#fuck just let me get through friday and saturday
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haha i'm unwell
#fromaryg: rara#i vomited my entire breakfast yesterday bc of extreme anxiety#aryomen grande i love u...it's ruining my life 💀🥴#i lost my mikey tenorinzu#(i bought a new one right away lol)#my cat scratched me on the neck...#and i hope it heals before june 1st bc my blazer dress aint gonna cover that up#and finally#choso 🥲#fuck just let me get through friday and saturday#come sunday i'll sleep 24/7 fuck#bridgerton s3 save me brigderton s3 save me bridgerton s3 save me
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Part Five
Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)
You call Meredith when you get home.
You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.
How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.
"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."
"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"
"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."
"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.
"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."
"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."
"That works."
"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."
It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.
"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.
"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."
The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.
Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.
But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.
You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.
You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.
Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.
“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...
“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”
"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"
"You won't return any of our messages."
"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."
"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.
"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.
Dammit.
"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."
"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.
"Why not?" He countered.
“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”
He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.
You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.
God...
That felt good.
You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...
You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst with a happy ending#angst#grovel#jealousy
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freaky friday
OR… that one time you woke up in luke castellan’s body, told from the perspective of percy jackson.
Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Demeter!Reader
Word Count: 4.2k
Content: the most loser loser!luke has ever loser-ed. this is sooo unserious like pls.
꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷
Percy Jackson had only been at camp for a day, but he was completely sure that something was wrong.
It started early Sunday morning — well, when he thought back on it, he guessed it might have started late Saturday night, when he woke up to a few of the older campers (Luke included) sneaking off out of the cabin and not coming back until the sun was peeking through the horizon.
But he didn’t really think about it until Sunday morning — when the thing that startled him out of sleep was a loud shout of “Holy Fuck!” echoing from the bathroom. He sat up, startled, and eyed the door along with everyone else. Then there was a yelp.
“Oh my gods. No — this is, this isn’t real. Am I still — oh don’t touch that. That’s not yours. Jesus, Luke — No. Stop looking. Oh my gods.”
A few campers shared some wary glances, asking the silent question of who’s going to investigate? Eventually, Chris (Percy thought, one of Luke’s friends from yesterday), stood up with a sigh and a raised brow, stepping over sleeping bags until he stood outside of the door. He looked at them all, the curious eyes of literally every kid there, and knocked slightly. There was another yelp.
“Uh…” Chris blew out a puff of air, “Are you okay in there?”
A few seconds of tense silence, then the door cracked open and Luke Castellan stuck his head out. He looked at Chris, at all the kids staring at him, and smiled stiffly, “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
He shut the door once more, the force blowing Chris’ hair back for a brief moment. The boy shrugged and nodded at everyone else to start getting ready because it was almost time for breakfast. He headed over to Percy, asked how his first night was, and left him to gather his bearings before they had to leave.
The kids attempted to forget about Luke’s debacle in the bathroom, but when they started to get impatient about his hogging it, all disregard of his personal business went flying out of the window. One kid mustered the balls to knock, and then another shouted through the wood for him to hurry up.
Just as one of the Stoll brothers was about to pick the lock himself and check out the situation, the door flew open, and Luke frowned at them from the doorway, “I’m done, my gods.”
They looked at him — he was leaning against the now open door, hip bucked out and not a care in the world that he was in nothing but his underwear. He glanced at them, then at the kid who Percy thought was called Conor, and sneered in his face until the kid flinched back. When he did, Luke pushed the bathroom door until it hit the wall and gestured dramatically inside, “In you go.”
Percy didn’t think he was the only one who was shocked by Luke’s sudden show of attitude. Sure, he’d only known the guy for a day, but he’d been super nice the whole time. Even when Percy was ready to give up on finding his skill, Luke was supportive and kind. Now, he just looked irritated at everyone in the room. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person.
Yeah, that was probably it.
Percy decided to let him wake up a bit instead of irritating him with questions about how the morning routine at camp usually went. Instead, he followed the lead of the kids around him and got himself ready before lining up along the wall. His face bloomed red when someone had to tell him to go to the back because he was new, but other than that he was doing somewhat alright.
Chris and Luke were arguing quietly in the corner, being careful to ensure nobody else could hear their murmurs. At one point, Luke stepped up so he was nose to nose with Chris and the boy put his hands on his chest to push him back — only for Luke to sharpen his eyes down at them with such a scandalised look that even Percy was slightly confused from where he stood and watched. Luke folded his arms over his chest indignantly and Chris sent him a dumb look before muttering something that made Luke straighten and drop his arms once more.
When the boys ceased their conversation and walked over, the kids pretended as if they hadn’t been watching their entire time
“Okayyy.” Luke spoke, huffing out a breath. He shot his hands out and waved them, “Let’s go.” Nobody moved, and he furrowed his brows, “Uh, onwards and upwards? Hop to? En guarde?” Silence greeted him and he rolled his eyes, clapping loudly, “Can yall just fuckin’ move?”
The kids at the front flinched slightly, deciding it best to just leave rather than wait for him to say his usual morning pick-me-up. Clearly he was having a bad day and they chose to leave him to his own devices. Percy followed at the back, and couldn’t help but listen as Chris muttered to him once more from behind him.
“Can you at least try to act like a normal person, please?”
“I am acting normal.”
“Luke Normal.” He paused, waiting. Percy guessed Luke must’ve agreed silently because the next thing he said was, “Thank you. Now get to the front of the line like the cabin counsellor you are.”
Luke huffed, pushing past Percy to get to the front of the line. Chris followed, whispering something about Luke having a bad day and to just ignore him before jogging to catch up. The blonde boy had never felt so awkward — the only friend he’d made and the guy was skulking around like he hated the world only twelve hours after they’d met.
He tried to brush it off by focusing on his breakfast — blue pancakes, blue cherry coke. Okay, not the healthiest option but he was having a bad weekend, let him live.
Chiron came to find him a bit after that, asking Percy how he was settling in and if he was ready for the Capture the Flag game they were playing later.
After that, Percy tried to avoid the prying eyes of Annabeth by spending his free hour in the Hermes cabin where she couldn’t get to him — only to walk in on something a lot more awkward.
Luke was lying on the floor, groaning in pain. The smiley Demeter girl he had introduced Percy to the day before was on top of him, also groaning in pain.
“Uh, are you guys okay?”
They flinched, scrambling off each other and pulling themselves to their feet. Luke brushed himself off and looked at Percy wide eyed, “It’s not what it looks like!”
“Seriously.” The girl said when Percy raised his brow. She shook her head slowly, “We would never —“
“Yeah.” Luke scoffed, “Like never ever.”
The girl — Percy was still trying to remember her name — turned her head and looked at him blankly, “Okay. That wasn’t needed.”
“I’m just clarifying.”
“You didn’t need to sound so disgusted about it, though.”
“Oh my god.” Luke scoffed a chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re such a guy.”
Percy screwed up his face, and Luke suddenly backtracked, “Uh, I mean — such a lie…er.” Even he looked confused by what he’d said. He straightened up and scoffed, waving his hands, “She wants me so bad. Right? Bro?” He held out a fist, but Percy just looked at it.
The girl, who had swiftly knocked his hand back to his side and stepped slightly in front of him, smiled kindly like she had yesterday when she’d asked how Percy was feeling about the sudden change in his life. “Sorry for scaring you, Perce. We’re just talking about something. Did you have a question?”
“Yeah, actually.” He looked at her, “Are you in pyjamas?”
She looked down at herself like she was just remembering her white tank top and fleece pyjama pants with bats printed on them, and Luke laughed into his fist. Upon hearing his chuckles, she swivelled back to glare at him, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! Would you rather me undress you?”
“What?” Percy asked. He was ignored.
Luke took a step back and held up one finger, “Uh, no. I don’t need you looking at my tits, perv.”
“What?” Percy tried again.
The girl scoffed, looking away from him and muttering under her breath, “Kinda hard not to when they get hot in the night and climb out of your shirt.”
Luke gasped and put his hands to his chest, “Oh my gods.”
“I tried not to look but they were right there — !”
"Well — " Luke stammered for a rebuttal, eventually pointing in accusation at the girl beside him, "You had morning wood!
"What — ?!"
“Hey, guys!” Percy finally interrupted, and they looked at him in surprise like they’d forgotten he’d been standing there the whole time. “What the hell is going on?”
The two shared a look, but it was you who stepped forward and looked at him kindly, “Nothing you should worry about. You’ve had a tough weekend already, just pretend you never saw us.”
Percy was tempted to refuse and force them to spill the beans, but they were two older campers who could very well send him to detention or whatever it was they did here for punishment — he wasn’t keen on finding out. So he left with a nod and closed the door behind him.
Your voice drifted through the window, “—can’t believe you wear batman pyjamas.”
“At least I wear pyjamas.” Luke responded, “You left very little to my imagination this morning.”
He walked off before he could hear anymore.
He didn’t see either of you again until just before lunch. He was walking through camp with Grover, half-listening to his friend yap about a blueberry bush he thought was cute, when they passed you and your sisters giggling about something near the forges.
“Gods, he’s cute, though.” One of them was saying, eyeing up a boy with soot all over his face. Percy couldn’t see much of him to determine him as cute, but your sisters seemed to agree with a loud dreamy sigh.
“He is, don’t get me wrong.” Another girl added, “But consider this: Lee Fletcher.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He’s got potential. He’s got potential.”
Percy found himself slowing down, the teenage boy in him wondering if someone would mention his name. Of course they wouldn’t — he’s twelve, and they’re all around yours and Luke’s age, but a boy could dream.
One of the girls clicked her tongue, looking at you, “Who was it you said was sorta dreamy the other day?”
Percy watched you freeze, suddenly looking very awkward. You took a deep breath in and pretended to think about what you were going to say, but one of your sisters chimed in for you.
“It was Astor. The Ares kid with the curly hair.”
“Oh yeah!”
“What?” You exclaimed, scrunching up your face. When your sisters looked at you all confused, you backtracked, “Uh, I mean yeah he’s…cute.” You forced the word out with difficulty, “But, I dunno. There's cuter guys out there.”
“Oh?” Your sister said, interested, “Who are you thinking?”
Now you were on the spot. You swallowed, making these exaggerated facial expressions that Percy assumed were you trying to convince the girls that you had just come up with this idea, when you’d actually probably been wanting to say it the whole time you’d been talking and just needed an excuse, “Oh, I don’t know…” You shrugged, “Luke Castellan’s sorta…y’know?”
The girls looked between each other, and you watched with slight anticipation. Then one of them, the one who had mentioned Lee Fletcher earlier, said, “I swear you said he was too full of himself.”
“What —?”
“Yeah, she did.” The other chimed in, “You said he would be cuter if he didn’t — what was it? — flaunt around camp like he had the biggest cock out of all of ‘em.”
The girls laughed, and you attempted a weak chuckle, but it sorta looked like you were in pain. Percy thought it best to walk off after that, looking for Grover who had long since left him to his eavesdropping devices and presumably wandered off into the forest to look for Blue the blueberry bush.
So maybe Percy should’ve pressed harder when he’d cornered you and Luke earlier that morning. He thought he could brush it off, even when he kept seeing Luke lift up the hem of his shirt and poke at his abs in wonder, or when he saw you pushing your hair out of your face once every ten seconds before finally putting it in the messiest ponytail he’d ever seen. It was as if you had lost all sense of self overnight, like you'd never actually seen your own bodies before. It creeped him out, but he held back on asking. Maybe it was a demigod thing he hadn't been taught yet.
The straw that broke the camel's back, however, was after dinner. Usually when the nymphs take the plates away and the campers start to trickle down to the campfire, a few odd groups would stay behind at their tables, gossiping or finishing their desert until they had to get up and go — not only were you and your siblings part of this group of people, but so were Luke and Chris (and, by default because he had nobody else to hang out with, Percy).
So the newcomer had the fortunate opportunity to bear witness to possibly the greatest series of events he’d ever seen (and he once saw a rat the size of a small dog eating a small dog).
It all started when a girl from the Aphrodite table stood up and walked over to where the boys were sitting.
“So, if you do ever want to sneak out to the forests, don’t go through the pavilion.” Chris was explaining, “Mr D has a birds eye view of the whole place from his bedroom window, so you gotta sneak as close to the Big House as you can get. But make sure to duck under the windows just in case Chiron is trotting around in there.”
“And be careful around cabin four.” Luke butted in, “They have vines that spring out of the floor whenever a non-Demeter kid gets too close during the night.”
Chris turned to his brother with a look, “How do you know that?”
“Oh, uh — ”
“Hey, Luke.”
Three heads turned to the edge of the table where she was standing — a pretty girl with short blonde hair, a few strands dyed pink near the front. She was smiling at Luke cheekily and Percy noticed Chris send his brother a smirk.
“Uh, hi…” Luke trailed off, squinting.
“Laura.” She finished with a frown.
“Laura!” He exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I knew that. I did.”
“Cool.” She said slowly, brushing off the moment and bouncing around the table to sit next to him on the bench. She leaned on her elbows into his side and Percy watched him shuffle back, only for Chris to push him right back forward. “So, uh, I had fun…last night.” She side eyed Percy across the table, but the boy just pursed his lips awkwardly.
“Really?” Luke responded, a little shocked. He nodded, “Well, uh, me too?”
Laura grinned widely at that, back straightening, “I’m so glad we agree.”
Percy wasn’t so sure Luke agreed, he wasn’t even sure the guy remembered whatever saucy interaction she was referring to. But he was pretending to, for her sake. He blinked at her silently, but she just looked as if she was waiting for him to say something — Percy was only young, but he’d seen enough movies to know that she was waiting for him to suggest they do it again sometime.
He did not. Instead he twisted his body away from her and back towards Percy, smiling at him, “Wanna head to the campfire, get some good seats?”
The boy was moments away from responding, but Laura clearly wasn’t taking his silence as an answer. She pulled Luke back to face her by his arm and blinked up at him, “I was just about to suggest we skip the fire tonight. Just us, y’know?”
Chris cleared his throat and stood, ushering for Percy to do the same, “Let’s go, lil bro.”
“Wait — “ Luke stood with them, staring back with a silent plea of help. Chris wasn’t having it, just grinning at him.
“Have fun, Luke.” He snorted, “See you later.”
“No, you can’t — ” He started, but Laura was yanking him back with a high pitched giggle.
“You heard him, Luke.” She smirked, “No one's gonna notice we’re gone, loosen up.” She ran a slow finger down his torso, and Percy watched him visibly tense up. He didn’t understand why she hadn't taken the hint already.
Chris seized Percy by the wrist and began to pull him away, occasionally looking back and giggling like a schoolgirl, with the odd snort. The younger boy didn’t really want to look back, but then when he heard Luke yelp like a girl, well…
He had to. And thank the gods he did.
Luke was sprawled on the table like a scared rabbit and Laura was standing with one hand hanging limply in the air, looking confusedly at his stance. Chris burst into loud laughter when he noticed Luke’s legs were spread and the boy was trying really hard not to look at his own crotch.
They walked over when it was clear someone needed to intervene, and Percy noticed the Demeter girls from before joining them — you were at the front, looking panicked and slightly annoyed.
"What's going on?" You asked, looking between the two of them.
"Nothing." Laura said plainly, "We were just talking."
Luke looked at you, “She — uh, she grabbed your — uh, your — ”
He gestured between his legs with a shaky hand. Percy raised a brow, as did everyone else at the scene. Except for Laura, who began to cackle loudly, bending over at the hips and bracing her hands on her thighs. The rest of the kids stared at the pair with varying expressions, and Laura straightened up, wiping under eyes with a giggle before pointing between you and Luke.
“You guys — oh my gods — ” She laughed again, shaking her head and trying to breathe long enough to get her words out, “Holy Hades, Castellan. I’m — I’m sorry.”
She held her hands up in surrender, looking at you now, “I am. I didn’t know you guys were dating. I guess I took mine and Luke’s conversation the wrong way, but — ” Another wheeze, “And I shouldn’t be laughing, but he just referred to his penis as yours, and I — ”
“Laura, it’s not like — ” You stepped up with a wince, trying to alleviate the growing tension between the group. The Aphrodite girl wasn’t listening.
“I just think that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since…” She took a moment to think, catching her breath and smiling at herself as she thought about it. Eventually, she gestured to you with a laugh, “Well, since last night when you called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser.”
Luke licked his lips, taking a deep breath in and pushing himself off the table and to his feet. He went to say something to Laura, face serious, but then he stopped and knocked his head back in a slight movement. He looked around at nothing, as if he was recollecting a memory, and then he gasped and pointed a finger at you, “I did do that.”
“You called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser?” You tilted your head at Luke, “Why?”
Luke shrugged, “He grabbed my ass.”
Laura scrunched up her face, looking between the pair of them, “Are you guys on drugs?”
"There aren't any drugs at this camp." You blanked. You brother laughed.
"Says the drug dealer."
You raised a brow in shock, like you'd had no idea about your own small business. You looked at Luke intensely -- Percy thought maybe you were trying to keep your drug dealing thing a secret, and Luke had gone and spilled the beans. That would explain why he suddenly looked so sheepish. It wouldn't explain why you then said, "Well I am not on drugs."
"Then what is wrong with you guys?" Someone finally asked the question Percy had been sitting on since he watched you hover your hands over your own boobs before retracting them quickly as if it was against some demigod rule to touch your own body — only for Luke to see from afar and have some very stern words to say about it.
Finally, after ten seconds of intense eye contact, you and Luke took in simultaneous breaths. It was you who spoke first, addressing the whole crowd — which consisted of Percy, Laura, Chris, and the Demeter kids — “We’re in eachother’s bodies.”
The Demeter kids made grossed out faces, but Chris just snorted into his fist and let the conversation go on. Percy had never been more confused in his entire life — and he had once thought his dad was Jesus.
Laura chuckled, “Yeah, we know that. His penis is yours, or whatever freaky shit yall are up to.”
“What?”
“No — ”
You and Luke spoke at once, each taking a single step forward. You paused, looking at each-other until you gestured at Luke with a sigh, letting him speak. He nodded, “We’re serious. We are in each other's bodies.”
“Freaky Friday style.” You jumped in before anyone could make a sex joke. You sent the group a sharp look, and then zeroed your eyes in on Percy, “That’s why we were acting so out of it earlier.”
It was silent for a long stretch — everyone looking between one another. Percy didn’t even know what to say. It did explain their strange behaviour, but —
“How the hell did you end up in each other’s bodies?” A demeter boy asked, holding a finger up like he was in class. The rest of them nodded, wondering the same.
“Well…” Luke sighed (or You sighed, he guessed. He was still confused), “At first we had no idea, but now I think it was Graham Lee.”
Another Demeter girl hummed, “He is a Hecate kid. It’d make sense that he put some freaky spell on you after you insulted him.”
Chris coughed, still red in the face from laughing into his shirt, “Okay, but why Luke?”
You shrugged, “Dunno. I’ve never done anything to the guy.”
Suddenly, Laura let out a long, “Oooohhhh.”
Everyone eyed her. She pursed her lips in embarrassment, although Percy definitely saw amusement in her eyes. She tucked some hair behind her ear and winced, “So, maybe we went to the clash together.”
“The what?” Percy asked, finally speaking up. The rest of the group looked at him as if only just realising he’d been standing there, suddenly looking sheepish.
“Uh, it’s a party.” Chris scratched behind his ear, “Older campers only, but if you don’t tell anyone about ‘em you can come to the next one.”
He shrugged, “Deal.”
“So, wait.” You pointed at Laura, “You went to the clash with Graham? Like with him?”
“Yeah.” She folded her arms indignantly, “But he was literally staring at you the whole time, so I left to flirt with Luke.”
Your cheeks dusted pink, and both Laura and Percy realised she was talking to Luke, not you. She turned to Luke, clearing her throat, “Sorry. He was staring at you the whole time. So I left to flirt with…uh, Luke.”
A collective breath ran through the group, everyone putting the pieces together in their own heads. Percy was still a little unsure, but he had the gist (maybe). Just as he was about to suggest they go find this Graham guy and ask him to undo his spell, one of the Demeter girls Percy had seen talking to you earlier gasped and looked between you and Luke with wide eyes.
“So when we were talking before…” She looked at you, “We were talking to Luke?”
You — or Luke, but as you — stammered, and Percy couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. Luke looked on, confused, and the girl looked at him with a smirk,
“Earlier, we were gossiping about hot guys.” She chuckled, pointing at you, “And Luke suggested his own name, as you!”
“What?” Luke exclaimed at you, partially appalled but also holding in a laugh.
You stammered for an excuse, but then her face contorted and she zeroed Luke with an accusatory stare, “Well, you said I walked around camp acting like I had the biggest cock out of them all!”
Luke scoffed, “You do.”
“I do not!”
“You kind do.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“You sorta do, man.”
You turned to Chris, scandalised, “Bro.”
The boy shrugged, “Sorry man. It’s true.”
Eventually, you managed to convince the kids to finally go to the campfire and leave Luke and yourself to fix your problem with Graham when you got down there. They agreed, although not without making as many jokes as they could on the walk down to the clearing.
“So, how did you guys pee?”
“Have you seen each other all naked and stuff now?”
“Did Luke have morning woo — ?”
“Alright.” You smacked Chris hard on the back for that one. “To your sections, please.”
Percy sat down on the end of a log, and watched as the two of you walked over to Graham and spoke to him in hushed but harsh tones. At one point, Graham was looking between you two with the most genuine look of confusion and Percy assumed he only agreed to reverse the spell because it was making his mind go all wobbly just talking to you.
When he saw Luke again, it was at lights out. Percy was tucking himself into his thin sleeping bag when the boy came over, crouching to his level and dropping something on his lap.
He lifted the bag of coins to his eyeline and then raised a brow at Luke, “What’s this for?”
“Drachmas.” He explained, “Just enough to get you a new shirt at the camp store. Or a thicker pillow, some three ply toilet paper. Whatever you want, really.” He shrugged, “Partly a welcome to camp gift, partly hush money.”
“Right.” Percy lowered the bag and levelled Luke with a curious look, “How was being in another person’s body? Weird?”
“Oh yeah.” He nodded, looking into the distance like he was having some awful flashbacks. Percy remembered seeing you walk out of the bathroom earlier, a look of terror plastered in your eyes.
He cleared his throat, “Well, thanks for the money.”
“No problem, kid.” He patted him on the shoulder, “Get some rest. It’s capture the flag day tomorrow and guess what?"
"What?"
"We're teaming up with Demeter."
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what lies beneath us. - c. san (m)
➼ genre; fluff, smut, slight angst for the first half but i make it better quickly promise
➼ pairing; san x afab!reader
➼ au; established relationship, college au
➼ warnings; explicit smut
➼ rating; m/18+
➼ wc; 6.4k
one busy semester is all it took for you and san to find yourselves struggling to find footing in the storm that is your relationship, yet rather than let go, he asked for one more week, one more day, one last chance to help get you back to shore
part of the ...and it's snowing collab.
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➼ smut warnings; unprotected sex, oral: m, vaginal fingering, praise, body worship, service-top san, san has some slightly submissive tendencies, coming inside
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You normally wouldn’t find yourself in Wooyoung’s apartment on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the bar counter beside his roommate with two mugs of coffee sitting on the granite between you, but you also haven’t had any leisure time to waste lately. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung is even up before ten o’clock, though that might be in part due to you pleading desperately over the phone to come over.
“Oh, you make her coffee but not me? The fuck is up with that, Hwa?” Speak of the devil, Wooyoung comes into the kitchen still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“She’s a guest, you live here. And I had to wake you up because you slept through three alarms so my sympathy levels are close to zero right now.” Seonghwa flashes a faux shrug despite the heated glare he’s sent. Wooyoung lets out a huff but lets it go in favor of redirecting his attention to you.
“Right, well, what did you need to talk about so badly that it couldn’t wait until the afternoon?”
“San is coming over tonight, I couldn't do the afternoon,” you mumble.
“Is it about him then? Did something—” he waves a hand through the air like that’ll explain his thoughts, and when confusion shows on both your face and Seonghwa’s, he gives up “—did something happen between you guys?”
“It feels a bit awkward,” you admit over the rim of your coffee mug. Wooyoung scoffs at that, but Seonghwa is far more forgiving than your best friend in that he sends you a sympathetic grin.
“Awkward?” he prompts, toying with his own drink. Wooyoung pushes away from the counter and turns to the coffee maker.
“I don't know. Yeah, awkward, a bit. I guess. Like we don't know what we're doing or how to be in a relationship anymore.”
The brutal semester you both just suffered has been the main factor in the wedge in your relationship. Weekends full of studying, ones that you spent together at the start of the semester when he would come to your place or vice versa so that you could be together even while working. Then, San started picking up more shifts at his part-time job, and you had to redirect your focus to a particularly important internship that required you to forgo those weekends in the blink of an eye. You did have two weekends free of school and work, but San had to rush home during one of those on account of his mother falling ill. The other one was shot by you falling ill with the worst cold you’ve known in all your years of living. San came by that Friday with your favorite chicken and beer, but you couldn��t bring yourself to risk getting him sick when you knew how important the semester was to him too. It didn’t keep him from coming by again Saturday and Sunday both, soup was delivered to your front door along with voice messages wishing you well throughout the night. Even your text conversations were fizzling into oblivion by the time finals rolled around, which only served to amplify your feelings of dread.
“Has he been acting differently?” Wooyoung tunes back into the conversation, this time more serious with his tone. “Like, he's pulling away or something?” Wooyoung stands on a different footing in this conversation and knows things Seonghwa doesn't in terms of your relationship with San. He's been there for you since well before you started dating San, and you're certain that he'll be there for you if it were to end tomorrow, the next day, or years down the line.
“It's gonna sound so childish and stupid but he hasn't been calling me nicknames since the semester ended.” You tuck your hands into your lap and shrink into yourself a little, feeling the hot burn of shame well up inside.
“That's not stupid at all, y/n,” Seonghwa reassures barely a second after you finish your train of thought. “That's not.”
“He's right. That's totally unlike San.”
“Not! Helping!”
“I'm just being honest?!”
“Look, y/n, I don't want you to start having doom thoughts or thinking the worst — that doesn't mean his feelings for you have changed.” You’re starting to think that you should’ve asked Seonghwa for advice from the start instead of Wooyoung. “Maybe he's feeling that awkwardness you are too, or maybe he's feeling insecure. The only way to know is to ask. Have an open and honest conversation about it.”
“But…” You glance past Seonghwa to look at Wooyoung's back. Without even needing to look back, he seems to feel the weight of your stare.
“You're scared that if you bring it up, the worst will happen and y'all will break up.”
“We've been dating for so long that I don't know what I would do if that happened. I don't know how to be single, no offense to either of you, but it's just that we've been together for so long now. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if it ended.”
“If…” Wooyoung bites his words back as though he's unsure of how they will come out. “I don't want this to sound harsh, but if all it takes for him to lose his feelings for you is one busy semester, then that's not someone I would want you to have a future with. I know it's not up to me and it's not my business, but I want you to value yourself more than you value your relationship with San.”
“I truly don't think he's lost his feelings for you, y/n,” Seonghwa cuts in again, hand darting out across the counter in your direction. “Woo is right; you should value yourself more than the relationship you're in, but that doesn't mean you can only have one of those things. They can coexist.”
“What if I’m fighting for something he doesn’t want any longer?” you inquire softly and under your breath.
“The spark isn’t gone, y/n, I’m certain of that much. Maybe you just… need to find a way to reignite it!” The coffee maker dings loudly behind Wooyoung. And like it’s turning on a lightbulb in Wooyoung’s head, his expression turns suddenly bright. “Why not do just that? It’s been half a decade, to be fair, so really you can’t be blamed if things feel a little stale. If you went and did things that made you fall for each other in the first place, wouldn’t that help a bit?”
“I hate to say it…”
“You always say that when I’m right!”
“Ignoring him, that does sound like a good plan, y/n.”
Despite the reassurance from both your best friend and someone you consider to be far more mature and wiser, it doesn’t fully quell the concerns settling in your gut.
It’s only been six days since you last saw San, though you would argue that it feels a lot more like six months given how absent you both have been from each other’s lives of late. While that isn’t particularly your fault or his wholly — it’s definitely a joint effort that’s kept you apart — it does make your skin itch with anxiety every time you think about seeing him again.
It’s all culminated into this moment right now, where you sit on the edge of your couch waiting for the doorbell to ring and announce his arrival. You want to see him, desperately so, you’ve missed him so incredibly much that you can hardly stand it. And yet — you’re rooted to the cushions riddled by anxieties. You tried to rid yourself of the lingering stress after leaving Wooyoung’s apartment by doing chores properly for the first time in months, going so far as to run to the grocery and restock some necessities as well. You hate to be the type of partner who cannot do anything alone without associating it with your partner, but San was on your mind throughout the day.
Will he feel the same as you even though the flame keeping your relationship alive has been inching closer and closer to nothingness? The two of you don’t fight, in fact, your friends like to say that things go a little too smoothly between you two, and while that’s true, they aren’t aware of what it looks like when you and San aren’t getting along. It looks the way this semester has, slow conversations that lead nowhere and less time spent in each other’s presence. You aren’t fighting right now, but you certainly aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. The weather mirrors your emotions — dim greys shrouded by white flurries of snow that have been falling since early afternoon.
You clench your fingers around the seam of the couch cushion. No part of you wants to play the part of the overbearing partner: if you’re too eager to see him, wouldn’t he find it off-putting?
The doorbell rings.
It takes a moment for you to brace yourself for impact, standing and walking over to the door as slowly as you can manage without it seeming like a deliberate delay. The second you open the door, however, your worries melt away for a moment.
San smiles so brightly like you’ve not gone a second without reveling in each other’s presence. The weather is clinging to his coat still even though he had to climb three flights of stairs to reach your door. The little snowflakes are beginning to melt into the fabric.
“May I come in?” The facade cracks a bit. It’s not like him to ask such things, but you choose not to hold it against him now.
“Yeah, yeah, I finally had time to clean the other day so everything’s — nice.”
If your smile is strained, he says nothing about it, stepping over the threshold and into your apartment like it’s the first time he’s ever done so. He’s polite all the time, but now it makes those seeds of doubt sprout further because you’ve been together for five years now, what reason does he have to act like a stranger in your home? A home he’s been in time and time again, one he’s slept in, fucked you—
“Do you want ramen or pizza?” You force the thoughts to come to a halt before your expression turns bitter.
“Let’s do ramen, I’ll cut up the vegetables for you.”
