that each flick of his tongue rewrites your definition of pleasure. “I have to cum. I’m sorry, I can’t hold it.”
Jungkook moans into you. He doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t give you time to catch your footing. No, this man likes that you are losing yourself, making sure that you are losing yourself even quicker.
“You’re so unfair”, you choke out and fall over the edge, “Koo, ah! You’re so unfair, a-ah.”
You collapse into the pillows, bending over so you could reach them. But even in the new position, Jungkook makes sure to keep your pussy locked onto his mouth as to lick you through your orgasm, growling and moaning into you as his hands leave bruises deep under your skin.
“Koo please holy fuck, please”, you wail into the pillow, shaking uncontrollably.
He growls into you, gripping your hips tightly to make sure you don’t flee before he allows you. You need to know what kind of orgasms you get when you put so much effort into date night. He needs you to fucking know that the more work you put into it, the harder he’ll make you cum. This is your reward as much as it is your punishment because Jungkook is going crazy for you.
“Stop please”, you beg, “oh god, I can’t do that, ah!” you plead, writhing on top of his face when he doesn’t slow down even now that your orgasm became overstimulation. Your clit is throbbing. Each time he drags his wet tongue over it, you swear that you have to pass out.
Your legs shake for a few more moments and then strength genuinely forsakes you. You collapse onto him, sitting your full weight on his face.
“Mhmhm”, he lets out in surprise, lifting you off as best as possible.
“Sorry, ah”, you whimper, fleeing instantly. You sit down in the sheets next to him, looking at him with glassy eyes, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine”, his voice is rough in the sexiest way, “just squished my nose, it didn’t hurt. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m embarrassed. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Hey”, he sits up and cups your face to pull you into a kiss. He is covered in your orgasm, feeding you your taste with sloppy, addictive tongue kisses.
He kisses you until he can hear you whimper again. He knows that he’s got you distracted and so he breaks the kiss with a soft tug on your lower lip.
“Are you quiet, mhm?” he asks.
You nod your head, looking at him with glassy, but happy eyes.
“Good. Now get comfy in the pillows. I’m not done with you.”
“Koo, oh god” you say, obeying happily. You rest back against the heap of pillows, shuffling your cuffed arms into a comfortable position.
“Good girl”, Jungkook praises and takes your legs to prop them up on the sheets. He spreads them with his hands on your inner thighs, “don’t close them until I’m done. Understood?”
“Yeah”, you say, nodding your head. You are so exposed like this and you love it. Jungkook makes you feel so safe. And needy enough that the most comfortable position to be in, is having your legs spread open.
“Good girl”, he says and connects his right hand with your pussy. He rubs his fingers up and down your sensitive heat, parting your swollen lips this way.
You chase him instantly, letting out a soft moan. This is the kind of tenderness he normally shows.
“So soft and swollen for me”, he rasps, staring deep into your eyes, “can I feel up my good girl inside, mhm?”
“Please”, you beg, bucking your hips up.
“Thank you, babygirl. You’re making me so happy”, he says and massages your entrance with his two longest fingers. He inches closer, sliding his left hand to the back of your head. He grabs a bundle of your hair and uses it to gently tilt your head up.
“Koo”, you whimper, switching between staring into his eyes and gazing at his lips. You could kiss him if only he moved in a little bit more. Your heart is hammering in your chest, his touch becomes so much more intense.
“Who do you belong to, baby?” he rasps.
“Koo”, you moan, painting burning adoration onto his features.
“Yes baby, you do. You’re my perfect girl”, he praises and rewards you with his fingers.
The breach feels so intense that you move closer all on your own, seeking comfort by moaning his nickname against his lips and trying to suck on them afterwards. It doesn’t hurt, but it is difficult to handle being filled with him when he’s got you so deep in subspace. Being fingered is the most amazing, overwhelming reward he could give you. You feel so close to tears because of how good it makes you feel.
“Breathe baby, breathe”, he whispers, pumping them in and out of you slowly, “you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”
“No”, you squeak, closing your eyes, “it feels so good”, you whine desperately and let out a little sob, “Koo, please don’t stop, please p-please.”
“I’m not gonna stop, babygirl. I’m only just beginning”, he assures you and helps you lie back again with a guiding hand on the nape of your neck, “you know how fucking greedy I am. It’ll take a while till I’m done with you”, he adds and slides his thumb to your clit to rub circles on her.
You squeeze your eyes shut, arching your back.
“Thank you, Koo. Thank…you”, you get out and then you can’t possibly produce any more words. You have to make sounds. Whimpers, sighs, sobs and moans. This is all you can do. All you want to do. He makes you feel so good. His fingers are long and because he uses more than one, also girthy enough to truly fill you out. He knows just how to fuck them into you, knows where every one of your sensitive spots lies and knows exactly how to massage them to turn every second into a moment of mindblowing pleasure. This is the kind of fingering you couldn’t even do yourself. Only Jungkook can give it to you and you’re so perfectly happy to experience it right now.
“You’re taking me so well, princess”, he praises and leans in to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck. You roll your head to the side, allowing him better access. It feels so good. You can’t say more about how he makes you feel other than that it feels so good. He keeps a steady rhythm with his fingers and his lips are so soft against your skin. You can also feel the little breaths he releases and the honest moans he makes. It tickles so nicely, making you even more sensitive to him.
“Mhm princess”, he purrs, tugging at the strap of your bra with his teeth, “I know you wanna show off your new piece, but can I take it off? Wanna lick your pretty nipples.”
“Please”, you beg, arching your back.
“Thank you, princess. I swear it’s driving me crazy”, he says and begins to work. He has to slip his fingers out, but makes up for it by offering his thigh for you to grind against. You moan, getting lost in the sensation. You writhe and squirm just so you can fuck yourself on his hard thigh all while Jungkook works on getting your bra off. He needs to unhook the handcuff chain for it, but works so skillfully that you barely even notice. Just as you don’t notice that he ties your hands in the front this time around until he drags your arms up by the chain.
You peel your eyes open, meeting his eyes. They are dark in pleasure, his brows are tugged tight giving him such a masculine dominance. You spill wet desperation on his thigh, squeezing your legs around it.
“Koo”, you whimper, stretching your arms further above your head.
“Keep them there until I’m done with you. Understood?”
“Yes, Koo.”
“Good girl. Now tell me how you feel.”
“Green”, you whimper, throbbing on his thigh.
“Good girl, she remembers the system”, he says and pushes your legs apart again. He slips his soaked thigh from your pussy, replacing this pleasure with the pleasure his fingers give you by slipping his longest two back into your pussy. He presses his thumb against your clit and begins finger fucking you deeply and a lot quicker than he did the first time.
“Koo, ah”, you moan, dropping your head deep into the pillows as your legs begin to shake. You know that those shakes will only grow from now on.
“That’s my good girl. You got so wet on my thigh, it has me wanting to act up”, he rasps and drops his left hand over your wrists to pin them into place. Now pinned down, naked and with your pussy squeezing his tattooed fingers, Jungkook finally pays attention to your tits. He would go gentle on other days. Massage you first, give you kisses on your tender flesh before thinking of your nipples. Not tonight. He needs to have them in your mouth. Now.
Jungkook begins with your left nipple, takes it between his lips to lick and sucks it greedily. The pleasure is hot. You swear you can feel the path it takes as it goes straight to your pussy.
You writhe under him, fucking yourself on his fingers as he forces the neediest moans out of you. Jungkook only stops sucking on your left nipple when he can taste how sensitive he’s got you. You get all unbearably hot on his tongue when that happens. He leaves a sloppy trail of spit on your nipple and shifts his attention to your right nipple. He takes it between his lips and begins the eager feast anew.
He moans, furrowing his brows. It feels so much smaller in comparison to your left nipple. Fuck, he’s got you so swollen. Jungkook increases the pressure around your wrist and fucks his fingers deeper. His palm presses against your clit, his fingers reach your deeper spots. Judging by how you are gasping for air and moaning brokenly, he’s hit the jackpot.
You squirm under him, your legs shake, your arms desperately try to break free. You feel so broken. He’s going to make you cum again and it’s going to feel so hot.
“Koo, Koo, Koo pl-lease”, you get out, moaning desperately.
Jungkook lifts his puffy lips from your nipple just to see how he ruins you.
“Koo, aah”, you drag out your moan, feeling yourself fall when Jungkook moans right with you, nodding his head as if to tell you that it was okay for you to break.
Your eyes go out of focus and roll back, closing just in sync with your orgasm hitting you. You are moaning so much and Jungkook doesn’t make it easier by moaning right with you.
“Yes babygirl, yes there we go”, he moans, fucking his fingers into you quickly, “fucking cum for me, aah yes, baby.”
Your voice cuts off with a gasp, you arch your back and feel what he does to you. He is pressing down on where it feels the best. It happens if you want to or not. You squirt on his fingers, soiling the sheets and his thigh with it.
“Yes babygirl, don’t hold back. That’s my babygirl, squirt for me”, he encourages you, helping you through the orgasm with expert touches.
Something shifts inside you. Something primal and insatiable. He’s such a good Dom right now. He’s got you ruined, squirting and so deep in safe subspace that you can’t really regulate what comes out of your mouth next.
“Daddy please. Please, oh god please.”
Jungkook falters in his touches for a moment, “holy fuck, what did you just say?”
You have no idea what you just said because you’re not sane yet. But Jungkook knows. Jungkook heard it and he is losing his fucking mind.
“Holy fuck, yes”, he growls, frowning as if he was angry. But he wasn’t angry, he was just overtaken by fucking desire for you, “that’s right. You’re Daddy’s babygirl. Holy fuck, I’m gonna fucking ruin you”, he spits and drops into the sheets before you. He keeps you in place with his left hand pressed to your stomach, resulting in his long fingers to poke against your sensitive spots even better. And then, only then, he connects his mouth with your pussy to make the angriest love to it.
“Koo!” you scream, twisting his hair instantly.
He didn’t even properly let you finish squirting and he is already stimulating your clit again. You tense up and feel another wave coming over you. You try to warn him, but he just fucks his fingers deeper and opens his mouth wider. So you are destined to empty yourself all over his face, sobbing his name because he makes you see fucking heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because nothing feels better than Jungkook and hell because he is torturing you as if he hated you.
But he doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He is fucking obsessed with you. He breathes for you. And right now he is drinking from your sweet, sweet squirting pussy until you are empty and he fucking swallows every single droplet he can catch.
“Fuck baby”, he growls against you, twisting his fingers deeper, “say it again. One more time, please.”
“W-what?” you stutter.
“Daddy”, he growls and moans. Clarity comes back to you. You remember. You called him this word as he had you on the highest peak. You shudder and clench around him.
“Daddy”, you moan.
“Holy fuck”, Jungkook presses out and fucks the mattress, “babygirl”, he growls and connects his mouth back with your pussy.
“Ah, oh god Koo”, you squeak out, shaking uncontrollably, “it hurts, oh god ple-please.”
“Colour?”
“Green”, you sob, writhing on the sheets. They are so wet under you already and if Jungkook keeps this going, they’re going to get even wetter.
Jungkook growls and takes your clit between his lips again. Green means he can keep going. Green means you aren’t fucking done. Green means he is going to lick and finger you until he has you squirting again. Or pissing. Quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t care about the difference. All he needs is for you to cum so fucking good that you wet yourself and feed him the sweetest liquid he ever tasted. He presses down on your tummy just so he can feel his own fingers rewrite your insides. Your stomach is so hard from all the tensing he is forcing you to do and Jungkook knows that the next one is going to be a good one. It has to be. You’re his good girl. You’re Daddy’s babygirl and if there is one thing he wants you to experience, it’s good fucking orgasms.
He didn’t even plan on eating you out again. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers and then take you missionary, but you twisted something in him. It’s not like he craved for you to call him like that, but rather that hearing this word from you shifted something inside him. He didn’t even know that he needed it until it left your lips and now he is going crazy. He needs you to orgasm one more time before he fills you with his cock. Jungkook curls his fingers in sync with his wet, sloppy tongue grinding against your clit.
“I have to cum, please”, you beg him, tugging at his hair because you know for a fact that you won’t be able to control yourself, “pl-please slow I- ah!”
Jungkook hears your begs and decides to use them as motivation. He knows that you are close and that you are currently trying to hold back in order not to squirt all over his face. He also knows that you’ve been married to him long enough that you are aware that he loves it when you do. So all this begging is just for show.
He fucks his fingers into you roughly, filling the air with the lewdest, wettest sounds.
“I’m sorry”, you sob and then it happens. Jungkook forces you to orgasm and with it, cover his face with your wetness. You twist his hair desperately, writhing in hot pleasure, “I’m sorry, I can’t stop it, ah!”
Jungkook growls, fucking the mattress angrily. This is it. This is his personal religion. The reason he fucking exists and the proof why he deserves such a title. He drinks you up until you have to pull him away from you.
“Please stop”, you beg him, dropping into the pillows while your body flinches as it recovers, “oh god. Ah fu-fuck.”
Jungkook slips his fingers out and kisses a path up your body. He doesn’t even care that he is leaving wet trails all over your skin, neither do you.
His hands cradle you, running along your sides until he can touch your upper back.
“Breathe for me”, he orders you and sucks on your jawline, “breathe baby, breathe.”
You breathe just like he tells you to do. It makes the recovering a little easier. Especially because Jungkook holds you so close and kisses you. You are disoriented and dizzy, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable because you’ve got Jungkook keeping you safe.
“There we go, breathe.”
You inhale and exhale, letting out a trembling whimper while your handcuffed hands reach for him. You manage to brush them over his neck and chest before you grow too weak and drop them again.
“Good girl. Colour?”
“Green”, you whimper.
“That’s good. I’m not done with you”, he whispers against your jaw and kisses his way up to your neck, “Daddy’s not done with his babygirl”, he rasps and chuckles deeply, “holy fuck, you did something to me with this. Holy fuck, I’m insane for you.”
You gulp repeatedly as you try to recover from what he just did to you. You want to say something, but all you can get out is “angmh” and then your voice forsakes you.
“I know, babygirl. But I’m still not done with you. I’m so fucking greedy for more”, he tells you and caresses your cheek, “you’re gonna take my cock and cum one more time. Understood?”
“Mhmgm”, you let out, writhing on the sheets weakly.
“Look at me.”
You obey even if opening your eyes feels impossible at first. You moan, arching your back at the sight of him. He is wet and dripping from your orgasms, staring at you with dark eyes and a tight jaw.
“Are we understood?” he insists in a deep voice, shaking your head gently.
You nod your head.
“Speak up.”
“Yes”, you whimper and reach for his face, “Koo please.”
He gives you a soft smile and kisses your palm.
“Good girl”, he praises, then takes your wrists to open the chain again. He drags you into a sitting position, “turn around.”
You obey, allowing him to close the cuffs on your back again.
“Lie down on your tummy.”
You obey.
He lets you rest for a second, but judging by the noises, he is taking off his briefs and lubing up his cock. He nudges your legs apart with his knee and connects his lubed fingers with your pussy.
“You’re such a good girl for preparing lube”, he praises and fills you with two fingers to test how sensitive you are.
You writhe and squirm, but don’t seem to be in pain.
“Koo please”, you beg, clenching around his fingers. He takes them away from you, but makes up for it by rubbing his cock against your entrance. You squirm, trying to feel for him but Jungkook drags your hands away by the chain.
“Behave”, he warns and pushes inside.
“Ah”, you let out, squeezing your eyes shut as his cock fills you up. The stretch is intense in the best way possible. It doesn’t hurt, but Jungkook got you so deep in the mindspace of total submission that it feels sacrilegious to finally have his cock. Something missing finally returned and it’s leaving you breathless.
“Fuck baby, so tight”, he growls, furrowing his brows, “how are you doing? Hurts?”
“No”, you whimper, “no, please don’t stop.”
“I won’t. Daddy’s so greedy for your pussy”, he says and bottoms out, “fuck”, he moans, dropping his head as his strong fingers dimple your ass, “breathe baby, you’re tightening.”
“It feels so good”, you whimper, “I can’t help it. I’m Daddy’s cock slut”, you get out and sob needily, fucking back onto his cock.
“You’re driving me insane, holy shit”, Jungkook presses out through gritted teeth and meets you movement until he has you fucked back into obedience. It takes embarrassingly little time for you to stop pushing back to instead lie on the mattress and take him with needy moans.
Not that Jungkook minded you fucking your tight pussy on his cock, but he needs you to understand that tonight he is controlling the scene. That every second of pleasure you receive is because he wants it to happen exactly how it happens. And that means that he will make you squirt on his face as often as he wants to and it means that he will fuck your sweet, little pussy until he’s either spend or you genuinely can’t anymore. There is no in between, he will only stop once one of you is too ruined to keep going.
“That’s better. I want you obedient tonight, okay?”
“Yeah…” you keen and spill tears, “Koo, please don’t stop, please.”
“Mhhhm so sweet…. my baby’s so sweet. Fuuck.”
Jungkook presses your legs together with his strong thighs and begins moving out of his hips. He is resting on top of your thighs, caging them in and feeling them shake each time he bottoms out. You moan so sweetly, presenting your pussy to him as he fills it with his cock. He can watch it shift and change as he fills you up. His cock gets wetter each time he pulls out again.
“You look so fucking pretty like this”, he rasps, pushing your hands aside so he could grab your ass and spread it apart. You tighten around him, Jungkook feels it and you feel it too.
“Koo! Ah, ah, ha”, you squeak out your moans, spilling tears of pleasure on the sheets. His cock goes so deep. Your hole is so tiny in this position. You don’t want him to stop. He is rubbing against you so good that you swear you could orgasm just from getting your pussy fucked. No stimulation of your clit or sensitive spots needed, all you need is the sensation of Jungkook’s veiny cock fucking past those first few inches of your wet pussy.
“Yeah keep moaning baby, keep fucking moaning for me”, he encourages you while his pleasure darkened eyes run over your body. There is a reason why he needs to part your ass. It exposes his two favourite holes to fuck. Your pussy, so so wet and stuffed with cock and your ass so so empty and slickened from all your orgasms. Jungkook growls deeply and develops such unbearable anger at your pretty hole for driving him so fucking mad that he has to spit on it.
“Ah!” you flinch and clench around nothing. His spit feels burning hot on your hole. Jungkook massages it into you with rough circles, basking in how much squirmier you get under him.
“Fuck, I’m going insane. Holy fuck”, he moans and picks up the lube. He opens it with his teeth and flips it just to squirt some all over your ass. He throws the opened bottle aside afterwards, rolling his hips deeper into you.
“Koo…what….is that?” you get out.
“Just something to make it slippery”, he rasps and begins spreading the lube all over your ass and lower back, “want you fucking wet and sticky, babygirl”, he says and rubs his wet fingers up and down your hole while his hips pick up speed.
To think that he is covering you in lube for the sole purpose of making you messy and to know that he gets pleasure out of the view, ruins you.
“Koo, Da-”, you manage to get out and then your body betrays you as you lose every sense of control.
“Argh fuck”, Jungkook spits angrily, scrunching his face as your orgasm not only surprises you but him as well, “holy fuck”, he laughs and drops his head, “you’re cumming again? Holy fuck baby, you’re such a good girl. Yeah, you keep shaking for me.”
You do exactly that. You shake for him. Cum for him. Cry for him. While he fucks you through it in the stickiest, hottest pronebone you ever found yourselves in.
He isn’t finished with you afterwards. He lets you know with a growl and his cock pulling out not for the purpose of stopping, but so he could pull you onto all fours. He twists the chain of the handcuffs between his tattooed fingers and rubs his cock between your buttocks. The lube makes it easy to do so. Despite how ruined he has you, you arch your back just so you can present yourself to him better. Jungkook lingers on your hole, rubbing his cockhead against it.
“You’re shaking so much. How pretty”, he taunts, giving your hole repeated spanks with his cock.
“Koo”, is all you manage to get out. There are no other words in your brain right now. Only his title. You feel so fucked. Ruined. Broken. And you don’t want this to end yet.
“Green?”
You nod your head, arching your back to get closer to him.
“Mhhhm”, Jungkook purrs deeply and stops his spanks to instead rub his cock against your hole again, “you have no work tomorrow, do you?”
“No?” you get out.
“Good, means I have time to prepare you. I wanna fuck your ass tomorrow”, he says and applies just enough pressure that you feel a stretch without him slipping inside.
“A-ah”, you moan, curling your toes.
“Not tonight though, need to cream my babygirl’s pussy with my cum”, he says and fucks his cock into your pussy in one maddening stroke.
You whimper, feeling your knees buckle. Jungkook pulls you back onto him by your handcuffs, keeping you upright this way. It’s difficult to hold on. His fingers are so slippery from all the lube play he’s been doing. He still holds on, looking at how tied up and helpless he’s got you and loving every second of it. Your pussy is so wet and hot, squeezing his swollen cock and reminding him why he is so fucking obsessed with you. Why sex with you won’t ever get boring, even after all those years together.
“Koo”, you whimper, spilling tears on the sheets.
“Not long anymore. My cock’s so fucking sensitive for you, I’m close”, he encourages you, rolling his hips into you in slow strokes.
“Harder please”, you beg.
“Fuck”, he spits and speeds up instantly. He grips your hip with his slippery hand and twists the chains to the point where he tugs you off the mattress and you hang on by nothing but the cuffs. Like this, Jungkook watches your tits bounce, increasing his speed to the point where his heavy balls slap against your clit repeatedly. He can go so deep this way and he’s fucked you well enough that your pussy’s shaped for no one but him. You can fit him. From his sensitive tip all the way down to his girthy base. If he could, he would go even further, reminding your insides who owns them with animalistic thrusts.