There’s an elephant in the room that it seems neither of you wants to address, and so you keep your mouth shut just the same as San with the thought of “maybe this awkwardness will pass after tonight”. You watch him remove his coat and hang it up on the door while still picking at your nails. He extends a hand to you, one you take eagerly, and you lace your fingers through the gaps between his. A bit like a well-oiled machine, you think, something that Wooyoung had noted about the two of you as far back as freshman year of college. San presses his lips to the top of your head. You lean into the touch ever so slightly.
You share in a quiet synergy that carries you through the motions of preparing food, with no conversation exchanged aside from a “watch for the knife” and “careful, behind you” on occasion. You’re still trying to psyche yourself up to bring up what’s truly on your mind, so you aren’t sure that you’d be able to get any conversation out without it spiraling into insanity right off the bat. For the moment, for now, you want to simply drink in San’s presence.
He hums as he opens a cabinet in search of bowls, but they aren’t there.
“Oh, I—I moved the bowls to the other side.” Three months ago, your mind adds. It would do nothing but add salt to a blossoming wound. San stops dead in his tracks too. He seems to suffer the same crisis that you do right then. After a few seconds of mental buffering, he resumes his humming and shifts to the adjacent cabinet like the moment didn’t happen at all.
You sit beside each other at the bar counter, atop the uncomfortable stools you’ve had for well over two years now, but it offers a weird comfort because it’s familiar, it’s something San knows, it’s something you share and have shared for years.
“Thanks for the meal,” San says, still wearing a bitten-back smile.
“Of course. Thank you for helping.” But the detrimental reality of not speaking to someone properly for a long while is that part of you forgets how to make conversation with them. There is nothing for you and San to “catch up on” seeing as you’ve been keeping each other updated on your lives through dry text conversations. “Um…” He’s eyeing you carefully now, and you could pass off the watering in your eyes as the spice of the food, but he would call your bluff in an instant. The funny thing about doubt is that once it’s taken root, it’ll keep growing back no matter how many times you chop at the stem.
“What’s wrong, y/n?”
“It’s just — I don’t — are we breaking up?”
San freezes halfway over his ramen, chopsticks nearly falling from his fingers as he rushes to put his noodles back down. Your shoulders start shaking before you can stop it. He doesn’t stop you from turning away from him, but San has always been endlessly patient and gentle with you so you don’t expect him to ask you to look at him anyway. He does rest a hand atop your forearm though, and his thumb drags small, comforting circles over your skin.
“Talk to me, y/n, what do you mean by that? Why would we be breaking up?” The words themselves sound calm. There’s a slight quiver to his tone, however, that makes you want to crawl inside yourself and disappear. “A-Are you wanting that?” Your continued lack of response makes San more urgent than ever, and he shifts his hand to your leg, spinning you to face him. You can’t be certain of the expression on your face (though you’d wager there is some degree of hurt); whatever San sees makes him let out a distressed noise from the back of his throat. “Come here, duck, talk to me.”
Standing on somewhat shaky legs, you push yourself closer to San, and he instinctually moves his knees apart to let you tuck yourself into the space there.
“Don’t cry, baby, I’m here, you can talk to me,” he murmurs, hands cupping your face in his hands. You reach down to cling to his shirt like it’s a lifeline.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me that in weeks. This is the first time we’ve spent time together in six days. We’ve barely spoken or spent time together all semester, and I know why — I know we agreed that school and work have to come first. I know that.” Your voice drops to a whisper as you lose the confidence to speak. “I didn’t think it would mean losing you though.”
“You haven’t lost me, y/n. I’m still here, with you, loving you just as much as ever.” San smiles a little as you push your cheek further into his palm. “My feelings have not changed. I thought about you every day, wondered how you were doing, and if you responded to my texts late, I hoped you were eating well and getting enough rest. I listened to your voice memos rooting for me every night. Your face was always the first thing I saw in the morning because I still keep that slideshow of you as my lockscreen.” Reaching around to the back of your neck, he gives you a little tug, and your foreheads bump together. “The thought of you helped get me through the semester because I knew that it was you who was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel.”
“Sannie…”
“How long have you been worried over this, baby? You should’ve come to me the moment you started having doubts. I wouldn’t have let this go on if I had known.”
“I thought I felt you pulling away so I was scared to bring it up. You weren’t calling me nicknames anymore, and I started reading into it too much and freaked myself out.”
“I’m so sorry, y/n. Don’t put the blame on yourself, it’s not a crime to have anxieties. I didn’t even realize I stopped using them. I suppose I just got swept up in my own feelings and wanted to call you by your name as much as possible.” He nudges you with his head again. “Because I missed you so dearly.” Your lips turn up at the corners, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “And because I adore you so so much, my y/n.”
“Stop that.” You hope he doesn’t, truly.
“But I’m so mushy and full of love for you, y/n.”
“You’re gonna make me blush.”
“Oh, I can think of other ways to do that, baby.” San stands, subsequently pushing his body into yours, but your hands are still on each other, his moving down to caress the back of your thigh before he hooks his fingers around the bend of your knee and hoists your leg up over his hip. “I haven’t been good to you, my sweet,” he murmurs close to your lips. “What kind of boyfriend am I if I let you feel unwanted?” Your heart skips a beat as he grips tight at your other leg, then you’re suddenly weightless for a second as he hoists you up to his waist.
“We just ate—”
“I don’t plan on letting that stop me.” You let out a gasp as San traces the line of your jaw with his lips, hot breath spilling across your skin as he carries you from the kitchen. “Unless you want it to?” This damned man knows what he’s doing, he knows the hold he has over you — your brain is already turning into a foggy mess of want, and even the prospect of waiting two minutes for him to lay his hands on you is too much to bear. Your nails drag across his shoulders, tugging at the thin material. He misses the doorknob to your bedroom thanks to your antics, sending you against the wood a little harshly and forcing the air out of your lungs. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Still on the pill.”
“Hm?” he echoes, managing to turn it right on the second try and popping it open properly.
“I’m still on the pill,” you repeat. San freezes in place to stare at your face. You bring a hand around to toy at his parted lips with your thumb. “So you can fuck me raw.”
San becomes so dumbstruck that his jaw moves up and down over and over without any semblance of noise coming out.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a horny teenager,” he says under his breath. You drop your head back and laugh. San’s hold on you feels so blissfully warm. You didn’t even have time for this during the semester, sometimes thanks to your workloads but more often thanks to sheer exhaustion. A few solo jaunts before bed are hardly enough to please you the way San does. Based on how tightly he’s gripping your ass, he seems to feel exactly the same.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He manages to get you both to the bed without further incident, laying you down on the mattress with a sort of reverence that makes your chest swell with emotion. Even through the barrier of clothing, his fingers are hot and sear a path from your hips up your waist then right back down again as San wastes no time in stripping you of your pants.
“I missed you so fucking much it’s insane.” You want to respond, but the sight of your lover dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed stops you in your tracks. All you can do is lie there and watch him tug your pants off, lips moving to kiss each bit of exposed skin along the way. Goosebumps rise across your body when he kisses his way up higher. His broad frame cages you in the closer he gets to your face, and despite his hands being on the somewhat small side, they feel all-encompassing when they’re sneaking under your shirt and exploring the skin beneath.
“I missed you more,” you murmur, catching his chin between your fingers and angling his face upwards so you can properly look at him. “I love you so so much, San. More than I can put into words.”
“Yeah?” You make no effort to pull him higher although he moves as though you do and climbs all the way up to be right over your face. He hums before dipping down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I think I’ve missed you more still though—” another kiss, this time to the opposite side of your mouth “—but you’re welcome to challenge me on that.”
“San,” you whine. He pulls back and sits back on his knees. Your brain goes totally blank watching him take his shirt off. It’s something you’ve seen time and time again, truly nothing new or foreign to you, but something about it now makes your gut twist in on itself. He’s lost a bit of the muscle you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on him, now softer around the edges, at the waist and across his stomach. It doesn’t curb your desire for him in the slightest; if anything it makes you want him more, to cling to him tighter and feel him firmer against you.
He throws the shirt down to the floor and drags a hand through his dark hair. His legs are splayed around yours, putting the prominent bulge in his pants on full display before you.
“I want you to use me, y/n.” He grabs your hand from where it’s resting against the bed and brings it to his chest. You dig your nail into his flesh like it’s second nature to do so. “Tonight, for your pleasure.” His eyes trail after your every moment, watching as you sit up and pull your legs out from under him. You graze the underside of his dick ever so slightly yet it’s still enough to make his lashes flutter.
“Then…” San is like putty in your hands, conforming to every move you make while still maintaining that unbreaking eye contact. He turns with you, and you climb off the bed to stand despite feeling seconds away from toppling over. All it takes is the slightest push against his chest for him to lie flat on his back. “Will you be good for me?”
His response comes in the form of a bitten-back whine thanks to you cupping the bulge of his cock as you withdraw your hand. It’s intoxicating to strip him of his jeans and feel every inch of his pretty tapered waist. You urge him to move further up on the bed, making room for you between his legs once you’ve tossed his pants down beside yours on the floor. The tip of his cock peeks out the top of his underwear, already stiff and leaking precum onto the elastic band. Saucy nudes here and there don’t do him nearly enough justice, you think. You tease just the bit of him that's exposed with your tongue, licking at the sensitive and swollen head, and he twitches beneath the fabric. Humming to yourself, you inch his underwear down just far enough to put his whole member on display, along with his balls, but you don’t go any further than that. It’s enough for you to get your mouth around him, after all, and that’s exactly what you do without giving San any time to brace himself for the touch.
He lets out a desperate moan the moment your wet heat envelopes his length, fingers curling into his palms around the comforter. His hips twitch with the desire to thrust upwards, but he keeps himself firmly planted on the bed, fulfilling his end of the bargain for you and being so delightfully good. The weight of him on your tongue isn’t nearly enough; you want him buried deep inside you as soon as possible, and you’d go on and do it now if you didn’t think it would hurt like a bitch given how long it’s been since you’ve taken him. San isn’t distracted enough to miss the way you retract a hand to touch yourself, and he fights to speak through broken moans.
“I w-wanna touch you, pretty.” You lift yourself off his cock until just the tip sits on your lower lip.
“I’ll let you later when I ask you to fold me in half and fuck me into the mattress.” You sink two fingers into your hole, taking San back into your mouth to revel in that full feeling again. You’re just as needy as he is, in reality, because your walls are already coated with arousal and it pools around the base of your fingers in such a way that it makes your cheeks flush. San’s noises aren’t helping in the slightest — for as quiet as he is in day-to-day life, he is ever so vocal when it comes to sex, especially when his cock is buried in your mouth. He’s just long enough to push right into the back of your throat, making it far easier for you to take him fully.
“Your mouth feels so — fuck, fucking good, baby.” If you weren’t preoccupied, you would love to return his words with your own, so you settle for tugging at his balls a little. It earns you a delightful little yelp, and his hips buck up to drive his dick further into your throat than expected. “Hngh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I want—” you don’t finish your train of thought, too rushed to bother with it as you scramble to rid yourself of your underwear. San greets you with his hands when you climb back onto the bed and grabs hold of your waist. He tugs and pulls at your shirt until it’s gone too, leaving you with nothing more than your plain black bra. However, even that San seems to find issue with, because he toys with the clasp until it comes loose and throws that aside too.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, settling back against the mattress. He’s always told you this is his favorite position, to see you straddling his hips and bouncing on his cock, though he favors missionary quite a bit as well because it lets him see your body and face while he’s fucking you (despite how much he loves your ass). His cock is trapped between your pussy and his stomach now, hard and throbbing for the same kind of stimulation you so desperately crave. You drag your folds along his length a few times just to tease San, but he grips your hip in warning. In hindsight, you should have let him finger you open more before because the stretch is far more than you remember — not enough to hurt, but enough for you to really feel every inch of him entering your body. It makes you writhe atop him, your spine arches, and you drop your head back. San holds you like you're a precious gem, thick arms circling around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest. The position gives you some much-needed stability, but San's fingers have begun to get severely distracting. He rolls his thumbs into your skin, pausing only to squeeze and pinch at the more sensitive parts of your sides.
“I’m gonna start moving,” you whisper like being too loud will break some sort of seal. San nods and unwraps his arms enough to simply hold your hips. Despite the decrease in definition of his muscles, his strength doesn’t seem to have gone anywhere, because he lifts you with such ease that it’s a bit dizzying. Still, he lets the control rest in your hands. You sink down slowly on his cock, letting your walls get used to the drag, before doing the same motion two, three more times. The first whimper to fall from your lips is what snaps your resolve. San’s hold on you remains firm but only to ease the strain on your thighs as you begin to pick up your pace.
“Beautiful, beautiful, you’re so beautiful, my sweet.” San rolls his hips up in time with your movements, driving his cock up into your cunt as you drop yourself onto him, and it reaches so deep inside you that you see stars behind your eyelids. “Missed you so much, missed this, seeing your body through photos wasn’t enough — fuck, it wasn’t enough.”
“How many, ah, times did you come to those photos, hm?” You crack one eye open to watch San’s face. He’s already flushed with want, but the red in his cheeks deepens more upon hearing your question. You lean your weight further into your hands. “I fingered myself so many times thinking of you, Sannie. B-But, hngh, it wasn’t good enough. Not as good as your cock. Nothing… n-nothing feels as good!”
San thrusts up with more vigor now, all but taking over for you to go slack above him as he drives your hips down with his hands and pushes his length into you from the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, his movements falter and stutter to a halt, and he looks just as shocked as you are when his cock twitches against your walls. A blooming of warmth fills you right after, along with the realization that San has just come inside you without warning.
“I-I’m sorry, I — I didn’t mean to, ah, I thought I would last longer.” He slings an arm up over his eyes, and the red in his face deepens in hue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you come first.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Leaning down over him, you peel his arm away from his face so that you can see his shamed expression better.
“Your dick is far from the only thing that can make me come, babe. Right?”
He nods a few times, but there’s still a pout on his lips. You kiss it away.
“Then—” you detach yourself from his body, bringing about an unwelcome emptiness as his spent cock slips out of you, and roll onto your back beside him. He watches with rapt attention as you spread your legs and open your pussy to him. “Why don’t you?”
San moves with surprising haste for a man who has just come, rolling into the space between your legs, and while you expected him to just use his fingers to get you off, he hooks his hands around your thighs and shoves his face into your used cunt instead. It yanks a startled moan out of you, and it’s only amplified when he closes his lips around your clit. He’s lucky you don’t give him a concussion with how quickly you slam your thighs around his head. You don’t notice that he’s moved a hand until fingers are prodding at your leaking entrance and urging the come he just pumped into you back into your hole.
“O-Oh, San.”
Normally, he takes his sweet time eating you out, bringing you to the precipice of orgasm before sending you right back down time and time again without release. Though, either out of lingering shame at coming early or simply out of a desire to make you unravel, San laps at your clit so eagerly that it sends shudders through you. You can feel your blood rushing lower as he urges you to come, walls clenching around his fingers. It only takes another second more for the first wave to hit you, and it makes you scramble to grab hold of San’s hair as he keeps curling his fingers over your sweet spot. He does so throughout each wave of your orgasm until tears burn the corners of your eyes and you’re all but pleading for him to grant you some mercy.
“You — you had nothing to prove, you know,” you say between desperate attempts to catch your breath. San giggles and looks up at you from his lewd position. “Ugh!” You shove his head away from you half-heartedly just to spare yourself more embarrassment.
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, duck!”
You only go as far as the pillows, turning back to him immediately and opening your arms to welcome him into them.
“I came too early, of course I had something to prove,” he adds once he’s snugly placed against your chest. You slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, his head under your chin and your breath stirring the messy strands of hair in your path. “I’ve fallen out of practice. When was the last time I did that? It’s embarrassing…”
You can’t contain your laughter.
“You always come a little early when I ride you.”
“That’s not fair!”
All you can do to soothe him is pat his head. You feel a tad sticky and gross all over, but San’s warmth more than makes up for it, and if you’re not careful, you’re certain you’ll fall asleep within minutes. A small sniffle coming from the man atop you chases thoughts of rest away in the blink of an eye though.
“San?”
“’m okay, promise.”
“You’re crying, baby, that’s not ”okay“.”
“I just,” he inhales and licks over his lips, skating across your sternum in the process. “I wasn’t sure I was gonna stay afloat without you.” You comb your fingers through his hair.
“Tell me when you need me and I’ll be there. Always.”
“I didn’t want to disrupt your schedule and get in the way.”
“You have to trust that I’ll take care of myself and my responsibilities even if I help you too. You always tell me that when I worry over the same things. It goes both ways, San, okay?”
“Okay.” He nods against you. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that. As long as you don’t lock yourself away when things get tough. Rely on me if you need strength. And talk to me when something is on your mind.”
“Alright, we have an agreement.” Out of nowhere, you remember Wooyoung’s suggestion from this morning. Picking at a stray piece of San’s hair, you mull over your thoughts some more. You could let things settle as they are now since things seem to be back to a pleasant state of balance. But even so, would it do any harm to try anyway? “I’d like to go on a first date again. With you. I want us to go on a first date again.”
“Hm?”
“Like… I want us to go out like it’s the first time all over again. And feel that excitement and giddiness we had back then. We don’t have to, it’s just a thought. I don’t know. Maybe it’d be a good thing after this semester.”
Silence overtakes the room. San’s breathing is so steady that you think he’s fallen asleep, but the second you try to shift and see his face, he tilts his head up and looks into your eyes.
“Alright. Let’s go on a first date again.”
…
“I figured we’d go to that little Thai place by the grocery before heading over to the Christmas light show?”
“Oh!” Your thoughts rearrange themselves around his words. “That sounds really nice, yeah.”
“The guys wanna meet up at Wooyoung’s after for chicken and beer, but I told them I’d leave the decision up to you.” He tilts his chin a bit to the side as he speaks, lips quirked up at the corners, and you find yourself so incredibly fond of him all over again.
“Let’s see how we feel after walking around.”
You offer to drive tonight, but he denies you quickly, whining about how he filled his tank full of gas just for tonight so you don’t push the matter any further than that (though, you still tease him a bit once he opens the passenger door for you). When he turns the car on, music starts blasting through the speakers, a song you recognize well, and the dash shows that he’s been listening to the playlist you made for him at the start of the last school year.
“Sorry, forgot the volume was up so high.” He scrambles to twist the dial down, but you stop him with your hand, gripping his wrist lightly and giving a firm shake of your head.
“I didn’t realize you still listened to it. Normally you just have the radio going.”
“Ah, well,” San’s cheeks are a bit flush under the low lights of the car, “I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit sentimental these days.” His next move is a bit hesitant; he reaches across the console and lays his hand atop your thigh. You reassure him by putting your hand over his, fingers curling around his once again. It feels normal and familiar, though you can’t count on two hands the last time you’ve done something as menial as holding hands with San.
“San?” He makes a noise of acknowledgment while watching the road. “I’ve missed you.” His nails dig into your flesh a little, and the pressure makes your heart clench in your chest.
“I’ve missed you more.” You can only see his side profile, but it’s enough for you to catch the upturn of his lips.
“I’ve missed you most then.” The statement slips out through a pout.
“And I love you more than the moon loves the ocean.”
The weight of his hand is comfort enough for you to be at ease for the rest of the drive.
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please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!
this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.
#ateez smut#ateez x reader#san smut#san x reader#choi san smut#choi san x reader#ateez fic#ateez fanfic#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#ateez ff#san imagine#san imagines#caly.writes#fic; and it's snowing#winter fic fest 2023#fic; what lies beneath us
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Pet Names And Airplanes
When a very sleepy Paige lets out some interesting noises, you find that the lines of your friendship have blurred considerably.
Paige Bueckers x reader
Based on this request: I have a request but it's not fully thought out but all the traveling she's been doing has got me thinking. Basically Paige x friend where there's some tension emotionally and physically but neither of them know it rlly. Paige is groggy bc they had to catch an early flight to go somewhere and while sitting next to each other on the plane, her mind starts wandering and she accidentally says smthg dirty out loud to the reader which obviously leads to a build of tension on their flight that they end up having to deal with. How they deal w it and such can be up to you.
Word Count: 1.7k
Themes: friends to lovers, one bed trope!, slightly inappropriate behavior
You can now read Part 2 here
Please send more requests, you guys always have the best ideas omg
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If there was one thing undeniable about Paige Bueckers, it was that she really loved her friends. Some in different ways than others, as you would come to learn.
Growing tired of Paige’s incessant whining about missing Nika, who was now in Seattle playing for the Seattle Storm, you had purchased tickets to a game for her.
You had surprised the tall blonde one evening when the two of you were lounging on her couch, absentmindedly watching a random romcom. Paige was tracing small circles on the soft skin of your forearm, and you had figured it was as good of a time as any to break the news.
“Paigey,” you murmured, grabbing her attention from the screen. “I know you’ve been missing Nika, so I got us tickets to go see her play in Seattle on Saturday.”
Before you can go into details, Paige is launching herself into you, and whispering thanks over and over again into the crook of your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over, as you feel the warmth breath of her gratitude fan against your skin.
“We’re leaving Friday morning. It’s an early flight, so you better get your ass to bed early that night,” you say with fake mockery. Paige could not wake up early to save her life, whilst you typically preferred to be in bed by 11.
“You’re the fuckin’ best, princess,” Paige mumbles, her face reddened by more than just your teasing. She is still hiding in your presence, and the closeness makes your heart speed up. This wasn’t the first time, and it surely would not be the last.
Paige just had that effect on you.
~
Thursday evening rolls around, and you decide it would make more sense to spend the night at Paige’s apartment to save time in the morning before catching your flight. You stroll through the door and your gaze is immediately drawn to chaos. The apartment was in ruins with shit scattered everywhere.
“P!” You call out, trying to figure out where your friend was hiding. “This place is a fucking disaster. What happened?”
Paige emerges from her room with a sheepish smile on her face. “Couldn’t figure out what to wear,” she shrugs nonchalantly.
“You need to clean this shit up. I’ll pack.” Your voice is laced with disapproval, but the fond smile on your face gives you away.
“Thanks, princess,” Paige beams, and your heart falters once more.
That nickname would be the cause of a future arrhythmia, and it was not going away. Paige had called you ‘princess’ one evening while she was drunk. And it had just stuck. She rarely called you by your name anymore, and you were so okay with that. The term of endearment was now the object of all of your fantasies. You had spent an embarrassing amount of nights in your bed with a hand between your legs, imagining Paige on top of you whispering that name in your ear.
You feel yourself heat up at your reveries, and you clear your throat in an attempt to dissuade the longingness you felt. Paige was just a friend. That’s all she’d ever be to you.
Once the mess was cleaned up and Paige’s suitcase was packed to perfection by your type-A ass, you fell into bed next to the blonde girl. It was early, and while you were eager to go to bed in order to get a few solid hours of sleep, Paige was bustling with energy.
“Stop actin’ like a grandma and talk to me,” Paige whines, while bouncing obnoxiously on the plush mattress.
“Go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the mornin’,” you respond sleepily, eyes already closed with a fierce determination to ignore Paige’s childish antics.
Paige doesn’t respond, but chooses to pout in faux indignation.
Her pouting keeps her up for three more hours. And as your shrill alarm bit through the silence of her dark room, waking you both up, you knew Paige was about to be a real problem.
She groans at the piercing noise, hiding her head under the blankets.
“C’mon, Paigey. Wakey, wakey,” you giggle as you tickle her writhing figure in an attempt to get her ass out of bed.
She ultimately relents at the promise of breakfast on the way to the airport. Even as you pull her through the bright airport, Paige is trying to do anything in her power to close her eyes for a few precious seconds of shut eye. It was so like her, and her refusal to admit that you were right should have made you annoyed. But Paige could never really do anything to actually annoy you.
Standing protectively behind you in the TSA line, you feel her eyes trailing your figure in a way that makes you feel hot and slightly insecure. You had thrown on a pair of leggings and an oversized UCONN basketball t-shirt, and the shirt had ridden up. Paige had a perfect view of your backside. Turning around to talk to her, you notice her gaze is directed at your ass, and your cheeks are suddenly ablaze at the shameless ogling.
Paige was always flirty with you, but lately it had been weaved with something more.
Finally, the two of you are able to board, and Paige slumps into her seat with a loud groan of exhaustion. You roll your eyes and get yourself situated for the long ride to Seattle. You had already mentally prepared for the fact that Paige would spend most of the flight using you as a pillow. However, you were less than prepared for the noises that would soon come out of your best friend’s sleeping mouth.
The television attached to the seat in front of you showed that plane was flying over Montana when you were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by several small noises coming out of Paige’s mouth. The first one was quiet but fucking guttural. The second one is followed by whining. The last one makes your heart stop. A tiny moan of “princess” slips out, and your legs involuntarily clench at the sound.
Was she dreaming about you?
Fuck no. That was impossible, and you refused to get even the smallest of hopes up.
Until your name slips out in a faint whimper, and there is no denying that you were the object of her dream.
Shit.
Before she could get any louder and attract some unwanted attention, you jostle her ever so slightly, waking her up. Her eyes are bleary, and she looks around for a second, as if she has forgotten where she was. Her gaze settles on yours briefly before she is tearing it away to stare down at her hands. She is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and it makes you wonder if she had recalled any part of her little dream. Not wanting to embarrass her, you drop it, instead informing her that you’d be landing in an hour.
Paige doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to her lips, as your bottom one is caught between your teeth in a bruising bite. There was always sexual tension between the two of you. Always a ‘what if’ and a ‘if only’ after each interaction, but you had both ignored it in favor of protecting the delicacy of your friendship.
~
Soon enough, you and Paige are stepping out of the elevator of your hotel. With the time change, it was still morning, and you had promised Paige that you’d let her take a nap before going out to explore and meet up with Nika. Paige was desperate for sleep now, and you don’t miss the bruised look of her under eyes.
You open the door to the room, eyes immediately drawn to the large single bed placed right in the center of the room. Shit, you thought you had requested two beds. Looking warily over at Paige, you notice her tongue peaking out to slowly trace across her bottom lip in a subtle display of want. Maybe sharing a bed after all this wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.
Once all your stuff is placed neatly away, and Paige haphazardly throws her stuff onto the empty desk in the corner, you settle onto the soft bed with a small moan of content. Your body sinks into the soft sheets and plush pillows, and Paige’s warm body next to you beckons you to scooch closer into her. It felt blissful, and it did not take long before you were both enveloped in the welcoming nothingness of sleep.
Several hours slipped by before you wake up, suddenly feeling sticky from both the sleep and the hot body pressed up against you. Paige had nuzzled into your neck, a long muscular arm thrown around your waist, caging you in deliciously.
As she lets out a puff of air against your throat, a tiny whine escapes your mouth, similarly to the noises Paige had been making on the airplane. As quiet as you thought you were, Paige wakes with a startle, and her bright blue eyes are peering curiously into yours.
“You okay, princess?” She asks, a small smirk on her face, as if she knew what you were thinking.
“Course.” You affirm, eyes flitting back and forth between those eyes and her lips. You were no longer hiding the want in your own eyes.
Paige chuckles, and the noise goes straight between your legs, reverberating through your entire body. The effect she had on you was maddening.
Before you can even begin to overthink, Paige is bringing her face even closer to yours. You can feel her breath fan over your mouth, and you hold your breath for a second, afraid that if you let out any air, she would pull away and retreat.
Paige searches your face for a sign of reluctance but she finds nothing, and she presses her lips against yours. A moan leaves her mouth as your lips connect, and you can feel the already blurry lines of your friendship completely entangle.
You did not care, though. Because Paige’s mouth was on yours and everything else seemed to fade away into nothingness.
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#paige x reader#paige#paige bueckers x you#friends to lovers
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“IM THE WEEKEND”
— slimy men who fuck young women. who cares about the ring on their finger? surely not them. it’s just a one time thing.. every week.
w/ geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji
,, x black fem!reader , infidelity , warnings by the names <3
“You take Wednesday, Thursday
Then just send him my way
Think I got it covered for the weekend” — SZA, The Weekend
Friday w/ Suguru
— face riding , use of pet names
sweet lies in exchange for an even sweeter pussy. that’s all there is to it, suguru thinks. telling his wife he works later on fridays, “to get more work done”, only to get home in the depths of early morning. walking past the food left out on the table for him and preparing for a long shower to, hopefully, wash off all the markings on his back.
but he can’t care all too much about his infidelity when he’s pulled into the threshold of your house. talks about your day disappearing between your lips when he’s pushed onto the cushion of your couch. and it wasn’t long until he was in his favorite place. underneath you. big brown thighs wrapped around his face with a hand tugging his hair.
“s’so good sugu..” you whine, biting your lip softly as suguru’s tongue traverses along your folds. the muscle was finding discoveries of the world of your pussy with the way he flicks it. “yea? keep movin’ baby.” suguru groans, his hand around your thigh moving up to your waist, squeezing the plush and guiding you to move your hips in rotation. “o-okay.. kinda tired.” you steady yourself, moving your hand from his hair, pressing the brown cushion as you slowly begin to move your hips in the way he guides you. suguru kisses your clit before pressing his tongue flat to your folds, letting you get off onto it on your own with his eyes closed in content. the gummy lips push against his pink muscle, his tongue slipping between the folds and gaining the taste of your juices. his dick twitches inside his business slacks, the pure taste of your ready cunt has him eager for what’s to come.
pun intended <3
Saturday w/ Shiu
— public sex (light) , use of pet names
partying with his friends might’ve become an overused excuse for shiu. considering the constant dings of his phone and the way his wife would let out an exaggerated sigh when he mentions the “scheduled” get together. but he’s too lazy to think up something new when he knows she’s sleeping with his co-worker. it’s fine as long as he gets to keep seeing the cute pastry girl down the street. the same woman he has bent over the counter of her own establishment. last customer perks of course.
you grip the wooden counter tightly, fingers surely to cramp later, as shiu holds onto your waist, fucking you into the table with harsh thrusts, but not enough to knock down the props of food that sat on it “s-slow down! someone might see!” you cry out, looking at the glass windows that would clearly display your shameless act to passersby, who you hope won’t look in. “not sure that’s g’nna change anything sweetheart. dont’cha got a sign up? we’ll be fineeee.” shiu drawls, not caring too much for your worries and admiring the skin of your back. your melanin glowed under the yellow lights, adorned with pretty yellow panties that were hidden under your cute green ruffle dress that had long fallen to the floor.
he switches to a slower pace, his dick sliding through you sluggishly to feel every ridge within you that would surely get ruined. you huffed, bringing a hand behind you, feeling the skin of his stomach and pushing, “nuh uh! please? we can just go in the back..” you’re reduced to a deep sigh as he fills you up to the hilt with his cock, a low “thoughtful” hum leaving him while he massages your plump ass with one hand, the other gripping your wrist.
“shh, the quicker you cum, the faster we’ll leave. be good f’me and take it like you always do.”
Sunday w/ Toji
— hair gripping , face fucking , use of pet names , teacher x parent , reader wears glasses (like me!)
Toji can’t care too much to give a fuck about his wife’s yelling when she sees the random pairs of panties and bras around his house. not like he actually wants to be with her. just a few more months with that tramp, then his family will be off his back about marriage. until then, he’ll keep messing around with megumi’s teacher, she’s a good woman. especially on her knees..
“y’know.. gumi was reallyyy bummed about that score friday, m’sure a sweet thing like you could just bump up his grade.” toji snickers, watching you roll your eyes, fed up with his weekly saying. but no doubt about it, his son’s a perfectionist. way different from his father. toji unconsciously licks his lips as you kiss the tip of his dick before you're forced to take it between those glossy lips of yours, his large hand holding your box braids into a ponytail, carefully of course.
his pockets are not in shape for another $300 withdraw.
“mm mm, can’t—“ you try to speak with the girth in your mouth, glasses tilting down your nose as he eased himself into the wet cavern of your mouth. eventually, your eyes start to water with the strain, closing them tight. “relax y’r throat sweetie — that’s a good girl.” toji grins, taking away the eye glasses, closing them and placing them on your desk. spit and saliva leave a nice sheen along his cock as he begins to fuck your face. “now what was that? riight, the grade, i’m sure you’ll re-think it after i cum down this fuckin’ throat.”
#jjk x reader#jujustu kaisen x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader smut#jjk geto#jjk shiu#jjk toji#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru x you#shiu smut#shiu kong#shiu x reader#toji x female reader#dilf toji#jjk x black reader#jjk x black y/n#toji x black reader#toji smut#jujutsu toji#jujustu kaisen x black reader
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Good Girl
Sawamura Daichi x f reader
Summary: your whole life all you ever wanted to be was faithful and pure. Saving yourself for marriage to honor God and your Family. You would never give in to any kind of sin. At least that’s what you thought. Until one day you met him. He was so gentle and so loving and so so… dirty. How did you get into this mess?!
Warnings: smut, safe sex, aged up characters, softdom!Daichi, sub!reader, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, first time, crisis of faith, blasphemy (kinda), reader has mommy issues, lots of praise, also lots of begging, petnames, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, big dick Daichi, penetration, mentions of multiple orgasms, Daichi’s a consensual king!!
Let me know if I missed anything.
“Amen”
You left church in your floaty white dress. It was a little too short for your liking, so you felt a little bad all through the service but it was such a hot summer day that you just had to make a little exception.
You thought to yourself that it for sure won’t be a problem since you’ve been so good all your life. As long as your mother didn’t see it would be fine. For her you just never tried hard enough. Never were good enough. But you had God. So who else would you even need to be truly happy, right?
-
“C’mon babyyy, you’re gonna love it! I just know it. The music will be soo good. And if it makes you feel any better I will be driving, so we both won’t be drinking. Even though, I have to say, I think it won’t kill you to have a shot or something and a little fun here and there. I’m sure Jesus will forgive you.” your best friend tried to convince you, once again.
She does this every second Friday of every month since every second Saturday they would play your favorite music at her favorite club.
You never understood why it was so important to her for you to get so close to potentially dinning. She called it fun.
You called it temptation. Alcohol wasn’t really a sin in itself. It was rather what could come from drinking it.
“I’m not seeking anyone’s forgiveness. I don’t want to give God a reason to have to forgive me.” You never once in your life even had to confess.
“Whatever. Please come? I am begging you!”
Most of the time you said no, so it really surprised you that she never gave up.
She was just so persistent.
“Okay I’ll go. Under one condition. You don’t ask me for at least three months.”
Most of the time you said no. Not every time. Maybe one of the reasons why she never stopped asking.
“Deal!”
-
“I am so not wearing this. Not a chance.” You looked at the tiny blue dress your best friend held in her hands. Not only was it way to short but it was also very tight. You had seen it on her before and it was beautiful but just too revealing for the way you were raised.
“C’mon don’t be such a prude! You’d look so hot and… if I can say. Fuckable. Not that you have to fuck but you’d certainly not pay ANYTHING tonight.”
“Stop it. I’m not being a prude, I just have my beliefs and values. So I would like to wear this please. What’s wrong with this?”
She looked down on you raising her eyebrows and sighing. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s cute I guess. Just not for a club. You look like you’re gonna sell me a house or something.”
She probably had a point. You were wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse after all.
“Okay so I have a few tricks up my sleeve that would make you look like you just got of off work and went to the club right after. Sexy but still formal. What do you say?”
You gave in. She had to have her fun every once in a while. You too were so different that most of the time it surprised you she was even friends with you. “Okay let’s do it.”
-
“And??”
“It looks… good. I’m actually surprised. Thank you.”
“I knew you would like it! Ah I am a genius.” she said in a sing sang voice.
You looked at yourself in the mirror. The first three buttons of your blouse were opened which was just enough to expose your collarbones but not your cleavage. Your hair was pinned up messily. Just as if it once was sleek and fell apart because you were at work or generally doing something.
You looked down. Your skirt was at knee length and even though you purposefully picked it it just didn’t fit the vibe.
You sighed. She’s gonna love this you thought.
“Do you have a mini skirt? Or, i don‘t know, a pencil skirt that’s a little shorter than mine? I don’t like the way this looks.“
She let out a little squeak of excitement. „Yes! I have the perfect skirt for you.“
-
Pulling on the black denim skirt the third time in 10 minutes you wondered what you were thinking agreeing to this. Sure you went to the club before but never in anything this revealing. Your thighs were out!
At least it covers my ass for all I know…
“10$ and ID please.” you did as you were told by the security and after getting through you were immediately introduced by the smell of sweat and alcohol, naked bodies and loud music.
“I’m gonna get myself a drink and a hot man to pay. You should do the same! Or should I bring you a coke later on?” She screamed over the sound of hips don’t lie.
“I’ll be fine go and have fun!”
It was kinda always like this which was one of the many reasons why you didn’t understand why she needed you to come with her in the first place.
Of course you danced together and she would never leave without you but the first two hours you were without an exception always alone.
That was the time where she found herself any good looking young man to flirt with and get drunk without paying.
Sometimes she even made out with these men but it rarely happened.
Later she always came back to you very tipsy and you guys danced the night away until your feed hurt.
Of course her understanding of dancing the night away was very different from yours but so far that was never a problem.
You had different lifestyles but deep down the same morals and values which is what was most important.
“Can I?”
Your had quickly turned around and collapsed with the hard chest of a tall man.
Out of reflex he put his hand on your waist which caused you to jump and immediately take two steps back.
„Sorry?“
You stared at him a little too long for your liking. But he was just so gorgeous. Sharp jaw line, short black hair with an undercut, subtle hint of a beard and oh so many muscles.
„I asked you if I you could let me pass. I kinda need to get to the bar my friend is hitting on a random woman. Again.“
You blinked just now finding a way back to reality.
„Yes! Sorry!“
Quickly you took a step aside.
The stranger chuckled. „Don’t worry. It’s not that important. He just can be very- persistent.“
You couldn’t help but take a look at the bar. Only spotting your best friend who already held her first drink of the night in her hand and was sitting dangerously close to a young man with greyish hair.
Tonight there would be a little make out session. You could already tell.
„Who‘s your friend?“ you asked still not looking back at him.
Suddenly he was really close. His hand on your back, right between your shoulders, his head next to yours. You could literally feel this strange man everywhere.
For some reason it didn’t bother you. In your eyes he was still very polite about it.
„See him over there? Right next to the girl in pink.“
Now you looked at him. More shocked than anything else though.
„Gray hair?“
„Yes gray hair. Why‘re you so surprised? He‘s not that old.“ the man laughed
„Ohh yeah I‘m sure of that.“ you let out a child like giggle. „The girl in pink is my best friend. So no need to worry. I bet she hit on him first.“
He let out a loud laugh and looked at you. “Then these two belong together I suppose, hm.” His expression suddenly changed to something way more serious and he said:
“Maybe you and I belong together as well. I believe in fate, do you, sweetheart?” His voice was so deep and his aura so masculine that it made you feel all shy.
-
“And then he said don’t take it the wrong way as if he didn’t just say the most vile thing to my face!” Daichi, you found out that was his name right after the two of you decided to spend the rest of the night together, chuckled. “It’s interesting what you call vile. At least to me it’s rather a statement than an insult.”
You gulped looking at your empty glass. “He called me fuckable. In the presence of my mother and father. It’s disrespectful.”
“It’s true.” You chocked looking at him in disbelief. Did he just call you fuckable?! “Wouldn’t’ve said it in front of your family, of course. But it’s true nonetheless.”
You felt his eyes peering into your soul. Staring you down as if he waited for you to say something. Do something. Instead you stood up. “I need- I’m going to get a new soda. See ya.” And then you left him behind. Feeling his eyes following your every move.
When you came back Daichi was on his phone, seemingly not paying any more thought to what had just happened. Being a gentleman man once again, he put his phone down, the moment he noticed you. Smiling at you in a calming manner. As if he senses your unsure demeanour.
“What is it with you?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” You frowned.
“There’s something about you. Something I can’t explain. You seem so- pure? But not childlike. Mature and confident. But still shy and bashful when talking about sex or alcohol. You’ve surely done those things, right? I mean you must be my age. Everyone has done those things by now.”
You blushed. You fricking blushed. Not once in your life were you ever embarrassed of your inexperience and most definitely not about the reason why. But now. Now you were. Not embarrassed by your religion or its beliefs of course, but by your lack of a response. Instea you started to stutter like a child. He interrupted your little stammer of words.
“You’re a virgin. Aren’t you?” You chocked on your spit. Quickly trying to gain back some semblance of confidence. “I am, yes. I don’t see any shame in that.”
“No, no, you’re right. There isn’t. It just surprises me. What are you waiting for? The one?” He let out a unbelievable loud laugh. As if that was the most ridiculous thought he’d ever thought about.
“Marriage, actually. I am very religious, you know. That’s also why I haven’t been drinking tonight.” He looked at you, eyes wide open. Mouth lightly agape. Now it was you who laughed, even if only quietly.
“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to disrespect you or your beliefs. I- god this is embarrassing. I’m sorry. Really.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. I know there aren’t many religious people who actually live it all out. Doesn’t bother me of course, everyone should have the right to do as they want. I just chose this way.”
“Did you, though? Or did your family tell you it was the only right way?” He asked suddenly being very close. His hot breath fanning over the side of your face. You gulped.
“They did teach me many things of course. Especially my mother. Like that alcohol is only for special occasions, we only ever drink wine when I’m at church for example. Or that I am to cover myself to a certain level. My body shall only be seen by my future husband. She also taught me sex isn’t for pleasure. It’s an act of love-“ he turned your face towards him with two fingers. Staring at you. “and- and-”
“And?” He raised his eyebrows, smirking.
“And it should be intimately, with my future husband only. To make- a family. A woman shouldn’t-“ his finger carefully touched your lower lip, pulling it down a little. You took a deep breath. Taking his wrist and removing his hand from your face.
“A woman shouldn’t give herself away to just anybody.”
He nodded slowly. Still looking at you intensely. “And I get that. One question though. Did they tell this to the men too? You have a brother, right? You told me so. Does he have to safe himself for marriage? Is he allowed to give himself away whenever he likes or does he have to cover his body and wait for his wife to come along and make love to him intimately to make a family? Answer me and if the answer pleases me I’ll leave you be.”
You sighed. Truthfully you’ve thought about this before. Especially when you were younger and had a little crisis of faith. You’d pushed it down though. This is how it was to be. Him out there and you in church.
“No. He doesn’t. But that doesn’t matter he’s a-“ Daichi interrupted you. “Of course he doesn’t. He’s a man. He gets to fuck whom ever he likes, whenever he likes. No, sweetheart, this doesn’t satisfy me.”
Was he angry? For you? Or for himself?
“You only say this because you want to fuck me. You said it yourself. I’m fuckable.”
“Maybe. But maybe it’s bold of you to assume that and I actually only feel empathy towards you.”
He again placed two fingers on your chin, making you look at him. He leaned in, until his mouth was right next to your ear. He whispered now. “But you’re right. I wanna fuck you. Wanna fuck you real good. Make you feel things you could only dream of feeling. Make you cum as many times as your body can handle. And then tomorrow I wanna take you on a real date. Spoil you rotten and treat you like you deserve. Wanna make you feel like a real woman. Not a little girl in a golden cage. Though I would like to cage you like this.”
He pressed against your body with his until you whimpered and had nowhere to hide. “Would you like that, sweetheart? Hm? You can tell me, no one can hear us. Your mother can’t hear you when you’re with me.”
Your breath sped up, your hands subconsciously grabbing Daichis shoulders, squeezing them. It was all too much. You felt so overwhelmed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. That never mattered. I never mattered.”
Slowly he moved back, synchronously moving his hand from your chin to your cheek, wiping your tears away. You didn’t even realise that you were crying.
“‘M sorry. It’s just not that easy for me. I know you’re technically right. I just- I’ve been raised this way. I’ve learned I’ll go to hell any other way.”
You started crying even more and he wiped away every single tear, letting you cry in silence until there were no more tears and he kissed your forehead.
“I know, baby. I know.” The petnames made your heart flutter. You’ve never had someone call you anything other than your name. Except for your best friend, but that was different from this.
Speaking of. Daichis head turned from you to your friends, still sitting at the bar, flirting and occasionally making out.
“Tell me, do you think, she’ll go to hell?” His head turned back to you, frowning.
You frowned along with him. “What? No! Of course not. She’s such a kind hearted person with a warm soul who loves and cares for everyone around her. She’s just got different morals than I do. She’d never go to hell. She’s too good for that.”
Daichi smiled. Cute he thought. The way you were talking about her.
“But she’s done all those things. She’s had sex. She drinks. She’s drunk right now! She dresses revealing. Hm? She does all those things. Why don’t you?”
You sighed again, staring to become a headache. Shaking your head you leaned into him, putting your forehead on his chest. You’ve never been so close to a stranger, especially not a man. But there was something about him that made you feel safe. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
Daichi put his hand on the back of your head, slowly unpinning your hair and running his fingers through it. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll stop talking about it now. I promise.”
-
For the rest of the night Daichi and you got back to talking about more meaningless stuff, laughed and got to know each other better.
You learned that he used to play volleyball in Highschool and that some of his former teammates are on the national team now and that he knows and meets most of the regularly, but he just continued it as a hobby and is now a policeman.
After the exhausting talk earlier, you decided, one drink would be fine. You needed it.
At first you wanted to go get a glass of wine at which Daichi just laughed. “You won’t get any wine in a place like this, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I know what to get you.”
He came back five minutes later with another beer for himself and a cocktail for you. Sex on the beach. The irony. You shook your head, laughing, but drinking it anyway.
One cocktail quickly turned into two and now you were feeling much better. A little lightheaded, but better.
After a few more hours your best friend and her company, Sugawara, finally decided to grace you with their presence. They were very drunk, but also very happy. Holding hands and giggling at each other. You smiled. It’a been a while since you’ve seen her like this.
“We’ve just realised- you’re our best friends! This guy is Sugawaras best friend and Y/N, you’re my besssst- friend! And you’ve met- and we have too!” Your best friend slurred, hiccuping several times.
Daichi laughed, patting Sugawara on the back. “Nice that you’ve come to realise that as well. Come on.” He took your hand. Your best friend gasped, but you glared at her, so she didn’t say anything. “Let’s get a cap, hm?”
The taxi driver drove to Sugawaras place first, your best friend leaving the car with him without ang explanation. As if they agreed on this long before they came back to you.
Daichi and you looked at each other, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Until the taxi driver looked back at you. “Where to, next?”
The car suddenly got really quiet. “Come with me to my place. We won’t have to do anything except watch a movie and go to sleep. I was serious before. I wanna take you out tomorrow. And I wanna spend the night with you.” Daichi said.
You blushed. “Okay. I’ll come.”
-
Daichi opened the door to his apartment, carefully placing his hand on your back and leading you inside. You felt wobbly. The alcohol had just hit even more. So he made sure to steady you. “You okay?”
“Yea. I’m sorry. Just not used to more than a glass of wine.”
“That’s okay. I feel light headed too. Once we’re sleeping it’ll wear off. I’ll bring you water.”
While he was away, you got rid of your uncomfortable shoes. Staring at him moving in the kitchen. He was so tall and muscular. Fuck. You wanted him so bad.
So when he came back, you didn’t drink his water. Instead you set it aside and stepped closer to him. Until you were so close, you had to look up at him. As if out of instinct his hands landed on your waist.
“Daichi.” You whispered. Putting your hands on his shoulders. He didn’t say anything, instead he pulled you in even closer so that your chest touched his. “Daichi, please.”
“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me.” He squeezed your waist and you bit your lips.
“Please take me. I- I want you. Please.” You didn’t know where this sudden urge came from, just a few hours ago, you didn’t even so much as touch yourself and now you were begging a stranger to fuck you. but he stirred something inside you and it made you feel so good. So special.
“That’s the alcohol talking, Y/N. You will regret this in the morning.” Still he didn’t step back as if he wait for you to convince him. So you did.
“I might. But Daichi, you’ve been so understanding and kind. I- I don’t think I want to do this with anyone but you. You can lead me through this and if I regret it in the morning, I feel you’re the only man who wouldn’t take it personal and calm me down. Please. I want this. I want you. I- I want you to do all the stuff you said earlier. Make me feel like a real woman. Please.”
He grunted. He fucking grunted. “Shit okay, baby. I’ll do it. I’ll make you feel so desirable and so so good.”
And just like that he slammed his lips against yours. Quickly moving them. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, urging you to open your mouth. But you backed away. Never having kissed anyone like this, it was hard for you to keep up. “I don’t-“
“It’s okay, let me take the lead. Do what I do. I am not judging you. You’re doing so good. Were so brave begging me to fuck you, hm? Let me do it then, I’ll be careful. You’re okay?” You nodded. “No, talk to me, baby. I wanna hear you.”
“I- Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Please kiss me again.”
Daichi chuckled. “Such a good girl, fuck.”
And then he kissed you again. And again. And again. Until all you could think about was him and his hands that lifted you up and put you on the table right next to your glass of water.
His tongue forced its way in your mouth and circled yours. Your breath hitched when his hands opened all the buttons of your blouse and squeezed your breast. From there they wandered to the back and opened your bra as well.
“This okay?” He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips. You whimpered again. “Yes, please.” He moved back. First removing your blouse and then, very sensually, your bra. “You keep begging me, but you’re not telling me what you want me to do.”
He talked to you but he didn’t look you in the eyes. Instead he shamelessly stared at your breasts. It made you feel tingly and your thighs subconsciously pressed together. Resisting the urge to cover yourself and look away you said. “I want you to touch me. Please.”
One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your lips. The other one traced your body occasionally pinching one of your nipples while now staring you in the eyes. You tried to bite your lip to not make a sound, but you couldn’t because of his thumb so instead you whined.
“I am touching you, aren’t I? You need to be more specific, sweetheart. Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Everywhere.”
“Everywhere? Like- here?” His hand moved up to your collarbone. “Or here?” He brushed over your shoulder, over your arm, past your elbow and took your hand. “Or maybe” he removed his second hand from your mouth and took your free hand with it, harshly pressing both your hands on the surface of the table with his. “you want me to touch you with my mouth?”
He lowered himself a little bit, never breaking eye contact and then kissed right between your breasts. “You want that, sweetheart?”
You squirmed under his gaze. You would really like to grab his hair and just yank him where you needed him most. “Yes! Yes please, Daichi, you’re being mean!”
“You have no idea how mean I can actually be, princess.” And then he finally took one of your buds in his mouth. Sucking and biting at it ever so gently.
“Ohh God” you let your head fall back and closed your eyes, biting your lip and pushing your chest up in his face. “please, please, please. More. I need more.”
“God’s not here, baby. Just me. I am the one making you feel like this. You feel good?” He licked over your bud one last time and then switches sides. Doing what he did before.
You shuddered. “Yes. Yes I- I feel good. You’re making me feel so- good, Daichi. Please. I need more of y- you.” Your breath quickened, your thighs presses together and your head started to feel dizzy.
“You’re so good, Y/N. Pleading and begging me so nicely. You’re all desperate just from a little nipple play. You’re perfect.”
The way he said your name made you feel so much. Horny. Desired. Happy. Just everything.
And then suddenly it all stopped. He let go of your hands and of your breast and just looked at you. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
His constant praise made you blush. “Thank you.”
“Such a good girl. Come on.” He took your hands again, this time more carefully, leading you of the table. “I’m not taking your virginity here. Let’s move this to my bed, hm?”
On the way to his bedroom, Daichi got rid of his shirt and jeans, leaving you too stunned to say anything. Everything about him was hot. You didn’t know where to look. And so far you only saw his backside.
When you wanted to do the same and get rid of your skirt, he somehow noticed and, without turning around, stopped you. “Don’t. I’ll be doing that myself.” Shit.
Finally in his room Daichi stopped before his bed and turned around. His chest was even better than his back. So pretty and muscular. But you didn’t dare to look further than that.
“Come here.” He said, so you did. Stepping closer to him only in your skirt and panties underneath. Chest open and bare, but he not once stopped looking right in your eyes. Not even when he started to slowly get on his knees.
That’s when it hit you. Suddenly you took a big step backwards. Away from him. Feeling embarrassed. Without saying anything Daichi came back up. He was obviously confused, but not really surprised. Probably only wondering what exactly made you reconsider. So he asked.
“What is it, sweetheart? You have to tell me otherwise I can’t help you.”
“I am not- I didn’t- shave. I never had a reason to do it so far. I sometimes trim in the summer but I- it’s been a while. I’m sorry. I don’t-“ you started rambling in a panic. And even though Daichi found it cute, he didn’t want you to panic. So he interrupted you.
“You think I care? Because I don’t. If you feel ashamed about it and want to stop than that’s okay and valid. But don’t think you have to because of me. I want to eat you out either way. If you let me.”
Your entire face heated up and you looked away. He was so straightforward about this stuff. “Okay.”
“Okay, what? Look at me when you say it, sweetheart. And be more specific.” So you did.
“Okay, we can keep going. I want to continue. Please.”
“Such a good and polite girl. You wanna keep going? You gonna let me eat that pussy, baby? You want that? Hm?”
“Yes. Please.”
Without saying another word he again got on his knees carefully peeling your skirt off. Leaving you in your bright blue panties. He chuckled. They almost looked like boxer shorts. “They’re more comfortable…” you muttered.
“Don’t apologise. I think it’s cute.”
He grabbed your thighs and slowly spread them apart, kissing their insides, sucking and leaving marks. And then finally, you moaned. Not whined. Not whimpered. Moaned.
“Fuck. You sound so good baby. You like it when I kiss you here? Down where no one can see? Mark you up just for you and me to know. Hm?”
One of your hands buried itself in his messy hair, the other found its place on his shoulder, squeezing. You didn’t dare look at him, so you closed your eyes, sighed and nodded. Subconsciously pressing your lower body in his face.
He let this one slide. You were clearly overwhelmed. So he just hooked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down to your feet. You cringed at the feeling of how sticky they were from your wetness.
Daichi cursed. “Fuck.” The carpet most definitely matched the drape and you weren’t lying, you didn’t shave or trim in some time, but he’d seen more bush before. He liked how your little clit still peaked through. God, he wanted to lick it so bad. But first he had to get you to bed.
Without a warning he lifted you up and practically threw you onto his bed. Crawling on top of you. And even though you tried not to stare and be polite, you still got a good look of his body when he did so. How was that supposed to fit inside of you?! And you so far only saw its outline.
Daichi kissed his way down your body. This time paying a lot less attention to your breasts and quickly getting where he wanted to be.
He spread your legs as wide as he can, finally getting a good look at your glistening cunt which was equally spread. “So fucking pretty. Shit.”
Then he flattened out his tongue and took a long swipe from your asshole to your clit. “Oh fuuuck! Daichi!” Your hand again found its way to his hair. Grabbing it, slightly tucking. The other one landed on your own head, covering your eyes.
You would’ve never imagined it to be so good.
And Daichi really had no mercy. Licking. Sucking. Even biting. His tongue switched up between circling your clit and fucking your hole.
Your moans and choked sounds were like music to his ears. They were addictive and he needed more. So he went harder, faster. More reckless. Your body squirmed, back arched and legs shaking. You needed more too. He could tell.
“Gonna fuck you with my fingers, yes, princess?”
“Yes! Ahh. Anything you want. Just do it. Please.”
At first his fingertips just brushed your hole. Teasing you and gathering your juice, spreading it all over your cunt. Everything was so messy.
Then he finally put one inside. Tauntingly slow. It was easy and painless, giving how wet you were at this point.
“Move!” You rolled your hips trying to get some friction. It felt as if you had lost all control over your body.
“Are you leading now? Are you giving me orders? That’s how it is now?” He teased, slowly starting to remove his finger.
“No! No, no, no. Please, I‘m sorry. I‘m sorry!“ you tried to follow his finger with your hips but Daichi stopped you with his free hand. “Behave, princess. Only then I‘ll give you what you want.“
Your hips automatically came to a halt. “‘M sorry.“
“It‘s okay, I know your just desperate.“ he finally got back to work, putting his finger in all the way, slowly moving it in and out and his tongue found your clit once again. You moaned and threw your head back, pressing it into the pillow beneath you. He felt you harshly tuck at his hair, trying to yank his head closer which made him moan as well.
The vibrations of his moaning went through your entire body and you looked down at him, meeting his stare. The intensity of it it and the way it didn‘t falter made you whimper. That‘s when you saw it. He was grinding his hips against the mattress. “Daichi-“
His head lifted and you could see your wetness being spread all around his mouth. Your face heated up and you looked away. Daichi chuckled at that and wiped his face with his free hand. “What is it? What do you need, baby?“
“Need you- need you to fuck me.“ Your breath hitched when his finger stopped. “You‘re not ready yet, sweetheart. Need to prep you more.“
“No. I can take it, I promise. Please, I need you.“ You pulled him up so he was face to face with you and placed both your hands on his cheeks. “Please? I promise, I‘ll tell you if I feel any discomfort.“
He sighed and nodded. He just couldn’t deny you. That‘s when your hands went down to his underwear and started to remove it. “You gotta tell me or I‘ll punish you, you hear me?“
Your hands came to a halt and your breath hitched, but you nodded. “Good girl.“
Without looking down you took him in your hand. It felt weird. Heavy and big, with a slight curve and a big vein on the side. You wondered how it would feel inside you without a barrier but you wouldn’t dare risk that. Daichi neither. He groaned at the feeling of you subconsciously stroking him. “There‘re condoms in the upper drawer. Take one of them.“ So you opened the drawer and mindlessly took the first on out you could get a hold of.
You wanted to give it to him but he stopped you. “That one has taste, princess. We don‘t need that today.“
You gulped. You wanted to. But you were to shy and horny to voice your needs. So you just put it back and took a different one, this time taking a look in the drawer, so you wouldn‘t make the same mistake again and gave it to him. “Very good. You‘re being so good for me.“
All this praise made you feel sp light headed and proud. Growing up you‘d never received much of it since your mother was so strict with you. “Thank you.“
He smiled and stroked your cheek and hair before putting on the condom. You watched him, blushing at the immense size. “This will be a little painful at first because you didn‘t let me prep you properly. I‘ll go slow and careful but I need you to tell me if it‘s too much, do you understand?“
“Yes. I understand.“
“Good girl. Are you comfortable?“ You nodded but quickly muttered a quiet yes when you saw his disapproving face. He took your hands in his and pressed them onto the mattress, kissing you.
You soon melted and relaxed in the kiss which was much slower and more sensual than the one on the table. Not breaking the kiss Daichi lined himself up at your entrance and started to gently force his way inside you. You winced, accidentally biting his lip which only made him moan.
He was right, it was painful. But it wasn‘t unpleasant, just weird. He urged himself further and you started to feel really full, but when you broke the kiss and looked down, you realised that he was only half wat inside you. “Oh.“
“Want me to stop? I will.“ he said through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. It was clear to you how much he had to hold back. “No, it’s okay. Please keep going“
He nodded and moaned when he continued. “You‘re so fucking tight, shit.“ The way you made him feel good, made you feel so good as well and despite the pain you moaned along with him. You wanted him to feel good.
He stopped once he was all inside you. His head fell on your shoulder and he breathed heavily. “You good, baby?“
You brushed through his hair. He was probably like this because you couldn’t stop gushing and clenching around him. “I‘m good just- give me a second please.“ you whined. “Of course. Take all the time you need.“
It took you a good while to adjust but Daichi waited patiently. To distract himself he started kissing you everywhere. On your lips, your ear, your forehead and then your neck where he even star to bite und suck, probably leaving marks you had to cover in the morning.
To distract you, his hand wandered south and circled your clit, trying to relax you. It worked. You whimpered and whined and quickly after you began to unclench and roll your hips against his hand, grinding on his dick and moaning. “You can move now.”
Daichi lifted his head and looked at you in awe. Your eyes were closed, but no squeezed shut, your mouth was just slightly opened and your nose scrunched, he doubted you even realized.
You were so breathtakingly beautiful and you were lying in his bed, naked and needy. And you were giving yourself to him, a complete stranger and he felt so lucky.
His train of thoughts were interrupted by an impatient groan and your hips rolling against him. He gasped. Today was not the day to keep such a beauty waiting for her pleasure, so he gently grabbed your hips and started to pull out and repeatedly thrust into your wet walls.
First really slow and gentle. Until your legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him closer. His Name left your lips like a chant, begging him to go faster. Harder.
“Daichi- please. Need it. Hngg- more more more.”
So he did. His hips started to rhythmically snap forward, trying to find that special spot and when he did, your loud moan was like music to his ears. He sped up his pace, keeping the hard force behind every thrust.
To keep you in place his hands started to grip you harder and he was sure there would be marks in the morning. But none of this seemed to bother you. Quite the opposite. You seemed to like it a little harder. Noted.
Your back arched from his bed and your hands gripped the mattress so hard, your knuckles lost color. All the while letting out the most desperate little moans.
They weren’t too loud or pornographic and he wanted to drown in you. You were so perfect and real. Not holding back but also not forcing anything to boost his ego. You were just enjoying yourself.
His head lowered again and he one of your sensitive nipple in his mouth again. This time a little harder. Harshly sucking and biting until you fisted his hair with your hands and tears rolled down your cheeks.