“Fuck baby”, he is growling through gritted teeth, dimpling your hip, “you’re making me fucking angry. Ha!” he laughs squeakily, contorting his face in pleasure, “you feel so good. Holy shit. How is it for you?”
“Go-goo-good”, you he fucks the word out of you and fucks moans out of you right afterwards. They are squeaky and sound not at all like you. But Jungkook knows you and he knows that this is how you sound when you’ve hit the peak of pleasure. This is the rawest, most honest version you will ever show and only he gets to experience it.
“Yeah? It’s good?” he is panting, dripping sweat. He is fucking so goddamn hard and it’s stealing his strength. You keep clenching around him, his knees are so wobbly because of you, but he fucks through the weakness. You want it hard and if there is one thing he’s good at, it’s fucking you hard.
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” you chant, writhing in his strong hold. His body is colliding with yours each time he bottoms out. The impact feels punishing and like ecstasy.
“Yeah urgh”, he growls, throwing his head back, “I have to cum soon. It’s too good.”
“Soon, ple-please”, you beg, clenching around him desperately. He will make you cum one more time. Then every single orgasm you could experience will have shook your body. You need it. You need it so bad. The thought that tomorrow you will experience how good he can make you cum with your ass as well, pushes you closer to the edge stroke by fucking stroke.
“Fuck, you’re torturing me”, Jungkook growls and buries his cock deep inside to paint patterns on your a-spot, “like that? Mhm, is Daddy fucking you how you need it?”
“Yes! Oh god”, your voice switches from squeaks to animalistic growls, “holy fuck, you’re making me cum”, you growl and convulse in the most uncontrollable and honest way possible, “Koo, Daddy…. fuuuck”, you moan deeply as your orgasm burns you from the inside out.
“___”, Jungkook moans and throws his head back. There is a lot he can handle, but what he can’t do is listen to you growl like that. It throws him over the edge instantly, forcing his hips to still because he cums so fucking hard that he sees black for a few seconds. You drop onto the sheets because his grip loosened around the handcuffs. It forces Jungkook to fall over. His sticky hand grips the back of your head, keeping you down as he pumps you full of cum and growls into your ear.
Three, two, one.
Jungkook whimpers and begins moaning squeakily, hugging you against his chest as he drags out his orgasm with slow rolls of his hips.
You collapse with the sheets. Jungkook follows, putting almost all of his weight on you as his twitchy hips fuck his cock into you. He doesn’t want his orgasm to stop. Not yet.
“You feel so good, oh god”, he whimpers, hugging you tightly as he tries to at least shift some of his weight onto his elbow, “please clench for me, please.”
You obey even if your energy is at a dangerously low level. You know that once Jungkook satisfied his needs, you won’t be able to go again. You are fucking spend.
“Thank you, ah baby”, he mewls and lets out a soft sob, “I love you so much. Oh god, again.”
Yes he is sensitive. Yes he will make it your problem. Yes he is going to fill you up until you can’t hold it in anymore.
And yes you love it, moaning with him as Jungkook brings himself over the edge a second time.
“I love you, I love you, I love you”, he chants.
“I love you too, Koo I love you too”, you answer him each time he does, healing with each confession of love you exchange.
Jungkook pulls out after his high dies down, fucking his still hard cock between your thighs so he could grow soft there. You are so wet and hot there, giving him the kind of pressure he currently needs. And as he feels your closeness a little longer with the help of your thighs, he begins kissing the side of your face. He brushes aside whatever strands of hair stuck to your face as he fucked you into a state of ruin and then it is already time for him to litter every inch he can reach with his love.
“Good job, my good girl. Holy fuck, good job”, he praises in a trembling voice, “you did so well. I love you so much. Good job, babygirl, good job.”
You enjoy his affection with a racing heart and a dizzy head. You can feel him throb between your legs while his warm cum slowly seeps out of you. His chest is wet and sticky and you can feel his heart racing. This is such a healing state to be in.
“Good job”, he whispers and exhales shakily, “shit, I’m ruined. How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Ruined too”, you murmur.
Jungkook shifts on top of you a little, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at your face. You peel your eyes open, meeting his gaze. He looks as ruined as you feel.
“Are you in pain? I know I went at you quite hard”, he asks, caressing your cheek.
You shake your head, “it’s not uncomfortable.”
“So you’re in pain. Baby, I’m sor-”
“It’s not uncomfortable”, you interrupt him, “I’m just ruined, but I like it”, you assure him and give him a droopy smile, “also I’m having a uterus cramp ‘cause you made me cum too many times. Imma be sore tomorrow.”
Jungkook smiles awkwardly, “but you’re okay, yeah?”
You nod your head, “I’m okay. You’re the best fucking hubby ever.”
Jungkook finally smiles honestly, snuggling into you. He kisses the bridge of your nose, pressing his lips against your forehead as he talks.
“No, you are the best wifey. You took me so well”, he whispers.
“I had so much fun”, you say, “thank you for ruining me.”
He snickers, “you’re saying stuff”, he murmurs and hums almost cutely. He kisses your forehead, “also, can we talk about what you called me?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think I needed this, but I did.”
“Yeah, same. My heart’s fucking pounding.”
“I can feel that.”
You and he giggle together. He snuggles closer, kissing your forehead repeatedly.
“You can definitely keep surprising me with it when you feel like it”, he says.
“Dearly noted”, you say and snicker, “wow, I’m actually done for. How the fuck are you always doing this?”
“It’s ‘cause I’m basically insane”, he jokes, making you laugh.
“Kook stop, don’t make me laugh” you whine, trying to clench.
“Why?” he laughs.
“Cause I’m leaking.”
“Baby, it’s a little too late to worry about your sheets”, he says, cracking you up again and therefore forcing more of his cum to drip out of you.
“You’re the worst, it’s happening again”, you whine as you laugh.
He cackles, wiggling on top of you as happiness overtakes him.
“You’re so cute, oh god”, he squeaks and squishes his cheek against yours as he hugs you tightly, “my booboo bebe baba baby”, he coos, rubbing his cheek against yours.
You giggle squeakily, enjoying his snuggles with a scrunched nose and crinkled eyes.
He lifts his head again, wiping his thumb under your eyes gently. You grin up at him, feeling goofily much in love with him.
“Your makeup’s ruined. It’s so smudged.”
“I know. I cried so much.”
“Hot. Mhhm baby”, he moves in for a soft cheek bite, “you’re so sexy, babygirl. You’re making me crazy.”
“Whatever doofus”, you murmur and huff out air, “god, I’m leaking again“, you whine, making him laugh.
“Wait, let me quickly untie you and then you can go to the toilet”, he says and sits up so he can undo the handcuffs.
He crawls off of you and watches you roll to your back. You make grabby hands at him and so he lowers himself until you can pull him into a hug. Your limbs tangle with each other, but you make it work because you hugged each other a million times before.
“I’m too dead to walk. I’ll go later”, you mumble into him, “I wanna cuddle.”
Jungkook melts with you. His thigh is between your legs. Your head is resting on his upper arm as you snuggle your face into his chest.
“Cuddling sounds perfect”, he says and sighs happily when you drape your leg over his hips just to get even closer, “you’re leaking more like this, you know?”
“Yeah, but you’re right. We’re already dirty as fuck”, you snicker, “the lube play was hot, by the way.”
“Mhm yeah and when you squirted on my face. Twice. Phew”, he exhales deeply, “that was hot.”
You snicker, feeling your heart race. Jungkook snickers as well, pulling you closer. Your arms know exactly where to lie so you and he can be as close as possible. You can fuck as hard and long as you want to and it will be okay in the end, because you know exactly how to cuddle to recover in the most comforting of ways.
“Did you actually mean it when you said you’ll fuck my ass tomorrow?” you ask him.
“Okay, first of all in my defense I was really horny and my whore side most definitely came out there”, he says, making you laugh. He speaks his next word with laughter on his lips, “but if you’re actually down, then I wouldn’t say no.”
“Mhm, I’d be down too”, you say, snuggling into him with a kiss to his sweaty chest, “you’re cute, you know? You always say the dirtiest things when we fuck and then you’re acting all cute about them afterwards.”
“Says the person who called me Daddy outta nowhere”, he defends himself, ripping yet another round of laughter out of you.
Jungkook laughs with you, holding you oh so close.
And so you and he find yourselves recovering from the intense sex with laughter and cuddles. You and he will continue talking about every single detail of this evening and you will do so with giggles and fluttering hearts. Later, you will both go to the toilet and then take a shower together to wash off the mess you made. Needless to say the night will end with cuddles and giggles in bed, with good conversation and too many inside jokes cracking the both of you up over and over again until you fall asleep with smiles on your lips.
Yeah, date night is definitely amazing.
#jungkook smut#jungkook romance#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook scenario#jungkook oneshot#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#dom!jungkook#bts smut#bts romance#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts scenario#bts oneshot#bts x reader#bts x you#dom!bts#bangtan smut#bangtan romance#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fanfiction#bangtan scenario#bangtan oneshot#bangtan x reader#bangtan x you#dom!bangtan#fanfic: ogc
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Link to Part One
Link to Part Two
TW mentions of human trafficking, rescue, injury, trauma
Steve locks Eddie in the car which, yeah, okay, it makes Eddie jump a little reflexively at the quiet click of the lock. And it might just be habit, or whatever, because it’s a really nice car.
Or maybe he’s even doing it for Eddie’s safety.
It still feels like he’s been locked in, though, and Eddie finds he’s...really not a fan of how this feels.
Either way, when Steve comes back less than ten minutes later and opens Eddie’s side of the car, Eddie’s still not sure how to feel about it. Suspicion is hard to shake.
Steve kneels right there on the floor of the lot, ��swing around,” Eddie does, watching as Steve pulls antiseptic wipes out of the bottom of the bag, opening a packet and lifting Eddie’s foot. Eddie hisses when the wipe makes contact, it’s cold and, even though surely most of the wounds have scabbed by now, it still stings quite a bit, “sorry.” Steve looks up at Eddie earnestly, big eyes and floppy hair and, well, the moles are cute.
And having an Alpha kneel on the floor for him, that’s kind of nice too. Maybe Steve really is that good looking.
He wraps Eddie’s feet in a bandage, some tube bandage over the top, Eddie still slurping on his peanut butter chocolate shake. He’s going to have the absolute worst shit later, he knows it, too much rich food all at once, after a really long time of non at all, but honestly, so worth it.
“When we get home, I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms, and maybe we can order you some clothes?” Steve pulls the bandage comfortably tight around Eddie’s foot, a nice gauze pad wrapped around the sole for cushioning.
“Errr, I mean, I, before, I was usually a good will kind of shopper, you know? Maybe Target on a good day?”
Steve just blinks at him for a second, before that clearly sinks in, “don’t...don’t think about the money, if that’s what you mean, we can get you some clothes, really, I don’t mind.”
And Eddie’s sure as fuck not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve’s already broke the bank on Eddie, what’s a little more, right?”
Eddie whistles, he can’t help it. Objectively, obviously, he knew Steve was loaded. There’s a difference between knowing that and…seeing it. This is like a fucking mansion. Well, it’s not like a mansion, obviously. It is a mansion.
Automatic electric gates, a drive that’s got to be a half mile long...and lawns. Trees. Land stretching off into the distance.
The house is fucking nice. It’s kind of sprawling...just the garage looks fucking massive on it’s own.
Steve sort of hovers around Eddie as he limps over the threshold, and, yeap, just as nice inside as it is outside. Very sleek and modern, big open spaces, lots of glass. Dark wood and bookcases filled with leather books and big paintings that look impressive but aren’t...well. Eddie’s not a fan, really. Eddie spies a building out the back, also lots of glass...Eddie’s money is on indoor pool.
“Something smells good,” Eddie says, as he limps further into the house, “smells kind of homey.” Which is true, something here smells vaguely relaxing. Kind of...comforting. Safe.
Eddie looks around as he gets further in, and the place is so big it is kind of a walk, it’s...really nice, but also kind of soulless. It doesn’t look lived in at all. And, Eddie frowns, something occurring to him for the very first time. Steve’s a good looking Alpha, and he’s fucking loaded, “will your, erm,” Eddie flounders, “partner, mind me being here?”
Steve laughs, seeing Eddie through to the lounge to sit on the couch, “don’t think I would have been able to play my part today if I were in any kind of serious relationship. Hagan would have known if I was seeing anyone, the press loves that shit.”
And yeah, all of that makes total sense, and Eddie feels kind of stupid for not putting that together. But it...doesn’t really make sense, considering Steve is, still, clearly, very hot and very loaded.
“Okay,” Steve plops a laptop into Eddie’s lap, open to a clothing website. “just open tabs on some stuff you’d like, and then give it back to me when you’re done. You’re going to need some clothes while Hopper tracks down your uncle, okay? I’m going to go and set up a room.”
Eddie’s just sort of rolling with it at this point, so he nods and smiles and then blinks down at a Tom Ford Slim-Fit Button-Down Collar Checked Cotton shirt...that’s nearly seven hundred dollars.
And Eddie would never, in a million fucking years, be caught dead in it. Honestly, he thinks he actually prefers the white nightdress.
Eddie looks at the drop down menu, clicks on ‘cashmere’ for shits and giggles, and then laughs to himself when the very first listing is a black turtle-neck...for over a thousand odd dollars. Fucking rich people are batshit.
Eddie manages to find a drop down that lets him filter out everything over two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he searches by lowest price first. He starts opening tabs, mostly inoffensive lounge wear – a large portion of which is very, very unfortunately beige.
Eddie hears Steve coming before he sees him, “just do it please Carol,” and he sounds...exasperated by whoever Carol is. Steve comes back and takes the laptop. He very very briefly frowns at Eddie over the top of the screen, but it’s over so fast Eddie’s not entirely sure he saw it, “you think you’ll want something more to eat later?”
Eddie did eat his weight in McDonalds a couple of hours ago...but he hasn’t been really full for years, “uhm, yeah, in a bit, maybe?”
“Sure, I’ll see what we have.”
And then Eddie just...sits there. He can’t actually remember the last time he just...sat on a couch. The only place the Omega at the ranch are allowed to sit is either the floor, when they’ve been told to, the table, but only when eating...and probably their beds in the dorm.
Sitting here feels kind of naughty, actually, sitting here, relaxing, comfortable and warm. Eddie touches the lush, velvety feel of the couch, it’s really nice, really soft-“chicken and pasta?” Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Logically, he knows that isn’t the case, but his feet are tingling regardless.
Steve can actually cook, who knew? Well, it might only be a simple dish, browned off chicken chunks in something creamy and mushroomy, sitting on some pasta, but it’s absolutely delicious.
“We should probably get someone to look at your feet tomorrow.”
Eddie shrugs, nearly vibrating with excitement at the sight of garlic bread and trying his best to hide it, “always been fine before.”
“Still, I wouldn’t want them getting infected. Do you want me to tell Hopper anything about your uncle? I presume he will be busy for a little bit but…?”
Eddie swallows but...nods, Steve getting his phone and Hoppers card, “he’s called Wayne Munson, he’s my dads brother. He lives in a trailer park in, uhm, Hawkins. Indiana.”
Steve taps at his phone, “that’s not actually that far, we could...probably drive that, maybe in a day, once you feel up to it. I’ll see what Hopper says, see if he gets back to us tomorrow, I figure we've both had a long day.”
And that sounds...well. Eddie's running out of reasons to be suspicious, to question this, to question Steve. He has a little kernel of hope, real, genuine hope, growing inside him now...that this is true. That he's going to be free. That he's going to see Wayne.
Eddie nods, keeps eating, is thrilled when Steve offers him a beer, nodding happily. Steve withdraws it at the last second, “wait, just how old are you?”
“Errr…twenty one?”
Steve laughs, “try again,” but he does hand over the beer.
“Eighteen. I was there for a couple of years, maybe a bit longer, they got me walking home from school. Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t have, you know, noticed, probably best I don’t go back there, anyway. Quite a few Omega came through in the time that I was, you know, there...”
Steve’s staring off into space though, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, clearly not listening.“-oh.”
“Errr...Steve, you okay?” Steve looks like his brain has just stalled. Like completely shut down, “Steve, man, you’re freaking me out a bit here.”
Steve frowns, finally showing some life, his fork still literally hanging in air, half way to his mouth, “Tommy Hagan is probably being arrested.”
“I, err...I mean, yeah? I fucking hope he is?”
As Eddie watches, a bit of chicken falls off Steve’s fork and splats onto his plate, “right now, other than me, you, and the FBI...no one knows that. That Tommy’s being arrested, arrested for something fucking terrible.”
“Riiight…”
“He’s being arrested for something he can’t come back from. It’ll got public. His names about to be mud. His stocks are going to tank. Every part of everything Tommy owns is about to go up in flames.” Steve’s fork clangs onto the plate, “I’m so sorry, I have to go to work.”
“I...what?”
Steve’s already picking up his phone, his keys, sliding on his jacket, “help yourself to anything you need, I’ll be back...at some point.” Steve’s already calling someone, “I need you in the office, right now. I want Wheeler, from legal, make sure finance is there, actually, make sure Henderson has availability tomorrow,” Steve comes back from the front door, sliding a business card in front of Eddie, “no, right now, I’m on my way, twenty minutes.”
Eddie looks at the card; it’s Steve’s, has his email, office number and mobile on it, presumably so Eddie can get hold of him. Eddie’s pretty sure he just witnessed the first steps of a hostile take over, or something.
And now he’s in this massive house, all alone.
Link to Part Four
@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#omega eddie munson because he's so pretty#alpha steve harrington#my writing
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i. the likeability paradox.
pairing. joel miller x fem!reader
synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.
warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!
word count. 12.9k
hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it
taglist. @kayleezra @newavenger + add yourself to the taglist here !
read on ao3 ! ( capitalization available )
distaste is not new in the life of joel miller.
in particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. he is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. the years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.
if anything, he’s made himself more empty.
rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.
an apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. the man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that miller guys passed between cowardly members of fedra and the keep away from mr. miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.
this plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become dead-weight.
“so that’s all i am to ya, huh? dead-fucking-weight?” his brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving joel to do what joel does best: endure.
somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the dead-weight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.
she was an exception, his tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. they’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.
she never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.
which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of tess’ foot against his shin.
“... and then,” frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. with a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. we were finding paw-prints for days!”
joel’s unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. as if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the german shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.
“which means i was cleaning paw-prints for days.” bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.
frank is quick to shush him.
“i’m sorry, again, bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “i’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”
there you sit, parallel to him.
the sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. it hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.
you catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.
the threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which joel can account for, mouth to keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. the battle ends swiftly as you surrender to bill’s hardened stare, and frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.
“you, sit. no one should have to clean up the food they made.”
they get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.
silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and painting you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun hind a large cloud that causes such a thing.
being alone, with you, is something joel’s never mastered. the affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.
were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.
something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. the dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.
just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.
the ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. he’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.
the pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.
“he likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.
as if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.
to envy a creature that licks it own shit off its ass is a new low for joel.
“thinkin’ he might like ya more, sol.” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.
“most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.
he takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and tess have made.
“you’ve got a whole load in common, you know? i think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”
“how the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” there he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. it helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.
“well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. he’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “and have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”
he’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.
discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘s easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”
with you as its protector.
he doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. he watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.
survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.
but i could keep you safe.
he toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. it’s not the first time he’s thought it. truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.
his memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just bill, frank and you. a few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was frank who’d prompted the question. “where were you all when... this started?” tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’ll never meet.
he never imagined her working in a bank.
bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” he’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. she was barely out of school. “i knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.
joel had always been a good listener. being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. all this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of bill.
but you weren’t smiling.
he watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.
the desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. with each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. he’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“you’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “those we remember never truly die!”). he’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘could keep you safe. there, then, the thought did cross his mind.
he’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.
“-could fix it, you know. i’m good with my hands.”
he almost chokes on his own breath.
i'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. and he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.
“what?” the question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. in the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.
the mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face joel once more.
he sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.
“your watch, it’s broken.”
“hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “don’t need ya to fix it.”
you pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. confusion.
“don’t you want to know the time?” you ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and joel miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.
“i don’t keep it for the time.”
you smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.
the german shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.
he’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. it’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-
“ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” you’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “i’ve never heard any of the joel miller backstory, this should be-”
“i get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”
nature falls silent.
skies grow dull.
you juggle sadness.
there’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. the dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.
joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.
“sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. only, the gates have been shut in his face and joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “but you’re wrong. i don’t like everyone.”
“‘s that so.” his eyes roll. the hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal joel will always be wiling to place you on.
“yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “i don’t like you, joel.”
the hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.
we’re staying, for tonight. tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the qz for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day
the nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading bill and frank- mostly frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. if only joel could remember which door leads to yours.
the two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.
tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a fedra agent’s wife, you whisper that frank and bill had been fighting again recently. the memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly bill and frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.
at some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. at another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.
-n’t tell me you’re a virgin.
the words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.
a protest rings true in his head and his ears.
was gonna say. knew you were young, but not that young.
it’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.
“god, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. it was alright, i guess. i just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”
he’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. a groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.
neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.
“not much to miss?! sweet christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” he’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken tess. each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. there’s no need to bother opening his eyes, joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “i’d give up a hand for some head!”
you must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of tess’ renewed shock fills the room. he wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.
late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.