Only then did he remove himself and lick one last time so soothe the pain, just to switch sides and repeat his actions. You threw your head from one side to the other from time to time, tucking and pushing his. Your eyes screwed shut once again.
But he never faltered and when he could suddenly feel your legs start to shake and tighten around his hips, he knew you were about to finish. His lips removed themselves from your breast and instead he kissed you. Rough and harsh. Biting your lips and forcing his tongue down your throat.
His sudden aggressiveness startled but didn’t scare you. But you were also so overwhelmed with everything and when his hand wandered from your hip to your clit and rubbed it hard and fast with his fingers, you completely lost it.
Your mouth opened up, which left Daichi heavily breathing in your mouth, formed to a silent scream and all that came out of you were pathetic fast breaths.
Your glossy eyes were blown wide and looked at him with so much emotion, he almost came on the spot. But when they teared up even more and rolled back and you started to buck up into him because of the overstimulation, he bit on your lip and decided to hold back.
Instead he fucked you through it. His hips and fingers keeping a steady pace until you whimpered and tried to push him away.
“No more. No more.” You desperately pleaded.
So he pulled out, removed the condom and took matters into his own hand. Literally.
You curiously watched him jerk his hand and blushed. Was it weird that you wanted to do it for him? Touch him like he touched you and return the favor?
But instead of doin that you just opted with letting your hands wander on his back and to his biceps. Kissing his cheek and gathering your confidence to bite his ear and suck a mark below it. All the while pinching one of his nipples with shaky fingers.
Daichi moaned and went even faster. “Shit, baby. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
Then he kissed your cheek and spilled his seed all over your stomach. Which oddly enough turned you on even more and made you whine.
You stayed like this for a minute or two and just looked each other in the eyes, breathing heavily. Until Daichi rolled of you two the side and you were both left staring at the ceiling.
He was the first to turn on his side, staring at you worried. With his clean hand he brushed your hair out of your face and made you look at him as well. “You okay, sweetheart?”
You blinked a few times, furrowing your brows. “I don’t know. I enjoyed it really much. I just feel- weird? Is that offensive to you?”
“Not at all. Come here.” He pulled you in, kissing your temple and holding you tight to his chest. None of you cared about his sticky hand or your dirty stomach.
His clean hand comped through your hair and he whispered sweet nothings right into your ear. Praising and complimenting you.
-
Later the two of you got out of bed, or more Daichi dragged your complaining figure and threw it over his shoulder. “You need to pee, Y/N. I mean it. And then we’ll have to shower or take a bath.”
You just groaned. Luckily he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face from having your ass almost entirely in his face. “I don’t even feel the need to pee!”
“Then you will drink water and force yourself to do it still. Don’t make me punish you, baby. You’re not ready for that.”
His continues hints on being rougher and more dominant with you, made you blush and even horny, so that you had to resist the need to kick your feet and giggle like a schoolgirl.
You didn’t even notice how you clenched your thighs together, which made only made Daichi smirk. He would definitely go harder on you next time. Besides, he promised you to make you cum as many times as your body could handle and he was not one to break a promise.
PLEASE this was so much fun to write!! I hope you had just as much fun reading it! Let me know what you think since this is my first time publishing anything I’ve written and if you would like me to turn this into a series, let me know please!! I am seriously considering doing it.
#hq smut#hq x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#sawamura daichi#sawamura daichi x reader#sawamura daichi smut#hq#haikyuu#fluff#smut#hq fluff#haikyuu fluff#hq imagines#haikyuu imagines#daichi x reader#daichi smut#haikyuu x you
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Late Nights
Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship
Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.
Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?
——————
It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.
You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.
When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.
On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.
This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.
You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:
Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:
Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?
Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.
You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.
You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.
Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)
Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️
And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.
He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.
————
A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.
It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.
Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:
“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.
“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.
You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.
You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.
You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:
“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”
“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.
“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.
“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.
“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.
“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.
“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.
He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.
You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”
He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.
“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.
He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”
You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.
You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.
——————
He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.
You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.
“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.
The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.
“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.
“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.
He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.
“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.
“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.
“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.
“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.
You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.
You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.
“Good night, sweetheart.”
“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.
#call the fucking dentist bby#ur gonna get cavities fr#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel x reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou hbo
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hate you
m.sturniolo
contains: forbidden love trope, enemies to lovers trope (kinda), secret relationship trope (kinda), sexual content, smut, dom!matt, fem!reader, unprotected sex (silly guys don’t do it)
I absolutely hated Matt, but every time I was close to him or he was close to me I felt goosebumps all over my body, him teasing me made it harder. I actually am in love with him. For some reason our parents hated that we were close in a way, mostly because my mom hated that Matt comes from a rich family and Matt’s dad hated that I wasn’t from a very rich family so they kept us apart.
It was a Friday evening and I was just chilling in my PJ’s, scrolling on my phone while blasting music. Out of the blue I get a message from Matt.
“What are you doing rn”.
“Nothing, why?”
“Look out through your window”
I groaned as I stood up from the bed and looked through my window, there was Matt. I texted him again.
“Why are you here?”
“Let’s hang”
“No”
“Fine by me, I’ll go hang out with Stacey then”
Stacey was my ex best friend, the friendship ended on bad terms due to her making out with my boyfriend, currently ex.
“Fuck you”.
“Is that a yes then?”
“Fine. Give me 10 minutes”.
I threw on a basic white shirt that showed little skin, jeans and some old conserves.
I opened my window and jumped out, my parents hate when I hang out with him, I promise I would stop so right now I keep all of this a secret.
Both of us started running away from my house so my parents wouldn’t suspect anything. We always had a hang out spot, on the roof of the building when you could see half of the city.
He brought alcohol for the both of us.
“Was this necessary?”
“Who said this was for you? All this is for me”, he teased.
I rolled my eyes sarcastically and grabbed a can from his hand. Matt just looked at me, he couldn’t take his eyes off of me.
“You make it impossible to stay away from you. Whatever I do, I just can’t.”
I looked at him and just stared at him. He got closer to me, I did too. He pressed his lips onto mine, kissing me passionately. I pulled back.
“We can’t”.
“Why?”.
“You know.”, I turned away.
“I don’t give a shit, I want you”, he said while pressing his thumb onto my face, making me look straight into his eyes.
I just sighted and laid down on the roof.
“How many times are we gonna do this? Pretending like we hate each other in public, the hooking up. Isn’t this driving you insane?”
Matt didn’t answer. He was just looking at the sky.
I got up a bit and got closer to him, leaning in to kiss him, he kissed me back, desperately. He depended the kiss, making me whimper into the kiss.
“I need you”, Matt whispered in between the kisses, his hands were on my waist, sliding into my jeans.
“Matt we can’t”, I whispered.
“It’s driving me insane that I can’t do this to you”.
“I know”.
We both got up and just sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Why does your dad care so much about money?”
“Why does your mom?”.
The silence washed over the both of us again.
“I think we should call this a night”.
“Yeah”.
We both walked home, him walking me to my house. As we reached it, he just kissed my forehead. I smiled at him and went inside, immediately after I walked into the house I got a text message from Matt.
“I had a wonderful time friend ;)”.
“I hate you”.
“I hate you too”.
The next day
It’s Saturday morning and I get a text message from Matt. Again.
“Party at my place 5pm. Bring a friend ;)”.
I immediately called my friend Brooke because she’s been with me the moment Stacey did me dirty, so who else would I bring?
I called her and she showed up whining fifteen minutes. Both of us were stressing cause we didn’t know what to wear. Out of the sudden she said.
“You need to wear something sexy so you would make out with Matt tonight.”
I looked at her and replied.
“Wasn’t planning on that”.
“The way you’re lying right now is funny. Here”, she threw her dress at me.
“Wear this”.
It was her favourite dress ever, she wouldn’t let anyone borrow that.
“It’s your favourite, I’m not wearing this”.
“Girl please, you’ll drive Matt crazy and that’s the idea for today”.
I sighted while smiling because I knew she was right, I did want attention from him. It was a black long dress with a cut out in the middle for the boobs, it had strips and also came with long black thin gloves. The dress also had a little cut out on the bottom for the legs to be more visible.
I let Brooke do my makeup, she was smiling the whole time.
“Why are you smiling?”.
“Because my closest friend is gonna hook up with Matt? About time you show yourself in public with him, enough with the hiding”.
“His dad hates me”.
“Well he’s not gonna be there so why are you worried?”
“I don’t know, yesterday we kissed and he admitted he wanted to fuck me”.
Her jaw dropped in excitement and she smiled even more.
“Even more reasons you should make out with him, or even more.”
“We will see”.
“I’m planning to fuck Chris”.
“Oh girl.”
Both of us started giggling.
At the party.
The party was huge, there were loads of people outside the house and inside the house. There were beer pongs, loud music, every alcohol liquid you know and just people screaming. We walked inside and both of us grabbed some drinks. There was a huge dance floor inside so we decided to join the people dancing there. We met new people and talked with them, it was fun to make new contact with new people.
Brooke dragged me out of the house to talk with people that were outside but most importantly she wanted to play beer pong. She saw Chris to one of the tables and she immediately ran to him. He smirked at her and gave her the ball and told her.
“Let’s see what you got”.
She didn’t miss the shot and everyone next to that table was cheering.
“Atta girl”, Chris teased her.
The smile on her face made me so so happy. I could imagine the butterflies that she’s feeling. After a while of playing beer pong me and Brooke went inside the house again. We were both tipsy. A lot of people were inside the house already, there were many people who were already drunk and people who were making out.
Brooke stood next to me and teasingly said.
“Find Matt so you would do that right now”.
I smiled at her and my eyes were searching for Matt, I saw him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was making out with some random girl that I have never seen in my life. My heart dropped. I turned to look at Brooke, she was flirting with Chris, I dragged her away for a moment.
“The idea with Matt is not happening”.
“Huh, why?”
I tilted my head and waited for her to notice. She noticed and she was pissed.
“Girl, fuck him”.
“This has two meaning right now”, I tried laughing it off.
“The second meaning”, she rolled her eyes and gave me a hug. I was happy that Brooke was always there for me. I let her hang out with Chris. I was walking around the house and I saw someone I didn’t wanna see. It was Matt’s dad. When he saw me, it seemed like his eyes were burning with fire and anger.
He walked up to me and harshly yelled.
“What are you doing here?”
“I got invited, do you have a problem?”
“Yes. You are the problem. Who the hell invited you?”.
I looked over at Matt for a second, he was already standing alone and he was staring at us, he was pissed and furious. I saw him walking up to us slowly so I was relieved.
“Are you gonna answer me?”
I snap back to reality and realise I’m still talking with his father.
“Matt invited me.”
His eyebrows furrowed.
“What the hell is he doing with a girl like you? I thought we told you to stay away from him”, he grabbed my wrist and held it, he squeezed me and shook me. I was terrified.
Matt walked up to him and aggressively threw his grip off of me.
“Leave her alone”.
“Why did you invite her, son?”
“Cuz she’s my friend”.
Matt and I made eye contact, knowing he lied.
“Why are you here?”
“I just wanted to see what’s happening in the party, I’ll leave now”.
“Yeah, you should. I don’t wanna see you”.
“We’re gonna have a talk later.”
“I don’t care”.
His father started at him angrily and left the house. Matt sighted in relief.
He looked at me and grabbed me by the arm, he walked me upstairs and locked the door behind us. He was stressed a bit but mostly tensed.
“You know I would have handled that myself.”
“No the fuck you wouldn’t. You were shaking. He despises you. You should be glad I walked up to you on time”.
Once again, the uncomfortable silence washed us again.
“You’re right, I’m sorry”.
He just looked at me with a confused expression.
“So do you wanna explain why you’re so pissed off at me?”
I sarcastically sigh and reply.
“Why am I pissed at you?”
“Yeah..”
“Ask the girl that was sticking her tongue in your mouth ten minutes ago”.
“We’re suppose to hate each other. You said and I quote “Matt, we can’t do this”.
“You know, I’m starting to give less of a fuck what our families think”.
He just stood there and looked at me with those eyes. Those god damn eyes that made me weak in the knees.
“Don’t do that”, I said firmly. “Don’t look at me like you’re turned on.”
“But I am”, he shrugged.
“You hate me, remember?”
“You hate me too,”.
I felt my heart beating, he was walking closer to me, he was taller than me so he needed to look down a bit. He put his thumb on my chin looking at me. This was the last straw for me, I couldn’t hold in it anymore. I leaned in and kissed him, hungrily, desperately. He was giving the same energy back but twice more than I was. He lifted me up and walked me over to his bed. He softly laid me down.
“May I?”.
I nodded, and he began unzipping my dress and taking off the gloves. Once it was on the ground and I was left with a bra and a thong he just stood there.
"jesus," he chokes out. he’s desperate.
He leaned in to kiss you, he unclipped your bra. Both of you switched places so you would be on top. He deepened the kiss as your hands slid under his shirt, making him whimper into the kiss.
"i really fucking wish i could resist you right now."
“Well don’t.”, I whispered into his ear, taking off his shirt and unzipping his pants. He was huge, knowing you were way shorter than him and the way he was way taller than you.
He just smirked at me, grabbing my wrist carefully and dragging me closer to him, he kissed me again and laid me on my back. He placed himself between my thighs, removing my thong, teasing me with his fingers around my clit.
“Fuck”, I whimper out.
“Shhh. Let me.”
As those words left his mouth he dived into my wet soaking cunt. He circled around his tongue in circles, adding his fingers for more pressure I moaned loudly, digging my fingers into his hair, I’m pretty sure people would hear my moaning even through the load music but I didn’t care at this point. Matt was not stopping. I was so close already to my climax.
“I can feel you holding ma, let it go”.
I release my climax, he licks all of the juices off of his fingers. He pulled me into a kiss making me taste my juices with my salvia.
“I need to feel you”, Matt whispered while kissing me.
“I laid on my back spreading my legs for him.
“Fuck”, he breathed out heavily, aligning himself to me, as he entered me I moaned loudly, Matt shoving his fingers into my mouth. He hit my g-spot every-time which made me moan loudly. He took the fingers out of my mouth because I was looking away. He turned my face so my gaze would be on him.
“I want you to look at me when I fuck you”.
“I hate you.”, I stuttered out while he was pounding into me.
“Yeah? Turns me on.”, he smirked at me while tilting his head going down on my neck while pounding into me even more.
I was a moaning mess, tears were forming.
“I’m so so close”.
“Me too. Just a little longer”.
Matt rammed into me which made me gasp loudly.
“Fuck”, he moaned out, ramming into me again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, I breathed out.
He rammed into me one last time as he released his climax, all over me. I breathed out heavily as I laid on my back. He collapsed next to me, smirking at me while playing with my hair.
“So what are we”, I teased him.
“Enemies who fuck in secret”, I looked at him with an angry expression.
“Fuck you.”
“You want round two?”, he teased.
I looked at him with an annoyed expression, he got up and kissed my forehead.
“I’m just fucking with you. I love you. A lot. And I want us to be official, in public too. I don’t care what our families think”.
“I love you too Matthew.”
____________________________________________
guys im actually so proud of this🥲🥲. I really hope y’all will like it. Please show love and support I love you all. I don’t want this to flop. Let me know if you like it I MIGHT make this a series. MIGHT.
tag list. @gamermattsgf @sturncrazy @sturniolosstar @sturnsblunt @westwiing13 @mbbsgf @hoesformatt @thepubeburgler @7tee3n
#matt sturniolo#matt x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#forbbiden love#enemies to lovers#secret relationship#smutty smut smut#smut#fanfic#fanfiction#mattslutt
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It's Okay, Daddy's Here | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Even after your honeymoon is over, you find yourself needing your husband all the time. One Saturday, when Bradley is out with the guys, you have an itch you just can't scratch by yourself. When he comes home and finds you a desperate, horny mess, he assures that "It's okay, Daddy's here."
Warnings: Smut and fluff
Length: 2200 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!
You couldn't understand what had happened to you since you stopped taking your birth control pills, but you'd been insatiable for the last month and a half. The ten day honeymoon you and Bradley had spent in Hawaii had been pure perfection. And now you'd been enjoying your husband as frequently as you could get your hands on him since returning home.
"What do you mean you're going golfing tomorrow morning?" you asked Bradley as you got undressed for bed on Friday night. You paused, naked with his tee shirt in your hands, and gaped at him. "Roo. That'll be hours. And then the guys will want to go out for drinks," you whined. "You won't be here to fuck me."
He groaned and patted his lap before he reached for you. "Tee time at the country club is Javy's Christmas present to all of us, so I agreed to go." You tossed the shirt aside and climbed up onto the bed to straddle his thighs. "But I can cancel, Baby Girl," he grunted, palming your tits as you leaned in closer to kiss him.
"No," you moaned against his mouth. "I don't want Javy to be mad at me. But you better do me so good right now, Roo. Seriously."
"Don't I always?" he growled, flipping you onto your back and running his fingers down along your belly and over your tattoo. "Don't I always take care of you?"
"I have the best husband," you whispered as his lips connected with your neck. Then his fingers met your clit, and he eased his body weight down on top of you. And it was heavenly. And he fucked you hard into the bed until you came, screeching his name. And then you slept all night long, curled up on his warm chest in a state of satiated bliss.
But as soon as you woke up to a cold, empty bed late Saturday morning, you flopped onto your back and tried to coax yourself back to sleep once more. But you couldn't. The need was almost immediate as you sat up. The bedding smelled like Bradley, and you knew you needed to go into the other room.
After you grabbed your glasses and pulled on his soft UVA shirt, you went to make some coffee. But as it brewed, your mind wandered to how good he looked in his white golf pants and polos. You hoped he was wearing that deep blue floral print shirt that hugged his biceps.
"Good Lord," you gasped, fixing your coffee the way you liked it and walking out onto the back patio with Tramp. But even the chilly December San Diego air couldn't cool you down. Bradley was probably getting all sweaty right now, gripping his nine iron and wearing those soft gloves.
"Jesus," you whined, pacing around and sipping your hot coffee. "Just chill. You made it through work all week without him." But that wasn't exactly true. On Tuesday, you'd fucked him on your lunch break in the backseat of the Bronco in the parking garage. And on Thursday afternoon, he'd come into your office reeking like jet fuel and fucked you up against your file cabinet.
Tramp looked up at you when you let out a noise close to a whimper. You finished your coffee and went back inside to start packing for the Christmas holidays, but as soon as you opened your underwear drawer, you caught sight of all of your wedding lingerie, and you had to leave the room again.
A shower. That would help. But you tried hot water and then cold water, and you just ended up with your back pressed against the tile wall, stroking our fingers over your clit. You must be ovulating. That would explain a lot right now. But as you tried to get yourself off, you kept coming up short.
"No," you whined, dipping your fingers into your own slick before bringing them back up to your clit. When you managed to get the tiniest bit of relief, you finished up in the shower and went to get dressed.
But you ended up pulling out your vibrators only to glare at them, because they did not look as appealing as Bradley did. "Fuck," you grumbled, tossing them back where they belonged and kicking your drawer closed.
How much longer could golf possibly take? You'd be fine until you could get the real thing. You could wait.
-----------------------------
Bradley rushed through the eighteenth hole, hoping to get back home to you faster, but the guys weren't having it.
"Let's hit up the bar," Hangman drawled. "Drinks are on me."
Bradley opened his mouth to protest, but Jake cut him off and said, "And don't even try to use your wife as an excuse, Bradshaw. You and Angel can go a few hours without your hands all over each other. The honeymoon is over."
But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Bradley wanted his hands and mouth on you at the moment so badly, he hoped the honeymoon would never end.
"Fine," he grumbled. "One drink." But one turned into two, and the jukebox at the Hard Deck was playing Christmas music, and Penny got him to dance with her before he was able to sneak out. He had been gone most of the day.
As he walked back to the Bronco late in the afternoon sunlight, he texted you and let you know he was finally on his way home. Your response was almost instantaneous.
Baby Girl Bradshaw: Hurry
"Damn," he muttered, starting up the engine and rushing home to get to you. He thought maybe you'd be waiting for him in bed, wearing that little red lingerie set he liked so much, but what he discovered was even better.
"Holy shit," he muttered as soon as he walked inside the front door. His golf bag clattered to the floor as you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him.
"Roo," you moaned, and it was the neediest, most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. And before he knew it, he was palming himself through his white golf pants at the sight of you naked, straddling the arm of the living room couch. Your back was to him as you rubbed your bare pussy up and down the arm, back arched and whining softly.
He stumbled closer to you, his eyes glued to your ass as you moved in the most appealing way. You were leaving glistening streaks of your slick along the upholstery, and it was so fucking hot.
"What's going on, Baby Girl?" he managed to ask as you looked back at him again.
"I can't help it," you gasped, your voice bordering on pitiful as you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so fucking horny, Bradley. I've tried masturbating all day, but nothing feels as good as you do."
"Oh, Sweetheart," he rasped, unzipping his pants and getting himself ready. "You should have called me."
"Please! I need you. Make it go away."
You were almost in tears now as Bradley put his hands on your hips, helping you rock your soaking wet pussy against the couch. "Shh. Daddy's home now. It's okay, Daddy's here." He stood behind you and kissed your bare shoulder, letting his fingers skim up your belly to stroke the undersides of your breasts.
"Oh! Your fingers feel so good," you groaned, planting your hands on the back of the couch and rocking your hips a little faster.
"How did you get like this, Baby Girl?" he whispered next to your ear, pressing the front of his body to your back as you rocked your pussy along, trying to find some satisfaction. "You're like a dog in heat," he groaned, squeezing your nipples.
"I know," you keened, head tossed back to give him access to your neck. "I'm ovulating."
"Oh, hell," he grunted. That was music to Bradley's ears as you bumped his hard cock with your ass every time you rolled your hips. "You need me to fuck you?" he asked softly, licking a stripe up your neck. "You need my cum?"
"Please, Daddy," you begged softly, but he could hear the desperation there. "Fuck me."
Bradley eased away from you and lifted you up a bit by your hips as you whined. "Aww, Sweetheart," he said, stroking his fingers along your ass down to your soaking wet pussy while he admired the wet spot on the couch. "You need me."
You looked back at him and nodded as he palmed your ass up in the air. "I need you, Daddy," you said, your voice breaking with tears in your eyes.
Bradley stroked your soft skin and asked, "Do you know how bad I want you knocked up?"
You nodded again, practically on the verge of tears. "I know it."
Bradley set you down gently on the arm once more, tipping you forward slightly so your clit was rubbing against the wet spot you made. Then he grabbed his cock as you wiggled your ass at him, just begging to have him fill you up.
"I got you," he promised, rubbing himself through your wetness. "I'll take care of everything."
With one steady thrust, he filled you and bottomed out. A sound of relief escaped you as you moaned, "Daddy." Bradley pulled you snug to him by your hips, and with each fluid thrust, he helped you rock your clit against the couch.
Bradley kept you going at a steady pace, fucking you nice and slow as he guided you along, praising you for being the perfect wife. "You always look so good for me. With your pretty pussy and that ass on display. You know how much I like coming home to find you ready for me?"
"Tell me," you whispered, starting to clench around him.
He kissed along your neck as you jerked yourself along a little faster. "I love it when you're waiting for me to fill you up. I love how needy you are."
Bradley knew you were close now, so he let you ride the arm of the couch and bump back along his length while he held himself still for you. And then you were cumming, shaking against his body, reaching back for his hands as you clenched around his cock and sobbed softly.
"You feel better?" he asked, still fucking you slow and steady. You were like a feral animal that only he was able to tame.
"So much better," you whispered, turning and licking his bicep. "You're all sweaty, Roo. You smell so good."
"Damn it," Bradley grunted. Now he was starting to feel slightly unhinged over you. His wife needed him so badly around the clock right now. He expected that your body would start to adjust to being off birth control, and this extreme need for him would start to ease up. But for now, he didn't mind one bit. And he wanted to keep you filled up with his cum until it took.
He slammed into you a little harder as you gazed lovingly at him over your shoulder. "You can do it, Daddy." He reached for your chin, grabbing you and kissing you a little rough.
"Oh, fuck." Then he was filling you before he collapsed against your back. Bradley ran his hands along your pristine skin, paying extra attention to your tits as he caught his breath. "I can't believe I found you riding the couch like this."
"Nothing would even take the edge off, Bradley. Just you."
He squeezed your tits and ran his nose behind your ear. "I love you. Next time, you call me. I drop everything for you whenever I can. You understand me?"
"Yes." Your voice was soft and calm now, and he could tell you were feeling much better.
"That's my girl." When he withdrew from your pussy, and his cum leaked out onto the arm of the couch, Bradley whispered, "Don't move."
He dug his phone out of his pocket and took some photos of you turning to look at him with a sweet, fucked out expression on your face and a messy pussy. He knew those images would keep him warm when he was deployed. Then he helped you stand right in front of him, and both of you admired the soiled arm of the couch together.
"Beautiful," Bradley murmured next to your ear, stroking his fingers along your belly and wishing.
He watched you run your finger through the mess before licking it and turning to kiss him. You traced his lips with your tongue and he tasted himself before you said, "I'll clean up the couch."
"No, you're going to go get in bed like a good girl. And after I clean up out here, I'll be ready to take the edge off for you again. Okay?"
You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him, and then he watched your ass as you headed to bed to wait for him to take care of you again.
--------------------------
Roo always takes care of his wife! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.
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never grow up seven
summary: after taking things to long distance, sunny and chris face the highs and lows of their love story. smuttyyyyyy and angstyyy. mentions of depression. some phone sex.
part six
part eight
Chris’ POV
The first two weeks of me and Sunny were so good. So fucking good.
We were on such a high, a honeymoon phase I had never experienced before. We were talking consistently, both of us trying our hardest to make time for each other while we continued with our lives as we lived on opposite sides of the country.
One weekend in particular, I was kinda shit about responding, but it really wasn’t my fault. I had a shoot for Fresh Love on Friday, then had to go to an event that night. Saturday, we filmed a collaborative video all day with other YouTubers, and that night we filmed our podcast for Monday. Sunday, I met up with my friends at a music video shoot, and now that it’s Monday again, Sunny is back in classes.
I woke up late from having such a loaded weekend, and when I tried calling her at 1 p.m., she declined my call.
Me: Hey. Are you in class?
Sunshine: at work
Me: Oh
Me: Sorry. I had a crazy weekend. Woke up late because I’m exhausted. Can you talk after work?
Sunshine: i wont get home until midnight and then i have an 8 am tmr.
Sunshine: you didnt have a minute to text at all?
Me: I’m sorry baby
Me: I was really busy
Me: I’m trying to talk now but it’s the time zones fault
Sunshine: yeah
I know she’s upset with me. This is one of those unfortunate things that comes with distance. I’m really trying. When both of us are free, it’s great, and we can talk forever, but when one of us is really busy, it throws everything off.
My schedule was loaded this weekend, and hers is loaded through the week with her classes and work, so with those combined, we haven’t really talked in a week.
Me: I love you. Text me when you’re home from work so I can say goodnight
Sunshine: i love you too
I feel like shit. I’m really trying here. I can’t read her tone over text messages, and we haven’t had the time to have a real conversation over the phone.
We’ll try harder tomorrow.
–
Sunshine: are u kidding me christopher!!!!
Me: What!!!
Sunshine: what are these flowers for??????
Me: Lol. Surprise
Sunshine: i’m gonna cry
Me: Noooo they weren’t supposed to make you sad
Sunshine: i’m happy! this was just so sweet. i miss you sm
Me: Can you talk?
She FaceTime’s me instantly. I was never a FaceTime kind of guy. Even though me and my brothers are away from everyone we grew up with, I still was never the kind of person to opt for a FaceTime call.
With her, I’ll always answer a call so I can see her face.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I smile, watching her place her flowers into a clear vase in her kitchen. I lay down on my bed, tucking a pillow under my chin.
“Hi!” she waves. She’s fucking adorable. “This is so cute, Chris. I had no idea you were doing this!”
“That’s the point of a surpriseeeeeee,” I remind her. “Did you see the card?”
“I did,” she nods, smiling big at me. “Very sweet of you.”
I shrug casually. “I try. How was your day?”
She lets out an exhausted sigh. “Good, but busy. I’ve kinda been feeling like shit lately.”
I sit up straight, pushing the pillow I had been laying on out of the frame. “What? Why didn’t you say something?”
“You’re 3,000 miles away,” she reminds me. “What are you going to be able to do?”
“Listen while you rant, give you advice, give you some encouragement,” I list off for her. “What kind of shit?”
“Just the usual–”
“Sunny!” I interrupt her. “You gotta tell me these things!”
“Well, sorry! I didn’t want to text you, ‘Hey, congrats on all the great stuff you’re doing, I’m super depressed and feel miserable all the time and all I want is my boyfriend to come home and be with me.’ That would only make me feel worse.”
I frown at her. I don’t want her feeling like she’s going to rain on my parade.
“I’m okay, Chris,” she assures me. “Promise. I wasn’t feeling too well, but I’m better now.”
“Will you tell me next time? I don’t want you to be alone.”
She nods gently. “Mhm, I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll come back by myself if I have to–”
“No,” she interrupts. “You’re going to stay and do your thing because I need to be able to figure this out myself. You can’t run back to Boston anytime I have an issue.”
“Why not?”
She gives me a ‘come on,’ type look, like I’m being ridiculous. “How was your day?” she asks me instead.
I lift the camera up so she can see me laying in my bed. “Hasn’t started yet.”
I can see her eyes scanning my body closely, her face inches from her phone as she bites her bottom lip. I know she’s staring at my body. We’ve been feeling more risky about things, sending each other suggestive photos. It’s the only way I can really feel close to her sexually. I never thought I would be sending her, of all people, pictures of my hard dick through my underwear.
The other night she got me good, sending a picture of herself in the shower, her arm covering her tits, but pressing them into her chest enough for them to look plumper than usual. The water droplets on her skin added more to the photo, sending me into a spiral.
“Whatcha looking at, babe?”
She smirked at me through the phone. “The underwear poking out of your sweatpants.”
“Yeah?” I asked, pushing my pants down so she could see my underwear fully. I pulled the bottoms of it down more, seeing that it rode up my thighs as I laid down.
“Jesus,” she sighed, taking me into her room with her.
“Yeah?”
I set the phone up on a stray pillow across my bed so she can see my entire body. I press my hand into my dick, palming myself lightly. I immediately feel a rush through my dick, forcing me to shove my hand into my briefs to touch myself.
“I miss you baby,” I nod at her. “Miss your sweet face.”
She watches me as I stroke my dick, whispering softly in that sweet voice, “I miss you more.”
Not a fucking chance.
“No shot,” I challenge.
“I promise,” she insists, her doe eyes really doing the trick to convince me.
I hold my dick still in my fist, shoving my briefs out of the way so she can see me. “You see how much you turn me on, baby?” I ask her, hoping she notices how red my tip is right now from the swelling, not to mention the fact that I have precum leaking out of me like I’m touch starved, probably because I am.
She lays down on her bed, right on her stomach. She mumbles a “fuck,” as she gets comfortable. “You’re so hot.”
“You are,” I smile, stroking myself faster.
I watch as she pulls her jeans off, lifting her ass in the air for me to see.
I pause for a second as I stare at her lower back, the thong hugging her hips in the most perfect way. I’m contemplating booking a flight right now so I can put my handprints all over that ass.
“Ohhh fuck,” I groan, squeezing around my tip with a tight fist. “You’re perfect.” She smiles at me as she watches my motions, now listening to my groaning sounds as I struggle to keep myself casual.
“Does that feel good?” she asks curiously as she turns over to her back.
“Mhm,” I hum. “Not as good as you.”
She lowers the camera to her pelvis, showing me her hand as it glides down her thong, and settles right over her pussy.
“Oh good girl,” I nod. “Show me how you touch yourself, Sunny.” She lowers the camera even further, settling it between her legs on a pillow somewhere a few inches out. I have a clear shot over her fingers burying themselves in her. A loud moan escapes my lips. “Perfect fucking pussy. All mine, right?”
“Uh huh,” she whimpers.
My cock continues to drip, and I quickly spread the precum across my length. “Talk to me baby. Tell me how much you need me,” I taunt as the sound of me fucking my hand fills the room. “My mouth on your swollen little clit, yeah?”
She nods desperately as she rubs herself faster. “I need you so bad, Chris,” she whines for me. “Stretching me out like before.”
“Yeah?” I ask, mindlessly bucking my hips so I get the illusion of her pussy as my hand right now, hovering above me as my dick buries itself into her. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.”
I set my phone up next to me, changing the angle slightly so she can see my face and my dick in the same shot. My balls tighten, and I rub them for some sort of release.
I listen to her pretty moans, using them as fuel to the fire.
“You’re so pretty, Chris,” she tells me, but I can’t focus on it. I’m moaning so bad, I sound like a fool.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant to myself, my face scrunching in pleasure as she continues to try talking me through it, but my ears are fucking ringing as the release floods through me. “Oh! Shit!” I curse loudly, laying my dick on my stomach and rubbing myself through my orgasm, the cum dripping across my abdomen.
I keep my eyes on her despite how heavy they feel. My breathing is just as bad. “God, keep going baby,” I encourage her, noticing how badly she’s dripping in front of me and I can’t fucking touch her.
“I’m close, Chris.”
“Uh huh, you got it.”
The sound of her fingers going in and out of her has me ready for another round. I’m half hard, really debating on going again as I watch her.
“Oh god, Sunny,” I breathe out. She looks fucking beautiful. She always does. “My perfect fucking girl.” She bends her knees, the most perfect shot of her pussy as she cums directly in my vision. “Ohhhh there you go.” She starts panting tirelessly as it drips down her hand. “Good girl. Fuck, I wish I was there to lick you clean baby.”
She looks down at the mess she made and says, “Me too.” Once she cleans herself up and settles back in bed, she asks, “When are you coming home?”
I wipe my stomach clean and pull on a clean pair of underwear. “I don’t know yet, I answer honestly. “Maybe the end of the month.” She nods at me, and I can tell she’s disappointed. “Soon, I promise.”
“Okay,” she gives me a half smile. “I have to go change for work.”
I nod, disappointed that our call is coming to an end. “Okay. Have a good day, baby. I love you.”
“I love you,” she says, and that’s the last time I talk to her that day.
–
The last few days have been rough. We’re back to barely talking. I feel like shit. I feel guilty, but it’s not my fault. I’m trying, I really am. It’s the time zone. It’s fucking everything up. I sleep in, and by the time I’m up and doing stuff, she’s at work and can’t talk. Then she’s going to bed, and we have like… an hour in the day to talk.
I thought we could make this work. I thought things would fall into place.
I’ve stayed up every night this week trying to think of how to talk to her about this, but I’m too scared. I keep holding back everything that I feel.
I’m quite literally shaking as I click on her contact, texting her a quick message.
Me: Hey. Can you talk?
Sunshine: i’m about to go to bed
Me: Please
A photo of her smiling pops up on my phone with her caller ID on top. I answer the call with a deep breath.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” she mumbles. “What’s up?”
“Are you in bed already?”
“Mhm,” she hums. “Long day. Is everything okay?”
No.
I’ve never been in this position before, and I don’t know how to do this the right way.
Just rip off the bandaid.
“I don’t think this is working out,” I say simply. My voice is soft, yet firm.
I hear the rumbling of her bedsheets and then her broken voice. “What?”
Shit.
That pretty voice that sews me together just ripped me apart.
“Sunny– I just– I don’t think I can give you what you need,” I say honestly, picking at the subtle rip in my jeans on my thigh. I pull at the fraying material and toss the scraps on the floor.
“Chris–”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking at my ceiling. “I just don’t think it’s fair to keep stringing you along if I know it’s not going to work out.”
I know this isn’t what she wants to hear. I think in the future we could work out, but right now, we’re doomed. I don’t want to have this heartbreaking story when we could prevent it. We were in over our heads.
“We’ll try harder,” she says.
The desperation in her voice is killing me. “I know this is hard.” Fuck, I’m trying to keep myself together so I don’t back out of this. “But I think it’s better this way.”
“We can make it work, Chris,” she insists.
I shake my head, trying to keep myself from breaking down. “It’s not that easy. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want and need. Someone who can be there for you, emotionally, and physically… and I can’t do that for you right now. It’s so hard for me not being with you. I just want to hold you and be with you and I can’t, Sunny. I want to come home and be with you everyday but I need to be in LA.” The line is silent, and I know she’s going to make this hard for me. I deserve it, but she deserves the truth. “I really want this, but I can’t give it to you right now, and it’s not fair for either of us.”
The only conversations we’ve had this last week are us arguing or sexting. That’s not how this should be.
“How long have you been feeling like this?” she asks hesitantly. I know she’s scared of the answer.
I let out a heavy sigh, my hand running through my hair and tugging on it. “A little bit. I don’t know how long, but I’ve been trying to ignore my feelings and–”
“And you didn’t tell me you were having doubts?!” she asks accusingly.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about it with you. I just– Fuck, Sunny– This is difficult and–”
“How is it difficult!” she asks. “I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to be the easiest person for you to talk to.”
“I know,” I agree with her, but does she not realize how fucking hard it is knowing that the one person I’m trying to be open with is the person who is going to face the damage? “That’s why it’s so hard. I don’t want to lose you as a friend too.”
She ignores my point.
“Why did you start a relationship with me then? You started this, Chris.”
I mean, she kissed me, but alright.
I’m too in shock at her tone and fight for this to think of anything to say.
“I… I didn’t mean to,” I stumble over my words. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought we could make it work.”
“Then let’s make it work.”
I roll my lips into my mouth, trying to keep myself from crying. The sound of her voice is destroying me. “Maybe we can, but right now I just need some time to think.”
“How much time?” she asks.
“I don’t know. A few days, maybe? A week?”
She scoffs. “Chris, if you have to think about if you want me or not then–”
“I said I need time to think, Sunny,” I remind her. “I’m not making any decisions right now.”
“But you’re questioning us to begin with! You said you’ve felt like this for a while so what’s there to think about!”
“Baby–”
“Don’t,” she says sharply.
I pace my room, a pit in my stomach growing. This is fucking awful. “I said I can’t right now.”
I hear a soft cry from her end, and I freeze. “Please, don’t do this.”
My eyes well with tears. “I’m so sorry. I really am. But I can’t be in this with you if I’m feeling doubts. I just need to figure things out, and maybe we can work it out.”
Something in her switches and all those tears and sadness turn into anger.
“So you fuck me after we’re friends for our whole lives. Then you leave without a word. Then you come back and say you’re in love with me, fuck me again, and then leave and want me to move on and be with other people. Oh wait! But then!” she continues. I just stand there in the middle of my room and let her rip me apart through the phone. “You want me to be with you and we’re happy and great and then you drop this and say you’ve been unhappy and want to break up?”
Yeah… So, I sound like shit.
My eyes narrow as I grip my phone. “That’s not fair,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t force you into anything, and I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“But you made me feel wanted by you!”
“I do want you!” I remind her. “But this isn’t about what we want, it’s about what I need right now.”
She pauses and lowers her voice. “Do you need me?”
I hate myself for the way I hesitate to answer her.
“Yes, I do.”
I can almost hear the sigh of relief in her voice.
“But not in the way you’re asking.”
Then I hear her cries. At this point, I’m breaking down with her.
“Is there anything I can do to make this work?” she asks again.
“No. There’s nothing you can do.”
I sit on my bed, listening to her cry, and I feel awful knowing that I can’t wipe those tears like I always do.
“I love you so much Chris,” she says desperately.
I wipe the tears that fall down my own cheeks. “I love you too, but I can’t be with you like this. Not right now.”
“Are we still going to be friends?” she asks. “Or are you going to go ghost again for four months?”
“I’m not going to ghost you,” I assure her. I fucked up that time, I really did, but I thought it’s what we needed. That time of no contact to figure ourselves out. It clearly made things worse. “I think we need some space though, just for a little bit.”
She’s pissed. It’s obvious. She’s gone from trying to talk me into staying with her, to now saying nothing at all.
“Look,” I say, trying to keep myself from sounding like a broken record. “I get that you’re hurt and disappointed, but I need to do this. I can’t keep going through this cycle of wanting you and then pulling away from you because I’m scared. I need to get to a place where I feel secure with you and I know we can make it work. Right now, it’s not that time.”
All I want right now is to hold her, kiss her, tell her it’s going to be okay. I want to lay next to her and smile at her before we go to bed. I want to be with her forever, never losing sight of each other.
But if we keep trying to force this relationship, we’re only going to ruin everything.
“I wish I could hate you,” she sobs. “I really do. But I could never hate you, Chris, and that’s the worst part.”
“I’m sorry,” I keep saying to her. The pain in my voice only becomes more evident. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I’m always going to be in love with you, and you’re always going to know it.”
I sigh heavily. “I know. And that’s part of the problem.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I say, pausing to find the right words. “I can’t be with you like this. I need to figure myself out first.”
“You started this!” she says again.
“I know.” My voice is heavy with guilt. “And I’m sorry.”
“Are you even upset about this?” she questions. “I’m sitting here fucking crying and it’s like your emotions are shut off! Give me something, Chris!”
“Of course I’m upset!” I raise my voice in frustration. “You want to hear me cry? I never meant to hurt you like this.”
“THEN STOP!” she screams.
“I’M TRYING!” I yell back, my eyes rimmed with tears. “I can’t keep having this conversation. I’m sorry, but we need to break up.”
The line goes silent again.
“Please,” I plead with her. “Just say something.”
After a minute of silence she says, “I love you, and I hope you can get your shit together. If not for me, then hopefully for the next girl so you don’t fuck her over the same way.”
I sit staring at my floor. I don’t know what to say that will fix this or give her the same hope I feel for us. I do want this. All I’ve ever wanted was her. I just can’t do it right now. It’s not the right time.
I’ve dreamt of marrying this girl, and the idea of us having the wrong timing is terrifying me. It needs to be perfect, and it’s just not right now.
“I’m sorry,” I say finally, my voice thick with emotion as I try not to break down again. “I really am.”
I expect more fight from her considering she wouldn’t back down before.
I don’t get that.
“Goodbye.”
I’m torn between heartbreak, confusion, and anger.
“Goodbye.”
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Bloated?
Pairing - Paul Lahote x FemaleReader
Summary - Reader starts gaining weight and the pack starts noticing
Warnings - body shaming, kissing, swearing, pregnancy, vomiting, period talk, Jacob being an ass, kinda ooc
Word Count - 3693
Masterlist
Friday, June 6th
"Em?" Y/N asked looking into the mirror at her stomach. "Does my stomach look, I dont know, bloated to you?"
"Um, yeah, maybe a little bit. I dont think it's anything to worry about though." The older woman replied, after looking at the girls stomach.
"I just feel like I'm getting fat. Paul probably notices too." She put her head down.
"Honey, that boy loves you more than anything. You're his whole world. You have nothing to worry about. He imprinted on you and he loves you. Now stop putting yourself down and help me make this food for them animals."
The girl laughed and started getting the table set.
Tuesday, June 10th
"Hm. That's weird."
"What?" Leah asked, the girl staying at her house.
"Nothing, just my period was supposed to start 3 days ago. I'm sure it's fine, this happens sometimes."
"If you're sure, and hurry up Elijah is about to kill Klaus."
Thursday, June 19th
The girl let out a groan, flushing the toilet after being woken up with the sudden urge to vomit.
Saturday, June 21st
All the girls, Emily, Leah, Kim, and Y/N, were all out shopping and having a girls day.
While Leah and Kim were looking through sets of bikinis. Y/N pulled Emily to the side.
"Em, I think I might be pregnant."
"What? Why do you think that??"
"Um, my periods late, my stomach looks bloated, and I've been throwing up. Not to mention Paul made my favorite dinner the other night and I couldn't stand the smell."
"We need to get you a test then, Hon."
***
After Leah and Kim left, Emily let Y/N go into the bathroom to take the test.
Coming out the bathroom, Y/N starts stressing. "What if its positive? What will Paul think? How do I deal with this?"
"Hey. Hey. Just breath. Let's first figure out if you're pregnant or not." Emily calmly says.
"Yeah, you're right." Taking a deep breath she starts to calm, until the timer goes off and her eyes get wide. "Can you check?"
Emily walks into the bathroom and looks at the test, coming out with tears in her eyes. "Um, yeah, you're pregnant"
"Oh mi gosh. Em, what am I supposed to do? Paul and I haven't even talked about kids. What if he doesn't want any?"
"Don't jump to conclusions. Take a couple days to think, and tell Paul when you're ready."
"Thank you, Emily. You always know what to say." The girl wraps her arms around the woman.
Wednesday, June 25th
The imprints made burgers and the pack was having a cookout. Everyone was making their plates. Y/N started to make her plate putting 2 burgers, each with cheese, tomato, onion, and chili. Put a little bit of slaw on the side and some chips.
"Dang girl, you're hungry today." Embry joked, making the girl laugh.
"He's not kidding you are eating a lot more lately." Jacob grumbled.
The girl got quiet and let out a silent "oh".
"What was that? Jacob." Paul growled.
"I'm just saying look at her Paul, everyone here notices how big she's getting. Maybe she should cut back."
After hearing that the girl started to stand up. Paul grabbing her hand. "Its fine, Paul. I'm just gonna go home."
She quietly grabbed her bag and apologized for the inconvenience. "Sorry, I didn't realize I did that. You can have them." Then she walked out the house. Leah chasing after her.
"What the fuck Jacob?!" Paul yelled.
"Paul." Sam warned.
"No Sam. He called her fat, she's not fat."
"We don't need a fight to break out."
"If he didn't want a fight he wouldn't have said anything."
"Paul. Enough."
Paul was shaking horribly. Sam pushed him out the house.
"Really Jacob?!" Jared called, running after Sam and Paul.
"Why is everyone so mad? I just told her how it was. You all can see how much bigger she's getting." Jacob tried to justify himself.
"That doesn't mean that you point it out." Seth told him.
"I know you were all thinking it. Just because I have the guts to tell Paul how it is doesn't make me the bad guy."
"Maybe you should learn the whole story before you go around hurting people."
"Seth. What's that supposed to mean? Seth!"
Seth ran out the house, hoping to find Leah and Y/N.
"Embry? Even you said something."
"I was joking Jake. What you did was uncalled for." Embry scoffed.
"Come on."
"Just stop Jacob." Emily snapped, causing the three left there to widen there eyes.
"Emily. Seriously? You know she's bigger!" Jacob was getting angry.
"Yeah, Jacob. She's eating more and getting bigger, but it's none of your business!" Emily snapped again.
"What if eating so much is hurting her?"
"It's not though, Jacob."
"How do you know??"
"Jacob when she is ready you'll know. Until then shut up."
"Sorry, damn."
***
"Y/N!"
"Y/N"
"Damn, you're fast."
"What do you want Leah?" Y/N sighed as she stopped and turned around, her eyes red and puffy.
"Don't listen to Jacob. He's an asshole."
"I don't care about what Jake said."
"You do or you wouldn't be crying."
"He called me fat Leah. I've never been called that before." She started to tear up. "And it's not even that I'm fat."
"What is it then?"
"Leah...I'm pregnant."
"What!? That's great news."
"Yeah, except for the fact everyone thinks I'm a pig now."
"They do not. If anyone's a pig it's Jacob. Now come on, you need the feed that little one."
***
"Paul!"
"Calm down!"
"Shift back!"
Sam phased into his wolf.
"Paul!"
"He's such an asshole." Paul snarled.
"You need to shift back. Calm down."
"I'm going to rip his throat out."
"Paul!"
"Come on Paul. She needs you." Jared joined.
"I'm trying! I can't control it."
"Calm your thoughts. Breath."
Paul started to shift back, pulling up his shorts in the process. Jared and Sam following shortly after.
***
"Y/N/N! Are you ok? You know Jake doesn't mean to be an ass." Seth tried to reassure the girl.
The girl laughed and grabbed Seth's hands. "Yes. I'm good. Thank you for checking up on me."
It was quiet for a few moments as the trio started walking back to the house. "So..." Seth piped up. "Does she know?"
Leah gasped. "What?! Know?! You told Seth before you told me!"
"He wasn't supposed to find out! He walked in on me having a meltdown about Paul." Y/N defended herself.
"Shit." The girl squeaked. "Paul! He's going to be asking questions. What am I supposed to tell him! I'm not ready. I just found out myself. I need to process this more. Stupid Jacob and his stupid big mouth!"
"Hey! Hey. Just breathe. Paul will understand if you don't want to talk." Leah reassured.
"Are you sure? Because Paul-"
Seth cut the girl off. "She's sure Y/N/N. He wouldn't pressure you into telling him something you don't want to. Now let's go eat I'm sure Little Bit in there is starving."
Both girls let out laughs.
"Um, guys, actually I was just going to go home. I don't wanna face Jacob's apologizes right now."
"Y/F/N you need to eat." Leah demanded.
"Just bring me something when you're finished? Please."
Leah sighed, knowing she wasn't changing the girls decision. "Fine. But you better eat everything I bring you."
"Pinky promise." She held up both her pinkies to Seth and Leah, Seth grabbing her pinky with his, giggling. Leah rolled her eyes, but nevertheless did the same.
"And..." The girl trailed. "Tell Paul that I took his truck. And that I'm ok?"
"So needy." Leah joked, dragging the 'y'.
"But fine I can do that."
"Thank you! You two are the best!"
"We know." They both said at the same time, causing the trio to laugh.
***
Back at home, the girl, took off her shoes and changed into pajama shorts and one of Paul's shirts.
Turning on her and Leah's favorite show to watch, 'The Vampire Diaries'. It was nice to watch people play supernatural creatures. Got their minds off of the real ones that loomed outside.
***
"Finally!" Was the first thing Leah and Seth heard as they walked through the door into Emily's and Sam's.
"Where's Y/N?" Was the second.
Leah was the one to tell Paul the situation.
"So, you just let her leave?" Paul said.
"Yes. She is a grown woman Paul." Leah retorted.
"She didn't even eat."
"I told her I would bring her something."
"I think I should go over there."
"No, you shouldn't." Sam butted in.
"And why not?!"
"Because Paul you just shifted you don't need to do that around her."
"I wouldn't hurt her." Paul glared.
"That's not the point. I said no and my answer is final. You will not go over to Y/N's tonight." Using his alpha voice, making Paul growl and leave the table.
***
"Is it bad that I'm kind of glad Sam did that?" The girl let out to her best friend.
"Yes!" Leah exclaimed.
"I just- I don't know what I would say to him."
"Your fear of confrontation is peeking through."
"Leah! This is serious."
"And I'm being serious. Paul deserves to know."
"I know. I'm just..." The girl let out a sigh. "Scared."
"You should never be scared with him. He looks at you like you're his sun. The thing that is keeping him alive."
"What if he doesn't want a baby? What if this is the one thing he can't handle with me." She whispered.
"That boy would love to start a family with you. The timing may not be ideal, but I've seen the way he looks at you. I saw the way he looked at you before the imprint. You are his literal everything and not just because fate decided you were destined. You were meant to have forever with each other way before fate decided it."
Y/N had tears in her eyes by the time Leah had finished. "I really needed that Leah." She sniffled. "I guess, sometimes, my insecurities take over. I've just been so scared, with the vampires and Bella. There's no time for a baby. Not in his life. He already has so much on him. Why do I need to add more?"
"Quit putting yourself down. You know you come first, when it comes to anything with Paul. A baby is not a burden, or something that just adds pressure. A baby can bring joy and bring people together. Maybe that's what we all need right now."
"Yeah. Maybe you're right."
"No maybe about it. I am right."
"Oh so modest." The girls giggled.
Thursday, June 26th
Awoken to heavy knocks on the front door, both girls growned, having stayed up most of the night talking.
"Y/N. Get the door." Leah grumbled.
"Why me?" The girl whined.
"It's your house."
"You kept me up all night."
"You mean you kept me up all night."
"No."
"Just open the door."
"Fine." She whined, pushing herself out of bed, looking at the clock on her nightstand that read 8:07 am.
Stomping to the door, grumbling profanities the whole way. She pulled the door open only to be greeted with-
"Paul?"
"Hey! I couldn't sleep without making sure you were ok. Jacob was an asshole. He never should have said those untrue things. I love your body and you should too. I think you're beautiful, inside and out. I don't care that you can eat two burgers, I love a woman that can hold her food. Yo-"
"Paul." She cut him off. "As sweet as this is, can we do it later? I'm sorry. Leah kept me up until 5 this morning and all I wanna do is curl up and take a hundred year nap."
"Yeah. Yeah. Of course. Want a cuddle buddy?" A smirk slowly rising on his face.
"You know I could never turn you down." She grinned pulling him inside and onto the couch.
***
By the time the girl woke Paul was already gone, a note in his place, telling her he had patrol but would be back after.
Leah was gone too, so the girl assumed the pack needed her as well.
Grabbing some clothes, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
***
After a much needed shower, Y/N looked out the window and noticed Paul's truck still in the driveway and his keys still on her nightstand.
Grabbing the keys, and getting in the truck, she started her drive to Emily's.
***
"Hey Em." She called, walking inside.
"Heyyyy." Said girl peeked her head out the kitchen. "I need to talk to you."
"Ok, nothing stressful about that sentence at all."
"Have you told Paul?"
"Diving right in, I see." She muttered.
"Huh?" Emily called from the kitchen.
"Oh! Uh- no I haven't."
"Do you know when you're going to? Because I think you should soon, it'll make all this doubt you have go away."
"I don't know. Soon though, promise!"
Tuesday, July 7th
Everyone was gathered around Emily and Sam's table, laughing and joking around. Well, everyone except Jacob he was upset with Bella, which made him brood.
Y/N sat beside Paul, occasionally stealing the tomatoes off his plate, he always put them to the side for her to grab because they were her favorites and he wasn't that fond of them.
Going unnoticed by the pack and the imprints, everytime she'd take one Jacob would roll his eyes and scoff.
Grabbing the last one of Paul's plate and about to put it in her mouth she was stopped by Jacob's rude voice.
"Are you serious?" He scoffed.
Everyone looked around confused as to what his sudden outburst was about.
"Everything ok, Jacob?" Emily asked.
Jacob let out a little laugh and clicked his tongue.
This time Y/N spoke up.
"Are you upset, Jacob?"
"Me? What? No." He paused. "I do think Paul should be though."
"Why would Paul be upset?" You furrowed your eyebrows.
"Because his girlfriend has already had more than enough, but she's still eating. And not just that but taking it off his plate. Do you really need that much food Y/N? All it does is make you fatter, which is definitely not something you need. If anything you need to exercise more." He spat at her.
His outburst caused Kim and Emily to let out gasps. Jared and Paul standing up.
Paul had his mouth open about to say something but before he could Y/N interrupted.
"Paul. It's fine. He can feel the way he feels. I'm just gonna go home."
"No you're not." Emily piped in. "Jacob if you could please leave."
"What?" Jacob exclaimed.
"I asked if you could leave, I expect you to use respect in my house and until I see you give some to Y/N I want you to leave."
"She's not even apart of the pack."
"She's an imprint. We are apart of this pack, now are you gonna apologize or did I need to get Paul to escort you out?"
Jacob scuffed, "I'm sorry I called you fat, it may be true but it was not nice of me to say."
Paul was fuming, "I accept your apology"
"No she doesn't." Paul vented.
"Paul, it's fine I don't wanna cause a fight."
"You're not causing the fight. He is."
"He apologized. That's enough. Let's finish eating, then I have to tell you something."
***
"You wanted to tell me something?" Paul said, as he drove them home.
"Can it wait? I'm really tired and just wanna go to sleep."
"Of course, Sweetheart." He kisses her temple.
Thursday, July 9th
"I'm telling him."
All three girls let out simultaneous screams.
"Finally!" Emily exclaimed.
"Took you long enough" Leah joked.
"I still can't believe you're pregnant." Kim gasped.
"Well maybe I should wait a little longer, maybe until August?" Y/N let out a cheeky grin.
"No!" All three girls yelled.
The guys were on patrol and the imprints had the house to themselves. There was a knock at the door.
The girl laughed as she got up to get the door.
"Are you expecting anyone?" Leah questioned Emily.
"No." Emily whispered out.
"Y/N don't answer that." Leah called.
"Guys I invited someone." Y/N answered back.
"Who? We're your only friends." Leah joked.
Y/N opened the door, only for Bella to be standing awkwardly on the other side.
"Hi! Come in. Come in."
"No." Leah deadpanned.
"I thought it would be nice. Jacob really likes her."
"Why do you care what Jacob thinks? He's an ass."
"He wasn't always one. And a friend of Jake's is a friend of ours."
"Well, I think it was nice of Y/N to invite Bella. Make yourself at home Bella, the guys shouldn't be back for a while so it's just us girls. Right now we're just talking but later we're baking!" Emily clapped.
"Ok." Bella squeaked out.
"I don't think we've met. I'm Kim." She introduced herself.
"Bella." She said and waved.
"Well sit down, come on." Emily waved her over. "You ok if we still talk about.."
"Of course! As long as you promise not to tell the guys." Y/N put on her best serious face and looked Bella dead in her eyes.
"I barely talk to them."
"You can't tell Jacob."
"I won't tell Jacob."
"Ok..well I'm pregnant, the baby is Paul's and I haven't told him yet."
"Omg. Congratulations."
"Thank you! I'm kinda in this adrenaline thing right now and I'm hoping it won't wear off by the time Paul gets here." The girls giggled.
"So. Boys!" Emily exclaimed. "Jared?"
"We're really good. He's the greatest. The other day he tried to make me breakfast in bed, he got up really early, my parents were out of town, word of advice Em, never and I mean ever let Jared in the kitchen. It was sweet though he brought me fried eggs and bacon, only all of it was black." Kim laughed at the memory. "And I have a burnt spot on the wall in my kitchen, he still won't tell me what happened."
"He's such a klutz."
"But he makes it so adorable!"
The girls laughed at how in love she was.
"I already told y'all all my boy struggles." Y/N threw her hands up. "What about Sam?" She wiggled her eyebrows, causing the girls to let out giggles.
"Sam is..." Emily let out a sigh, "Sam is perfect. The wedding is soon, as you all know. But enough about me I wanna know about your love life Leah. Oh, and Bella would you like anything to drink, we've got wine and water, sorry not much."
"I'm good. Thank you." Bella muttered, still awkward.
"Leahhhh. Love life. Go." Emily may be a little tipsy.
"Can't talk about something that's non-existent."
"Leah don't lie. We're all friends here." Y/N blurted out.
"Fine. I did meet this girl....but that's all I'm saying!"
Emily and Kim let out pouts while Y/N laughed, maybe letting them have wine was a bad idea.
"You." Emily pointed at Bella.
"Me?" Bella questioned.
"Yes. How's your vamp?"
"Oh, um- he's nice, I guess."
"No. I need more than nice."
"He's really good at dancing." Bella shrugged.
"I need more." Emily begged.
Maybe Bella should of said yes to that wine.
***
It had been a good four hours and 4 out of 5 of the girls were more than tipsy. The 5th one just laughing her ass off at her friends.
The guys were in for a surprise when they came in. There was flour everywhere. In places where flour shouldn't be.
The girls were sitting in a circle in the kitchen, giggling, waiting on their cookies and brownies and muffins to be done. They got a little over board.
Then the door opened and the girls went silent. Sam walked through the door to be met with flour and baking ingredients all over the table and counters, along with 3 empty bottles of wine. He could hear whispers in the kitchen.
"Maybe if we stay really quiet they won't realize we're here." Emily whispered. The other girls giggling. "Shhhhh."
Sam peered over into the kitchen, watching the five girls huddle down, not noticing he was there. Hearing the guys he quieted them letting them look.
Emily peered up seeing the guys watch them causing her to squeak and the other girls to look up.
Each guy had an amused look on his face, watching the girls.
"Welp, grab one." Sam called.
Sam scooped Emily up into his arms, causing her to let out of squeal.
Jared did the same to Kim, and Jacob to Bella. Seth grabbed his sister, and Paul grabbed Y/N.
"Paul, wait, I have to tell you something" Y/N said. "I'm not drunk. I can't even drink."
He took the girl and sat her down outside. She stood in front of him, and he gave her a look to continue.
Hearing loud noises coming from the house, they both looked over only to see all four girls watching them with wide grins on their faces.
"What is happening?" Paul asked, with a confused smile.
In the background you could hear the girls screaming with excitement.
"Here goes nothing. Paul..."
"Yes."
"I'm pregnant."
Paul's face was pure shock, all the girls in the background screaming and cheering.
"We're gonna have a baby?"
"Yeah. We're gonna have a baby. It's why I've been getting bigger, as Jacob so kindly reminds me."
"I'll kill him if you want me to."
"I know you would."
"I have a question."
"Shoot."
"Why is the leech lover here?"
"I invited her. She's actually really nice. I get why Jacob likes her."
"I can't believe we're going to have a baby."
"Me neither."
"I love you so much."
"I love you too."