“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”
“it bores me!”
“it bores you!?”
the couch beneath joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp tess gives. the last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.
the crueler part of his mind replays your voice, i don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.
you like tess. love her, even. it’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out finally someone with a pair of boobs, i’m bored of the sight of my own. joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.
maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.
“must not have been doin’ ya right,” the bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. you’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. it’s oddly endearing, you think no one has noticed. “this fella of yours.”
joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.
he does so, regardless.
“well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “we were each others firsts.”
“that’s no excuse! trust i left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time i went down.” tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. no discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.
you scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “what, are you offering your services?”
this he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which tess had raised you to heaven while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.
“‘as sure as i am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you i like my women a little older than you.”
he knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the qz. it should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. but he can’t, and he won’t.
and you’re the one to blame.
you, with the glow of a thousand suns. you, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. you, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.
his own self being the first he’d need fight.
joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.
the next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.
he’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. some small, meaningless little things, that ripple joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. others, tsunamis. big, angry, all imposing. they’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.
amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. but the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. they catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. in the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.
the currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.
this evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. he reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. the gentle, barely-there croon of a sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. across from him is tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. snoring comes from below him, where joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.
you take up no space of this room.
neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.
there are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.
he should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. a good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.
he could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure frank wouldn’t mind. bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the qz.
he would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. he imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.
i don’t like you, joel.
those words stop him from trying.
he tells himself it’s for the best.
with a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. he swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. the door’s already half-opened, and joel nearly thanks christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. the darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.
the refrigerator.
it’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. a subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.
keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.
she never lived long enough to get either.
he catches something move beneath the artificial light. cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.
“why aren’t ya sleepin’?” the words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.
beneath the light, you shrug, “could ask you the same thing, texas.”
he curses tess for teaching you such a nickname.
he curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.
you’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, joel remains unaware.
he grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. the door behind him closes over and give the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.
“i asked first.” you laugh, at him. full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. the corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. he hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you, bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘s so funny, huh?”
“nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “just never heard the joel miller say something so childish. you’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”
you make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. a fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. uncouth and unbothered, joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.
“you know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” you call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. the thirst does not budge. he hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.
by the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.
“i’m making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “make sure you take some with you when you leave. tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”
would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. he’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.
i don’t like you, joel.
of course you would do the same. not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. all words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. they violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over joel’s entire persona.
he straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. the sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. his hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, and the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of tess, and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what joel hears.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. you’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.
and, suddenly, joel’s angry. at you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. the fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.
only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.
a hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise joel gifts you.
you may leave your marks emotionally, but joel’s will always be physical.
“why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “don’t ya like me?”
if not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “why do you care?”
he scoffs, “i don’t.”
“hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody tess was playing in the living room. “sure sounds like you do.”
“yeah, well, i don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.
joel knows he cares. it’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to bill and frank’s.
what joel doesn’t know is why he cares. there’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. he’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.
maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.
instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.
not one bit.
joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. his feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. his chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.
he inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.
“for the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘s like how i sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. no part of him should ever be compared to you. “i don’t like ya either.”
he’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.
the knife never ceases its movement. back and forth, back and forth. chop, chop, chop. blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. it’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.
the hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.
“that’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.
it’s his turn to respond with a hum.
“you only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. his wandering touch halts. “a little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what i think.”
this strikes a nerve. fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. the realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “d’ya know what i think?”
even upside down, your beauty is striking.
“no, unlike you i don’t care what you think about-” joel tugs on your hair once more.
“i think you’re a brat. a silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” you could. he’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.
“you’re hurting me,” you whine, joel growls.
animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. his gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.
your dress- red, a colour joel miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.
“you like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.
“no, i don’-” dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “joel.”
he retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. whoever joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.
“heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and tess. the blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ talkin’ bout your past.”
he doesn’t specify.
he doesn’t need to.
you give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.
“tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. his hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “i wouldn’t.”
you say nothing. joel pulls harder.
“too bad i’m-” you cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. with a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, joel watches you like a hawk. the twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. the want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “too bad i’m not offering you the chance.”
joel miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. with notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.
“who said anything about an offer?”
the descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.
a part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.
the other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. you’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.
smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs longer than any tree in the amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the himalayas. arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.
your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, joel knows how to read people. and, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.
joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.
you breathe in, you breathe out.
one knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. he revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.
inhale, exhale.
your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.
“hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. all he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. with the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “don’t move.”
where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.
lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. one flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. a wet patch, your wetness. the stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.
curiosity gets the better of him- one day, joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers curling themselves in the waistband of your panties and the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.
in and out, shaky breathing comes from above.
the lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. a heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. he makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.
delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. there’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. he wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. he thinks it must hurt.
his fist curls tighter, pulls higher.
“ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in joel’s peripheral vision.
“shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “people are tryin’ to sleep.”
you scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”
“‘s that an invitation to see how loud i can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. this, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “or a challenge?”
“it’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.
as coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. so he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. he awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.
it’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.
“you’re drippin’” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. the view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘s actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. is it cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”
he can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.
but first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.
cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.
rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.
it happens so sudden, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of tess. he wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.
so he does the same.
working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. he breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.
two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.
“so now you shut up. ‘s the matter, huh?” he’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “am i too borin’ for ya?”
“you’re the most infuriating man i’ve ever- oh!”
a tongue meets skin.
the knife clatters onto the counter.
you lurch forward.
his hand pulls you back.
“tess was right, ya know?” he can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. he pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “that boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”
the common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better, if you’d just let him.
‘could keep ya satisfied.
that’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. he’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.
“is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? what ya need is a man, a man like me!” the softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension, god it’s never sounded sweet, and joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.
“well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. he imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “but if ya insist.”
diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. the tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.
licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.
he’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by only experience that comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. you’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.
he’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.
what a perfect excuse you are, for joel to remaster the arts of lust.
it’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. it’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. it’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever days he shall possess on his knees before you.
and all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.
his only saving grace is that he can’t see you.
hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.
burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.
“n- ah,” you can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “no, don’t, not there.”
next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.
sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.
and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.
his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time tess tells him they’re due a visit.
except, the oven door is made of glass.
glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.
and then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.
the image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.
“d’ya touch yourself, sol?” you don’t answer him, but that’s okay. in a sweet change of pace, joel miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “yeah, bet ya do. late at night, right? once you’re all alone in bed. ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”
you back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.
fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “let me do the honours this time though.”
you don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. he imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.
he’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.
you’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. your expression, he can’t quite read. not sad, not happy, not mad.
your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.
the discomfort of trekking back to the qz will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.
“joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.
he swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. he’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.
“that,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. he pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “shouldn’t have happened.”
joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.
people once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. as sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. not today, however, and joel miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.
it chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. there’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.
that dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.
he cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “no, not again. my back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the german shepherd’s head. it whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. a scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “not so bad, are ya? huh?” never in a million years did joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and tess had set out for their routinely visit to the bill and frank’s. never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.
he hears you before he sees you.
“you planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, texas?”
he tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.
the world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.
so instead, it sends you.
peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than uv ray could ever be. he’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. a few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. at the very least, he considers, i’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.
the smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. when he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. he does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.
“thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. you’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”
a queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. he’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “no problem, thanks... for feeding tess and i.”
“no worries!” you’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. he can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “oh, actually, that’s why i came out here, i was looking for tess-” of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “hold on!”
you shoot off back inside so quickly that otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. with an idle pet to his head as you pass by, joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. in your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.
“i wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. he can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “i know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”
“why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.
pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.
you show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him, “there should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”
it’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.
so he tries again, louder.
“why don’t ya like me?”
“and i’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”
he grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "answer me." like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.
"for someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. you don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “you sure do talk about my opinion a lot."
"answer the damn question, girl.”
“or, what?” you’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “you gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”
had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.
instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.
joel says nothing.
“how about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and bill make.” inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “you get me something, i’ll tell you what you want to know.”
he grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “what d’ya want? ‘cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. i ain’t messing with none of bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”
“a dress.”
“a dress?” the statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.
“yes, and don’t look at me like that!” it’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “i need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”
unaware he’d even began to lean closer, joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.
“joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.
neither of you dare to break eye contact. again, his name is yelled. this time, he manages to identify tess as the owner of the voice. habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of tess or you.
his feet remain glued to the ground.
tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “think you might be needed inside, macho man. your missus is calling.”
“she ain’t my-”
“you two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.
only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. in her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. you approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.
“i should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. he decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “go check on the food, before it burns.”
you’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.
tess and him hit the road by noon. earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. the bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun heating the world with its rays. he walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from tess and racking his brain for answers.
answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the qz. answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven bill’s created. answers to why you don’t like him.
i don’t like you, joel.
it motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. if he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.
till then, he needs to find a dress.
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Missing my zombie!steve husband 🫶🏻
quiet day at the camp… hope something bad isn’t brewing… zombie apocalypse au <3 fem, 2k
Steve loves the sound of the river, but he only allows himself a moment to lay down on the riverbank during laundry hours.
You stand knee deep in the water with your pants and sleeves rolled up, the corrugated metal of an old shed roof that’s been repurposed into a washing board held to your chest. It was pointless to roll your sleeves up, you’re soaked to the bone, even your hair, but the summer sun keeps you warm.
“Don’t get too hot!” you call.
“I’m fine,” he says, unwilling to shout.
“He’s fine!” Robin shouts from beside him. “Numbskull.”
Steve stares at you, locking you in, so to speak, the nice shape of your hip and stomach, the mess of your wet hair. Tonight, he’ll help you fix it, but there’s no rush and no hurry to dry off while the sun is out, and the fences are up. He turns onto his stomach. Grass tickles his cheeks.
“You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks quietly.
“Fine. Can you tell me if she needs help?”
“Sure.” He listens to the sounds of her moving, likely pulling the slim lengths of her legs against her chest to hug herself, the tan leaves of a book spread out just in front of her.
Steve could really go for a cigarette. You swapped the last box you found for toothpaste, isn’t that how it always goes? You and Robin found a cheat code in the apocalypse, nicotine with a capital ‘N’. You swap Arctic chewable for socks without holes and boxes of Marlboro’s for the bathroom essentials. Everybody wants them, and you’re great at finding them. Steve never thought he’d crave a cigarette again considering he wasn’t addicted, having smoked for a couple of months in high school to feel cool with his friends, stopping when his mom asked him to. He doesn’t remember why. She’d asked, and he’d listened, as he used to do. Swim team, cross country, basketball, lifeguard training, mowing the lawn, not upsetting his father, taking out the trash, vacuuming, no drinking and driving; task after task after task. Some of it was easy. He liked doing the dishes, and he loved taking care of his mom even if she didn’t feel the same.
Not that it matters now. Does it matter now? He’s never gonna see her again. She’s a memory. She’s a bad memory, most of the time.
The more he reflects on it, he decides. She was a bit shitty, but she’s his mom, and she’s likely gone, so he’ll try to remember the cookies they made together and the way she’d smile at him after she tied his shoelaces before school. And also the mean fucking bitch she’d turn into when she drank two glasses of wine.
“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks.
“That’s the wrong soap,” you say from the river. Your voice floats over the breeze.
“Fuck off, soap is soap,” Eddie says, your not-so-new friend, Steve’s sworn enemy.
“I’m just saying,” you laugh. “Look, I’ll wash, you rinse.”
“I’m thinking about that time,” Steve begins, holding his hand out toward her, open but not expectant, “when my mom and dad came home early from his business trip in Missouri and found us sleeping together.”
“I’d never heard your dad laugh before,” Robin says.
“My mom really didn’t like you after that.” He smiles as she takes his hand. They were a lot more touchy, pre-apocalypse. He misses that sometimes.
“I don’t even think she thought we were dating.”
“She was disgusted.”
“She said we were being weird teenagers.”
“I guess we were. I never had a friend like you before so maybe I can’t blame her,” he says. He has something special with you, you’re a best friend because you’re half of his heart, but Robin was his first proper best friend, and remains it. “I missed you a lot when we were stuck in Indiana. There were a ton of times where shit would go wrong and I would get mad at you because I knew you’d know how to fix it, but you weren’t there.”
“You’d get mad at me?” Robin asks, squeezing his hand. “You jerk. Be mad at yourself.”
“Can you wait for me next time?” he asks.
Robin’s quiet, then she laughs, “I’m nodding but you can’t see.”
He wonders how she’s feeling. He admits to not doing that much in the past. Not that he didn’t think about how he made others feel, he was always worrying about that after Nancy, but he can’t say he thought of it in the moment. Steve forces himself to sit up and offer his arms for a hug, which Robin gladly accepts, her frazzled laugh on his neck as he pats her back.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“You know Y/N says I’m possessive?”
Robin leans away, fingers curled around his elbow. “You’re fighting?”
“No, just. She says I’m possessive, that I get mad about, you know, my people.”
“Right. Isn’t everybody?”
“I never thought I did. I’m not, like, too proud most of the time.”
“Steve, this is super introspective,” she says, frowning, smiling, a weird expression somewhere melding in the middle of happy and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you’re not.” She laughs shrilly. “I woke up the other day and cried and then ten minutes later I felt fine. I’m far from okay.”
Steve glances past Robin’s head to watch you in the river. You’re sitting down amongst the stones. It really isn’t too deep, water to your ribcage washing suds down to Munson, who’s smiling at you kindly, not smarmy or flirting, just smiling.
“Why did you cry?” he asks quietly.
“I missed my cousin, I think.”
Steve curls his arm behind her head and encourages her in for a fiercer hug.
“Think we should probably go help them,” she mumbles.
He takes it for the brush off that it is; sincerity is too much to take, sometimes. If she wants to be evasive about it that’s okay, she already took the leap and admitted to getting upset.
“I cried thinking about Y/N’s hands the other day,” he says.
“Steve.” Robin rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. “I don’t even know what to tell you.”
“What? I’m trying to show you I’m pathetic so you don’t feel bad.”
“I know you’re pathetic, and I don’t feel bad.” She climbs off of the ground and brushes broken grass off of her legs. Steve climbs up next to her, nudging her with his elbow. “You’re mucho pathetic. It’s kind of crazy.”
“I think I might try and drown him,” he says conversationally.
“Why now?”
“Why do you think?” Steve asks, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, nearly pitching forward on the wet bank closer to the river.
You and Eddie look up as they approach from different spots of the water. Your smile at seeing him winds him for the thousandth time, just so happy to see him, so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do for a few seconds. “Hey, honey,” he says, “can I help?”
“Now you wanna help?” you ask, gesturing to your soaked front.
You’re messing with him, and he doesn’t care anyways, you can talk to him like crap if you want to. He shuffles down from the mud of the riverbank and into the water, cold and wet like a shock against his ankles, softer as it climbs to his knees. You’re sitting where it’s more shallow, opposed to Eddie on his knees and almost drowning further down. He puts his hand on your wet shoulder and kneels down in the water beside you. “Wanna hug?” you tease.
Steve hugs you. Doesn’t care that you’re soaking or that the water is freezing against his crown jewels, though he shivers by your ear, prompting your laugh like bubbles in his own. “It’s cold,” he says.
“Freezing!”
Not to be a freak, but he can feel your chest pressed to him, and he knows you get achy in the cold. He wraps his arms doubly behind your back and rubs at your sides. “How much laundry’s left?” he asks. “We’re gonna get hypothermia. Again.”
“You didn’t get hypothermia,” you remind him, folding into his space. “Steve… is everything okay?”
“Do I look mopey today? Robin just asked me the same thing.”
“You don’t look mopey, but you’re being touchy. You’re cuddling.”
“How am I not supposed to cuddle you, dummy? I’m keeping you warm enough to function right now. Without me you’d be an ice cube floating down the river.” He leans back to hold your face in one hand, your cheek under his thumb, water racing down his wrists and your neck.
You push against his hand gently with your cheek.
“Sorry,” he says.
“What for?”
For lots of things. “I didn’t realise how cold the water was. I would’ve come to help you.”
“It’s fine. I scrub everything and then Eddie catches it. We’ve only lost one pair of underwear,” you say. “The river’s like a long washing machine.”
“How much do you have left?” he asks.
“Nothing. I was just about to get out.”
“Couldn’t have told me that before I came to get you?”
“No,” you say, lifting your chin. Not challenging, but close. It’s an offer, Steve decides, kiss me or don’t kiss me. You don’t seem to realise he doesn’t decide, he needs you. If you always wanted to kiss him, you’d always be kissing, all the time, everywhere.
Steve gives you a quick peck. “Come on, let’s go set up the line.”
You somehow, together, make your way back to the tents without freezing to death after throwing your clothes on a drying line between trees. It’s warm enough that stripping down to your skivvies is mildly pleasant (away from the eyes of the other campers). You get dressed in the softest clothes you own upon Steve’s insistence, sweatpants and a dark hoodie, three pairs of socks and the tent door left open, before he lays you down on the sleeping bag, and settles between your legs, his full weight bearing down on you, his face nestled in the damp crook of your neck.
“I couldn’t kiss you the right way,” he confesses.
“Why?” You pull mildly at the ends of his hair.
“‘Cos I always want more than one kiss.”
“That’s a strangely romantic way to say you wanted to make out with me,” you whisper.
“It’s not like that,” he insists, even though he does want to, and he did in the river, and he does all the time.
“You’re getting kinda heavy, Steve,” you mumble.
“What?”
“It’s a good thing.”
“How dare you.”
“We got sorta frail for a bit.” You wrap an arm around his head, tip of your nose to his forehead.
“Yeah. Lucky we’re in camp Eddie now,” Steve says.
“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” you murmur, so close to sleeping Steve can tell. You just need a feeling of security to nudge you over the edge.
“Lucky we’re together.” He climbs off of you slowly so as not to rouse you too much, kissing your slack cheek as he settles on your shoulder. “You and me. I don’t care where we are.”
He ends up falling asleep not long after you, lulled by the rhythm of your light snore.
#steve zombie!au#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader
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Baby Fever and Annoying Brothers||Quinn Hughes x Reader
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Reader
Request: Could I get Quinn Hughes with baby fever and his brothers there to make fun of it?
Summary: Quinn gets baby fever real bad and his brothers bug him to propose
A/n: Listen I wasn’t a Quinn girly before but that has recently changed so thank you for these requests
Word Count: 700+
“Quinn, dude, come on let's go.” Luke complained. The brothers had been trying to start a basketball game for the past 45 minutes. Jack and Luke were ready, but Quinn kept pushing it off with a simple ‘5 more minutes then i'll be ready’.
What, you may ask, was keeping Quinn from playing a game with his family? The sight of his girlfriend interacting with the baby of a family friend of theirs. It was quite possibly the most addicting and adorable sight he has ever seen.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, no matter how hard he tried. The whole scene was beautiful. Outside, on the lawn chairs in the backyard, laid his girlfriend of 4 years gently swaying a now sleeping infant in her arms as she quietly spoke to the baby’s mother as well as his own mom.
“Quinn this is getting-” Jack was cut off when he saw it. His older brother sitting there, oblivious to the heart eyes he was making. It was hilarious to him. His big brother practically brought to his knees at the sight of his longtime girlfriend holding a baby.
As he stood next to Luke, Quinn finally was pulled out of his trance. Embarrassed at his brother's gawking, he finally went to play basketball.
But of course the two youngest Hughes couldn’t just not bring it up. It was their brotherly duty to chirp Quinn into his place.
“So when are you gonna actually purpose?” Jack asked. At this, Luke elbowed him in the side, hard.
“Come on dude let him live” Luke reprimanded.
“Thank you, Luke.” Quinn responded.
“No but seriously, he is right. You spend almost an hour staring at your girlfriend for holding a fucking baby. I know you’ve got a bad case of baby fever after that. When are you gonna actually get started on that shit? Unless you don’t plan on going the whole marital route before kids. I don't’ really know how some people would thi-”
“Can you both please just shut the fuck up about it.”
“Come on, Quinn, we are just chirping you. Although we saw the way you were looking at her. You sure that hasn’t changed anything…” Jack teased.
He was right of course. While he was staring, he was also envisioning a life with her. A life with his beautiful wife, in a beautiful home, with kids to fill it. Maybe they’d have one, or maybe a whole hockey team. Who’s to say? The last thing he wanted though, was to be discussing it with his brothers when they would just tease him.
“No, nothing has changed. Although things may happen sooner-”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Luke asked.
“I just- I don’t need kids right this second.” Quinn stated.
“But?”
“But I do have a ring. I’ve kept it in my hockey bag for the last few months. I just- I just don’t know when I’m gonna propose.”
“Quinn why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Jack practically yelled.
“Does mom know? She will flip the fuck out if you got it and didn’t tell her?” Luke asked.
“Yes, she knows. She has been bugging me about it every single day. Trying to give me ideas and such but I just need to find the right time and place.”
“Isn’t now the right time and place though? You are with family, in a pretty fucking beautiful place. I mean what's stopping you from taking her on the boat tomorrow and doing it.” Jack joked. But he was right. You had once stated, while intoxicated, that you would have killed Quinn if he proposed in public, as if that was something he would ever do. The secluded boat would be the perfect place.
Quinn smiled to himself as he came to this revelation. He would propose, soon, and get started on the life he had envisioned. He didn’t answer either of them or tell them about his plans, but one look at his face and his brothers knew. They both shared a look as their absolutely smitten older brother went to grab the ball.
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Joel fucks/fingers/dry humps/etc. reader under a blanket during movie night in Jackson. I don’t care what they do as long as Joel comes. I like thinking about Joel coming 😈
Movie night (in public)
850 | Joel x f!Reader
you're in luck, this has been on my mind. we can pick up after she gets him all horny before the movie in Jackson. masterlist
WARNINGS: 18+ HJ, sex, and cockwarming in public, mild dubcon, cum eating
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You and Joel go home for a quickie before the outdoor movie night. He has you pinned on the couch with your hand down his pants when you hear a knock at the front door, then it unlocks. You scoot out from under Joel to sit upright while he buckles his belt and Tommy yells, "Y’all comin’?”
“Ehhh I dunno about tonight. This one’s tired,” Joel says and squeezes your knee affectionately. There’s a good reason he’s not standing up.
“Bring a blanket,” Tommy says. “Joel’s a good pillow, nice and soft.”
“Hey now,” Joel says. Tommy just stands there waiting. Joel sighs. “Alright, grab a blanket, let's go.”
You go get a quilt and a big blanket. When you come back down in a flowy dress, the look on Joel’s face says he knows exactly why. He goes to the bathroom before y'all leave and comes out without a belt.
You set up in the darkest corner of the lawn behind everyone else. Joel sits on the quilt wiith his knees bent and you get in between them, resting your head back on his chest with the blanket draped over both of you while people continue to arrive to the event. He wraps his arms around you, and scoots his hard-on into you. He gathers the skirt of your dress out of the way and strokes your inner thigh. When he reaches your outer lips he growls “bad girl” into your neck, although he's not surprised you skipped the panties. Two thick fingers drag along your dripping seam and his hardness swells into you.
He nibbles at your neck and his fingers circle your clit. He could get you off this way and no one would know, but what you really want is his cock. You want him to come in public. It turns you on so much to think about, and he’s never let you do it. It’s always him making you come while he stays totally composed and in control.
You reach back and wedge a hand between your bodies, palming him over his jeans. He breathes deeply and doesn’t stop you. You unbutton his jeans. Then you reach outside the blanket for his backpack and put it behind him like a pillow. “I’m tired, can I Iay on you?”
“Sure, baby.”
You get on your side in the crook of his arm with your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest, and hook your leg over his closest leg. Then your hand drifts down under the blanket, unzips him, and reaches in to relieve his stiff, aching cock. "Tengo ganas," (I want it) you whisper as you stroke him. He clenches his jaw and looks conflicted.
"I don't think so, baby."
You slowly rotate yourself on top of him anyway. His hard cock is between his shirt and yours, below your belly button. "No one's watching," you whisper.
You move your dress and slowly get higher up on him, straddling him in a koala hug and you throb against him. He inhales sharply when his cock feels your dripping seam.
"Solamente la punta" (just the tip) you beg barely audibly as you drag yourself along his member.
"Kinda cold. Wanna sit still?"
You've done this before and know what he means. You can't pass up the chance to have him inside you.
You drag your wet pussy up his cock again then nestle it at your entrance. He lifts his hips into you and you begin to sink onto him, managing not to gasp at the delicious stretch. His big hands brace on your hips and help you down. He lifts his hips again, pulls you down, and you have to suppress a moan as he bottoms out.
He grunts ever so softly. "Don't move," he says.
You lie there with him inside you, resting your head in the crook of his neck, while he watches the movie. Your hips want to move, but you manage to stay still.
He occasionally twitches and barely moves his hips. You want to get him off and try to slide off him, but his hands still you and he says "where you goin'?" You stay.
When his twitching becomes more frequent, he finally lets you slide off his cock. You get back on your side, bring your leg over his, rest your head on his chest, and stroke him. You keep his cock as close to his body as possible to not make it obvious. It doesn't take long before he reaches down and lifts up his shirt. He takes a deep breath, then pulses in your hand. There's a barely audible grunt, but it's the quietest you've ever heard him.
He buries his mouth in the crown of your head as he finishes coming onto his lower belly and your fist, then his whole body relaxes. You lick his cum off your hand then use two fingers to gather as much of it as you can off his skin. You swallow that, too. He kisses you on the head and you actually do fall asleep as you watch the rest of the movie.
-
If you like this one I recommend Speakeasy and Picnic Table.
All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#in public#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#horny!joel
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closed doors. (m)
pairing: meandom!mark + afab!reader
words: 5k+
summary: when your brother asks if a friend can stay in your spare bedroom, you don’t expect mark lee to show up on your doorstep.
genre: smut
warnings: mark is very mean, reader has slept around, oral sex, messy pussy eating, facefucking, degradation, creampie, squirting
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You agreed to it just a week ago!”
“Yeah, because I thought when you said friend you meant another girl! Not one of your slimy frat boys who plans to bring home a different side piece every night!”
Mark awkwardly clears his throat, each hand carrying two duffle bags. “I can find another place to stay, Jaehyun. It’s no big deal.”
Then, to his surprise, the both of you are quick to turn to him and scream “No!”
“My sister is just being selfish, Mark. Go and unpack your things in the spare room,” Jaehyun says through clenched teeth.
You’re no better — staring down your brother with the nastiest look you could muster. “On the contrary, my brother is the one being selfish by making his sister move in with a random stranger! Go unpack your things, Mark, so I can tell you all the little secrets Jaehyun doesn’t want his frat to know about.”
“Don’t even think about it. You know I have way more dirt on you than you have on me.”
“Really? You want to take that chance?”
Mark clears his throat again, his wrists aching from the weight of his bags.
“So should I go unpack?”
He’s surprised yet again when the siblings turn their heads to glare at him.
“Yes!”
And that’s how Mark Lee became your roommate.
—
When Jaehyun called you last week, he made it seem very simple. He mentioned how one of his friends needed a place to stay temporarily, as their apartment had been flooded and maintenance needed a couple of weeks to repair it. Since Minjeong had just moved out of your second bedroom to be with her boyfriend across town, you didn’t mind loaning the room for the time being to save on rent.
What Jaehyun didn’t tell you, however, was that the apartment that was flooded was actually his fraternity house and his friend who was displaced was actually Mark Lee. Mark was the only one without a significant other to stay with so your brother decided to throw him with you.
Mark didn’t know that much about you since Jaehyun always mentioned you were off-limits. Johnny tried to shoot his shot with you two years ago and it almost ended in a public fist-fight between him and Jaehyun on the fraternity’s front lawn.
Even though you two bickered constantly, Jaehyun hated the idea of his sister being used by one of his friends.
Mark guessed that Jaehyun didn’t know how many guys you actually brought home.
“Oh, sorry!”
It was only a few days into your temporary housing arrangement when Mark came home from class to find you straddling Donghyuck on the living room couch. Donghyuck’s hand was up your skirt and your eyes were a little watery, indicating that Donghyuck had clearly done a number on you before Mark walked in.
“D-Donghyuck?” Mark says in shock, surprised to see one of his best friends here.
“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans, pausing whatever his hands were doing underneath your skirt. “You’re such a fucking cockblock, Mark.”
Mark pauses at the sound of your whimper. You’re pawing at Donghyuck’s chest, lips pressed against his ear.
“More, Hyuck, please.”
“Um, I’ll come back later,” Mark shuffles awkwardly in the doorway.
“Yeah, you do that,” Donghyuck replies offhandedly, directing his attention back to you.
The last thing Mark hears when he closes his door is one of your pornographic moans.
—
Mark isn’t able to confront Donghyuck about it until they play basketball on the weekend. When he finally spots his fluffy haired friend, he aggressively bumps his shoulder.
“Bro, what the fuck were you doing with Jaehyun’s sister on Tuesday?”
Renjun’s interest peaked from his spot on the bench. He’s not very good at playing basketball, but he always joins regardless to listen to all the gossip Chenle and Donghyuck throw around.
“Jaehyun’s sister?” Renjun clarifies. “Oh, you’re so fucked.”
“Who’s fucking Jaehyun’s sister?” Chenle asks, jogging over once he sees Mark has arrived.
“Everyone calm your asses,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun doesn’t know and no one’s going to tell him. And if we’re being completely honest here, I’m not the only guy on her weekday list.”
Mark frowns. The only guy he’s seen you with over this past week has been Donghyuck.
And the menace himself can already sense what’s lingering in Mark’s head. “You know that whenever you play basketball with Chenle, she’s definitely fucking other guys in your apartment, right?” Donghyuck questions.
Mark’s brain temporarily short circuits at the information. That would mean you’re fucking someone right now.
“But Jaehyun-“
“Jaehyun doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to. All her hookups are kept on a hush hush basis,” Donghyuck smirks, cocky at the fact that he gets to fuck you without your brother punching his face in. “And now that you’re her roommate, maybe you can add yourself into the mix.”
Chenle laughs at the idea. “Please. Mark would fuck her and immediately run to Jaehyun out of guilt. There’s no way.”
Mark bashfully scratches the back of his neck, not disagreeing with Chenle’s statement. “Plus, I don’t really see her that way.”
The comment makes all three men chuckle. Donghyuck places a hand on Mark’s shoulder, giving him a serious look.
“Mark, everyone sees her that way.”
—
Mark returns home to see you sitting on the couch, eating some trashy food and watching your favorite reality television show. You look completely exhausted, and Mark wonders if it’s because some other guy just fucked you.
“Hey,” he greets you, slipping his shoes off and throwing his backpack to the ground.
“Hey,” you reply, more interested in whatever’s happening on your show.
Mark awkwardly prepares a bowl of ramen for himself and takes a seat next to you on the couch. You’re wearing nothing but a thin camisole and a pair of sleep shorts, and he tries not to pay too close attention to the leftover cum smearing your thighs.
“What are we watching?” He asks, trying to start up some sort of conversation.
“Some mind numbing show. I need something to distract me since I got bad dick tonight.”
Mark swallows. He wasn’t expecting you to be so direct about it, or even tell him about your escapades when he leaves the apartment.
“Oh?” He tries to level his voice. “Sorry about that.”
You sigh. “It’s whatever. Guys think that just because I’m horny when I’m ovulating, I want to be some sort of cumdump for them.”
He wonders why you’re telling him all of this, but he lets you continue your rant regardless.
“I mean, yes, is it nice to get thrown around and used every once in a while? Sure. But that doesn’t mean you forget about me cumming too!” You groan, and Mark can tell how frustrated you are.
Donghyuck’s evil voice whispers in his ear and Mark can’t help but let the next words slip out of his mouth.
“I can help you if you still need it.”
You pause eating your burger and turn to him. It’s almost like you’re seeing him for the first time, eyes scanning him up and down and checking him out. Mark’s brain suddenly spirals, and he wonders if he’s crossed an invisible line. You’re probably not even into him, and now he has to go apologize to Jaehyun-
“Sure,” you shrug, setting your food down.
His wide eyes watch as you lay yourself down on the couch, shimmying your shorts to your ankles and flinging them across the room. Mark feels like time has completely stopped when he sees the wet patch in your underwear, some other guy’s cum spilling through the fabric.
“Sorry about the mess,” you apologize. “I was too lazy to clean myself up after he left.”
Mark sets his ramen bowl down on the coffee table, unsure of how to approach this situation. He didn’t even think you would agree to his offer.
“He didn’t help clean you up?”
You giggle. “Aw, it’s cute that you think other guys do that.”
He ignores the fact that the tip of his ears are probably blooming red, adjusting the rising stiffness of his cock in his small basketball shorts. He positions himself until he’s face to face with your lace panties, thumb curiously padding over your folds.
“Mm,” you whimper needily, hips bucking themselves upwards. “Don’t tease, Mark.”
He couldn’t help but start sucking you over your underwear, his tongue catching a mix of leftover cum and your wetness. He hears your breathy giggle and your hands tangle through his hair.
“You’re nasty,” you remark. He peers up at you briefly to see your cloudy eyes.
He makes a show of slowly rolling your panties down, cock twitching at the sight of your ruined pussy.
“You’re really swollen,” he comments, fingers pushing your folds apart gently.
You hold back a moan. “Yeah, he did a real number on me. You said you can make me feel better though, can’t you?”
Mark answers by sloppily kissing your cunt, tongue prodding your entrance. His nose presses against your clit and you whine loudly. He doesn’t even need any more guidance from you, delving into your pussy and eating you like a man starved. He starts off by sucking your folds gently, mindful of how the last guy who fucked you probably didn’t prep you at all. When he hears your pitiful moans, however, and your chants of more, more, more, he becomes more desperate.
“Shit,” you gasp. You’ve never had a guy eat you out this good before, and you’re genuinely surprised by how fast you’re reaching your high. “Oh, fuck.”
You panic a little at the familiar tension building in your stomach, and Mark groans when you try to push him away.
“Wait, Mark, I’m going to-“
You collapse into a series of moans when your orgasm hits, your brain turning fuzzy. The only thing you hear is the filthy squelch of your juices and Mark eagerly slurping up your high.
He pulls away and watches as you slowly realize you’ve squirted everywhere. You groan and shut your eyes tightly.
“Sorry about that. It happens sometimes.”
He tilts his head, confused. “Why are you apologizing? That was so fucking hot.”
You giggle and open your eyes again, meeting his lust-filled gaze.
“Really? A lot of guys usually hate it because of how messy it is.”
“They’re idiots.”
You smile, tugging him upwards so you can kiss him. “Maybe you deserve a little treat for making me feel that good,” you whisper, palming him over his shorts.
Mark is about to strip so he can take you on the couch, but stops when he hears a knock at the door.
His body completely freezes when he opens it to see Jaehyun on the other side. The older male raises an eyebrow.
“Dude, did you forget I was coming over to work on our project?”
Before Mark can protest Jaehyun coming in, the man is pushing past him. Mark quickly tries to think of any excuse for why you would be half-naked on the couch, but before he could start frantically explaining himself, he’s surprised to see you’ve somehow located your shorts and slipped them back on. You also knocked over a bottle of water on the couch to make it seem like the remnants of your orgasm was just an accidental spill.
You roll your eyes at the sight of your brother, pushing past him to go into your room.
“Looks like you dragged the trash in, Mark.”
Jaehyun hisses lowly when your bedroom door shuts.
“Devil. I hope she’s not corrupting you.”
Mark swallows, pushing away all thoughts of fucking you to try and get his erection to lower.
“Nope. Definitely not.”
—
Mark avoids you for the next couple of days. The maintenance at the fraternity said the guys could move back in next week, and Mark’s current plan was to avoid you as much as possible until move out day.
He was slightly successful, but also a little hurt since you didn’t seem to care that he was avoiding your presence. You carried on like nothing happened, and Mark saw you walking around campus with a different guy almost every day.
It isn’t until Donghyuck confronts him that he finds out the truth.
“What the fuck did you do?”
Mark’s never seen Donghyuck so frustrated, hair sticking up in different directions and clothing being inside out. Mark innocently continues to dribble the basketball, looking at Chenle for help. His friend stands on the other side of the court, shrugging in response.
“Uh, what are you talking about?”
Donghyuck pushes him aggressively. “You know what I’m talking about! She won’t fuck any of us!”
Mark is more confused than ever and Donghyuck throws his hands up. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Donghyuck murmurs under his breath. “I’m talking about your little roommate! She canceled all of her hookups this week, including me, Jeno, Jaemin, and Yangyang. I want a fucking explanation, Mark, for why I wasn’t able to get good pussy today.”
Mark shrugs. “How am I supposed to know?”
Chenle comes over when he realizes no one’s planning on throwing the ball to him anytime soon. “Hyuck, she probably got a boyfriend. Leave Mark alone.”
“No no no,” Donghyuck chuckles like an evil villain. “She doesn’t do that dating shit. She’s either getting really good dick or Jaehyun found out. So I’m going to ask once again — what the fuck did you do, Mark?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Mark puts his hands up innocently. “Otherwise I’d get in trouble too.”
The statement makes Donghyuck and Chenle stop in their tracks.
“No way.”
“You?!”
Mark winces at how loud Donghyuck’s voice can echo.
“You?” Donghyuck repeats in shock. “No way. She canceled on us to fuck you?”
“We haven’t fucked,” Mark clarified. “I just ate her out last week because she wasn’t feeling good and I was going to fuck her until Jaehyun came over. We haven’t done anything since then.”
Donghyuck strokes his chin like he’s trying to solve a mystery.
“How did she cum?”
“Huh?”
“Did she pretend to cum? Did you feel her actually cum? Did you use a vibrator? Did you use your fingers?”
Chenle gags. “This is the worst conversation I’ve ever heard.”
Mark awkwardly clears his throat. “I just used my mouth. And she squirted.”
Donghyuck completely freezes and Chenle waves a hand over his face.
“Dude, I think you broke him,” Chenle mutters.
Mark squeaks when Donghyuck suddenly tackles him, the younger boy pinning him down and glaring at him.
“What the fuck?” Mark exclaims, trying to push Donghyuck away from him.
“You’re lying,” Donghyuck growls. “You have to be. There’s no way you made her squirt.”
“What’s the big deal? She said she’s done it before,” Mark says, still failing at getting Donghyuck off of him. He ignores Chenle’s laughs at his predicament.
“Yeah, by herself! No guy’s ever made her squirt before. Trust me, me and Jeno have tried many times. Separately and together.”
Mark ignores the fact that Donghyuck just admitted to having regular threesomes with Jeno.
“But she told me-“
“She lied. So clearly she stopped fucking us to get with you. This is so humiliating for me.”
Mark sees a flash of a camera and Chenle’s giggle.
“And now we have it documented.”
He hears the soft padding of footsteps before Renjun approaches, taking in the sight of Donghyuck pinning Mark down on the floor of the basketball court.
“Um, what did I miss?”
“Oh, Renjun, you won’t believe this but-“
“Zhong Chenle!” Donghyuck finally peels himself away from Mark to chase Chenle around the court, preventing him from telling Renjun about how you rejected Donghyuck for Mark.
Mark’s head is still spinning from the information when he sees Renjun’s head pop into his vision above him.
“You look sick. You should go home, dude.”
—
Mark followed Renjun’s advice and got out of the court as fast as possible. He dismissed Donghyuck’s insistent protests for an explanation on how he made you squirt.
When he arrives home, he’s surprised to see you cooking ramen on the stove. He’s even more surprised to see you wearing nothing but his shirt and a tiny pair of panties peeking out from the bottom. You turn slightly to see him, smiling when he walks through the door.
“Welcome home!”
He tries to ignore how his cock twitches at your words.
“Um, thanks. What are you making?”
He drifts into the kitchen, ignoring the voice in his head that’s telling him to go to his room and lock the door.
“Just some ramen,” you hum. “Wanted a quick snack.”
“Ah,” he nods. “I actually just came back from seeing Donghyuck.”
“Oh?” You say, not sounding surprised in the slightest by the information. “Did he say anything?”
Mark can tell you’re playing a game with him, and he’s not sure if he wants to bite. “He just mentioned how he hasn’t seen you lately.”
You laugh. “I’m sure Donghyuck was more colorful than that. He isn’t exactly careful with his words.”
Mark nervously swallows. “Well, he said that you haven’t really seen anyone since last week.”
You hum. “Interesting. I wonder why that is.”
You shoot him a small smile, and Mark recognizes the mischievous glint in your eye. You reach for some spices on the top shelf of your cabinet, and he gets an eyeful of your ass.
You gasp when you feel Mark press against your back, and you watch as he turns off the stove.
“Why are you teasing me?” He breathily asks in your ear, fingers gripping your hips tightly.
“Am I?”
He can hear the smirk in your voice. “How did you get my shirt, you little minx?”
You giggle, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your core.
“I did a little snooping in your room. You’re such a slob,” you say, remembering all the stray chip bags and old t-shirts Mark has lying around.
“Sorry,” he apologizes as he cups your mound, and he groans when he feels how wet you are. “This is supposed to be a temporary thing, remember? I don’t exactly have to keep everything in tip top shape.”
Your folds are practically spilling out of your underwear. “Don’t you think these panties are too small for you?” He asks, rubbing your clit gently. You whimper and buck your hips up into his hand. “It’s no better than not wearing them at all.”
“I thought you liked seeing my pussy,” you hum, leaning back on him. “You sure liked it when you ate me out last week.”
Mark is quick to move your underwear to the side, inserting a finger into your cunt without warning. You moan loudly and grip onto his arms.
“About that, Donghyuck told me something interesting,” he mentions, focusing on how tight you feel around his finger. “He said no guy’s ever made you squirt before.”
You’re pretty desperate for him at this point, so you barely register what he’s saying in favor of trying to get him to push more of his fingers into you.
“Uh huh.”
He chuckles and the sound shoots straight to your core. He grants your wish and pushes two more fingers into your weeping hole, basking in how he stretches you open. Your mind turns into mush once he starts pumping them in and out of you, scissoring and rubbing against your sweet spot. You wonder how he’s managed to learn your body so quickly.
“It really grabbed my attention when he said that because I was under the impression that someone’s done that to you before.”
Your whimpers turn into cries when his thumb starts to circle your clit, and you struggle to respond to him.
“J-Just my fingers. Not a-anyone else,” you mindlessly say.
“You’re so fucking desperate,” Mark hisses meanly, nipping at your ear. He has to admit that his conversation with Donghyuck has given him a major ego boost. “So what? You fuck every guy on campus to try and get close to the pleasure I gave you? But they’re not me, are they? That’s why you stopped going to them.”