#twilight#twilight imagine#twilight imagines#the twilight saga#the twilight series#new moon#paul lahote#paul lahote fanfiction#paul lahote fic#paul lahote imagine#paul lahote imagines#paul lahote x reader#paul lahote x y/n#pregnant#werewolves#vampires#jacob black#bella swan#wolf pack imagines#wolf pack#angst#twilight angst#paul lahote angst
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how do you think svt would subtly let you know they have feelings for you? 🥺🫣 or how they’d confess?
first of all, my sincere apologies for taking a year to answer this… but a couple nights ago i woke up at 2am, scrolled through my requests, and yours ended up inspiring these voicemails. thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy 🖤
thank you @un-love for helping me assign these🫶🫶🫶🫶
voicemails seventeen leave you, hinting feelings
seungcheol: “hey…a lot was said last night…it’s important that you know how proud of you i am for opening up to me. it’s just…you have to know that… my home is yours for however long you need. there are clean sheets on the guest bed, but i know you prefer my mattress…we can switch- i just want you to be comfortable, not to worry about anything, ok? i hope i see you when i get home tonight. or if you want me to meet you at his—yours, i’d be happy to.”
jeonghan: “hey, are you ok? you looked upset last night, and i tried to show i noticed without… showing i noticed. you left earlier than i expected with lia, so i didn’t get a chance to ask. then hoshi was fucking wasted, so i was trying to get him home in one piece. let me know, please.”
joshua: “morning, let me know what time you’d like to leave tonight. the party starts at 8, but i don’t think it’s really going to start until 8:30. we could get dinner before if you want? and it’s ok if you forget a cardigan. now i keep one in my car in case we end up on a balcony.”
jun: “you’re probably freaking out, but your laptop is here. it’s fully charged. i can bring it to you. i know you have classes friday afternoon… if you use your ipad instead, come over after. i’ll make you dinner.”
soonyoung: “at this point, i need to keep your grocery store list on my notes app or something. it doesn’t matter where i am or what grocery store i find myself inside, i’m immediately wondering what you need. i end up getting things i know you’ll like… tampons too and those pads with the wings. i started keeping them in different bags i use because i never know which one i’ll have when i see you. i know it’s silly because you always have something with you just in case, but… i don’t know. i don’t want to be completely helpless. now i feel bad for my sister. is that weird? i never did this for her. i should have. i hope her boyfriend does.”
wonwoo: “i think you’re asleep, but i wanted to remind you to take another dosage of pain medicine when you wake up. it’s been twelve hours, and i know how forgetful you can get in that post-sleep haze.”
jihoon: “it’s so sunny here. i’m sending some to you for your birthday. missing your birthday… how the hell did that end up happening? i’m definitely not incredibly upset about it either… happy birthday. tell me all about your day when you get this. if i don’t answer, leave a detail in your voicemail” *whisper sings happy birthday*.
seokmin: “hey you. so i’m at the cafe, and i ordered a chai latte for you before realizing i didn’t know how much longer you’ll be. if it’s cold by the time you get here, i’ll order you another or see if they have a microwave. i think some customers are staring me down because i’m a single man occupying a table. please hurry. kindly. i say that so kindly.”
mingyu: “is it absolutely ridiculous to believe you… some part of you manifests in willow trees? i think of you, and i see one. it’s happened too many times to be a coincidence, even in other countries. i’ve taken pictures, so you have to believe me.”
minghao: “—you have to come with me next time.”
seungkwan: “do you want to be my date to my sister’s wedding? it’s not a big deal. i mean, it is, but i know how anxious you can get about things like this, so i want you to know it’s not a big deal… did you believe that for a second?”
hansol: “there’s going to be an indoor pop-up market two blocks from your apartment on saturday. i took a picture of the flyer through the car window, but it came out all blurry, and i’m running late for a schedule. this is a reminder for myself to make sure the details reach you. i also want to go with you if you decide to go… if you can go.”
chan: “can we change our friday night plans to saturday? i’m so sorry. my mom has an appointment, and i offered to drive her before my brain caught up and realized the day and time she’s scheduled. i don’t think i’ll make it back early enough, and i don’t want to leave her either, you know? she’s having a little procedure done. i want to be around just in case… because i’m worried about it. i didn’t think i’d be this worried. call me when you get this.”
bonus: “i’m around the corner from your place, and i have the tokyo hoodie with me. it’s your week, it’s freshly washed, so let me know if you’re home. i’ll drop it off.”
#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reactions#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen blurbs#seventeen drabbles#seungcheol scenarios#jeonghan scenarios#joshua scenarios#jun scenarios#soonyoung scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#jihoon scenarios#seokmin scenarios#mingyu scenarios#minghao scenarios#seungkwan scenarios#hansol scenarios#chan scenarios
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heart, body, soul
cowboy like me chapter thirteen
surprise! happy friday eve. here's some cowboy to get you through it.
life has been a little tough on me lately. sorry for the terribly long wait. but the end is in sight, dear readers. tighten the stampede string on your hats. we're coming in to land.
pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader
summary: you and joel are at an impasse. you resolve it the only way you know how
warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, alcohol consumption, mention of dr*g use, titty appreciation, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, major fluff, major angst
word count: 14.4k (y’all ask. mother macfrog delivers)
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡
You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.”
His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says –
“I don’t want nobody else.”
And that’s a thing. A great big, terrible thing.
It’s been a week since you last saw Joel. Blurred, tilting, pulling to-and-fro across your vision. A week since you last heard him; his low voice like the hum of an electric wire, tired acoustics drumming weakly through his chest into your heavy hand, laced through his own. Fingers draped softly across his swollen knuckles. You wonder if they’re still marked seven days later.
A week since you felt him. Felt your body lean towards him – gravity or dizziness or something stronger – as his weight dipped into the bed beside you. The way it has only a handful of times now, but enough to score it deep into your memory. Enough that you know the difference between him and anyone else, even with your eyes closed and your heart bleeding.
Enough to ensure that, for as long as you live, you’ll know and see each difference between him and every other person you ever meet. They won’t lower their head the way he does, or lift the corners of their mouth like him. Your name won’t sound the same, won’t sound as complete, coming from someone else’s mouth. Your body won’t magnetize to anyone, the way it does to him.
And that’s fine. The separation. The fact that he was a fleeting moment. The fact that it was over before you felt it leave, before you heard the door close behind it. It’s fucking fine.
Still, you let it hurt a while. Just a little while.
The gash on your calf has healed up, your hangover had subsided by Saturday evening. But your chest still feels tight, your hands are still restless. You lie awake staring at the ceiling, surrounded by the clothes you have of his; breathing in the ghost of his scent and breathing out pathetic, aching sighs. He’s all you smell, all you touch.
Except – he’s not anymore, is he? He saw to that well enough.
So you let it hurt. And you think you can just about make do with that.
“Hey, hon,” you dad gently calls, hanging on your doorframe. Your room is dark, drapes closed, the only light source the white light from your laptop.
“Hi,” you reply, with a break in your voice. Your eyes don’t lift from the screen. Jim just told Pam he’s in love with her, but she’s engaged to Roy. But she really loves Jim, she just won’t admit it. It’s cathartic, okay?
Dad steps into the room and awkwardly stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. “Awfully, uh…awfully quiet lately, hm? Everything okay?”
“Fine. Everything’s fine.”
It’s not a lie. You are fine. You’re so fine, you’re actually numb to it.
The problem is that for the last few weeks, you’ve been more than fine. The best you’ve felt in months – maybe even years. The most you’ve smiled, the hardest you’ve laughed. The warmest the blood has ever run through your veins.
And then you’re just – fine again. Back to nothing.
He shuffles between feet. Stares at the floor, where his shadow sprouts from his toes. “I was gonna head into town, grab a few things. You wanna come? Sit in the car with a book, maybe?”
“I’m good, Dad. Thanks.”
“Sure? Whatcha watchin’?”
“The Office.”
He nods. “Right, right. I, uh, I was thinkin’ of askin’ Joel and Sarah over for dinner tonight. You always have fun when they’re around. You and Sarah could spend some time together, y’know?”
Your heart nosedives straight from your chest into your stomach. The thought of seeing him again, this time crystal clear and not while under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or worse, sinks its sharp claws into your shoulders and sinks you deep underwater. His voice gets lost somewhere in the space between you. And when you finally come back up for air, back into the room, you gulp back whatever string of senseless words your empty chest initially offered up.
“Hm…” You pretend to consider the thought, then head straight for passive. “Whatever. Sure.”
Your dad’s mouth opens to respond, and you cut in again.
“I’m kinda tired,” you say, yawning. Trying to make him leave.
He’s not great at taking hints. “Kiddo, I am really worried about you. Weren’t you s’posed to be working this mornin’?”
“You ain’t gotta worry about me. I’m just a little tired, is all. Wasn’t feeling up to restocking tools and dealing hardwood to your buddies.”
It’s only the second truth you’ve told him since he set foot in your room. You never feel much like work, not Sal’s-fucking-Hardware-kinda work, anyway. But the thought of standing for seven hours with a bared-teeth grin plastered on your face, hands blistering from tearing open box after box of stock, shoulder slowly coming up in a bruise from the number of customers tapping on it…you figured Sal could do without you for one fucking day.
“You wanna look some more at other jobs?” Dad asks, and finally you look up. The blurry, luminous silhouette of Jim and Pam is strung in the dim air before him.
You shake your head. “Not right now. I have some bookmarked I can show you later.”
He takes a deep breath, unsure of which angle to come at you from next. Finally, with an air of resignation and defeat, he settles for, “You know where I am if you need me,” and closes your door as he leaves.
You’re staring intensely at the face of every character onscreen. The pixels burn into your eyes. You’re trying harder than anything to get him out of your head. It’s not working.
His hand through yours, his arms around you – warm, safe, protective; the way he smelled, sweet like whiskey, sharp like pine; the way he’d mumble, lips against your head, sweet nothings pressed into your hair; the feeling of his lips on yours, hungry for something only you knew how to give him. The look in his eyes, tender, knowing, loving.
And because he was the only other person fluent in your little secret language – a look, a nod, a tug at the corners of his mouth. His eyes settling on yours only for a nanosecond, one tiny moment in time laced with a thousand words that you translated as quickly as his glance moved across you. It all meant something. It all meant so fucking much.
All of it. You feel all of it as it sinks through your skin, through bone and into your brain. As it curls around your ribcage, holds tight around your heart. Every thought and feeling that flutters through on full display for him to read. And you’d let him, because it’s him. You trusted him. You – you might’ve even –
I mean, what the fuck, right? When the fuck did this happen?
Joel Miller. Joel fucking Miller.
Is this what you thought would happen that very first time you looked at him differently? Tidying up after pizza, leaning into you, telling you you’re nothin’ but trouble? Did he know then, that this was where you were headed?
Did you?
Your phone buzzes. You glance down at it through your tears.
Sarah: wtf is going on ???
You craft a reply as nonchalant as you can manage. Three little letters.
You: Wym?
Sarah: are u good??
You: Yeah lol. Why wouldn’t I be good
Sarah: idfk. weird. my dad’s on the phone to yours rn
That’s great. That’s just fucking great. He’s probably telling Joel right this second how miserable you are. That’s all you need.
You want to hold onto your pride, keep an air of casualness about you impermeable to even Sarah – but you desperately want to know what’s being said. What she’s listening to him say.
You: Yeah? What are they talking about?
Sarah: well now it’s just some andrew guy
Sarah: sounds like a loser
Sarah: we’re coming over for dinner tonight btw
You: Nice. See ya then
Sarah: u wanna come over here before? we can watch love island
You: I’m good. Gonna go for a nap
Sarah: you can nap here. come over!!!
You bury the phone under your pillow without replying. Sarah is like Joel in many ways, but her persistent nature is one avenue in which they drastically differ. Joel would – and has – give you space, let you mope; Sarah will probably text you all afternoon until she’s on your doorstep, takeout in one hand and a telling in the other.
So you drag your phone back out and put it on Do Not Disturb mode. She’s already sent two more texts since her last.
Sarah: seriously. would you come the fuck over. im only on episode 5 i gotta catch up
Sarah: even my dad is worried about you
Yeah. Good one, Joel. Fuckin’ asshole.
----------
They arrive at six on the dot, armed with pizza and a crate of beer. The doorbell rings once, you lean over a degree to glance down the hallway, and Sarah’s stepping over the threshold, her shadow of a father at her heels.
He’s rugged. Hair amok. He kinda looks a mess, sorta looks how you want him to after almost two weeks of no you. But he’s here. He’s right in front of you. And this time, the shape of him isn’t swimming across your glassy eyes.
Your heart swells with relief to see him again, only until it twinges from the wound that he caused, and it hurts all over again. You turn back in your stool to face the kitchen island, making some noncommittal noise when Sarah’s hand presses between your shoulder blades in greeting.
“Tyrique and Ella are kinda cute, but I don’t trust him. Dude’s gonna fuck her over for sure,” she mutters, shoving the box over the counter towards your dad, who accepts the beer from Joel with a pat on his arm.
He’s standing across the kitchen – Joel – as far as he can get from you. You’re sure his eyes haven’t lifted from the floor yet. But you scan him all over, from the loose collar of his shirt down to the cuffs, rolled halfway up his forearms; from the rough hair of his beard down to the soft tufts decorating the skin just below his clavicle.
You scan him all over. The body you know just as well with the flannel and jeans over it as you do without them. The body you’ve squeezed, and scratched, and bit and kissed – and the same one you’ve thrown curses and insults at as it follows you through his house.
If he looked you dead in the eye right now, you’re not sure you could look away. You’re not sure you could stop.
That is, until Sarah presses a chilled beer to your arm, startling you, and silently nods towards the dining table.
She sits on your right, opposite your dad’s seat. She resumes chittering about Love Island. Joel and your dad are still in the kitchen, stacking plates, cracking the caps off their drinks. And then he pushes off the counter, and slowly wanders over.
You watch his every move. Study him, like you’re about to be tested on it. Which foot he steps forward with – always his left – and which chair he’ll pick once he’s at the table – the one opposite you, ‘cause it faces the TV for when he and your dad watch baseball while eating.
Two for two.
He lifts the chair, pulls it back, and angles it to face Sarah’s. He places his beer gently on the mat. When he sits, he doesn’t pull in any closer. Doesn’t risk your legs crossing paths under the table. You pull your knees up, let your shins rest against the wooden ledge. Your dad takes Joel up in conversation.
“So, this Andrew. He’s the brains of the operation?”
The pizza is slowly pulled apart over the course of an excruciating hour-long meal. Sarah puts the next episode of Love Island on while you eat, points out her favorite couples and nudges you to ask your opinion on the girls’ outfits.
“Wouldn’t have gone with those heels,” she mutters, chewing, pointing with her pizza crust to some six-inch ankle-breakers.
You lean past her shoulder every now and then to pretend you’re as engaged as she is. Pretend you’re listening. Your left ear is tuned into the conversation happening across the table.
Your dad thinks Andrew Curtis is fucking hilarious. Hoots with laughter when Joel tells him about his untucked button up. Says, Oh, jeepers, when he hears about the way the guy tripped jumping down from his truck.
The storyteller doesn’t sound so lively opposite. Your dad’s slapping his thigh with laughter. Joel’s shoulders are jerking at best. You dare a glance at him, and he’s already facing your direction. He turns away before your eye reaches his chest.
Soon, the episode ends. The atmosphere dies arm in arm with your dad’s attempt at another conversation. There’s a thick silence between the four of you. You haven’t opened your mouth the entire meal, but even if you did, the tension would clamp its heavy hand over your lips, blocking any words from making their way out of your windpipe.
Sarah clears her throat, manages a tentative, “I –” and then the phone rings, piercing through the awkward mist like a bolt of lightning.
Your dad pushes himself up and trots over, grabbing the handset a little too hastily. “Hello? Oh, hi, Rita. Hi. Yeah. Yep, Joel’s – Sarah? She’s here, yep.”
Sarah’s head drops, hand gripping her glass frozen in mid-air. “Fuck,” she whispers, and Joel shoots her a look across the table.
“She’s – oh, yeah? Well, let me ask ‘er.” Your dad covers the bottom of the handset with a huge palm. “Rita has some…cross –”
“Cross stitch, yeah, I know,” Sarah says, and thuds her glass down. “I said I’d help her out with it. I bet she’s seen your damn truck across the street!” She jabs a furious finger at her dad.
Joel shrugs. “Ain’t my fault the woman has eyes.”
Your body jerks as if to laugh. You don’t catch it in time. He notices.
“She’s on her way over, Rita,” your dad continues, nervously smiling at Sarah as she pulls her jacket over her shoulder. “She’s – oh, sure, I’ll let her know. Alright, now. Bye, Rita, bye. You’ve to bring your glasses. ‘pparently the pattern’s pretty small. You even wear glasses?”
She huffs in response. “I’m gonna be there all damn night. I’ll just get you at home.”
Joel opens his mouth to protest, goes to warn her that she ain’t walkin’ home alone in the damn dark, but your dad holds his hand out.
“We’ll give you a ride home. You come back here once you’re done.”
She nods gratefully and struts off down the hallway. The door slams shut behind her.
Your dad lightly chuckles, sauntering back over to his seat. “And then there were three…” he says, sitting back down.
But the loss of Sarah only cranes the spotlight over to you. Only you. No one else to split it with. No one else to lend it to. You can feel your dad’s eyes on you, waiting for you to make a move, some song and dance for your company.
He lifts his beer to his lips. Nods to you. Makes a song and dance of his fucking own, when he says, “Guess who’s been lookin’ at grad jobs?”
Joel stares at him for a second, like he’s waiting for your dad to reveal who it is he means. Like it can’t possibly be the only she in the room. His thumbs tap around his own bottle. “Oh – yeah?” he stammers, and throws a haphazard glance in your direction. He seems to mean to address you.
You sit forward, choke out a, “Yeah, uh – it’s – well. Kinda.”
“Film?” he asks, and you hear the rest of the question in the tone of his voice. Somethin’ you like, ‘n not just your dad’s suggestion?
You nod, but he’s not looking. He’s studying the label of his beer.
“Film,” your dad confirms. “Shut me the hell up, didn’t she? Came downstairs with her laptop the other night. Where is it, kiddo – New York?”
Your breath catches. The answer cowers at the back of your mouth, terrified to show itself. You force it forward.
“LA.”
Joel’s eyebrows lift.
“I said she might be better goin’ back to school. Reapply for next year, right?” Dad looks to you, and your lips pull in an awkward smile. “…but she didn’t wanna wait around. Told you the other day – this place is like prison.”
He chuckles, but Joel isn’t laughing. He’s staring at his beer, his brows slowly lowering from arched and curious to dark and furrowed. And you want to reach for his hand, want to shoo your dad off and spill your guts to his best friend. Want to explain yourself, show him the webpages and application forms you’ve spent the last few days surfing through – want to justify yourself to him.
But so long as your father is sat here, bumbling to himself about the prices of college courses these days – none of that happens. You simply sit in a stalemate opposite one another – a million thoughts racing through your head, a million and one racing through Joel’s.
“…might change her mind, but who knows? She’s skittish, this one, she –”
Another bleating ringtone cuts what you’re sure would’ve been an endearing compliment short. You say a silent prayer of gratitude for whoever’s at the other end of the line. Your dad sighs and heaves himself up again, swiping the phone from the kitchen counter.
“Hello? Hi, hi, Richard. No, I’m not – well, it’s – sure, sure. What’s –?”
His head falls in much the same way Sarah’s did ten minutes ago. He sighs.
“Right. No, that’s quite alright. I can be there in ten. Yep. Alright. See you in a – hello?”
He drops the phone back into its cradle and runs a hand down the back of his neck, growling.
“Kelman?” Joel asks, jaw turning to his shoulder.
“You bet. Misplaced the damn keys for his site. You two alright if I head on over there ‘n lock up for ‘im?”
“He familiar with Andrew Curtis at all?” Joel quips, and then waves your dad off. “Go on. I’ll be outta your hair by the time you get back.”
In a frenzied blur, your dad’s tying his laces, grabbing his keys, tossing a jacket over his shoulders. He apologizes a total of four times to Joel, thanks him for dinner, promises he’ll pay him back next time he sees him. And then he’s jogging off to the front door, and taking every ounce of comfortability with him.
And then there were two.
You slouch back in your chair, listening through the silence as your dad’s car engine fades down the street. When the quiet humming disappears, Joel’s head turns back to face you.
You’re alone again. For the first time in a week. This is the closest you’ve felt him, even separated by the dining table and a fog of conversation that you have no idea how to begin clearing. There’s more weight to the silence between you than words could ever bear, you know that much. More to be communicated between your eyes than your tongues know the language of. But still, you can see him through it.
Like a lighthouse, shining bright and beckoning you to the shoreline. You can feel him again, as if there’s an electric pulse radiating off of him. And you feel drawn in, like you always do; feel that magnetic pull in your chest, only ever satiated by the meeting of Joel’s.
You shift in your seat. His eyes flit up. Your heart jumps, like it’s a sign he’s really still in there. And then they drop back to his lap, and your chest sews itself back together.
Your eyes start to burn with fast-forming tears. Your throat tightens, tightens, tightens, pushing them higher and higher until they pool across your waterline. Blinking doesn’t help, just drops them onto your cheeks, to be quickly swept away by the sleeve of your hoodie.
All you want is for him to look you in the eye, whisper, C’mere, baby, scoop you up and hold you in his arms forever. Fuck everything you said about the distance being good. That was when he was in his house, and you were in yours. He’s here, right now. He’s sat across from you. You’re finally on your own again. And he’s not fucking looking at you.
You let your legs down and sit up straight in your chair. It’s small, but it feels like a necessary step to silently tell him that you’re in the room with him. You’re here.
It lifts his eyes again. Not to you, but to your empty plate. Then, to the wet stain on your sleeve. You hope it stabs his heart a little.
From the shaky breath he sucks in, it seems to hurt just enough. He clears his throat. Pulls his gaze higher, higher, a little higher, until you’re eye to eye.
A wave of feeling, either burning hot or freezing cold – you can’t tell the difference – stretches across your body. It’s unnerving, and yet calming. It’s soothing on your wound, and irritating all the same. He’s looking at you. You wonder if he can see you.
You stare at one another for a few moments, drinking it all in. You can see him clear as day. You can almost see the shadows of his thoughts as they dance across the frosted-glass windows of his hazel eyes.
He blinks. Breathes in deep through his nose. And then speaks.
“LA, huh?”
You scoff. You don’t fucking mean to, but it’s the opposite of what you expected – and kind of wanted – him to say. Your whole body relaxes, though – finally relieved of the tension of the last seven days, even if only for a moment.
You feel lighter, like someone kicked the door down and this is the first gulp of clean air in your lungs. It’s small, insignificant even, but it does what it needs to.
Which is – it gives you the energy to answer back.
“It’s not a concrete plan. Yet.”
“Yet,” he repeats.
“I’m not running from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Get your head out of your ass.”
He wants to laugh. He should’ve expected it.
“I didn’t say anythin’. I think…I think it sounds like a good plan. ‘n you’d be close by to Sarah, so.”
This conversation feels like you’ve been left alone for ten minutes with your dad’s buddy. Sanitized. Surgical. Which would’ve been what it was little over a month ago, but it’s not now. Now, it’s totally different. There’s more than just that one neat string between you.
You’ve held his hand. You’ve kissed him. You’ve touched him, in ways you’ve only ever touched a handful of people. And even then – none of those times have been anything like the way you’ve touched Joel. You’ve tasted him, you’ve felt him as he climaxes somewhere deep inside you. You’ve pulled him into your body, over and over; you’ve let him have you in ways nobody else has.
There exists a complicated, messy web of history and emotion, woven tight between you. The weight of it bears down on the surface of the dining table.
And he’s talking to you about fucking grad jobs.
“Could you just – stop fucking with me?” you ask, sincerely. You’re not angry, you’re not hurt. Not anymore.
Joel lifts his chin. Studies your face. “I’m not fucking with you.”
“Yes, you are. You’re talking to me about some job, like there’s nothing else to talk about. Like there ain’t nothin’ else we might have to discuss.”
His response is resigned. Bored, even. “What else do you wanna discuss?”
You narrow your eyes. “Oh, um, I don’t fucking know. Last week?”
Joel takes a swig of beer. You take it as reply enough.
“I don’t have any clue where you’re at, Joel. You pick me up from Frank’s, beat a dude up for me, put me to bed, ‘n then when I wake up, you’re gone. Oh, but you left your fuckin’ shirt. By accident? Or for me? Who the fuck am I to know?”
He holds back a smile. “I had work.”
“Right,” you nod, “Andrew Curtis.”
“That guy’s an idiot. You’d probably like ‘im.”
“I bet. I’m fond of idiots, apparently.”
This time, he can’t hold it back. A smirk spreads across his lips, soft and shy, but there. Right there. You could reach out and fucking touch it.
And then he nods. Leans back in his chair, folds his arms, and nods. The smile begins to fade.
With it, goes the breathing space between you. The fog starts to thicken again. The web tightens some more. Your chest begins to ache. Things feel normal for all of two minutes, and then they’re back to awkward air so heavy that you can feel it on your shoulders, feel it forcing you into a slump in your chair.
This whole thing is built on lies. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. The only truth there has ever been has been between the two of you. Two lonely figures, wrapped in each other’s arms in the eye of a storm. So –
Fuck it.
You sniff. “I thought – that the most we were risking was my dad. I thought the worst that could happen was him findin’ out.”
Your voice is quiet. Unsure of itself. One word carrying you to the next, not totally sure where you’re going with it.
“I didn’t know I was risking losing you, too, and now…now, you’re just gone. Like, you don’t wanna talk to me, you barely wanna look at me. I don’t…I don’t have you anymore, and it’s all fucked up. Do you know, I – I wouldn’ta done any of it if I thought you’d go?”
Joel flinches. Tightens the hold on his arms.
“I want you to come back,” you say, stronger this time. Louder. Clearer. You’re ignoring the tears sweeping across your vision. “Just come back. You don’t even – you don’t even have to touch me or nothin’. We can just hang out and talk, we don’t have to…we don’t have to do anything.”
Your voice wobbles by the end. Your lips tighten around it, shutting it off before you can say anything more to embarrass yourself.
Joel’s still quiet. He watches wordlessly as you stand, pile the plates atop one another and make for the kitchen. As you place them gently into the sink, you feel the weight of him behind you, reaching over to set the bottles alongside them.
“I ain’t gone anywhere,” he murmurs, and you twist to face him.
“Joel. This is the most we’ve touched in two weeks. Putting dishes in the sink.”
He repeats himself. Adds, “I’m still here. I still care about you.”
You shrug. “Then – show me.”
He steps back. “Show you,” he scoffs. Your expression doesn’t shift. “Show you? Like I didn’t just almost break my damn knuckles defendin’ you? Take you home in the dead a’ night, deal with all your drunk bickerin’?”
Your head tilts. He’s right. But you want more than that. More than spitting threats and leaving flannels behind. You want his hands, and his lips, and his voice. You want –
“…Lord, mighty me.”
Your dad’s voice follows the sudden jolt of the front door opening. You and Joel are already five feet apart by the time his body appears around the corner, one hand leaning on the wall, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.
“How on Earth that man has his own construction company, I have no idea. Called me halfway to the site ‘n said he found the keys in his damn pocket.”
“Always the scatterbrains,” Joel says, leaning casually against the counter.
“Sure is. You ‘n me oughta start our own, show ‘em all how it’s done. Anyways. What’d I miss?”
Before you can answer, Joel’s speaking again. He sounds in a hurry. “Just tidyin’ up. We were talkin’ about graduate programs, actually. You know what,” he turns to you, “I’m sure Sarah has some old brochures from UCLA. Might have some stuff worth checkin’ out. You wanna come get ‘em?”
It takes a second for you to realize he’s talking to you. His eyebrows are arched, his thumb pointing over his shoulder. He came up with the lie so damn quick, you have whiplash.
“I – yeah, sure. Yeah.”
Your dad runs his tongue between his teeth. “UCLA. Huh. Well, don’t keep Joel too late.”
“I w…I won’t,” you reply, following at the heels of the swaggering figure towards the door. You dodge his eye contact and dip your head behind Joel’s shoulder, thankful for his protective stance in front of you.
Your dad doesn’t say anything more – instead, he stands back and lets Joel lead you out. You steal a glance back at him as you slip through the door. His face unreadable, his eyes stick on Joel; locked tight on the flannel wandering down the driveway ahead of you. The word loops in your head as though the phone’s ringing again. Guilty guilty guilty guilty guilt–
But then the night breeze is dancing across your cheeks, and you’re following at the heels of Joel again, and you feel light as air in the wake of him. You climb into the passenger side of the truck and watch as he settles alongside you with a sigh. He pulls out of the drive, and his right hand sits idly on his thigh. You think to take it. Joel reads your mind.
He sits it on the armrest between you, palm facing up. You stare straight ahead and let your fingers slip through his. He knots your bodies together, thumb rubbing gently on your knuckle.
Another pound of weight lifts from your shoulders.
----------
Joel drives for twenty minutes before pulling up in an empty parking lot across from a church. It’s pitch-black and deserted. There’s a single streetlight over by the corner, illuminating a trashcan and not much else. You’re shrouded in darkness, save for the soft glow from the lights on the dash.
He switches the engine off and sits back in his seat. Your hands are separated. The distance between you slowly starts to grow again.
“LA,” he says, for the second time tonight, staring at the ceiling of the cabin.
“LA,” you echo, staring at him.
He looks down to you. Smiles. There’s something behind it. You can’t tell what.
“It’s not a grad job,” you say, forcing something up. Your fingers are twisting around the drawstring of your hoodie. “I was lookin’ at grad stuff, but there wasn’t anything I was into. The LA thing is a six-month temp job I saw.”
Joel nods. “What’s that look like?”
“Production assistant. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”
“Mhm. Sounds like your thing.”
Your brows jump as you pull the tie around your finger. The tip turns white. “Might be. Job ad closes on Monday.”
He sucks in a breath. “Better get applyin’, then.”
Your head cocks. “So eager for me to go?”
“Eager for you to do somethin’ you love,” he corrects.
“But it would get me outta your hair.”
“I don’t want you outta my hair.”
A smirk sneaks its way across your lips. You nod to the view from the windshield. “Why are we way the hell out here?”
“Because your dad bombed our conversation, ‘n I figured we weren’t done.”
“Then talk.”
He licks his lips. Folds his arms, settles deeper into his seat. He turns a little more to face you. The single light from outside catches in his iris, like that same lighthouse beacon you could see earlier. Distant, far off, but there. Still there.
“I owe you an apology,” he says. “I…I thought what we were doin’…What I was doin’…I thought I was causing you more hurt ‘n harm than good. I was scared it’d gone too far. Scared it wasn’t okay anymore.”
“Was it ever okay?”
He shifts again, uncomfortably. In the dim light, you see his face pull. He squints, wobbles his head in consideration. “No. It wasn’t. But we did it anyways, you ‘n me. We made that decision together.”
“Right. And then you went and made the complete opposite decision, alone.”
He’s nodding. He knows. And you think you know, too. It fucking sucked, losing him – but you get it. What was the big plan? How far were you going to let it go? Someone had to pull the plug at some point. Someone had to cut the thing loose.
You lean closer to him. “I just…I wish you’d let me fight back a little. Wish you’d heard me out more. I know what we’ve done isn’t right. I know that. But I – I fucking –”
You sigh. It leaves your mouth shaky and unsure of itself.
There’s something more. Something at the back of your tongue, itching to separate into the dense space between you. Bigger. Stronger. Heavier.
“I missed you,” you concede, shaking your head. “That’s all.”
Joel’s eyes fall shut with a wince when you say it, like it physically hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. But he’s clearer, now – the fog is slowly shrinking away. The words behind his eyes seem to light them in a warm glow. Missed you too, baby.
His hand opens up on the armrest again. Yours falls into it instantly.
He clears his throat then, and says, “Also owe you an apology for – for the Lois thing. I know I should’ve explained a lot sooner, ‘n I’m sorry I had you thinkin’ what you were thinkin’. I didn’t – I didn’t know it was such a big deal to you. Thought you’d know I wouldn’t…do that.”
“I think I did,” you tell him. Your nails run up and down his fingers. “Deep down. Wasn’t so much about her as it was about me.”
“About you?”
You shrug. “Yeah. Me, us, this. It was more of a, Why wouldn’t he want someone like her?, y’know? No lying, no secrets. And she’s old, like you.”
“Easy.”
You smile. “She’s nice. I know she is. My dad went on for five whole minutes about how good you’d be together when I asked ‘im. So – why wouldn’t you wanna be with her, right?”
It’s rhetorical. Joel knows. But he answers it anyways.
“She is nice,” he agrees, “but I ain’t interested. To tell you the truth, darlin’, I was a little preoccupied worrying my ass off about you to even look twice at the woman.”
You freeze for a second. Stare at the outline of his jaw, the jagged bristles of his beard; the soft sweep of hair silhouetted by the moonlight outside. He’s still Joel – even in the darkness, even in the fog. Even when you can’t see, hear, or touch him – he’s still there. Thinking about you. Worrying about you.
“Well,” you sniff, “you don’t gotta worry anymore. I just…I didn’t like the thought of it.”
His head tilts. Beckons you to continue.
You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.”
His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says –
“I don’t want nobody else.”
And that’s a thing. A great big, terrible thing.
“But,” he continues, almost immediately, “this has gotta be – I’ve gotta do right by you. Gotta be honest, now –”
“Wait,” you interrupt, “can you just – stop acting like it’s all you?”
Joel falls quiet. His brows knit together.
“Stop saying things that make it sound like you’re the only one in this. I’m in it, too. I want it. I want you.”
“Baby, it’s not as simple as –”
“Joel,” you take his arms and pull yourself closer to him, legs propped against the center console, “I want you. This. I want us. All of it, I want all –”
Your body is being tugged closer to him, lifted nearer, and his chin bumps against yours, and his eyelashes almost brush against yours when your foreheads link, and his breath sweeps hot and needy across yours, and he – he kisses you.
You stop breathing. You don’t care whether or not it ever comes back. Oxygen replaced by him. Everything replaced by him.
His tongue slips past your lips, his hand glides across your hair to cup the back of your head. He locks you into his body, lets you rest your arms across his shoulders. Your lips find a rhythm against one another; warm, wet, tender.
His free hand cups your cheek, holds your mouth to his just a second longer, before he pulls away, and gives you one last kiss. Softest of them all. Seals the fucking deal.
“We okay?” he mumbles, and you lift your head from his palm. You sit frozen for a second, just looking at him. Looking and looking and looking.
“We’re good.”
He smiles then. A genuine smile. “I thought,” he whispers, glancing around the quiet parking lot, “I could take you on a date.”
So that’s why he brought you out here.
“A date?”
“Mhm. Never been on one, have we?”
“Never could.”
He nods in agreement. “Just ice cream. For now. Thought I’d show you some of my moves.”
“You got moves?” you snicker.
“I’m a catch, darlin’. The ladies swoon for me.”
“Alright, never say that to me again.”
Joel laughs. “There’s a place right around the corner. ‘s go.”
He climbs out of the truck and wanders off towards the sidewalk, and you follow. He looks down at you as you walk. His cheeks swell with the smile on his face, dimples at the edges of his lips.
It’s quiet; quieter than you’d expect, not that you’re complaining. With the sun almost set, you’re doused in light only when you wander under a streetlight. So, it’s no surprise when Joel’s eyes quickly scan the street up ahead, and his hand reaches down for yours.
Your stomach flips. You’re doing everything you can not to let him feel your pulse in your wrist, but you’re pretty sure you can, because he leans his shoulder against yours and asks if you’re okay.
“Good,” you choke out, relieved to have just passed a streetlight that might give away the blush on your cheeks.
Approaching on the right is a sickly-sweet, pastel-painted store front; fairy lights decorating the window, wireframe tables and chairs dotted outside. A bell dings when Joel pushes the door open, holding it open for you to step inside.
It’s…dainty. Sweet. Everything is either teal or pink or white. There’s a giant ice cream cone stood in the corner. There’s a gumball machine opposite it. The lighting is a little garish – kind of reminds you of sitting in the dentist chair, eyes squinting up at the bright white light overhead.
You’re fucking surprised to be stood in here with Joel Miller, of all people. He sticks out like a sore thumb; his worn jeans and crumpled flannel against the minty gleam of the parlor like an earthy tree sprouting in the middle of that same dentist’s office. It makes you giggle, as he leads you over to the counter.
A boy with a teal uniform meets him over a glass case full of different ice cream flavors. His name badge reads Ben. “What can I get you?” he asks, scoop in hand. Your lips press against one another to stop your laugh from escaping.
Joel turns to look at you. He nudges you with his elbow when you don’t return his glance, too focused on Ben’s pink baseball cap, the logo of the shop printed on top.
“Uh,” you consider, glancing down, “I’m good with any.”
Joel sighs, lips thinning. “Am I gonna pick a flavor, ‘n then you decide you don’t like it?”
“Nope. Promise.” You smile innocently, and he turns back to the server.
“I’ll take one scoop of the cookie dough, and, uh…one of the coffee, please.”
When Ben dips to scoop the order into two little tubs, you mock gasp at Joel.
“What?”
“Coffee?”
He shrugs.
“I took you for a vanilla man.”
Ben stands straight and punches some numbers into the cash register. Joel hands him a ten.
“What about me makes you think I’m into vanilla?” he asks in a low voice.
You bat your eyelashes at him. A dark thought crosses your mind, but you think better of voicing it and save Ben the embarrassment of potentially hearing you.
Joel thanks him and takes both tubs in one hand. You make for a booth by the window, but his hand quickly slinks around your waist, diverting you back to the door.
“Nuh-uh.”
“What?” you ask, spinning around.
Joel continues walking, backing you out of the shop. “I am not sittin’ in here. Got a fuckin’ headache already from five minutes in the place.”
“But it’s so cute,” you protest, giggling. “You don’t want your picture taken with the giant cone?”
“Get the hell out,” he mumbles, shoving you across the tiled floor back out to the sidewalk. He can’t mask his own grin, spilling out behind you, taking your hand in his.
You snort as he drags you back along the street. “Maybe I should forget about LA and get a job in there. Drive myself insane.”
“Maybe you should,” Joel agrees. “Least then you’d have an excuse for it.”
You slap his chest. “Where are we goin’?”
“’s just go back to the truck. Quieter. Less fluorescent lights.”
He unlocks it a few paces away, but you stroll past your door.
“What are you doin’?” Joel asks when you pull yourself up into the bed.
“C’mon,” you call back, settling against the back window, “it’s a nice night. Who are we hiding from?”
He tosses it over in his head and cocks one eyebrow. Fair enough. He climbs up and passes you the ice cream, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. He throws it over your bare legs and sits down beside you, grunting as he does.
You smirk when he rests back.
“I’m almost fifty, darlin’,” he warns, reaching for his tub.
Your lips curve and you nod, digging the little plastic spoon into your dessert. You stretch your legs out and cross your ankles, watching in quiet contentment as the cars roll by, squealing to a halt at the traffic lights. Lights are coming on in windows, curtains are being drawn. Joel’s legs lie against yours, joined at the hip, shoulders brushing off one another.
This is the most peace you’ve had in a fortnight. Sat in the back of his truck, no eyes on you, watching the comings and goings of some back street in the city. You talk about nothing, for the first time in what’s felt like forever. You talk about films, and music, and all the stuff that seemed so unimportant before. Now, it all feels imperative. Feels like a life-or-death thing. What’s your favorite movie? You know my favorite movie, baby. But tell me again. Just so I know for sure. Just so that – if anything happens.
You listen when he answers. You watch his mouth as he says the words. For all the times you took it for granted before. For all the times you thought it was insignificant. It’s all significant, now. It all means something. It’s just more strings to the web between you, each one knotting you closer and closer together.
And you talk about what you’ve missed. The two weeks you’ve spent apart. You catch him up as if he was only gone on vacation. As if he was always meant to come back in the end.
“The guy with the weed – same guy you punched – he was –” gulp, “– what was his name again? Knicks? No –”
Joel snorts, spoon scraping around the edge the tiny pot in his huge hand. “Knicks?”
You close your eyes, waving your hand like it’ll urge him to remember the name of a guy he took no time getting to know before he floored him. “No, it wasn’t Kn…Knox! It was Knox, and he –”
“Kind of a fuckin’ name is Knox? Knox?”
“Are you gonna let me talk, or what?” you quip, and Joel brings his wrist up to his mouth to mask his laugh.
“Sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Go ahead. Knox had the weed.”
“Knox had the weed, and…he…Fuck, I can’t even remember where I was goin’ with that.” You shake your head and lean it back against the windowpane.
He laughs. For real. A Joel laugh. His shoulders jerk with the force of it. “You were gonna tell me about his friends, I think. Somethin’ about his friends.”
It sparks back up in your brain – the memory. “Right! Right. His friends – that dude with the glasses? That was Zack.”
Joel stares at you blankly, tongue in his cheek. “Zack?”
“Big guy, red face. Buck teeth. From Costco?”
His jaw slackens. He remembers. “I fuckin’ – I knew I’d seen that kid’s face before. That was him?”
You nod. Uhuh.
“Damn.” He chuckles. “He looked at me like I was a wild bear.”
You toss your head, roll your eyes. “Well.”
He laughs again. Knocks your legs with his own.
“Good call, by the way,” your lips mumble around the shape of your spoon, “cookie dough. it’s nice.”
“Wanna try mine?”
“Really?” Your face contorts, eyes screwing. “Coffee?”
“’s good. Here.”
He holds out a spoonful.
“Yeah, nice to you, who drinks, like, thirty of ‘em a day.”
Joel responds by pushing the spoon to your lips and you oblige, opening up and letting him feed you the ice cream.
It’s not bad. It’s ice cream, it can’t be bad. But it definitely isn’t good, and the way your lips purse and your neck jerks lets Joel know exactly how you feel about it. He scoffs, wiping a little from your lips with his thumb and sucking it clean.
“You don’t like it?”
“Why is it…bitter? Eugh.”
He laughs to himself as he loads up another spoonful. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“Well, I am not interested in acquirin’ it. You want some of the cookie dough?”
He shakes his head. “You enjoy.”
You both turn back to the street ahead. Joel’s arm is warm at the side of yours, his shoulder right there for you to lean your head on.
He places a kiss to your head when you do.
“What do you think he’d do if he found out?”
You’re not sure where it comes from. Neither is Joel, apparently, from the way he clears his throat and squirms ever so slightly. He knows exactly who you mean.
“I, uh…I don’t like to imagine.”
“It scare you?”
He takes a deep breath. “Naw. I just got better things to do with my imagination, is all.” He prods your arm with his. Picturin’ you.
“Ha. You reckon he’d kill you?”
“Probably.”
“He couldn’t kill you. Wild bear.”
“Well, I reckon he might try.”
“I think he’d call the cops.”
Joel’s head lifts from yours and falls back against the truck with a laugh.
“Help, Officer,” you mimic your dad’s twang,“my grown adult daughter is sleeping with someone!”
Joel’s shoulders slowly stop moving.
“Is that all we’re doin’?” he asks.
“Huh?” You lift your head and look at him. His dark eyes reflect the city lights in the distance.
“Is that all we’re doin’? Sleepin’ together?” His voice is gentle, honest. Genuinely asking, seeking out what you think.
You consider it, tryna sound casual. You know what he’s getting at.
“That’s all we’ve been doin’. Help, Officer, my daughter’s grabbing ice cream with someone? Better?”
He hums. Looks down at the empty tub in his hands. Looks back up to your lips. Draws nearer to you, holds your chin with one finger, looks you dead in the eye, and whispers,
“How about, Help, Officer, my daughter made someone fall in love with her?”
Your breath catches. Your hands fall limp into your lap. You blink away tears.
“You – No, that’s – You gotta say it. You gotta actually tell me, ‘cause I’m not – I don’t wanna misinterpret – We haven’t –”
You’re buffering. Your brain malfunctioning. Your tongue can’t decide which of the words at the back of your throat, all desperate to escape, to let through first.
Joel’s just smiling, watching you stutter and stammer your way through a sentence that leads you nowhere, desperately trying to compute what he’s just said because he’s finally fucking admitted it. He’s finally letting you know, giving you access to a part of him he’s been keeping from you for who knows how long.
Even though all this time it’s been the one thought running through your head that hasn’t passed your lips, it reverberates around your ears like it’s the last thing you ever expected him to say.
Joel’s hand moves to your neck, just below your ear. “Baby,” his thumb rubs your skin, “you know I love you.”
A gasp flees from your lips. Your ice cream is thrown to the truck bed, probably spilling over, and you don’t care. You leap into his lap, arms around his neck, and kiss him all over.
Joel’s laughing, returning what kisses he can, squeezing you with his big hands.
“I love you,” he says again when you come up for air, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard in your life. You sit your forehead against his, whispering breathlessly,
“Fuck, I love you, too.”
You two stare at each other, eyes scanning every part of the other’s face, mapping every mark, line, scar, like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen each other.
Guess it is, right?
This is the first time you’re looking at the man you love and you’re not afraid of it. The first time your chest swells and you don’t gulp it back, the first time you let him feel your heart pounding against the wall of your chest.
It’s the first time you look into his eyes, dark eyelashes and fine lines decorating deep warm brown, and think those three words…and know you can say them. Know neither of you will be spooked, neither of you will try to push them back down where they came from.
I love you. That’s all there is between you now. Your cards are flat on the table, Joel’s, too. Game over. You know everything there is to know about each other. You know each other.
You’ve sunk down his body, turned so your back curves into his chest, his chin resting on your head. Safely encased in his body, sat between his thighs. His hand runs up and down your thigh, lighting drawing lines and circles and writing words you don’t care to guess, ‘cause you probably already know ‘em.
Love hums between the two of you, keeping you warm; your bodies pressed together, hearts beating just inches apart. You blink your eyes open and the single streetlight sails back into your vision – bright as the moon, stirring you from your tranquil bliss.
“Do you,” you turn, and Joel fixes your hair, presses his lips to your forehead, “do you tell all the girls that on the first date? Was that just one of your moves?”
He snorts, and answers by pulling you in to give you a tender kiss.
No. Just you.
“You ready to go?” he asks when your lips part.
“Mhm. Take me home, cowboy.”
----------
His house is dark against the dusky sky. The headlights illuminate the garage door as he pulls up in the drive, squeezing your hand once as the truck comes to a halt.
“And then…” Joel says, holding a finger up to you. Wait right here.
He gets out of the driver’s side and you watch the shadow of him jog around the truck, stopping at your door. He opens it, and holds a hand out for you to take.
You choke on a laugh. “That is…”
“That is what?”
“…so cheesy. You really do that?”
“Uhuh. C’mon.”
Your fingers lace through his and you hop out of the truck. Joel shuts the door behind you and extends his elbow, and you link your arm through his. His hand warmly rests on top of yours.
You both wander over to his porch where he stops, letting you walk up the steps alone. When you reach the top one, only just taller than him on the path, hands still interlinked, you look down.
“Then I say, Thank you for a lovely evenin’, and,” he lifts your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “then…” Joel holds his arms out. Voila. Just like that.
“Wow. I feel…honored.”
“You should.”
“Not even a proper kiss?”
“I just kissed your hand, baby. You didn’t like that?”
“You don’t ask to come inside?”
He scoffs. “Nope. What would I want to come inside for?”
You grin. Shrug your shoulders. Start walking backward to his door.
“Well, I am exhausted after our date, Mr. Miller. I do think,” yawn, “I should be gettin’ ready for bed.”
Joel lowers his head, eyes trained on you, smirk growing on his lips. “Is that so?”
You nod.
He starts to climb the steps.
“I’m sure I’ll be expectin’ a call from you,” you mewl, exaggerated Southern accent crooning to him. Your back bumps against the front door. Joel’s on the porch now. You bite your lip.
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he returns, his shadow creeping over you. He reaches your body and his arms come to rest on the frame right above your head.
You hook your hands around his shoulders.
“You really don’t wanna come in?” you whisper, and his jaw ticks.
“I wouldn’t want to be ungentlemanly.”
Leaning in, lips against his ear, you whisper soft enough to shake the breath as it falls from his lips.
“And what if I asked you, nicely, to take me inside and fuck me good ‘n hard until I can’t walk?”
Joel’s eyes pool black when you lean away, head resting back on his door. Your gaze is heavy with lust, eyelashes batting slowly.
“Hm,” he grumbles, body beginning to press against yours. His head cocks. “You don’t wanna be treated like a lady?”
“Nope.” You smirk, hand falling down to cup the bulge quickly forming below his belt.
“Want to be treated like a fuckin’ whore, do ya?”
Chest heaving, you nod, massaging him.
“So dirty, darlin’, feelin’ your date up on the porch,” he tells you, dipping his jaw to run his lips along your neck. “What ‘m I gonna do with you?”
You shrug again, and your fingers find the door handle at your hip. You push, and the wood behind you falls inward.
As you plunge into the dark house, Joel’s rough hands clamp down on your waist, taking you in his tight grip and throwing you against the wall. His lips find your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin, tongue caressing tenderly as he sucks a bruise into you. Heat spreads across your core. You clench your thighs around the feeling.
“Joel,” you whine, hands surfing through his hair. “Fuck, take me upstairs.”
He hums. He’s going to. He’s just not doing it quick enough.
You lift your leg to his hip, and his left hand scoops under your ass. He pulls your center flat against the swelling in his jeans, ruts slowly against your body. You hear a deep groan from his throat.
“Upstairs,” you say again, growing impatient, and he growls, taking you with both hands and lifting you two steps at a time towards his bedroom.
He kicks the door open, loosening his grip on you as he walks over to the bed. Light streams across the room in splinters, peering through the shades from the streetlights outside. Your legs drop and you dance along on your toes, turning him midway until his calves hit the bottom of his mattress.
Your lips part for mere seconds, allowing one reflected expression between you, before you’re pushing him by the chest onto the bed. His body springs when he hits the sheets, staring back up at yours between his legs. His breath courses from his mouth, thick with want and need.
You lay him flat on the mattress, knees either side of his waist, hands curved over his shoulders. His own find your waist, holding on tight as you straddle him, playing with the tie of your shorts when you settle.
You dip your head and brush your lips against his. One long, sweet kiss, and his hands are at the hem of your hoodie, pulling it free, lifting it over your head. You groan as it separates your bodies, let your tongue find his again as quickly as it was pulled apart from it.
“Let me see,” he whispers against your lips, hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts to rub circles into your hipbones.
You smile as you straighten, fingers dancing along the hem of your tee.
“Let me – see,” Joel grunts, when your core grinds into his.
You peel the tight fabric from your stomach, higher, higher, until it lifts your breasts, catching on the curve of them, and as you whip it over your head, they bounce back down. Joel groans from below, staring at the perfect peaked shape. He lifts one hand to cup your tit, runs his thumb over the quickly-hardening nipple.
“So fuckin’ pretty, baby.”
“I know,” you tell him, watching as his thumbpad circles the delicate skin. Your back arches into his touch.
And then his hands sink into the mattress either side of his body, pushing himself closer to you. He wraps a strong arm around your back and pulls your chest to his mouth, lips pressing wet kisses to the valley between your breasts. His teeth graze across the round shape up towards your nipple again.
His tongue slips over the hard bud, swirling and soaking all over it. Your head falls back, fingers grip onto his hair. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes. Joel sucks harder.
“S– fuck,” you whisper, nearly voiceless. His tongue is flicking now, lips pulling more of your body into his mouth. “Fuckfuckfuck, I need you, I need you,” you whimper.
He releases your sweet skin, lips shining with saliva. “Tell me where.”
You writhe on top of him, hands pushing your shorts down over your hips. “You know where.”
Joel holds your body steady. “Tell me.”
You whine, trying to rock against him. He doesn’t let up. “Joel, fuck. Betw– between my – fuck.”
“Between your legs?” he taunts, pushing you harder against the hard folds of denim below his belt. “That where you need me? Between those pretty legs, babygirl?”
Your fists ball around the fabric of his shirt, clinging on to him. “Ye-ah,” you whimper, and his weight falls from your grasp.
You feel your shorts tug over the crests of bone by your hips. “Step out of ‘em, baby,” he instructs, and your knee lifts.
He pulls the cotton down one leg at a time, telling you to shift your weight as he curls a finger around the lace of your panties and tugs them down after. Before you can think about it, you’re naked, soaked cunt making a mess over the crotch of his jeans.
He looks up at you expectantly.
“What–?”
He flicks his fingers in a beckoning motion, a Come here, either side of your thighs. You hesitate.
“Darlin’. Up.”
“Joel.”
“Up.”
You take his open hands and shuffle up the mattress, knees pushing into the soft sheets either side of his head. You glance down at him.
“I don’t know –”
“’m not gonna tell you again.”
And he doesn’t have to. You steady yourself, locking your fingers through his behind your ass, and slowly lower yourself down to him. His jaw lifts to meet you, and you think about pausing again, telling him he doesn’t have to do this, asking instead to do something else, something he’ll enjoy as much, something you can both –
But then his lips open around the sweetest part of your body, and your lungs freeze. His tongue slips between, daring where you need him most, and your body sighs in equal parts relief and pleasure.
You’re so fucking wet. You can feel it, leaking onto his lips, spreading around your own as he kisses you, licks you, takes in every drop of you. Your back curls, lips fall open to the ceiling, breath comes in short wisps.
It’s been almost two weeks since the two of you felt like this. Hot, wet, needy. Two weeks of waiting for the other to come back, two weeks of reaching for the phone and deciding against it once the number’s dialed, two weeks of nothing.
And now – everything. Everywhere. Every part of your body ignited for him. You feel him fucking everywhere.
You lean all of your weight onto the palm of your hands, pushing all of it into Joel’s. He’s steady, strong, letting you rock and swirl your hips as he laps at your core.
“Right there,” you whisper, head rolling back. “Keep – keep – oh, fuck, Joel. What the f–?”
He slowly lowers his hands, letting you untangle your fingers and place them on the bed. His own come to hook around your thighs, clamping you as close against him as you can possibly be.
Two weeks of nothing. And now, five minutes of everything. The shards of light from outside blur across your vision; heat starts to prickle up your spine, tickling the back of your neck. You’re smiling, filthy and desperate.
“I’m gonna –” you breathe, and Joel hums. “’m gonna c– come.”
You can hear his response, though he doesn’t say a word. Then, come.
Your hips motion forward. Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Joel’s tongue slips between your folds, warm on the inside of your cunt. And you rock back. Unwind. Unfurl. Exhale. His bottom lip puckers against your clit.
“J-oel. Joel, I’m – you’re – fuck.”
He moans against your sex. His hips shift behind you. Buck upwards, carefully.
Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Tighten – inhale. Unwind. Unf-url. Ex-hale. Tighten. Inh– clamp. Fuck. I’m there. Unwind. Warm. Wet. Tongue. Exhale. Tongue. Tighten. Clamp. Inhale. Joel –
Your fingers curl around his bedsheets, nails dig into the cotton. Your orgasm sends a flood of hot pleasure across your cunt, rains down over Joel’s lips, and sets fireworks off through your body which explode into the dark room in the form of a throaty moan.
You’re not sure when you come to. You’re not sure your arms can bear the weight of your body. But when your eyes blink open, he’s kissing the inside of your thighs.
His mouth is glistening. Moustache and beard covered in you. Soft lips pearlescent with your spend. Your body feels heavy, unbearable. You lift your leg and tumble onto the mattress by his side, pussy throbbing when you land.
“I love you,” you whisper, and not for any particular reason. Not because of what he just did. Not because you’re naked in his bed.
But maybe because it feels like this is what you were made to do. To love and to be loved – by him. It feels like this entire thing has been, from its genesis, an exchange. An understanding. Immediate and certain. Here are all the parts of me. You know what to do.
As if there needed no further explanation. No instruction, no tutorial. You just knew.
He pushes himself up, leans over your frame. His jaw lowers, and he licks into your mouth tenderly.
“Gotta be inside you, baby,” he says, and at the same time, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. “Gotta feel you again.”
You nod against him. Fuck me fuck me fuck me.
Joel’s hands are on his belt, pulling it through the loops, dropping it to the floor. Your help him tug his jeans off when he undoes the button. The material of his underwear rubs against your sex; your creamy arousal smears all over the black fabric. You can feel the weight of his stiff cock beneath. It dizzies your head.
He lets your fingers sneak below the elastic, lowering it until he springs free, slapping against the bottom of his tummy. You could fucking drool at the sight of him – the pink tip, beaded with precum; the thick vein on the underside of the shaft; his balls below it, heavy and waiting. Your hands wrap around him and pump slowly as he drags his boxers down, kicking them off at the foot of the bed.
He groans, hips thrusting gently into your palms as you squeeze him. Your fingers slip between your folds, collecting your own slick, coating him in it as you fist him.
“So good, babygirl,” Joel breathes, leaning down to kiss you. “You gonna take it all?”
“Mhm,” you reply, tongue slipping against his.
“Yeah,” he says, “my girl can take it.”
You let his hand shadow over yours, the two of you guiding his cock towards your entrance together. It glides between your dripping folds, the head sifting effortlessly from your clit to your tight hole and back again. Joel laughs, teeth clashing with yours, as he dips in and out, teasing you.
Your ass lifts from the mattress, any movement to draw him nearer. “Stop,” you gasp.
Joel pauses. “Stop?”
“No,” you bleat, “don’t stop. Just – fucking do it.”
“Do what, darlin’?”
“Fuck me.”
And he sinks in.
You’d be lying if you said all you’d done for the last two weeks was cry, mope, and stare at the ceiling. That’d be discrediting everything that this little affair was built on. It’s impossible to forget how the thing fucking started – your hands between your legs, Joel watching from the doorway.
In the moments you didn’t feel the mind-numbing tsunami of heartache overcome you – you felt something else. Memories of his hands on you, the trail of his tongue between your legs, the swell of his cock deep inside you. You tried to replicate it a handful of times with your hands. But nothing – not your fingers, not two, three, or four – nothing stands a chance against him.
He pushes in slow at first, drawing out when he’s halfway, and then in again as he covers himself in the wet his tongue left behind. When he’s soaked, glistening and gleaming, he thrusts. Hard. His tip catches on your cervix, and your back arches in a mix of pain and delight.
Something throbs deep inside as he bottoms out. You feel your opening stretch around his base. You feel your legs widen as if by instinct, accommodating the size of him, the width of him, the pace of him.
You throw an arm over his shoulder, elbow hanging on the nape of his neck. His sweaty forehead sticks to yours, and your hand cups his cheek.
“Harder,” you tell him, and he listens.
“Fuck, baby,” he pants, “fuck, you’re so tight. Oh, my – I ain’t gonna last.”
“Don’t – want you – to,” you cry, body jumping as he fucks you quicker, quicker, harder, deeper. “Want to – come – together.”
Your head tips back against the bed, and Joel’s lips attach to your neck. He’s moaning into your skin, teeth biting down, breath hot and quick. He’s not gonna last he’s not gonna last he’s not –
“F-u-ck, Joel,” you sob, your walls starting to close in around him, “feels so – f-fucking good, oh!”
“I know, darlin’, I know. C’mere.”
He takes your cheek and pulls your face back to his, lines his lips with yours and kisses you. It’s messy, haggard, fucking all over the place as your bodies bounce together, but he tastes like sweat, and sex, and you, and him.
“Missed this so fuckin’ much,” he grunts, hips pounding. “Missed bein’ inside you. You know how bad I needed you?”
“Tell me,” you slur, echoing his own words back to him.
He smirks. “Best fucking pussy I ever had, sweetheart. Best – I ever – had.”
“Don’t pull out,” you hum against his lips, and his jaw pulls back a fraction. “Don’t.”
“Baby,” he says, strained, and your head tilts.
“Need it,” you tell him. “Please. Need you.”
He nods, leaning back into you, letting you connect your mouths again. His lips shudder when you pull away, the thought translated clear as day from your mouth to his. And he knows, and he drives in harder, and he fucks the image from your mind. Who the fuck is Lois, when you’re under him and he’s this deep between your legs?
You look up into his eyes, and you find your answer. She’s nobody. There’s only you.
Your body feels liquid, your mind like fog. You pull him into your body, deeper and deeper, until you’re sure you’re one, and there is no place where he ends and you begin, and you’re sure this is what it feels like, this is what those words feel like, not just the sound of them, not just the way his lips move around them, but the shape of them on and in and around your body. Something deafening, something blinding, something screaming from the pits of your lungs as you come all around him, and you feel him come all around you.
His warmth spurts deep inside you, filling you up, dripping down your walls as he collapses into your shoulder, a loud moan drilling into your collarbone. He slows, thrusts in and out gently, pushing his spend deeper and mixing it with yours.
It's everywhere. The feeling. The pulsing, the humming, the singing. He’s everywhere. Him. In your brain and in your lungs and in your body and in your cunt. And you want to keep him there, hold him there, keep your bodies together for five more minutes, just five more minutes.
But then he’s panting into your skin, pressing kisses into that little dip between your collarbone and your chest, and he slowly slips out, come dripping from where he leaves.