“Mark,” you cry when he removes himself from you, slapping your ass roughly.
“Get on the counter.”
You quickly obey, legs wobbling slightly as you prop yourself up on the kitchen counter. Mark is fast to drop to his knees, spreading your legs apart and diving into your cunt.
“Fuck,” you whimper when you feel Mark’s tongue lapping at your wetness.
He keeps his eyes on you when he sucks your clit, slipping two fingers in your entrance. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your whole upper half collapsing on top of the island.
Mark’s gaze follows you, learning what you like and what your body really reacts to. Every time he curls his fingers upwards, you shake a little and your moans grow louder.
“S-Shit,” you gasp, struggling to breathe. “How are you so fucking good at this?”
That tension is building in your stomach again, even faster than the first time. You can tell Mark is expecting it, opening his mouth wider and sucking you harder. He revels in the sound of your loud cries, begging him for more and desperately asking to cum.
“Please, please, please-“ you plead, pushing Mark deeper into your cunt.
He pulls back briefly to direct you. “Squirt for me, baby. Show me how I’m better than everyone else.”
When he grazes your clit with his teeth, you fall off the edge. Mark eagerly fingers you while your juices spill on the kitchen floor, his cock straining in his shorts.
Before you can regain your senses, you find yourself being turned around, and your feet hit the kitchen tile.
“Mmf,” you mumble blearily, your vision blurry.
He shushes you, hands exploring your ass as he pulls your underwear down. “It’s alright, baby. I got you.” You feel the tip of his cock prod your entrance and you whimper, pushing yourself back on him subconsciously.
“Please- I want-“
“I know, I know,” Mark assures you, voice sounding slightly smug. “You want my cock, don’t you? Dripping for it, acting like a whore just to get it.”
Your cheek presses against the counter, mind empty and thinking of nothing but Mark’s cock. When he finally eases himself into your cunt, you swear you see heaven.
“Shit, baby, you’re soaking. Makes it so easy for me to slide in,” he mumbles, watching as he easily disappears into you.
“M-More, more-“ you plead, reaching behind yourself in an attempt to get him to bottom out.
When he finally does, he’s laughing condescendingly in your ear. He brushes your hair away from your face when he thrusts in the first time so he can see how you fall apart.
“You’re so fucking easy,” he snickers, and you’re amazed by how you unlocked such an evil side to Mark Lee. “No wonder all the guys pass you around like a new toy.”
It’s embarrassing how fast you reach your second orgasm. You scream and shudder when your body snaps. He shows no signs of stopping either, railing you through your high. You reach the point where you can’t tell if you’re begging him to stop or to fuck you until you pass out.
And Mark has no idea where this burst of confidence comes from, but he finds himself pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his shorts.
“What-“ you whisper, suddenly feeling empty. “Where are you going?”
“Clearly, a brat like you only cares about her own pleasure. I guess I should find someone else to take care of me.”
You begin to panic even though Mark has no intentions of actually leaving. “Wait- Wait, no-“ you desperately cry, legs shaking as you try to stop him. You immediately sink to your knees, hands gripping his thighs. “I can take care of you.”
Mark scoffs, eyes challenging you. “I doubt it. Look at yourself — kneeling in a puddle of your own filth, thinking you can suck my cock and be decently good at it. I’m not like Donghyuck, you know. I don’t cum easily.”
“I don’t want Donghyuck,” you sob in despair. If he’s surprised by the sudden tears running down your face, he makes no show of it. “I want you! Please, I’m sorry I was so selfish. I won’t be like that ever again.”
He runs a finger down your face before cupping your cheeks harshly.
“Then tell me I’m the only one who gets to fuck you from now on. No one else.”
You don’t skip a beat. “Just you. I’ll only fuck you from now on, I promise.”
“Show me.”
You quickly take his cock out, angrily red and leaking from the tip. You gasp when Mark grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs cruelly. You get the message, opening your mouth wide and loosening your jaw.
He has absolutely no mercy on you, shoving his cock far down your throat. He ignores your gagging, saliva dripping from the sides of your lips. He begins a brutal pace in face fucking you, his cock consistently hitting the back of your windpipe.
Venom drips from his voice. “I want you like this from now on. Ready on your knees as soon as I walk through that door. Understood?”
You try to nod but it only comes out as a mix of garbles and choked noises. He finally grants you mercy and allows you to breathe for a few seconds.
You wheeze, coughing and sputtering. Mark decides it’s enough recovery time for you, however, pushing you up against one of the kitchen cabinets on the floor. He completely folds you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders and lining himself up to your entrance once more.
“Beg for it.”
“Please fuck me!” You cry, not caring how pathetic you sound. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be a good girl. Please!”
“And?” He says, leaning closer to you with a waiting gaze.
“And you’re the only one I’ll be with from now on! I promise!”
Mark ignores that his knees are soaked in your juices from earlier and that he’ll probably get bruises from the kitchen tile. He fucks you at a brutal pace, slamming your head into the wooden cabinets over and over at the force of his thrusts. Your neck aches but he makes you watch him pound into you, his cock abusing your pussy as he likes.
“If you’re nice, I’ll let you cum again,” he hisses, balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “If I think you’re being a brat again, I’ll make you lick your cum off the floor.”
“G-Good, I’m g-g-good,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “Good girl!”
He chuckles. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
He leans over you and you take the hint, opening your mouth and allowing him to spit on your tongue. You swallow eagerly, showing him how you obey him.
“You’re such a perfect little doll, aren’t you?” He snickers, your wetness starting to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock. You can’t tell if he wants you to answer, but you’re too fucked out to reply anyways. “When Jaehyun told me to come live with his sister for a few weeks, I never thought you’d be such a campus whore. He always talked about you like no one’s ever even allowed to speak to you. Guess he’ll never know how most of his friends have already spitroasted you, huh?”
“I-I need-“ you whimper, failing to come up with what you want to say.
“Aw, baby wants to come?”
You nod, hoping he’ll grant you permission. He smiles as he stares at you, fully cockdrunk and wanting more. He knows he has you in the palm of his hand now.
“Go ahead.”
When he feels you tighten around him, Mark goes with you, ropes of his cum shooting deep into your cunt. There’s so much of it that it spills out of your folds.
When you come down from your high, you pay no attention to the searing pain in your neck. You look up at Mark with wide eyes.
“Are we together now?”
He still feels a little mean, so he pushes you a little more. “Donghyuck said you don’t do the dating shit.”
“B-But I want to be with you,” you say softly, looking like you’re going to cry again if Mark rejects you.
He takes pity on you, lifting up your chin and kissing you gently.
“Alright. But you have to protect me from Jaehyun.”
You giggle and nod.
—
When the frat house is finally repaired, you show up to help Mark move in, hand intertwined with his. Every single fraternity member stops at the sight of you in the doorway, jaws open.
“You’re so fucked,” Johnny laughs, getting out his phone to film Jaehyun’s reaction.
Your brother comes into sight, carrying one of the moving boxes in his hands. He immediately drops it at the sight of you two, his eyes locked in on your joined hands.
“You look like trash,” you laugh at the sight of Jaehyun’s hair sticking up in multiple directions.
Mark swallows when Jaehyun angrily stomps over to the two of you. Mark internally prepares himself to get his ass beaten by Jaehyun, but he’s shocked when instead of fighting him, Jaehyun drops a hand to Mark’s shoulder, frowning.
“I’m so sorry, Mark. You’re one of the good ones and I failed to save you from the pits of hell. Instead, I led you directly into her arms and for that, I’ll be eternally apologetic.”
“Oh, you stupid fucker!” You scream, grabbing your sibling by the ear and pulling him outside.
Mark watches as you and Jaehyun throw hands on the front lawn, spitting insults at each other. Johnny comes up next to him and sighs.
“You’re such a lucky bastard.”
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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)
Chap. 2: See me
Chap 2. Summary: To be loved is to be seen. You're slowly learning that Joel sees you a lot more than you realize.
Rating: 18+ MDNI (for future smut)
Word Count: 6.7k
Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, no smut (yet...pls be patient), tension, banter, a fuck ton of angst, mutual pining, language... I think that's it this go around?
A/N: trust me, we're building up to the good stuff. I'm just enjoying developing Joel and the reader a bit more, so pls hang tight. It's all coming soon, I promise.
Masterlist
It had been two weeks since you had last seen Joel. You managed to get through the first round of tests and projects for each of your classes, but as the midterms slowly approached, you began to notice a shift in your students—specifically, Sarah. It wasn’t noticeable at first; she was still chatty with her friends, but her grades were slipping. Then, it became her grades and mood. During lessons, you’d catch her staring out the window blankly or doodling dismissively on the margins of her notebook when you were running through the guidelines for the midterms. She lingered longer after the school bell, choosing not to leave with her friends. After a particularly dull day of presentations, you decided to pull her aside after class. Sarah was reluctant to stay, but you reassured her she wasn’t in trouble.
“I’ve noticed you’re a bit off lately, Sarah,” you said, leaning against the edge of your desk.
“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she shrugged.
She wouldn’t meet your eyes, and you noticed her shifting her weight between her legs the longer she stood in the empty room with you. You feared something was happening at home with Joel, but you didn’t want to explore that topic with your twelve-year-old student. Instead, you gave her a soft smile and tried a different approach.
“I know you’re on the soccer team. Has that been tiring you out?” You asked.
“I mean, I guess so.”
“When’s your first game?” You were really trying now.
Sarah tightened her fingers around the straps of her backpack, staring at the floor.
“This Saturday,” she mumbled.
“Are you excited? I’m sure your dad can’t wait to cheer you on!”
There it was—the breaking point.
She looked up at you through blurry eyes, biting her lip to stop from crying. You immediately regretted bringing up Joel. You had overstepped a boundary, and you were paying the price. Dipping your head to meet her at eye level, you placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her the best you could.
“Oh, honey,” you sighed. “I’m sorry. Is that what’s been upsetting you?”
She nodded, sniffling back the tears.
“He’s always working,” she explained. “I don’t really think he’ll make time to come watch me play.”
“I bet he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assured her.
“Yeah,” she said, wiping away a stray tear.
You watched the defeat etch itself into her features, the deep frown across her face, the brightness in her eyes dwindling. You wanted to believe Joel was a good dad, and you had no doubt he was trying his hardest, but that clearly wasn’t enough. Tipping your fingers under her chin, you coaxed her eyes to meet yours.
“Look, how about I go?” You offered. “I know I’m not the person you want to see on the sidelines, but I would love to watch you play.”
“Really?” She asked, her eyes growing wide.
“Really,” you promised.
Your words seemed to have soothed a bit of the ache inside of her, and she left the classroom with a smile growing on her face. If Joel wouldn’t show up for her, then you would. She deserved someone cheering her on; she deserved to be happy.
Whoever decided to schedule soccer games at eight AM on a Saturday was cruel, but regardless, you threw on some leggings and a sweater and made your way to the school soccer fields. The parking lot was littered with minivans and families walking with lawn chairs tucked under their arms, their coolers filled with juice pouches and snacks dragging behind them. Obviously, you were uncultured in the sports world and came without a chair or blanket…or anything. So, you opted to stand behind the line of parents on the field, swaying under the morning breeze as you watched the kids chase the ball across the field.
Your eyes never left Sarah while she was on the field; her bouncy curls and lean figure were easy to spot among the other players. She was quick when given the ball, dodging the opponents as she neared the net. There were only three minutes left in the first half of the game, and she had possession of the ball, weaving in and out of the players tracking her moves. You held your breath as she ran closer to the net, the ball easily controlled under her feet. An opponent was gaining on her, trying to kick the ball away, but Sarah did a little twirl and evaded them perfectly to shoot the game's first point. You were cheering and clapping loudly with the other parents on the sideline, watching her teammates swarm her with hugs. But as the cheering died out, you were left with this profound sadness that her dad wasn’t here to see her first goal.
You let that bitterness grow inside you as you watched the remainder of the game.
When the final whistle blew, the team won 1-0, with Sarah being the game's star player. With a sheen of sweat over her forehead and a juice pouch in hand, Sarah skipped over to you with a bright smile.
“Great job!” You cheered, welcoming her into a warm embrace.
She squeezed her arms around your torso, babbling off a slew of ‘thank you’s.’ You put aside your anger towards Joel as you grounded yourself in the moment. Sarah deserved this celebration, and you would happily give her every bit of attention you could.
“Do you need a ride home, honey?” You asked, pulling away from the hug.
Sarah’s cheery exterior faltered as she looked around at the families embracing their children. You knew where her mind was going. Looking around, she nodded slowly, clutching her drink tightly.
“My friend’s parents took me here, but I think they’re going out to lunch. I was hoping my dad would be here, but…” She trailed off.
“I’m happy to take you home, Sarah. Want some food for the drive home?” You offered.
That bright smile was back as she happily agreed, following you back to your car.
Both you and Sarah were munching on fries and singing along to pop tunes when you finally parked in front of her house. To your detriment, Joel’s truck was parked in the driveway. Sarah timidly looked between you and the truck as she gathered her sports bag and soda cup, thanking you again for the day spent together. You gave her the best fake smile you could conjure up and watched her head to the front door.
You sat in front of the driveway for an extra few minutes, debating whether you should confront Joel, but before you could even decide, he was walking down the front porch and towards your car. That bitterness and anger you had suppressed all day surged forward, and you jumped out of the car to face him with a frown drawn on your face.
Joel greeted you with your name falling off his tongue, and you didn’t have time to register the beautiful way it sounded in his Southern accent before you began spewing a litany of remarks about how you felt.
“Why weren’t you there?” You shouted, your body at arm's length from his. You needed to distance yourself from him, too afraid that your anger would send a hand flying across his face. You had to remind yourself that he was Sarah’s dad and you were her teacher, but that wouldn’t stop you from speaking your mind.
Joel looked at you with a furrow of confusion and guilt, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It was apparent he regretted missing the game, but that didn’t matter. Saying sorry wouldn’t turn back the clock and magically make everything better. You knew that firsthand.
“Tommy and I had an early meetin’ with a contractor,” he explained. “Trust me, I hate that I missed the game.”
“You didn’t just miss the game. You missed her first goal,” you snapped.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rocking his heels. “I appreciate you takin’ the time to go and watch her play. And drivin’ her home… and gettin’ her lunch.”
“I did everything you should have done,” you accused.
Joel swallowed thickly, his eyes settling on yours with a wave of sadness passing through his irises. Those big puppy dog eyes wouldn’t soothe the anger steamrolling over your professionalism. Fuck being professional. Sarah deserved a dad who was present, and if no one were going to call him out on his bullshit, you’d do it.
“I feel real shitty ‘bout it,” he sighed. “You ain’t gotta remind me.”
“You should feel shitty. She’s your daughter. I shouldn’t have to be the only one cheering for her on the sidelines. Nothing should be more important than that.”
“Would you quit lecturin’ me?” Joel barked. “I know I fucked up, and I already apologized to her. Again, I appreciate you takin’ the time to be there for her, and I’m real sorry for makin’ you do that.”
You huffed a laugh, folding your arms over your chest.
“You didn’t make me do anything,” you argued. “I wanted to be there for her, but she wanted you to be there for her.”
Joel said nothing at that, only stared at you in stunned silence. You were done with him, letting your anger get the best of you.
“I know what it feels like when the one person you want to see doesn’t show up. I know that disappointment. Have a great day, Mr. Miller. Tell Sarah I’ll see her on Monday.”
You spun on your heel toward your car, flinging the door open with more force than you wanted. You shouldn’t have brought your past into it; Joel was nothing like Bennette, but it hurt all the same.
Joel didn’t try to stop you as you drove out of the neighborhood, but he remained at the curb of his driveway, his eyes never leaving you until you were out of view.
You barely managed to put your car in park before you broke down in tears. Everything was crashing at the surface, and you didn’t have the strength to bottle it away this time. Bennett had been your entire world for five years. Your whole life revolved around him, from going to the same grad school together to moving away from Boston to be with him in his new career. You left everything behind for him and were happy to do it because you loved him. Despite his flaws and the “not-so-picture perfect” relationship, you stayed because you loved him. And in that moment when you needed him to be there for you… he was gone. You weren’t lying to Joel when you said you knew what that disappointment felt like; it was that same feeling that kept you up at night when you wondered if you had done something to deserve it. But Sarah? Sarah did nothing to deserve to be abandoned by her dad. All she wanted was to see that one person cheering her on from the sidelines, to hug her and tell her she was loved.
She didn’t get that today.
And you didn’t get that two years ago.
With whatever dignity you had left, you dragged yourself inside and into your bedroom, flinging yourself onto the mattress. Curling into a ball on top of the comforter, you let the tears continue to fall as you stared at the empty walls where the pictures of you and Bennett had hung before. Every inch of this house was a reminder of the scars Bennett left on your heart. You could have moved out months ago, you could have gone home, but what was the use when the pain would just travel with you? Shutting your eyes, you let the emotions exhaust you until you drifted asleep.
“Bennett, I told you what time the cake tasting was scheduled for,” you shouted across the kitchen.
Bennett wasn’t even listening as he responded to a thread of emails on his computer. The law firm he had been working at kept him on a short leash, always requiring him to be there at their beck and call. Between you and his job, his loyalty was in the latter.
“I know,” he nodded, still glued to the computer screen. “They needed a proxy for the shareholder meeting and asked me to step in.”
“We’ve had this scheduled for weeks now. You can’t expect me to make all these decisions alone.”
“Whatever cake you choose, I’m sure I’ll love it,” he shrugged.
“That's not the point!” You yelled, slamming down the Tupperware you had been scrubbing.
That caught his attention. Slamming the laptop shut, Bennett’s nostrils flared at your sudden outburst. You weren’t usually this outspoken; you were always the level-headed and obedient fiancé he expected to have. But the entire engagement had been a disaster, between work conflicts and the constant pressure he put on you. Every day, he expected to come home to a fresh meal, never considering that your job didn’t end when three PM hit. Being a teacher meant your responsibilities began at home, when you were hunched over curating the next lesson and grading papers. You never complained about his workload extending into the evening, either. God forbid you ask for more time together.
“What is the point?” He snapped.
“The point is that I want you there. I want you to be a part of this wedding planning process. All I’m asking for is two hours together, where we eat too much sugar and choose a damn cake flavor. It’s not even about the fucking cake, Bennett. It’s about you being present in this engagement.”
“Are you saying I’m not present?” He accused. “Because I have been as present as possible despite me working so hard to fund this big wedding that you wanted!”
“I just want you there with me for these things. Even if they aren’t important to you, it’s important to me,” you said, your energy dwindling. He always found a way to make you feel bad, and you looked past it for the sake of your heart. You loved him and did everything you could to make him love you in return. If that meant placating your feelings, you’d do it.
“If it’s so important to you, then just go. You can tell me all about it when I get home tomorrow.”
That was the best resolution you’d get, and there was no use fighting anymore. He would always win.
“Okay,” you acquiesced. “I’ll do that.”
Bennett rose from his chair and met you around the kitchen counter with a big hug. He rested his chin on your head as you melted into his chest.
“I love you, honey. I don’t want you angry at me all the time. You know I’m trying my hardest to be everywhere all at once. Just work with me, okay?” he sighed.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be better about it. I love you, too,” you whispered.
A firm knock on your front door jolted you awake from the flood of memories in your dreams. The shadows in your room were a telltale sign you had slept through most of the afternoon, which would put a hefty dent in the list of never-ending work you needed to finish. Sulking through the house to the front door, you smoothed down your hair and sweater, trying to gather your bearings. With one last heavy inhale, you pried the door open and stood paralyzed at the further standing before you.
Joel said your name softly, his eyes tired and hair ruffled at the crown of his head. He looked as just a mess as you did, but most definitely for different reasons.
“Mr. Miller,” you said. “What are you doing here?”
He swayed back on his heels, holding your eyes apologetically. It was written all over his face; he didn’t need to say the words.
“Our conversation earlier ain’t sittin’ right with me,” he sighed.
“I overstepped, and I’m sorry,” you said honestly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
Joel held his hand in protest, shaking his head at your words.
“Don’t apologize, okay? You were right about everything. I shoulda been there, and I wasn’t. I let her down.”
“Mr. Miller, I—.”
“I let her down,” he repeated. “And I let you down.”
You stood in stunned silence, trying to understand his words. Joel watched you turn the words over in your head, his eyes never leaving yours. He said everything you had ever asked to hear from Bennett in just a few words. You didn’t understand the emotions stirring inside you, nor could you control the tears welling in your eyes. This would be the second time you cried today, and now it would be the second time you cried in front of Joel.
“You didn’t let me down,” you faltered.
“I did. I want you to see that I’m not a bad father, but I seem to keep makin’ mistakes left and right. She expected me to be there, and so did you. I’m the type of man who makes and keeps his promises, but lately, I’ve been fallin’ short. It ain’t fair to her, and it ain’t fair to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” you whispered, wiping your tears.
“I sure as hell do,” he protested. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, okay? I’m gonna do better about bein’ there for her, and I want you to see that. I don’t wanna keep fuckin’ it all up.”
“Did you tell her that?” You asked.
“I did, and now I’m tellin’ you. I want you holdin’ me accountable on all this, and I want you to call me out on my bullshit like you did earlier. I needed to hear all that.”
“I was just angry. I didn’t need to be that mean to you.”
Joel lifted his hand to brush away a stray tear falling down your cheek, the touch of his hand on your skin electrifying you. You flinched away, trying to curl into yourself. He noticed your movements, letting his hand fall back to his side. You glanced down, watching him clench his hand into a fist as if he were trying to control an urge inside of him. You were trying to do the same; being near him scared you. It shocked you to see someone act mature and actually own up to their faults; it was something Bennett rarely did. You couldn’t make sense of it.
“There ain’t a single part of me that’s mad at you, okay? Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind—at least not with me,” Joel said.
You only nodded, too afraid that if you spoke now, you’d succumb to an ugly sob. Joel’s broad frame was shadowed and looming over you in the dying sunlight, a cloud over the haze inside your mind. Joel didn’t understand the weight in those words, the way they sewed shut the empty holes left inside you. It wasn’t Bennett saying them, and it definitely didn’t rewrite the past, but it was writing the future. It was a future with the possibility that you weren’t as broken as you thought.
“Thank you,” you muttered. “I—just thank you.”
“Somethin’ tells me you ain’t been told these things before, huh?” Joel prodded.
“It doesn’t matter. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here, and I’m sorry again. I promise I’ll be better about my anger,” you laughed, hoping you’d be able to brush it off with a forced smile.
Joel saw right through you; his lips tugged down into a frown. You watched the crease between his eyebrows appear as he watched you minimize yourself right back down to zero. It wasn’t easier that way—making yourself small. Too big, and you’d be too much to handle. You were tired of being too much for anyone; it had already been your downfall once before.
“Whoever made you feel like y’need to apologize all the time is a real piece of shit,” Joel huffed.
“It’s alright, Mr. Miller. Thank you again for stopping by.”
“It’s the least I could do. And y’know what? I’d be happy if you joined me at the rest of her games. She loved havin’ you there, and I know it would mean a lot to her to see you on the sidelines again. Think that’s somethin’ you’d interested in?”
“I’ll think about it, yeah,” you smiled.
“Yeah? Good,” he exhaled.
Joel met you with a genuine smile, his eyes dancing over your face. You swayed in the doorway, unsure of what to do now that the conversation was coming to an end. A strange part of you didn’t want it to end; the stillness with him had managed to bottle away all of the lingering memories of Bennett, even if only for a moment. You’d take this over, crying yourself asleep like so often did.
“You should head home to Sarah,” you sighed. “I hope you have a good weekend, Mr. Miller.”
“You have a g’night, alright?”
You watched him walk down the porch steps, the muscles in his back tense as he retreated back to his truck. You should have walked your ass back inside, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Before opening the truck door, Joel glanced back at you, waving a quick goodbye. You waved back and waited until his truck dissolved into the distance to finally shut your door and sit in the blaring silence.
You watched the night fade away from the comfort of your couch, a half-eaten sandwich in front of you and a wine glass in hand. Not only did you overstep your boundaries as a teacher, but you overstepped every possible rule between a teacher and parent. Despite what happened at the bar with Joel, he was still Sarah’s dad and completely undeserving of the anger you had toward him today. He was slipping behind every brick wall you had built up around you, a fortress no one could penetrate, yet he was managing to do it so effortlessly. And it was infuriating. How were you supposed to protect yourself from him? Bennett had been the perfect man at the start, always saying the right things and showing his love in so many different ways, but even with the rose-colored glasses on, that all crumpled away as time moved on. Nothing about your relationship was perfect, yet you tried to mend the broken pieces in hopes the possibility of marriage would solve all your problems. But clearly, it didn’t. It never even made it to marriage.
You weren’t even considering dating Joel, but that didn’t stop you from doubting he would be any different than Bennett. Sure, he might seem interested now, but that would change once he saw every damaged piece of you. You were hardly controlling your emotions, as it were, so why would you spend the time sharing the rawest parts of yourself with someone who would end up leaving?
I’ll do better, you told yourself. Bottle it away.
Another week passed by without fuss; the students passed their practice exams and had even begun working on their group presentations on the new poetry unit you had created. After next week's midterm exams, you’d be on a plane heading to Boston to see your family during the fall break. You hadn’t been home in over a year, and you were well aware of the fact your parents and sisters missed you. It’s not that you didn’t miss them, but going home was another reminder of all you had lost. But you’d steer clear of the roads you’d traveled down with Bennett, you’d avoid the bars and restaurants he had taken you to, and you’d absolutely banish all thoughts of returning to the Public Garden where he had proposed. Every corner of your hometown was haunted by the ghosts of what had been, but you’d brave it for the sake of family.
You had forfeited any thought of going to the soccer game out of sheer self-preservation. Being around Joel more than necessary was putting you at risk for an inevitable heartbreak, and it just wasn’t something you were ready to deal with. You didn’t want to let Sarah down, but Joel would be there for her, and that mattered more than you standing on the sidelines. She didn’t need you there; you’d only gone to the game to fill a void within her life. Joel was going to stick to his word, and you’d be able to maintain your teacher-parent relationship once again. You still had yet to forgive yourself for Saturday’s outburst.
It wasn’t until Thursday when Sarah approached you, that you were reminded of the game.
When she approached your desk at the end of class, she had her textbook in hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder. You were feeling particularly drained from the day after spending most of the night tossing and turning between nightmares, and you had to muster up the strength to keep things light between you and her.
“So,” she started, a bright smile plastered on her face. “My dad said you might come to the game Saturday.”
“Oh, yeah. I—I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got to make sure everything is prepped for testing next week,” you lied.
“Oh,” her face fell. “That’s okay. I know the exams are important.”
Fuck.
You were transported right back to the kitchen with Bennett.
“I’m sure the prep work can wait till after the game,” you smiled, already giving up on your initial plans to avoid everything—everything being Joel Miller.
“If you don’t want to come…” Sarah trailed off, looking down at her sneakers.
“Hey,” you said softly. Her eyes traveled up to meet yours again. “I’ll be there. You have my word.”
Sarah perked up, nodding her head enthusiastically.
“I’ll tell my dad! Maybe we can all get lunch after!” She babbled excitedly.
Oh, Christ.
“I’m sure you guys will want the day together,” you smiled, your patient wearing. “Go enjoy your night, Sarah. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Don’t forget your notes on Shakespeare!”
“Bye, Miss Smith!”
You watched her sprint out of the room to catch up with her friends, and you sunk into your chair, dreading what may come during the weekend.
Maria stopped by your classroom after the final bell, skeptically looking at you while you gathered your work bag. Thankfully, you both had Thursdays free of crosswalk duty, and you were ready to get home and sulk away under the guise of cheap wine and a bubble bath.
“You’re extra grumpy today,” Maria noted, slinging her large purse over one shoulder.
“I’m not grumpy,” you huffed. “I’m fucked. Completely fucked.”
She barked a laugh and watched you stuff files into your bag before you grabbed your keys and shooed her out to lock the door. The hallways were empty, except for a few teachers trickling out, and you walked a pace quicker, trying to escape the building before anyone else stopped you.
“Why do I get a feeling this may be because of a certain parent?” She asked, shoving into you playfully.
“Yes,” you grumbled.
“Explain!”
“Ugh, okay. Listen, all of this is against my own will, okay?”
You peered over at her, seeing a wicked smile splitting across her face. If anyone was on board with your confused emotions towards Joel Miller, it was Maria. She had been all for it since day one, and you knew she wouldn’t shut up about it until she saw you and him together. Which wouldn’t be happening.
You dive into retelling the events of Saturday, including the outburst and the conversation with Joel that had followed. All through your rambling, Maria was squealing like a little girl and inserting small remarks here and there—all of which revolved around the idea that you should fuck out your feelings and get it over with.
“Maria,” you snapped. “I’m not going to fuck him! Would you quit that?”
She shrugged, laughing off your stubbornness.
“All I’m saying is that there is clearly some sort of chemistry between you both,” she sassed. “One night of hot sex might clear your mind, and you can resume your up-tight ‘teacher-parent’ bullshit you’re trying so hard to keep.”
“It’s not bullshit, Maria,” you argued. “It’s called being professional.”
You both had made it to the parking lot, and you tried to inch closer to your car in hopes of coming out unscathed from this conversation. But Maria was anything but relentless.
“You really need to get laid,” Maria huffed. “Dust off the cobwebs and get back out there.”
“I’m perfectly fine with how my life is right now. I don’t need to get laid, and I certainly don’t need to be in a relationship.”
Maria grabbed your hands in hers, leveling you with a stern look under her thick mascara-coated lashes. With her lips set in a firm line, she squeezed your hands.
“It’s been two years,” she sighed. “Stop letting Bennett control your life. He’s in the past, and you need to find a new future—preferably one where you’re happy and in love.”
You squeezed her fingers in return, giving her a sad smile. You knew somewhere inside you that she was right, but it wasn’t in the cards for you right now. Not when you still had so much healing to do.
“Thank you, Maria,” you whispered.
When you arrived at the school, the soccer game had already begun. Your car sat idle in the parking lot for nearly twenty minutes until you finally found the strength to head toward the soccer fields. Among the line of parents on the sidelines, Joel was standing further away, his body swaying against the windy morning as his eyes stay focused on the field. You walked up slowly, smoothing out your t-shirt and running sweaty palms over your jeans. You definitely didn’t spend too much time getting ready for a simple game. As if he felt your energy circling him, Joel turned toward you with a beautiful smile breaking across his face.
“I was hopin’ you’d show up,” he said.
“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you greeted.
You weren’t sure what to do with yourself beside him, so you mimicked his stance and folded your arms over your chest. With the morning sun rising above the soccer field, you watched as his skin glowed in the sunlight, his tanned skin illuminated in the soft hues of the sunrise. He was undeniably gorgeous, but you forced that thought away along with all of the unruly ones that seemed to constantly evade your mind.
“Sarah’s doin’ great out there so far,” he mentioned. “Got herself close to scorin’ a goal ten minutes ago. No doubt she’ll get one at some point.”
“I bet she will. She’s amazing out there.”
Joel beamed at your compliments of his daughter, his eyes tracking her as she ran across the field. A teammate shot the ball to her, and you both stood silently as she kept control of it toward the goal. Instead of taking the shot herself, she crossed the ball to another teammate, letting them score the first goal of the game. The parents on the sidelines sounded off with a round of cheers, and you and Joel joined in on the excitement.
“She’s a team player,” you commented. “That’s a good quality.”
“That’s my girl,” he smiled proudly.
This. This is what you had hoped to see for Sarah. A dad who was present and proud of her accomplishments. You could give her all the applause in the world, but his voice cheering above the rest was what mattered the most.
There was a lull in conversation for a while as you both watched the game with rapt attention. You tried hard not to notice the way Joel shifted closer to you or the fact that he had dropped his arms so that he could casually brush his against yours. Each touch of his skin against yours was like a wave of heat rushing through your body, an electric current that started with him and ended with you. There was no doubt he did it on purpose, but you did nothing to stop it. You were losing the war between self-restraint and vulnerability.
“How’s she likin’ class?” He asked, making small talk.
You shrugged, glancing at him with an easy smile.
“She’s one of the best kids in her grade. This new unit we’re working on will be a challenge, but I know she’s up for it.”
“What’s the new unit?”
“Poetry.”
Joel snorted a laugh, his fingers brushing against the denim on your leg. You shifted to glare at him, amused at his response.
“What’s so funny, Mr. Miller?”
He ran a hand through the curls atop his head, giving you a lopsided grin.
“Nothin’,” he chuckled. “Just don’t understand why poetry is so popular in schools nowadays.”
“Poetry has always been popular,” you said pointedly.
“Has it? Must not have paid much attention back in the day,” he smirked.
“It’s my favorite unit to teach,” you confessed. “I think poetry gets a bad rap—clearly—but it’s important to understand the way words can convey so many layered emotions in the simplest of ways.”
Joel eyed you as you spoke, nodding along with you as you spoke. Even if he wasn’t completely sold on the idea of poetry, you enjoyed how attentive he was to the conversation. In the distance, you heard the parents cheer again, and you glanced at the field to see Sarah running with the ball toward the goal.
“Look!” You said, pointing toward the field.
Joel snapped his head back to his daughter, watching as she sent the ball soaring into the net. You jumped up and down, clapping at her goal and yelling out her name in excitement.
“That’s my girl!” Joel cheered. “Way to go, Sarah!”
Sarah looked over at him, her cheeks rosy from the play, and shot him two thumbs up. Joel returned the same hand gesture; his cheeks stretched wide with a smile as he watched his daughter dance into an embrace from her teammate.
“You were sayin’,” he pressed, his eyes sliding back to you.
“Oh,” you laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with all the school talk.”
“You ain’t borin’ me. I wanna hear what you have to say.”
Your cheeks warmed at his words, realizing he wasn’t just asking these things to make small talk. He sincerely wanted to know the things you were interested in and the work you did, which was far from what you received from Bennett. Half the time you talked about your lessons, Bennett would just aimlessly nod while typing his emails and debriefs, his attention far away from you.
“Well, I’m starting off by teaching them about Shakespeare,” you explained, watching Joel open his mouth to make a retort. You held your hand up in defense and continued. “Before you go complaining about Shakespeare, I’ll have you know he’s one of the most renowned dramatists in history. His stylist choices in his playwrights were unlike anything else, and his work has completely impacted modern-day English. It’s because of him that we have so many words and phrases in the English language. Say what you want, but he really is worth learning about.”
Joel studied you for a moment, his lips curving up at the corners. You weren’t used to rambling off about useless things, more because you never really had the chance in the past. It was exciting to talk about the things you were passionate about, and you didn’t realize you’d find that moment being with Joel Miller.
“Maybe I need to read some of his work,” Joel said. “What’s your favorite?”
“My favorite?” You blinked at him. “Oh, um, it’s cliche, but my favorite is Romeo and Juliet. That’s what I’m starting with on the unit.”
“Sarah got a copy of it?” he asked.
“She should, yes.”
“Might need to steal it from her so I can see what all this fuss is about,” he smiled, bumping his arm into yours.
“You don’t need to do all that,” you muttered. “I’m sure Sarah could tell you all about it after she’s done reading it.”
“I’m sure she could,” he acknowledged. “But maybe I'd like to do the research.”
“Research?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Joel leaned into you, his face drawn closer to yours.
“Yeah, research,” he repeated. “I wanna know why y’like it so much.”
Your mouth opened and closed, all words seemingly melting from your brain. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? He wanted to take the time to understand your interests… but why? Once again, Joel was proving to be everything you never saw in Bennett. And it scared the fuck out of you. Because you couldn’t date Joel, nor did you want to. Giving yourself up to another person, exposing those vulnerable parts of yourself like that would just be inviting the possibility of another heartbreak.
“I can save you the time and tell you instead,” you offered.
“Nah,” he smiled. “I wanna find out myself.”
The game came to a close, with the school team winning 2-0. Joel embraced Sarah when she ran off the field, wrapping her into a gigantic bear hug and planting a kiss on her forehead. You gave her a small high five, congratulating her on the win. You followed them out to the parking lot, watching as Joel kept his arm wrapped around Sarah’s narrow frame. From this angle, they looked like the perfect father-daughter duo, and your heart seized with happiness knowing he had kept his word.
Digging through your purse for your car keys, you said a quick goodbye and made a beeline for your car. You wouldn’t insert yourself in the rest of their day; you needed to find some distance between you and Joel before he started crawling further under your skin. But as you tugged open your car door, a warmth grew behind you, and you turned to see Joel standing a few steps away. Sarah was nowhere in sight, so you figured she was already waiting for him in his truck.
“Yes?” You asked, standing idle between the open door and Joel’s tall body.
His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, never settling on one too long.
“Look, this is gonna sound forward of me, and I can probably guess your answer,” he started. “But can I take you out to dinner sometime? As a ‘thank you' for everything.”
“Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “I appreciate the invitation, but this needs to remain purely professional. I’m Sarah’s teacher, and I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes trailing to the ground. Despite every cell inside your body screaming yes, you needed to stick to your rules—whatever the hell they were.
“I figured you’d say that,” he mumbled. "Listen, let me give you my number at least. If you ever change your mind, or if you need someone to drive you home from the bar, y’can shoot me a call. Is that okay?”
“I…” You trailed off, considering his offer. “Yeah, that’s okay.”
You searched for your phone in your purse, handing it over to him with shaky hands. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it, a crackle of energy bursting through your skin at his touch. He must have noticed, too, because his eyes met yours before he typed in his number. With a few more clicks on your phone, he handed it back, brushing his hand over yours once more.
“I sent myself a text on it,” he confessed. “Now I have yours, just in case of anything, y’know?”
“Yeah, just in case.”
Joel gave you a soft smile before turning and walking away. You watched his figure fade into the cars still filling the parking lot and caught him glancing back at you one last time. You stared down at your phone, seeing the text lit up on the screen. He had sent one simple word to himself: your name. Not Miss Smith, not ‘Sarah’s teacher’, but your name.
You opened his contact information and typed one simple word: Joel
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x teacher!f!reader#joel x female reader#joel miller fanfic#joel tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller#pre outbreak!joel
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The Rite of Movement | part five
“something I’m not, but something I can be”
A/N: big disclaimer for this chapter: I do not know if this is actually how the porn industry functions. And while Brazzers is a real porn site, I don’t have any knowledge of how they run things on their site. For the sake of fiction, and the storyline, I wrote Joel’s era in Brazzers as a very very toxic work environment. Please heed the warnings. This takes place pre-miller-co. Joel and baby love have not met yet. Joel does however have a girlfriend during his time at Brazzers. Oh, and I listened to what was I made for on repeat while I wrote this 🥺 thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and being my little cheerleader through this series 💗 and thank you to all my other friends for your endless support on my silly lil stories! (Y’all know who you are and how much I love you!)
~word count: 3.1k~
Summary: it’s Joel Miller’s 30th birthday. 30 years of existing, 12 years working for Brazzers, and what does he really have to show for his life outside of being a pornstar?
Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader
Warnings: angst, implied smut, toxic work environment, implied workplace abuse, mentions of the porn industry, misogynistic comments/behavior towards women in the porn industry (not by Joel), feelings of body insecurity, shame, mentions of smoking, grief, resentment, language, mature themes, +18 minors dni!
series masterlist
Los Angeles, CA. September 26, 2009
An alarm clock blares on Joel’s nightstand, the shrill sound pierces his eardrums, sending his arm flying out from under the covers, smacking the top of the device, silencing it with a heavy groan rumbling up his chest.
6:00 a.m. the sun has barely just begun to peek over the mountains, the bustle of LA traffic, late-night goers returning home, early-morning risers preparing for another droning day.
The big 30: The age where you were expected to have your shit together. No more making foolish mistakes, no more job hopping, you should be married with kids and have a house with a white picket fence and drive a minivan. You should be invested in the stock market, your lawn should be properly trimmed, maybe you even make enough money to own a vacation home.
Joel hadn’t a fucking clue what he wanted out of life. He wasn’t married. He didn’t have any kids. He lived in an apartment with his brother Tommy, splitting the rent between their paychecks. LA never felt like home to him. He liked the palm trees and the beach. He hated LA traffic, smog, and that stupid Hollywood sign that alluded to a lifestyle that only the ‘chosen’ members of high society would get to indulge in.
City of Angels? Not even close.
30 years old, and feeling like he had nothing to show for his life outside of being a pornstar. A branding identity that shamed him more times than he was willing to admit. Is this all I’m good for?
Brazzers was the bane of his existence for 12 years, and yet every time he would try and put his foot down and quit, he was lured right back in. He loved sex just like anyone else. He loved the intimacy, the closeness, the connection to another human being. Above all, he loved making his partners feel good. To make them come, fall apart on his tongue, fingers, or his cock. To hear their pleasured cries, high-pitched real moans of his name.
It was euphoric for him, to make another person feel so good that they completely lose themselves in the moment, in the feeling of the rite of movement. He used to think that this was enough, that the act of sex and unbridled pleasure was all viewers would want to see. He thought he was enough.
But in the adult film industry, sex was never just enough.
He didn’t like being told how he should fuck.
Yank her hair harder.
Slap her around a little.
Squeeze her cheeks till she cries.
Choke her.
I want to see bruises on her ass, Joel.
Fuck her like you mean it, like you hate her. Like she’s your bitch. Your property.
Are we making a porno here or what? Don’t wipe her tears. That’s not what men want. They want to see a cunt being pounded. C’mon, Joel. This is supposed to be a male fantasy!
He learned how to dissociate and remove himself from the scene entirely. He worked on autopilot, tuning out the jarring voices that demanded more from him and his partner(s). And when the passion faded, he struggled to stay hard and on top of his game.
And even with the warm, wet mouth of a fluffer sucking his soft cock, he wasn’t turned on. Not in the slightest and he could feel the shame creeping up on his neck as the director barked at him to get his shit together.
“What do you mean you’re not able to get hard, Miller? You got a hot piece of ass under you, man! What the hell else do you want? Y’know, would it really hurt for you to be more like your brother?”
“She’s got a name, you know.” Joel bit back, grinding his jaw back and forth. The blatant disrespect that women faced on a day to day basis was downright disgusting.
“Oh for fuck’s sake. You make pornos, Joel! Or did you forget? Stop acting like a fucking sissy and do your goddamn job.”
“I need a minute,” he gruffed out and gently pushed the fluffer's mouth off of his cock. He strode past the director and the rest of the set crew and pulled his boxers on in a haste.
“Fine. You get 10 minutes, Miller. And when you get back, I expect you to be fucking ready, and hard.”
Joel didn’t respond as he shucked on his shorts and threw on his hoodie, grabbing his phone and pack of cigarettes to stuff in his pocket. He averted making eye contact with the director, shoulder checking him on his way out of the room.
10 minutes, Miller!
Fuck you is what Joel really wanted to say as he walked at a fast past towards the nearest exit in the long hallway.
-
The sun was blinding the moment he stepped outside into the back alley. He whipped his phone out, nervously pacing back and forth as he dialed Tommy’s number, listening to the dial tone ring and ring.
“Hey, you old fart! Feelin’ 30 yet?” Tommy said playfully.
“Yeah. I’m feelin’ 30 alright.” Joel grumbled, sinking back against the side of the building.
“What’s up? I know how much you hate your birthday, but why do you sound so—”
“I’m fuckin’ quitting, Tommy. I can’t do this shit anymore. I can’t fuckin’ do it. I’m about five seconds away from stormin’ back in there and beatin’ the living shit out of the director.” He snapped, carding his fingers through his hair, gripping the roots tightly. “I’m throwin’ the towel in, and I ain’t lookin’ back.”
“Woah, woah, woah! Hold on now, what the fuck happened? Are you sure you just want to—”
“Tommy.” Joel warned him, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t start this with me, okay? I need to know if you’re with me on this because I sure as hell ain’t leavin’ you out here on your own.”
“I ain’t a kid anymore, Joel. If you want to quit for your own reasons, that’s fine, and I support you, but that doesn’t mean that—” he sighed deeply, weighing out his words in his head before he said, “of course I’m with you on this.”
“I’m not gonna force you to quit, Tommy. I jus’ don’t think this cesspool is fuckin’ good for either of us. Talked to a few others that were thinkin’ of quitting, but no one has pulled the trigger yet. We can do some amateur work till we find our footing again, and I want to move back home, Tommy. I want to move back to Texas. I fuckin’ hate this state. Everythin’ is too damn expensive.”
“I’ll follow you wherever you go, Joel. You know I will. But what about…Carmen and Sarah? You jus’ gonna pack your shit up and not tell her?”
Joel felt his heart twist and clench, knocking the air from his lungs because for the first time in his 30 years of life, his heart was going to be broken, and there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable from happening.
“She’s never gonna accept me for who I am and my job, Tommy. She resents it, I know she does. And Sarah will eventually resent me too. She’ll grow up and feel ashamed that her stepfather is a fuckin’ pornstar. They both deserve better than what I can offer them. It’s not like I can just start over and get a respectable job! What established company is gonna hire a guy who’s CV consists of a highschool diploma, a year of working construction jobs and 12 years in the adult film industry?”
Tommy felt his heart break for his brother, splitting right down the middle. “Joel…” he trailed off.
“Her friends treat me differently, and everytime I’ve brought up the potential of meeting her family, she changes the subject on me, Tommy. And you know what? I don’t blame her. Who the fuck would want to introduce their pornstar boyfriend to anyone, let alone her family? I jus’ figured I’d cut her losses sooner rather than later. And even if things were to work out, and I get a new job, a new life, am I just supposed to accept the knowledge of knowin’ that the entire time we have been together, she’s resented my job? Some things just aren’t meant to work out, and that’s fine. I’ll let her go and she’ll meet a nice, normal, man with a good stable job who doesn’t fuck for a living.”
Joel Miller. Paging, Joel. You’re needed on set. Hurry the fuck up—
“Fuckers.” Joel muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet. “I gotta go, okay? I’ll text you in a bit.”
“Wait, Joel,” Tommy started, trying to think of what he could possibly say to his brother that would make the situation better. “Everythin’ is gonna be okay. It’ll all work out in the end.”
“Yeah, sure.” He replied flatly. “I’ll see you.” he ended the call, shoving his phone back into his hoodie pocket and pushed open the exit door just as his name was called over the intercom again.
This time he was going to put his foot down for good. He wasn’t going to be lured back in. He was done. His mind was made up and there would be no turning back.
-
“Fucking finally. I said 10 minutes, Miller. You’re lucky I even gave you that.” The director scoffed and snapped his fingers at the fluffer to do her job.
Joel stopped her with a gentle hand along her shoulder before he made direct eye contact with the director. “That won’t be necessary.”
“What the fuck do you mean that won’t be necessary? We were supposed to be wrapped up with this shit already. I have a freshie to introduce to you afterwards, so if we can just get a move on—”
“I said, that won’t be necessary.” Joel calmly reiterated as he grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.
“Boy, you better fucking start talking. What do you mean that won’t be necessary?!”
“It means that I quit. And I hope that freshie and every other woman here fuckin’ quits while they still have the chance.”
The atmosphere in the brightly lit room immediately shifted and the tension was palpable. Joel’s onscreen partner was shocked, the fluffer was shocked along with the rest of the film crew.
“You have gotta fucking joking me right now.” The director laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You got some fucking nerve, Miller.”
Joel shrugged, glancing around the room before he turned towards the door, grasping the handle in his palm and pushed it open. He paused, looking over his shoulder, giving his onscreen partner a small, reassuring nod, “oh, and just a little word of advice? If you want sex to sell, and for Brazzers to not tank like the fuckin’ stock market, start by treatin’ women in the industry with respect. Jus’ a little food for thought. Pass that onto the CEO, and then tell him to shove it right up his ass.”
He walked out after that, listening to the director holler his name and something along the lines of, you’ll be back. They always fucking come back!
And on his way out, his shoulder gently made contact with another body rushing up the stairwell. “‘S’cuse me.” He rasped.
You didn’t get a look at the stranger's face on your way up. You were too focused on the fact that you were running late, and couldn’t afford to be potentially fired.
He didn’t get a look at your face either.
-
Joel opted to be alone for the rest of the day, sitting on the hood of his car, smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes while he watched the clouds roll by, and tourists stop to take pictures of the infamous Hollywood sign. He thought about his life up until this point.
30 years on this shithole we call earth. 12 years spent in the adult film industry, and never had he felt so lost and alone. Hours away from ending his first ever long term relationship and leaving the past behind.
Fuck 30. He thought to himself.
The inevitable settled into his bones as the sun slowly began to set behind the mountains, creating stunning hues of pink, oranges and purples in the sky. His phone buzzed on the exterior of the hood of his car, tearing him away from his thoughts when Carmen’s name popped up on the screen.
Hey, birthday boy. Are we still on for Thai food tonight? x.
Hey, baby. Yeah, of course. Can’t wait to see you.
5 missed calls from Tommy
10 messages from Tommy.
What happened to fucking calling me later, Joel?!
Why is your phone going straight to voicemail!
Can you just let me know that you’re okay?!
Joel.
Dude.
Pick up your phone!
And you call me the bad texter?!
This isn’t funny.
I didn’t sign up for the silent treatment!
If you’re dead in a ditch somewhere I’m gonna fucking kill you!!
He typed out a quick message to his brother informing him that he was in fact still alive and that he would be home soon.
What he wasn’t expecting was Carmen and Tommy to host a surprise birthday dinner at his apartment. He wasn’t mad at his brother for not giving him a heads up, and it wasn’t like Tommy could tell Carmen a simple, hey, by the way, my brother is going to break up with you and he wants to move back to Texas!
But all Joel could feel now when she pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss, and planted a silly little party hat on his head, was guilt. An overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and shame for what he was going to do. And throughout the evening his guilt began to fester like an untreated wound. Bubbling pus leaked from his heartstrings like a broken faucet when he opened his unexpected present from Carmen.
It was a pocket wrist watch with an olive green strap that fit his wrist perfectly.
“You’re always misplacing your phone, so I figured that this would help you tell the time better? I know it isn’t much—”
He interjected softly, looking over at her with a small smile tugging on his lips, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I’m so sorry.
And when Tommy stepped outside for a smoke and to give Joel and Carmen a bit of privacy, the energy shifted and Joel could feel the thread between them being pulled tight, threatening to snap at any given moment.
“Joel, is everything okay? You’ve hardly said a word to me tonight.”
And instead of responding, he got up from the couch in a haste, trying to keep his nerves at bay, but truthfully? He was panicking and it was written all over his face. “I’m fine, Carm. I jus’—I need some air.” He walked the short distance to the little balcony, pulling the door open as he stepped outside into the cooling night air.
Lights shimmered in the distance, palm trees swayed from a breeze off the coast. 30 years old and he felt like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet. Can I fix this? Can I make it work?
He stared down at the watch on his wrist, the tiny spokes ticking away as he rested his forearms along the paint chipped railing, listening to the soft squeak of the sliding door being pulled open as the blood rushed in his ears.
He tapped his foot nervously, jaw ticking under the fading light at the realization that there was no turning back.
“Do you love me?” He suddenly spoke, teeth grinding down on the inside of his cheek, the taste of copper bursting on his tongue. A reminder come morning when he would awake to the same soreness in his mouth that he feels in his heart.
“Joel…” she trailed off, standing alongside him, rubbing her arm as a self-soothing gesture.
“Do you love me…unconditionally?” His question hung heavy in the air, and when she didn’t immediately answer, tears began to prick the corner of his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.
“Baby, please…why are—”
“Please don’t call me that right now, Carmen. Please.” he sniffled, staring back out over the railing at the shimmering mirage of Los Angeles. “If you did love me unconditionally, you would have answered me right away. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I jus’—I know you resent me for being a pornstar. I’ve known about it for a while,” he said softly, feeling a tear rolling down along the side of his nose and drip down over his lips. His dewy eyed gaze met hers briefly, before he looked away. “And I also know that you would never ask me to quit, but you and I both know that’s what you want from me.”
There was no point in trying to deny it any longer. There was no bad blood, no bitterness. Just two adults facing the reality that is life. And sometimes…relationships don’t work out. The passion fades and resentment rears its ugly head.
“And no matter how many times I have tried to earnestly explain to you why I chose this career path, you will never understand. And I would never try to force you to. But it’s not fair to you, myself, or Sarah to continue this relationship when you will never accept me for who I am, Carmen.”
“You’re right, Joel.” She said quietly, her own tears beginning to brew along her waterline. “I’m so sorry.”
He swallowed the lump growing in his throat and the sob threatening to leave his lips, “I am too.”
There isn’t much left to say as they hug for the last time. She wishes him well in life and he does the same. There’s a new ache in his chest at the thought of him no longer being involved in Sarah’s life anymore. But he believes she’ll be better off without him, too.
And when she leaves his apartment for the last time, taking almost 3 years of memories along with her as the front door clicks shut, and her echoing footsteps down the hall become softer and softer, he lets out the sob he had been suppressing, sinking down to his knees in defeat.
Tears stream down his cheeks as a car horn blares below on the street.
Fuck you, asshole! Get out of the road! The owner of a sleek BMW yells with the window rolled down to a teenager crossing the street on his bike.
30 years old and heartbroken. So much for having his shit together.
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#fic: the rite of movement#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fic#joel miller angst#joel x female reader#joel x f!reader#joel x reader#joel x you#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal angst#joel fic#pedro pascal fic#pornstar!joel#joel miller story#joel miller series#joel miller imagine
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talk me through it
MINORS DNI
Pairing: (Grunge!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)
Content Includes: (Smut, cheating, slight angst)
Summary: After Y/N broke up with him, Ethan had been a mess, and he was determined to get her back.
(a/n: Btw, if any more drama comes up with Jack, I'm probably gonna stop writing for Ethan depending on what it is:/)
Masterlist
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Two years. It had been two years since she broke up with him. Ethan had been an absolute mess over the past two years. He missed her, he missed his old self. Ever since she broke up with him, he hadn’t kept up with the role of the ‘nerdy shy guy’. He was different. His face contained fresh piercings, his arms were covered in tattoos, and hair was cut into a mullet. He started wearing grungier clothes too, anything black or ripped, he wore. She got a boyfriend around three months after they broke up; he was a guitarist, Marc. Which is why Ethan completely changed his appearance.
She changed too, her outfits became more sluttier, more revealing. She replaced her jeans with mini skirts, and her sweaters were switched out for crop tops and camis. Not that Ethan minded the new look, he actually loved it, which was code for he jerked off to her instagram posts every night. The unfortunate thing was that he wasn’t the one making her feel good anymore, her new boyfriend was.
He didn’t see her that much, only at parties. That’s where he saw her, dancing and swaying her hips with her boyfriend. Ethan was fuming in the corner of the living room of the random frat house he was in. He stood next to his friend, Tyler, who he had met after the breakup.
“I don’t know why we come to these man,” Tyler complained, taking a drag out of his cigarette. Ethan didn’t answer, he only continued to glare towards Y/N. Marc’s hands gripped her ass under her skirt, and Ethan wanted to kill him. “Hello? Earth to Ethan?”
Tyler snapped his fingers in Ethan’s face, causing Ethan to snap out of his thoughts. He played with his lip ring with his tongue, and he yanked Tyler’s cigarette out of his hand. “Sorry…but can they get a fucking room or something? No one wants to see all of that shit.” Ethan spat out. Tyler sighed as he looked over to Y/N, already knowing who Ethan was talking about.
Marc glanced over at Ethan, before practically sucking on Y/N’s face.
“Fuck this,” Ethan muttered as the couple left to go outside. He grabbed Tyler’s wrist and dragged him onto the porch. He spotted an old couch, and sat down, pulling Tyler down with him. Tyler blushed slightly, falling onto Ethan’s leg. Ethan’s eyes scanned over the people hanging out in the lawn, and he spotted them.
“You got a blunt?” Ethan asked Tyler, pulling his legs on his lap.
Tyler rolled his eyes playfully, and he reached into his back pocket. “Do you have to ask?” He teased, handing Ethan the blunt. Ethan smiled and took the weed, instantly feeling the stress roll off his shoulders as he lit it and took a hit.
Y/N looked over at the two boys, full of a jealous rage. Marc was talking to a friend of his, and her mind was only focused on Ethan…and the boy she didn’t recognize throwing himself on him. She missed him, she knew breaking up with him was a bad idea, and she never told him the real reason why she did it. She wanted to, she was going to recently, but Ethan had…changed. She could barely recognize him now.
“So, about the other night,” Tyler trailed off. Ethan had his arm around Tyler’s shoulders, and his leg was lifted up as his heel rested on the railing.
“Yeah, what about it?” Ethan mumbled, holding the blunt in his mouth.
“When you said you didn’t know if you liked boys, did you mean it?” Tyler asked nervously. Ethan knew about Tyler’s obvious crush, but he never said anything about it. Mostly because he liked the attention. Ethan nodded, still staring over at Y/N. “Do you wanna, I don’t know, try with me?”
Ethan’s head jerked at Tyler. Was he finally trying to make a move? “How so?”
“W-We could kiss?”
The truth was, Ethan already knew he liked boys too. His freshman year, he was practically in love with his roommate, Chad. Tyler was cute, but he wasn’t Ethan’s type. It wouldn’t matter if he was anyways, he already was so obsessed with Y/N to be even remotely attracted to anyone else. His eyes flickered to the hand on Marc’s, which rested on her waist tightly. “Sure.”
Tyler’s eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. He slowly raised his hand to Ethan’s cheek, and looked at his lips. Ethan groaned and looked away from Y/N. He closed his eyes, pulling Tyler towards him and pressing his lips against his. Tyler whined, reaching his hands into Ethan’s curls. Ethan moved his tongue against his, and he peeked over at Y/N. She was staring at him, her brows slightly furrowed. He smiled, and he grabbed Tyler’s hand and placed it on his dick.
Tyler gasped, but didn’t dare move his hand. Ethan was hard, and it wasn’t because of Tyler. His hand rubbed against his pants, and Ethan moaned.
“Fuck, Y/N,”
Tyler’s hand stuttered, and he pushed Ethan off of him. “Ethan what the fuck?” He yelled. Ethan only, yet again, looked at Y/N, who was marching back into the house.
He muttered an apology to Tyler, before shoving his legs off of him and following Y/N. He sniffed and wiped his nose as he followed her up the stairs.
She turned back, and she stopped in her tracks angrily.
“Do you need something?” She spat, annoyed.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Piss off,” she muttered, continuing to walk up the stairs.
Ethan grabbed ahold of her wrist, pulling her back towards him. She cursed at him, and he only softly pressed his lips to hers. She struggled at first, seeming to not want it, but she knew deep down, she wanted it more than anything. She finally moved her lips against his, moaning at the feeling of his piercing grazing her lips.
He pulled back, and he rested his hands on her hips. Ethan smiled brightly, probably the first genuine smile he’s had in awhile. She smirked and grabbed his hand before leading him into a room.
His hands instantly found her tits as soon as the door closed. She gasped at the contact. Ethan kissed down her neck, marking every other patch of skin. He reached down to her skirt, and he flicked his eyes up to her. She breathed heavily as she stared at him, patiently waiting like the good girl she’s always been for him.
He smiled, and reached under her skirt, hooking his fingers on her panties. He pulled them down, smiling it was a pair he got her.
“Couldn’t get rid of them, huh?” Ethan teased, swinging the pair around his index finger. She shook her head.
He chuckled. He reached over to the door, cracking it open. He hooked the panties on the door handle, then shut the door closed again.
“So he knows you’re being fucked like a whore.” Ethan smiled innocently up at her.
Before she knew it, he had dragged her onto the bed, positioning her to sit on his lap. He chuckled dryly as he grabbed ahold of her hips roughly, and he began to grind her against his bulge. She moaned softly, trailing her hands up his chest to his neck.
“You miss my cock?” He grunted. “I missed your pussy.” He whispered in her ear, reaching down to unzip his jeans.
She whined, “Mhm,” and took off his shirt, immediately latching her lips onto his bare neck. Her eyes flicked down, scanning over his chest. He had tattoos covering his whole chest and stomach; some being different objects. He had bat wings in the middle of his pecs, and she moaned, tracing her finger along the outline.
“Fuck,”
“You like them?” Ethan asked softly as he watched her with adoration.
“You’ve changed,” She noted, finally meeting his eyes.
Ethan tilted his head at her, softly smiling. He raised his thumb and gently pressed it to her bottom lip. “So have you.”
She looked at him sadly for a moment, before kissing him sweetly, continuing to grind her hips into him.
“I want you to ride me, baby.” Ethan whimpered against her lips. She only laughed and reached down to take his dick out of his boxers. She raised her hips to hover over his dick, and she positioned him to tease his head at her entrance.
They both gasped at the feeling of each other. It had been way too long. She sunk down on him, fully taking him. Ethan was in pure pleasure. The grin on her waist could cause bruises. She slowly, but surely, began to ride him. Her hips rolled smoothly over him, and she held one hand on his, while the other held his neck.
“You always fuck me so good, baby. Shit,” Ethan praised her. He leaned his chest against hers, and he kissed the hell out of her.
He breathed her in, all of her. He wanted to take all of her within him, to keep her away from everything else. Because she was his, and she was only his. No one else’s. And she knew this. Her hips moved faster, and she slightly bounced up and down, making her boobs bounce along. Ethan whispered sweet nothings in her ear. He loved talking her through sex.
“E-Ethan-“ She whined, throwing her head back. Now Ethan began to thrust his hips upwards into her, only earning more whines from her. He only stared at her full of love, his hips thrusted, his hands moved her hips, and his lips spoke soft praises in her ears.
“I’m gonna cum so deep inside of you baby. Make sure you’re leaking cum out of your pussy for days.”
She felt a knot twist in her stomach, and she let go, screaming Ethan’s name as loud as she could. Ethan’s eyebrows furrowed, him finishing not too long after she did.
The two panted, foreheads pressed together.
“I love you,” She whispered.
Ethan looked at her surprisingly.
“That’s why I broke up with you. I was scared; scared I was gonna fuck it up with the one person I truly loved.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Ethan cooed, swiping a strand of hair behind her ear. She sniffled, wrapping her arms around Ethan’s neck. “I love you too,”
“Can you go back? Go back to the nerd I fell in love with?” She begged.
He laughed slightly. “Anything for you, my love.” She smiled, kissing him softly. She knew she was in deep with him, and there was nothing she could do to get out.
#scream#scream 6#scream vi#ethan landry#ethan landry x reader#jack champion#ghostface x reader#ethan kirsch#ethan landry fluff#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry imagine
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Rebuild
Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader
Summary: Everything falls into shambles as Kord tries to get the scarab from Jaime. When will it be time to rebuild?
Warnings: mentions of death and depictions of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: Part 3? Yes it is! I saw Blue Beetle for the second time yesterday with my parents and they liked it! My brother saw it with his gf and he related so that's a win in my book! Also got more inspo for this part so I hope you enjoy! 💕💕💕
I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.
“There’s a way to get it out,” Rudy said and your ears perked in anticipation but his next words made your blood rush cold. “You’d have to be dead though”.
“What? What do you mean?” Jaime shook his head, fear casting over his gaze.
“Look, chamaco, the scarab is fusing to every cell in your body,” he pointed at the monitor and you watched as it practically covered everything in sight.
What happened before is happening to your Jaime.
You pressed your mouth into your palm, trying to contemplate it all. You stayed silent, not wanting to incite a reaction from your boyfriend just as he was already having a meltdown.
“This isn’t fair! Why does this always happen to us? I just wanted to get a job!” he exclaimed sorrowfully. “This wasn’t supposed to be my future,” he exhaled, glancing at you briefly.
It was brief but you knew all of his concerns at that moment.
Were you going to be able to be together? Did you want to love an android alien? Even if you did, are you able to? What if you wanted kids? Was he going to be able to give you that future without fucking it up? What about everything that comes before and after? What now?
He stormed off after yelling at Rudy, saying he needed to go on a walk. Wanting to chase after him, you ignored that feeling, knowing this conversation was one he needed to hear from his uncle.
Giving it a brief moment, you went upstairs, Jenny following you as you knew where he went.
“Do you hear that?” Jenny stopped you as you made the stairs to the roof.
You furrowed your brows, glancing up and hearing a low rumble. Making it onto the roof, you saw the purple lights signaling a Kord helicopter.
“They’re going home,” Jaime realized. “I gotta get over there,” he said. “I’m gonna fly,” he jumped, hyping himself up.
“You got this, baby,” you encouraged him, clapping your hands together.
“Woo!” he jutted his fists in the air but nothing appeared. “Okay, hang on,” he sighed, repeating the actions as before.
“Take your time,” Jenny reassured.
“Maybe you gotta force it out,” Rudy said nonchalantly.
“Wait, you’re a genius, Rudy!” Jaime grinned, stepping off the bench and walking backward.
“I know, what I’d say?” he furrowed his brows just as Jaime started running towards the ledge.
“Wait, Jaime!” you screamed as he jumped over but thankfully Khaji-Da made herself known.
“Woohoo!” he cheered, flying towards Edge Keys.
You don’t think you’re ever getting used to that.
~
Rudy pulled up in front of the house and your heart broke. Flames blazing out the windows and up the walls, ashes falling down to the lawn, and then your family crowded on the sidewalk came into your vision.
“Apa! No!” Milagro cried out, you and Rudy running over to help.
“Papi!” a familiar voice cried out and you turned your head to see Jaime being dragged into the helicopter. He was trapped by some device, causing him pain. You wanted to run after them, get your boyfriend back, but the chances you had standing against Kord and her bodyguard?
You admitted defeat and went back to running towards your family. You stopped a few steps ahead of you, breath hitching at the sight.
Alberto was unconscious on the ground, face pale. He had another heart attack.
Dropping to your knees next to Nana, you let the tears pour out as you stared at the man who loved you like your father never had. He was the man who looked out for you, who provided for you, the one who accepted you and welcomed you into his home after everything you lost.
Clutching to what you had left, you tried to drown out the cries of Jaime and everyone else. You tried not to pay attention to the piercing headache that’s been aching at you for the last few hours nor the sting in your eyes from the lack of sleep.
You wanted to focus on the silence, the light, something to tell you that all of this is a dream. You’d wake up from your nap, greeting Jaime and congratulating him on his job, and then you would get ready for work again and Jaime would walk you but you’d be against it since he has a big day tomorrow.
But every time you opened your eyes, nothing changed.
~
You stared blankly at the rubble before you bent down to pick up the family photo. You remembered the day.
It was a month after you had officially moved in. Your side of the room was claimed, you had a seat at the dining table, and you had your list of chores to get done. But something was still missing…
“Necessitamos una nueva foto,” Nana had stood in front of the old family photo. A picture of a younger everyone—Jaime looked so cute. “Ya, Y/N es una parte de la familia,” she gestured towards you and your heart swelled.
The next day you found yourselves at JCPenney, wearing your best clothes, being posed by the photographer.
You were smiling brightly for the first time in a while. It was all because of your family.
Running your fingers over Jaime’s face in the photo, you pressed your lips together to stop the tears from pouring down. You were already mourning one loved one, you don’t think you could handle another.
“Oye,” you heard Nana speak up, everyone gathering around her. “No es hora de llorar,” she cooed at Milagro. “We need to fight and get Jaime back because that’s what your father would’ve wanted us to do,” she affirmed and you wiped your eyes, Millie crying harder at the mention of her father.
She was right and that’s how you found yourself in the bug ship. Thanks to the help of Jenny, who you were sure felt remorse for causing this. You were handed some sort of gadget and out of the corner of your eye, you saw as Nana grabbed the biggest gun you’ve ever seen.
“How do you know how to hold that so well?” Millie questioned.
“There are many things you don’t know about your grandma,” Nana grinned and your eyes widened.
The plan was set, you would go with Jenny and Milagro to find the generator room and shut everything down to find Jaime. Following the two girls in front of you, you were dodging guards back and forth as you were instructed to place explosives on the walls.
Everything seemed to go accordingly until you and the girls had to run from the guards, you felt like you were going to escape until the ceiling above you started rumbling.
“Millie! Go!” you pushed her out of the way before it crushed her, unfortunately, you were now separated.
You called out for anyone, but it was hard as your lids grew heavy. Then everything went dark.
~
Woken up abruptly, you winced at the pain that radiated through your body. Someone was shouting at you but you could only stay still and you cried out in pain as you were lifted up. You didn’t think anything severe was broken or injured, just sore.
Suddenly you were outside, being dragged towards the same Kord helicopter. Jenny was beside you and she sent you a look, something about it was trusting and reassuring. You tipped your head, letting her know you understood.
“Y/N L/N,” a raspy voice rang through your ears.
You stared at Vicky Kord, your stomach sinking as you shifted in your seat and that’s when you realized she had a gun in her hands.
“22-year-old woman, cosmetology school drop-out, kicked out by her own family after she refused to join her family’s drug dealing business,” she smiled wickedly as she leaned forward towards you. “Works night shifts at Margaritaville and is in love with a boy named Jaime Reyes”.
You glanced down, ashamed and angry. Not many people knew your life’s story. You kept it under wraps and your found family helped you leave it in the past. But now, a Kord seemingly knows all of it.
“What do you want?” you spat.
“Oh, just one thing,” she grinned. “You think you’re on the right path, dear, but working night shifts at a bar doesn’t get you anywhere. But I can help,” she offered and you narrowed your gaze at her. “I can get you out of Edge Keys, you can make something out of yourself and truly know the meaning of hard work,” she said like a promise. “I just need you to get me the scarab,” she shrugged like it didn’t mean killing Jaime in the process.
“Being with family is me being on the right path and I don’t need you to tell me what hard work is,” you sneered.
“Like you would know anything about family,” she chuckled. “You’re really going to give up everything I can give you over a stupid Edge Keys piece of trash,” she scoffed and you grew angry.
Jaime was much more than that and you knew it deep in your soul.
About to strangle the life out of her, Jenny spoke up.
“He might be from Edge Keys, but he knows more about family than you’ll ever know!” Jenny stated firmly before she spit the gum she was chewing out, creating a bubbly goo around you three as you fell out of the helicopter.
You stood up with a groan, finding Jenny and her aunt having a one-on-one before your eyes scanned over the fiery field, and caught sight of Jaime.
“Jaime, oh my god,” you covered your mouth in shock as you ran over to him.
“Y/N,” he said like he couldn’t believe it but he snapped out of it, embracing you as he ran a hand over your hair. “I thought I lost you,” he said, glancing in your eyes, tears streaming down both your faces.
“I’m here,” you rested your head against his before he kissed you. You leaned back, granting him better access before you both pulled away. “I’m so sorry, Jaime,” you licked your lips, sobbing. “Your apá,” you shook your head, cupping his face.
“I know,” he glanced down sorrowfully. “He’s okay, I know it,” he affirmed and you sucked in a breath.
“Okay,” you pressed a smile.
Behind the two of you, Carapax was doing something to Vicky just as he walked over to you. Jaime was quick to shield you as he stopped in front of him.
“Go with your family,” he said in his deep voice and Jaime nodded, gulping.
Clutching to his arm, you looked at Jaime before he spoke.
“Go! Go to the bug ship, I’ll be there!” he pushed you towards the beetle but you shook your head. It was like he sensed something was going to happen and you didn’t like it.
“No, I’m not leaving without you!” you argued, keeping your feet planted.
“Please, just trust me,” he begged and you agreed before grabbing his face and pressing your lips together.
“You better be right about this, Jaime,” you rolled your lips together, taking in one last look at him before you broke off in a sprint.
You sat at the top of the ramp, looking out into the field to see what Jaime was doing. His face became frantic and you leaned forward as he began to run, explosions going off behind him. He made it onto the ramp but slipped until you managed to grab him.
He gasped as he looked up, a soft smile on his face. Rudy and the rest of the family helped you pull him up.
“Now we can cry”.
~
“Nana, you need help with the nopales?” you asked, kneeling down beside her as you began to pick the most viable ones.
Everyone was dressed in black. Alberto’s funeral was tear-filled. You missed him dearly, but it was time to rebuild. You’d never forget him though.
“Gracias, mija, ven ayudame,” she held her hand out and you got up, giving her support to come up as well.
The rest of the family circled around you, Jaime wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your temple.
“Now we can start rebuilding,” Nana said, holding out the little pot of cacti.
The neighborhood had come to help. Food was brought and a celebration was being made. Jenny even appeared, promising Kord Industries was going to rebuild the house and she gave Rudy a new Tailgate.
The family went to check it out while you, Jaime, and Jenny stayed back. She said something about making sure Jaime got a good job at the company and you couldn’t help but grin in a proud moment.
Things were right for once.
“Let’s take a walk,” Jaime suggested and you agreed, linking your hands together.
You stayed quiet, enjoying the soft breeze and the views of Edge Keys. Rounding the corner, you found yourselves a nice spot on the curb, sitting down next to each other.
“What now?” he asked.
“Like Nana said, we rebuild,” you hummed. “But there’s something I’ve been thinking about for a bit,” you took a breath in and he looked at you expectedly. “I think I want to go back to cosmetology school,” you announced and Jaime’s face broke out into a grin.
“That’s amazing, Y/N!” he hugged you. “What made you decide that?” he asked.
“Not sleeping puts things into perspective,” you began, ending with a laugh. “Now that Jenny is going to give the Edge Keys back to our community, I don’t need to work those night shifts anymore,” you grabbed his hands.
“I’m so glad,” he grabbed your face and pressed kisses around it. “So proud,” he said against your mouth.
“Thank you, Jaime,” you smiled.
“Maybe now that you won’t be working so much, we’ll finally get that alone time,” he wiggled his brows and you laughed.
“Oh yeah, for sure now considering we don’t have a house,” you snorted.
“We can go everywhere now,” he looked up at the sky and you glanced at him as an idea washed over his face. “You wanna take a ride?” he asked and you furrowed your brows.
“How?” you questioned. “Where?”
“Somewhere private,” he smirked and you smiled.
“You’re something else, Jaime,” you stood up, meeting his gaze as you looped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.
“Stop,” he exhaled, closing his eyes in embarrassment.
“What?” you grinned, searching his eyes for a guess.
“It’s nothing,” he shook off and that’s when you realized he was talking to Khaji-Da.
“What is it saying?” you grew curious.
“Just,” he dropped his gaze to your lips before he leaned in, enveloping your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. You moaned, fingers grazing his hair. “Hold on,” he broke away and your eyes widened in shock as the suit appeared.
You took off a moment later and you were flying.
~
Reblogs are the best!
#jaime reyes x reader#jaime reyes#jaime reyes imagine#jaime reyes x you#jaime reyes x y/n#xolo maridueña#blue beetle#blue beetle 2023
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Youngest Shadow- Confirming Us
One | two | three | four | five | six | seven
Bella stands by me, getting herself ready for what she’s about to do. It’s the end of the school day and I suck in a deep breath for her. I can not believe she’s actually going through with this.
She starts walking towards the Cullen’s. She makes eye contact with Edward and he immediately gets the message but Rosalie grabs his arm. Bella already disappeared in the trees that bordered the school property. Rosalie says something to him but Alice shakes her head and removes her hand, also speaking. I obviously can’t hear them from here.
Biting the dead skin off my bottom lip nervously I try my best not to cough. Of course I’m still sick, not as bad as yesterday but still up there. Just without the fever.
I watch Edward finally get away from his foster siblings and go to my sister. It feels like my breathing has been shortened. I have a feeling he won’t do anything to her but there’s always a thought in the back of my mind.
“Hey, you okay?” I turn and it was just Angela. “Hm?” I raise a brow. “Oh I was just asking if you’re okay. Since you were pretty sick yesterday.” She smiles, putting her hand on my back causing me to shutter. “I’m better, still sick.” I look away to cough. Her touch makes my chest squeeze and I don’t notice the two staring at me from across the lawn. Or at least I act like I don’t.
“Aw, I’m sorry.” She pouts moving her hand to my shoulder and I nervously laugh. “It’s okay, did you find your prom dress?” I change the subject, her eyes light up in response. “Yes I did. Did you? I wasn’t able to ask since you were so bad yesterday.” She takes her hand back and I felt like a corset was being taken off and I could actually breathe again. “Ah, that’s amazing. I don’t know if I’m going.” I shrug.
She takes my hand and that one feeling comes back. “You have to it will be so fun. And since we don’t have Bella coming we need at least one Swan sister to come.” She tries to convince me. That sentence throws me the wrong way though, I know she didn’t intend it to but I don’t know.
“We could even match colors. My dress is like light pink.”
“I mean if you’d like me to I will.” I tell her with a small smile. “Light pink is such a good choice.” Another voice rings to my right side and both of us jump from the person. I mentally curse once I see who it is. “Oh, um… thank you Alice.” Angela grins at the other girl as I glare at her.
“So, [Name] how’d you sleep last night?” She turns to me and my lips press together angrily. Angela seems confused.
“What an odd question to ask.” I say through my teeth.
“Really? I just wanted to make sure it was nice since Jasper and I left before you woke up.” She sweetly says, my eyes widen.
“I slept fine.” I roll my eyes.
“That’s good! Angela? That’s your name right? I’m going to steal [Name] here for a second.” She doesn’t even let the girl answer nor give me the chance to deny. Taking my arm and dragging me away. I look back at Angela apologetically.
She waves me goodbye, furrowing her eyebrows as she was just as confused as me.
We get into a car where I’m in the backseat, Jasper was in the driver seat. “What was that!?” I pull away from her, my face scrunched with anger.
“Shh.” She tells me and I grunt as I push myself backwards on the seat. “Is this a fucking AA or something? Here to tell each other secrets?” I cross my arms.
“Why are you so mad at us, darling?” Jasper turns to look at me.
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” I rebuttal.
“Well, you obviously know what we are is that your reason?” He ignores what I had just said. “No I’m just- I’m confused!” I exclaim.
“You’re both together, in a relationship. Immortal I might add that I am not. What do you want from me?”
Their gazes soften. “[Name], you’re our missing piece. You’re ours. You have been for years we only now found you.” Alice tells, still smiling. I think back to my dream.
Their missing piece…
“You still aren’t answering me correctly. Give me an explanation, a good one that doesn’t sound like you’re crazy!” I exasperated.
“I’m some missing piece, whatever! But why me? You don’t know me!” I hold myself trying not to get emotional from how overwhelmed I feel.
“We know more than you think, love.” Jasper says, i glance over to him, motioning for him to keep talking.
“We’ve had this feeling for years, we knew you as humans, [Name]. Years and years ago. You’re the one who would get through our fingers. Your past lives have popped up. And they will continue to do so until you fall for us. You won’t remember until you-“ he cuts himself off, Alice’s eyes bored onto me. “You won’t remember.”
I sit there for a minute in complete silence.
Then I start laughing. “Okay I played into this for a little bit. I actually believed it, I believed my sister too! Is this some sort of prank or something?” I shake my head. “This is good, really. You had me. But knock it off.” I go to open the door but it won’t open.
“Hey, let me out.” I play with the handle and the two just sit there. “I said let me out.” I order, now using to hands.
“[Name],” Alice goes to touch me but I go up against the door. “Don’t touch me.” I smack her away from me and a shock goes through my arm. I gasp not only from how cold she is, even though I already know she is. But something actually shocked me. Not a normal metal shock but like a taser went through my arm.
“We’re telling the truth.” Jasper says lowly, I just scoff.
“Okay, sure and I’m a fucking werewolf. Do you know how crazy this sounds!?” I throw my hands into the air.
“Yes, yes we know.” Alice sadly replied.
“I want proof.” I simply say. “I want to see the speed shit or whatever.”
They look between each other, nodding.
“We can do that but we have to go to an excluded place. Do you trust us enough?” Alice asks me. I sit there for a moment.
“Sure.”
“We need a yes if we leave this parking lot.”
I roll my eyes, “yes.”
And in a quick notion we’re on the road, exhilarating passed the speed limits.
I grip onto the handle above me.
Then we come to a stop, we’re in the forest. “We gotta do some walking.” Jasper warns me, I just nod.
He finally unlocks the child lock he had put on and I get out. I leave my backpack inside the vehicle. Alice and Jasper stand next to me on either side. We start up on this hike trail. We walk in silence. None of us tried to start up a conversation.
“Watch your step.” Jasper warns me and even with that warning I somehow trip. Luckily I don’t fall. My face warms up in embarrassment. They don’t say anything, don’t even crack a smirk or anything. Sort of making me feel better about it.
Then Jasper starts going off trail and I stop in place. “What are you doing?”
“Excluded place, remember, Darling?” Jasper reminds me, I look around trying to think of a way to get out of this. “Right.” I whisper, realizing there isn’t going to be one. I buried my own grave here.
“I’ll be right behind you to make sure you don’t fall.” Alice tells me, trying to reassure me.
I don’t acknowledge what she said, just following Jasper.
It was long until we get to this small spot. “No one’s around.” Alice tells Jasper who nods shortly.
My nerves start rising, I play with the sleeves of my sweater.
“Okay do you have anything else to ask?” Jasper asks and I shake my head. “Just do the speed shit.” I tell trying not to sound panicked but that doesn’t work.
He snickers and Alice stands next to him. Then he’s gone and I feel a tap on my shoulder. When I turned he was gone again. I look straight and Alice was gone too. A tap on my back this time and they’re both behind me. I squint at them and then Jasper is gone again. Now hanging on a tree branch.
Alice grins.
He jumps down, it was a high branch so I gasp. Almost going to run to him but he stands with perfect posture.
“Do you believe it now?” Alice teases me, my mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out. “I… I um”
“Are you scared?” Jasper questions me, going back next to his lover.
“Would you be in my position?”
The two laugh. “Yeah, we would.” Alice sighs.
“Well, oddly enough I’m not. I want to know more.” I tell them.
And for the next few days that’s what we do. I learn more about them.
Barely passing by Bella but we both subconsciously knew that each other got our answers.
And with learning about them came.. loving them. Both of them. I never thought I’d be with two people- vampires?
I guess no one thinks they will be with a vampire.
I knew I’d be in a relationship no one would understand in my family. Like being with a woman most likely. But in this odd polyamory love affair I would’ve never guessed.
They were gentle with me. Like a doll.
“Jasper usually has trouble around humans. That’s why he kind of looks like he’s in pain. But with you. It’s like you’re one of us. We still have to treat you with fragile care. Nonetheless you’re made for us.” Alice grins, holding my hand as we walked together on that same trail. Jasper had to help Rosalie and Emmett with something so he couldn’t join us today.
“Do you think there’s something with my blood?” I look at her and she gives me a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“Well you guys drink blood. What’s so different about mine?”
She breaks out into a small laugh. “Nothings different it’s just how we are with you. It’s been like that in all of your lifetimes. It’s how we know it’s you. Well we normally know because you always look the same. Same first name too.” She explains, my mouth going into the form of an ‘o’.
“You’re cute.” She gently bumps into me.
And no matter how many times I ask them about my past lives, about how I acted they never answered.
Always saying “you’ll find out when you do.”
It was very frustrating.
“I can see into the future, visions. I can see what a persons up to at this very moment. The future can change though. It’s not always accurate.” Alice tells me and I raise an eyebrow.
“Did you know about Bella and your brother before they came about?” I tilt my head.
“Sort of. I didn’t want to pry.” She says. “Can you do anything special?” I turn to Jasper.
“I can manipulate your emotions. Sort of like an empathetic person. I feel your emotion instead of you.” He explains.
I tilt my head, wanting to know more.
“How come you didn’t do that to me when I was angry with you guys?”
“I didn’t want to have this relationship based off of me manipulating you. I wanted you to feel everything, think for yourself. Make your choice. You’re worth waiting a million years for.” He takes me hand like Alice is but takes it up and kisses it.
I smile to myself, glancing down at the ground.
“We want you to come over and meet everyone.” Alice suddenly says.
“Your sister will be there too.” She adds.
I blink a few times, my chest tightening. “Uh… are you sure?”
“Of course.” Jasper chimes in.
And I felt like throwing up.
The thought of meeting their family made my heart thump quicker than normal.
“Okay… I’ll do it if my sister is there.”
“Great, we will pick you up tomorrow.”
Today I brought my motorcycle myself this time. So I drove home myself. And getting there Jacob and Billy stood outside talking to my dad. Well Billy sat in the car as Jacob was going to get out. I’m guessing to take out the wheelchair.
Getting off my bike, I take my helmet off as I walked over to them. “Hey, squirt!” My dad shouts over to me and I wave.
“Hey guys!” I smile. Jacob comes over and pulls me into a hug. Billy was a bit standoffish but he smiles and greets me as well.
Jacob walks away and goes to set up the wheelchair, Billy gets himself up to sit in it.
That’s when Bella gets dropped off by Edward, Billy and him make eye contact and Billy seemed nervous.
Okay this chapter is a little shorter than normal. I had some things happen so I’ve been busy. But I’m hoping to have two chapters out on Sunday.
And a few requests done.
#bella swan#jacob black#twilight#twilight x reader#alice cullen#carlisle cullen#esme cullen#jasper hale x reader#jasper whitlock#alice cullen x reader#edward cullen#twilight imagine#rosalie twilight#emmett x reader#jasper cullen x reader#jasper cullen#jasper hale#jasper#seth clearwater#charlie swan#billy black#rosalie x emmett#emmett cullen#rosalie hale#rosalie cullen
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