He presses his palm deep into the sheets by your head, lifts off of you – but your arm is still around his neck, and you lean with him. Tilted on his mattress, holding onto him, letting him kiss your head; letting his hand move across the surface of your stomach, mapping the gentle slope over your belly button and scaling the tiny mountains of your hipbones. Kneading softly into the skin over which his seed sits, warm and snug, deep inside you. It’s new. You think you love it.
And he’s whispering, “Good girl, did so good for me,” and he nuzzles his nose into your hair, and he tilts your chin back until he can see your face, see your expression, and he smiles with relief when he clocks your doe eyes, your blissful smile, the sweet tinge of red on your cheeks.
“I love you,” he tells you, and you’re staring at his lips.
“Again.”
“I love you.”
You look up to his eyes. “Again.”
“I love you.”
You smile. It breaks into a laugh. “Again,” you whisper, and he kisses you.
Slowly, only once you pull away from him and your breath steadies, Joel takes your body and carefully shifts. He turns onto his back, settles you on his chest, your hips between his thighs. He runs a gentle hand over your hair and you lie against his sweat-shining chest, his heartbeat whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
Love and sex, as far as you knew, were always two different things. Separate. One, you weren’t even sure existed. The other, nothing more than a need to be satisfied. Something deep within you, something no one had ever managed to touch. And then Joel. And his lips, and his tongue, and his hands and his cock.
And suddenly the two – love and sex – begin to blur, their edges touch frantically. They bleed into one another, until there are no longer two distinct forms; instead, one big shape which has the curve of your hips and the cut of his jaw.
You love him. And he loves you. You’ve heard it translated between your minds longer than you care to admit, and now – you’ve felt it. Transferred between your bodies. You love him. Jesus, you love him.
It’s as terrifying as it is thrilling. Enamoring, and yet dangerous.
“So,” you sigh, “what’s next?”
He glances down, lifts his eyebrows and gives his head a shake. His hand lifts off of your shoulder with a shrug.
“Like, your next move. What happened with the other eight?”
“The other eight?”
“Mhm. Me, Sarah’s mom, makes two. There are eight others, right? What’d you do afterward?”
“Kicked ‘em out.”
You lift a heavy hand and slap his chest. He shudders with laughter.
“I dunno, baby. Wasn’t all like this.”
Your brows knit. “Like what?”
He takes a deep breath. Your head rises as his lungs fill. “Lyin’ in bed afterward. Talkin’.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“What?” he asks, smirking.
“Who even were they? I wanna know.”
“Why?”
“Just do. I wanna hear about ‘em. When was the last one, before me?”
Joel’s eyes drift off to the ceiling above you, thinking. “May.”
“M–?” You jump up, pushing yourself off of his body. “May?” you repeat, eyes wide. “That’s…so recent.”
“Recent?” He chokes back a laugh. “When’s your last?”
You furrow your brows, dropping his gaze. “We’re not talking about me,” you mumble, thumbs twiddling.
Your last had been two nights before you flew home. You’d gone out with your roommates and dragged home Matteo, an exchange student who you’d worked with on a group project for your screenwriting class. He was three inches shorter than you. He bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you until he came. Then he made himself some cereal, ate half of it, and left.
Joel doesn’t really need to hear about him, you think.
“Do I know any of them?” you ask in attempt to change the subject.
Joel pulls a face. His lips tighten, teeth clench. His eyes narrow to a thin line, looking at you through his eyelashes. He nods tentatively.
“Shut the fuck up. Who is it? Who?”
“I dunno if you know her, but she knows you.”
“What’s her name?”
“Your dad gave us a ride home from the bar. She ‘n him got to talkin’, and he said he had a daughter –”
Your fist lightly drops onto his chest. “Joel, if you don’t fucking tell me who it is, I –”
“She’s an elementary teacher. Long, dark hair. Good few years older ‘n you. Think she said her little sister went to your school.”
“Who – was – it?”
He makes the face again. This time his eyes close over, waiting for the penny to drop. His head shakes lightly.
“You –? No, Joel. Come on. Please don’t…Are you fucking serious? You don’t remember her name?”
“It was a long night, alright?”
“How did you forget her damn name?”
He shrugs. “I don’t fuckin’ know. I was drunk, baby.”
“Elementary teacher? I don’t know anybody whose sister teaches elementary.”
“Guess we’ll never know.” Joel shrugs, and you shake your head at him.
You’re picturing Joel stumbling out of Frank’s, arm in arm with a brunette, heavy feet dragging along the sidewalk while your dad chitters in his ear about the Rangers, or about some rude bartender, or about…you. The brunette turns, and her face is yours. Your features, your smile. Your hand linked through Joel’s. C’mon, baby. ‘s go home.
You chase the image away. It slips from your mind like dust cleared from a countertop. Would never. Could never. Should never.
You replace it with something lighter. Something to make you forget about the dust.
“Does…Does my dad ever go home with anyone?”
“What?”
You don’t answer. He heard you.
“That’s…No. I ain’t answerin’ that.”
“Oh, come on. If you’re takin’ women home left, right, and center, he’s gotta be seein’ that. Does he?”
“I was not takin’ home women left, right, and – No, darlin’, no. It’s inappropriate.”
“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m known for my appropriate behavior, y’know,” you gesture between your naked bodies, “I’m known for the good life choices I make.”
“This,” Joel hooks his hands under your arms and drags you up until your chin meets his, “is a good life choice.”
“Yeah?” you ask through a giggle, your nose bumping his.
Joel smiles softly, runs a hand over the back of your head. Looks between your eyes, a twinkle in his. Yes.
Your lips crash together like waves on the rocks. You’re the sea; he’s the stone. Two different worlds, suddenly married in some unforeseen twist of nature. And when you pour over him, your body lighting him in a twinkling glow of ocean, it’s as though you never existed apart from one another. It’s as natural as the waves on the shore.
“Alright, darlin’,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Speakin’ of inappropriate. I gotta get you home.”
“Why can’t I just stay the night?” you complain. “Like last time. Tell ‘im we’re watchin’ a movie again…”
Joel’s head rests on your arm. “He’s worried sick about you. Ain’t no way he’ll let you spend the night here. You know that. Plus, Sarah’ll be long done with Rita’s cross stitch by now.”
He sits up and you roll into his lap, head resting on the soft skin of his belly. He looks down at you, head tilted, eyes glowing hazel.
You stare right back. The dimples in his cheeks dig deeper when you whisper, “Kickin’ me out right after we finally make up. I see how it is, Miller.”
Joel’s shoulders hunch. “Happens to all of ‘em. Warned ya.”
He shifts off the bed and begins gathering his clothes. You sit up and watch as he pulls his boxers snug over his hips, swipes his tee from the carpet at his feet. As he drapes it over his scruffy chest, your half-naked form meets his at the foot of the bed.
His fingers knot in your hair. You lean into his arms, legs giving as he kisses you gently, breathing you in, stealing any more words of protest from your tongue.
“I love you,” he whispers when he pulls away, tip of his nose brushing off yours. “You know that?”
“Somebody told me somethin’ to do with that, yeah.”
He smiles. “Get dressed.”
You pull the rest of your clothes back on in silence, tossing socks and jeans across the room to one another, giggling like a pair of kids. After all you just did, the palpable pleasure you just sent hammering through one another – this is the part you wish you could bottle. The laughter, the love. The attempts to keep holding onto him, even as he tries to pull his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, even as he links his belt back through his jeans, as he bends to tie his boots.
The fun of it. The hope of it.
The foolish, foolish hope.
“Hoodie.” Joel flings it up towards you, crouched as he tightens his laces.
You pull it on over your bra. Flatten your flyaway hairs, stand straight before him.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
“You got your phone?”
Your hands instinctively pat your body down. “Oh, nah,” you realize, “musta left it at home.”
Joel nods and heads into the hallway, you at his heel. At the bottom of the stairs, you glance around his house, like it’s the first and last time you’ll see it wrapped into one. It looks different; two weeks of absence and you notice things you hadn’t before.
His coat hanging by the door, probably untouched since early spring. The bowl on the side table where his and Sarah’s keys live. The guitar in the corner of the room, the books in the shelves above it. All him. Every little piece of it. He’s reflected in every object in the room. He’s reflected in you.
You drive back to your dad’s place in silence. Comfortable, sweet silence. Your fingers ghost across his palm the entire time, watching out the window as the dark neighborhood soars by in a blur of porch lights and mailboxes. All too quickly, you’re back in front of your own house.
“What do we do now?” you ask, and through the darkness you see Joel’s smile fall.
After a moment’s silence, heavy and contemplative, he looks back up. Softens when his eyes land on you.
“We’ll be alright,” he tells you, and you believe him.
You lean forward and press a quick but tender kiss to his lips, and your fingers latch around the door handle. Joel’s hand finds the back of your head, keeping your mouth on his.
“Gotta – let me – go,” you mumble between kisses, and he hums a laugh in response. “Joel.”
“I know,” he whispers, finally pulling back. “I know.”
You smile, head tilting into his palm. “I’ll text you.”
He nods once. “See you, babygirl.”
You slip out of the truck and wander past to your front door, twirling as you click the handle. Joel laughs, and the truck reverses back onto the street. You wait for it to disappear before closing the door, and step into the unlit hallway.
The TV lights the living room at the opposite end. You stop by the kitchen, feeling the grumpy rumble of your stomach. Your dad’s armchair is sat facing the screen. You lean over to double check he’s not sat in it, fast asleep while Rangers highlights play on loop before his eyelids.
When you swivel the plaid pattern towards your knees, its only occupant is the remote. You flick the TV off and pad back over to the kitchen, filling a bowl with some chips. You’re hunched over at the refrigerator when his footsteps clunk slowly down the stairs, and he materializes like a specter around the doorway.
“Hey.”
You straighten up, lit in a nervous blue hue from the fridge. “Hey, yourself.”
“Joel gone?”
“’bout ten minutes ago. Where’ve you been? You left the TV on.”
“Just…y’know. You get those brochures?”
Fuck. You were at Joel’s under the premise of picking up fucking UCLA pamphlets – and you’ve come home empty-handed. The lie doesn’t form on your tongue as quickly as Joel’s did earlier. Something else on your mind.
“…sure. Some…interesting stuff.”
Your dad nods. “Good. Good, I’m glad. We can take a look in the mornin’.”
Your eyebrows flinch. “Yeah. That’d be – yeah. I’m…gonna head to bed, alright?”
“Sure,” he says, nodding.
With a can of soda under your arm and your bowl of chips in the other, you nod and cautiously shuffle towards him. His lips are a thin line. You duck by him and trot upstairs, and make it as far as the landing before he’s calling out again.
“Oh, hey.” He holds a hand out, and disappears in a jog towards the living room. You drop back down a couple steps, watching him swipe something from the dining table and pace back over. “You left your phone.”
He’s presenting it like a jeweler shows a Rolex – or maybe more like an investigator handles evidence. Holding it out in almost trembling fingers, afraid to mark it with his fingerprints. Your eyes flit from the phone to his, unsure which of the two frightens you more.
That’s not where I fucking left it.
You lean over and take it from his palm. “Thanks…”
“I think maybe you got a text, just then. It was lit up. Maybe I’m seein’ things.”
You force the corners of your mouth upward. Your cheeks inflate with nerves and shame. “Thanks,” you repeat, and then: “Everything okay, Dad?”
“Everything’s fine, kiddo. Sleep well.” He makes back for the living room.
As you turn, you unlock your screen.
Joel: Left your shirt here, and your bikini from last week. This mean I get to be the one wearing your clothes now?
Panic spills over your head, a wave of freezing cold washing over you when you read his words. Did Dad read them, too?
You continue walking, feeling the weight of your dad’s strange voice on your back as your feet drag you one by one up the stairs. When you make it back to the landing, your cool flees you, and you take the rest of them two at a time until you’re leaning against your bedroom door, panting.
You: Problem. I think my dad saw that text
Joel: How so?
You: When I got home my phone was next to his chair, and he’s being so weird
You: Joel I think he knows something
Joel: I’m sure he doesn’t. He wouldn’t read your phone baby.
He’s trying to reassure you, telling you he wouldn’t even know what it means, maybe he’ll think you spilled something on it, but no matter how many ideas Joel comes up with, none of them slow your heart rate.
You sit down on the edge of your bed, and the anxiety bubbling in your stomach forces you straight back up. Pacing doesn’t help, knowing your dad is directly below you probably hearing the floorboards creak with every step you take.
Your head dizzies with doubts, fears, worries, all frantically throwing themselves against the walls of your skull. You lean your forehead against the cold glass of your window, eyes screwing shut, stars in your vision. Nothing is calming you down.
Joel takes too long to reply back, whether he’s running out of explanations or just fucking forty-eight with an iPhone, but every time your phone buzzes with a new attempt at comfort from him, it only convinces you even more that – no, it wasn’t a stain, it wasn’t a joke, Joel has your top because you took it off for him an hour ago, and then let him fuck you in his bed.
And your dad fucking knows it.
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#dad's best friend#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal joel miller#cowboy like me#smut#fluff#angst
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slow shift
7k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader
Series Masterlist l Next Chapter
series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.
warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, talking about w33d, alcohol consumption (not by reader or frankie, but discussions of alcohol), oral (f! receiving), discussions of periods and Plan B, frankie having a fat d!ick, slightly public sex, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), you know how I roll
A/N: welcome to the first part in my linecook!frankie series! It's all just going to be chaos!! enjoy dirty dishes, cussing, and decent food made by the hot linecooks. I’ll have a title as soon as I stop putting it off <3 enjoy! let me know what you think! also how LIT is the banner
here's my masterlist!
**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**
“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.
You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him.
“Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.
Welcome to hell.
A makeshift building somehow still holding up four walls that housed a small restaurant inside.
This wasn’t some secret treasure that belonged on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives or a hidden hole-in-the-wall five-star Michelin Restaurant. This was Tommy’s Diner.
The locals had different names for the run-down dump you called your place of employment: the Hometown Heartburn Hut (true), American Pie ( ha-ha funny), the Rusty Spoon (some guy OD’s behind the place one time, and no one ever forgets), or Tumbleweed, your pothead coworkers liked to call it. It was a tumbleweed because the restaurant was barren, emphasis on the weed to accommodate the faded line cooks that lurked in the back of the restaurant.
Don’t let today’s slow shift fool you; there were times when Tumbleweed was cram-packed. Friday night football games were busy with tailgaters, bustling with teens after a championship game. Other times, it was when a Greyhound bus or a similar cross-country vehicle drove through and took a stop for the passengers.
The most popular time of year was in the summer. Tommy’s Diner hosted Saturday night Cruise Nights. The town would flood with classic cars and hot rods, and the diner would transform into a drive-in. Their engines revved through different cities from far and wide to be at Tommy’s. That’s when the place felt the most alive, bustling with people and their laughter, little kids running with their milkshakes and flipping quarters into the rigged claw machine.
But it wasn’t a Saturday in August. It was a Monday. You were stuck with the misfit motley crew that did everything from dishwashing, cooking, bussing, running the register, being half-ass managers, and, of course, the token pretty waitress. You.
You will admit that each character working at Tumbleweed had a unique story etched into their grubby hands or baggy-eyed faces. They’ve weathered years of late-night shifts and condiment, grease-stained aprons.
Tonight there was Lou, the jaded by heartbreak teenage busboy. He walked with a shuffle, always sniffling about an ex-girlfriend. He worked slow and god damn, did that piss you off.
Then there was Tina, the aspiring singer stuck in a small-town type. She was newer, still learning how things worked since she had never waited tables a day in her life. She had that fresh twinkle of stardom in her eye despite being in her late 30’s. You were training her and trying not to let her drive you up the wall whenever she started singing different songs on the jukebox. Note to self: Put a sticky note saying it’s busted every time you work together.
Paul was the do-it-all guy. Toilet clogged? Get Paul. Dishes piling up? Ask Paul to do it. The cashier on a bathroom break? Paul can run the till. He was useful, just complained and grumbled a lot.
Tommy of Tommy’s Diner hasn’t worked a day in years. He’s older, so it’s understandable. Last thing you heard was he was down in Florida, living out retirement in a cheap home with a gambling addiction. Sounded like he was doing well for himself. But now his idiot son Rudy ran the place. Tommy’s picture was still on dusty display, toothy smile and all at the front door that people huddled in and out of—speaking of.
Your head lifted to attention as the bell above the door chimed, sighing in annoyance as you leaned back onto the counter. It was just Frankie.
“It’s fifteen after. You were supposed to be here on time today because we have to set up for Carla’s thing.”
Frankie breezed past you, aviators and stupid ballcap on, his smile lifted in a sneer. He was smacking on pink bubble gum as he neared your part of the counter and purposely shuffled past you with his hips against yours in an attempt to get into the kitchen. You couldn’t help but lean into him with a little smirk.
“Tommy said it was fine I was late.” He joked once he ducked into the back, your arms crossed as you followed him aimlessly.
You sigh and lean back against the locker next to his, watching him shuffle off his jacket.
“You disappoint me, Frankie.” Your face held a teasing pout.
“Never meet your heroes, baby.” That stupid fucking cocky smirk painted his face.
You opted to roll your eyes and look away as a defense tactic against Frankie’s flirty moves. Frankie calling you baby made your guts twist.
He was an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but you two were hired the same summer a few years back and were the only ones who stayed once summer had run its course. You supposed it was bonded trauma after that.
New workers had come and gone, but you and Frankie were still at Tommy’s, still working crappy shifts on crappy hourly pay. Despite Frankie being a douchebag, he made the place bearable. He was comfortable. You knew each other.
“Can you just meet me on the floor like you were supposed to fifteen minutes ago and help with the banner? Carla’s going to be here at five, and you still have to make her special-”
“Jesus fuckin’- yes, I’ll be out in a few.” Frankie playfully groaned, shoving the brim of his hat into his mouth to hold it, his hands busy as he tied a tattered red bandana around his forehead before he replaced the cap back on. Okay… hot.
He took a deep breath once he finished, and leaned against the locker beside you, arms crossed, mimicking you as your shoulder brushed his bicep. You looked up at him, so many inches taller than you, as he looked down. Maybe too far down. He started at your eyes, but those eyes of his tended to wander right down to the cut of your shirt.
“Ugh- Frankie!” You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, readjusting your top as he playfully threw his hands up on the defense.
“You look fuckin’ gorgeous today, by the way!” He shouted as you exited the locker room, smiling and shaking your head with your back to him and throwing up your middle finger before the door swung closed with your exit.
---
You stood on the top of a dining table in your sneakers, attempting to hang a shitty banner you had painted for Carla’s birthday. You glanced down at the table and made a little face about the scuff you put in it. Oops. You can try and scrub it later.
There was no other person you or Frankie would do this stuff for. But it was Carla’s birthday and she was a diamond in the rough at this dump.
Carla's position at Tumbleweed is a mixture of human resources, accounting, decent management, and a mother figure to not just you but the entire staff. Besides Carla, we could all care less about everyone else's birthday. You were burning this ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner as soon as the clock struck midnight.
You let out an exhausted huff as you attempted to tack the final hanging string into the wall, but it was just out of reach. That’s when you heard the smacking of his stupid pink bubble gum. You didn’t even have to look.
“Are you gonna help me or not, Morales?” Your voice seethed in annoyance, not only to Frankie but also cursing your short legs and your just not long enough arms.
He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the differential space between you and took the tack and string into his meaty fingers.
You glanced down, watching his teeth capture his lower lip in concentration, checking to see if it was straight. Pushing the pin in, he backed up to where you stood on the dining table and crossed his arms in observance.
It was incredibly crooked. But it was the thought that counts, right?
“Good enough for me. You?” You glanced down at Frankie, and he was biting back a smile.
“What?” You pushed, narrowing your eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Distracted by something else. “D’you paint this?” The warmth of his hand slowly crept onto the back of your calf, your chest tightening as he slowly skated it higher with no interference from you.
You gently nod, avoiding his eye contact as you look at the sign. Now, his hand was on the back of your thigh, and you had to take a breath. A mhm was all you could muster up.
His fingers delicately skimmed the skirt of your uniform, knuckles brushing against your backside. You used to hate these 50’s style waitress uniforms, but now they didn’t seem so damn bad because Frankie’s movements were making you lightheaded. Snap out of it!
“Need help down?” Frankie asked, hand at the ready on your hip.
You shook your head despite using his assistance anyway. You squatted on the table, black lace panties peeking out as you used Frankie’s broad shoulders as leverage. You put one foot down onto the linoleum and then the other, wiping your hands cleanly down your uniform as you both returned to look at the lopsided sign.
You hoped it was enough. You hoped she appreciated it, especially all that she’s done for you over the years. Covering your shifts, leveling out the register when you accidentally gave someone the wrong change, tucking extra tips into your apron when she knew your rent was coming up. Everyone needed a Carla, not everyone was lucky to have one.
“She’s gonna love it,” Frankie seemed to sense your nerves as he lifted his cap to bring some air to his sweaty dark curls before putting it back into place. “I’ll start workin’ on her special. Mushroom Swiss patty melt?” He said before disappearing into the kitchen again, only leaving once you gave him your little nod of assurance. You liked that he remembered.
---
“Happy birthday, Carla!” Uncoordinated voices cheered as Carla entered Tumbleweed right on time for her shift.
Her face lit up, and she looked beautiful. She packed a little extra blush and eyeshadow to commemorate the special occasion.
“Oh, shit- oh my- You guys! Thank you!” Carla made special eye contact with you, knowing you were the only one caring enough to orchestrate this shindig.
Carla has this soulful charm about her. Raised in Louisiana, she loved to cook family recipes and bring the leftovers to work for you and Frankie to fight over. You remember she had three kids at home, so she had this curvy mom's body that put a proud sway in her walk. A playful and confident woman at heart, she was all the regular’s favorite to see. And she knew everyone. And she knew everything. She put Tommy’s back in business during the slower seasons. People would come to see her face on Sunday mornings over their coffee and runny eggs.
“Oh, baby, thank you.” She cooed as she cupped your cheek and squeezed, making your face tick. “This the red velvet?” Her voice hummed as she observed the cake in your hands, pushing her finger lightly into the frosting to taste it.
You had pulled one of the cakes from the display case and shitily piped it with chocolate sauce ‘HBD!’.
“Of course, your favorite... Right?” You pursed your lips and snuck a nervous glance at Frankie before you set the cake down on the countertop.
Carla looked beyond touched for something you’d consider a bit lackluster. “It’s my favorite ‘cause you made it. Thank you, baby.”
You glanced around for the cake cutter, watching as Tina pushed a quarter into the jukebox and got the party started. Everyone was doing shitty dance moves, even the one or two customers that had filtered in for a cheap dinner.
You sighed as you looked behind the counter for the cake cutter, grabbing the cake and its stand to haul it to the back.
You thrust your shoulder blades into the swinging door, setting the cake stand on the counter as you started sifting through the different drawers to find the serving knife.
Half a carton filled with cigarettes; Frankie’s. Matches from an old jazzy gentleman’s club; Rudy’s. Hair ties; yours. Where’s the fuckin’ cake cutter?!
The music from the jukebox was more faded in the kitchen. The serving window, professionally called the pass, was just big enough to see faces and hand plates through from the kitchen to the front.
You made a face when you found the cake server inside a large pot-- how, no, why? Jesus Christ. Fucking idiots.
The swinging door to the kitchen wooshed in before slowly creaking closed, seeing Frankie coming to stand beside you in your peripheral.
You carefully plunged the slicer into the soft sponge of the cake, carving a piece for Carla and setting it on a plate. You reached forward across the counter for another small plate, the short skirt of your uniform revealing the curve of your ass to an overly curious Frankie. You could feel his heat burning through his chest.
“Could you be less obvious?” Your voice held teasing notes, putting another piece of cake on a plate and pushing them away to make space for more.
He had tried this a handful of times with you, and he had yet to be successful besides that one time when you both drunkenly made out at the last December holiday party. You were pretty sure he had been hung up on you ever since. You enjoyed watching him try.
Your eyes flitted over to his, observing his body and facial features.
He looked gross, honestly. The two meals he cooked including Carla’s special before she came in for her shift made his face and neck sweaty and his hands greasy, his apron to match. It was white at one time, a long, long time ago. His stupid red bandana was still tied around his forehead, catching the spare sweat droplets, as the kitchen became unbearably hot in the middle of August.
You probably didn’t look much better. Hair all over the place with makeup you put on in the morning probably half smudged off by now. Your hands were checkered in pen ink, a spare papercut from snagging a receipt from the register. But still decent. He was still decent.
His hand was back in dangerous territory, lingering low on your waist. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. You could feel warmth flooding your body, heat from the heart of his hand burning into your hip. He was admiring your body, slow and appreciative as he cupped the curve of your ass. And then he squeezed.
Your shaky hands barely got the fourth slice you cut onto a small serving plate. The cake cutter clattered onto the metal counter as Frankie shifted his body behind yours, his watchful eyes on the pass. No one was watching, stupid and oblivious. You swallowed a lump down your throat, your small hands clenching the rim of the counter. His hips were flushed against yours. Worst of all was that you really fucking liked it.
“This okay?” You’re flattered he asked after the fact.
You leaned back into his touch, quietly humming on the brink of a little moan. You were a little desperate for touch, maybe you’d be on your period soon. “Mhmm..”.
Frankie was a douchebag, but you two have been flirting back and forth with one another for years like an ongoing tennis match. He was older, he had years on you. Not an obscenely amount, but enough to make people raise an eyebrow. You were surprised he had the balls to actually make a move on you like he was right now.
“Like you in black.” Frankie’s voice was cut down to a murmur, low and all-enveloping. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the black in your waitress uniform or your black panties. Probably the latter.
His fingers brushed past your goosebump-covered ass and slipped between your legs to your clothed pussy. You softly gasped, eyes shifting closed as your hips involuntarily leaned into Frankie’s touch. You didn’t look subtle at all. You looked like you wanted to be touched, manhandled, kissed, fucked…
“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He purred, your chest already heaving. “Act normal.” You forced your eyes open, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. Needy pupils connected with his blown-out ones. The back of your head brushed his shoulder, setting it there for just a moment before he looked straight ahead.
Frankie nodded back to the pass, your eyes following his eye line to everyone distractedly dancing and sipping coffee mixed with bourbon on the floor.
You bit down on your lower lip, knuckles cast over in a milky white with the iron grip you held on the metal rim of the counter. Frankie’s body heat had disappeared from your back, and now you felt it cast against the back of your legs. You glanced around, seeing him on his knees behind you with his mouth now latched to the back of your thighs. Oh, fuck. His kisses sponged up higher, towards your heat.
Your eyelashes fluttered, Frankie’s act normal echoing through your hollow head. With distracted hands, you resumed cutting the cake. You probably looked slow and stupid, but feeling his patchy beard hair nestle between the sweet skin of your inner thighs had you in a haze.
Frankie’s big hands reached under your skirt, lining the black panties that sat snugly on your hips with his forefingers. He slowly peeled them down, feeling the material roll as he stopped them to rest halfway down on your thighs.
Your shoulders shuddered as your warm pussy met the slight chill of the outside world, panties adorning a little soaked spot.
“Frankie,” Mm? “Someone’s gonna see.” But you weren’t stopping him. You weren’t telling him to fuck off. You weren’t kicking him right in the gut like you probably could. In fact, you were leaning into him.
“Such a pretty pussy... Can’t stop, baby.”
A helpless whimper left your lips, thighs shaking at his affectionate, warm kisses.
Frankie’s hand swatted at the inside of your right ankle and then the other, hinting for you to spread yourself for him. You pursed your lips and shakily sighed, parting your legs as your sneakers lightly squeaked on the checkered floor. Fuck me, Frankie.
You didn’t know how much longer you could be patient. The waiting was tantric, hypnotizing you into seduction.
Spread for him and dripping, Frankie’s mouth finally attached to your slit. Your knee lightly jerked up and smacked a bus tub filled with dirty dishes, a few eyes on you through the pass as you nervously laughed. “S-Sorry!”
Frankie couldn’t help but let out a warm puff of laughter against your cunt, and you swore your insides were twisting at the sensation.
“Easy pretty girl… Don’t need us gettin’ caught. You want me to stop?” Frankie’s voice was husky, warm palms spreading your thighs, your body lightly bending over to lean on the counter. You tried to look busy with something, stupidly polishing a random fork. With the extra exposure, he had full access to your sex.
“Does it look like I want you to stop?” You finally punched out through air-abducted lungs, anxiously chewing on the skin of your lip. “Frankie.” You said in a hushed warning tone, wanting more and not knowing how to ask nicely for it. But that’s what he liked about you. You weren’t nice.
His lips finally attached properly to your pussy, his devilish tongue lining the center of your cunt and flicking off your clit. Your head dropped, ears ringing at the sensation.
You wondered how good he would feel if he could take his time instead of giving you head quick while all your coworkers were distracted. Maybe he could run his thumb over the front of your panties, trace the seam of your pussy, and feel how soaked you were for him and his attentive fingers. You thought Frankie had always been so down bad for you. He probably dreamed about getting this opportunity. He finally got you when you were just as horny for someone with a pulse. But this wasn’t all the time in the world; this was a slow shift at Tommy’s.
You rut your hips back into Frankie’s face, hot pants fanning fog onto the cool metal of the counter.
Frankie put his mouth where you needed him most, his tongue dedicating a poem to you. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide, wet strip up through your core, taking in all your juices. His tongue lapped at your weeping hole, thighs shaking against his head as you stifled a moan into the counter.
He was good, manipulative, a fucking menace.
Frankie’s tongue made precision flicks against your bundle of nerves, a gasp a bit too loud leaving the kitchen as you whimpered broken fragments of his name.
You weakly looked up, seeing Tina pluck another quarter in the jukebox, cranking the volume to some seventies soul music. Fuck being quiet.
Concealed by the groove of Stevie Wonder singing We Can Work It Out, your moans were hidden by the shake of a tambourine and plucks to an electric guitar.
“Goddammit, Frankie, mmm, so fucking good,” a gasp and a moan followed suit, lazily smirking with your eyes closed. “So fucking… hot.” You murmured.
Frankie’s mouth was a welcome wonder, dedicated to making you cum. He was swirling his tongue around your clit, weakly flattening your front over the counter again and pressing your cheek against the cool metal. Don’t be a douche right now, Francisco Morales. Make me fuckin’ cum.
The kitchen door swiftly swung open, and your body flew up to stand straight as Carla waited in the doorway.
“What’s taking you so long to cut my cake, baby? I know that bitch is stale as hell, but that don’t mean I don’t want it.”
Your eyes were wide, lips parted in an attempt to speak, but Frankie’s movements didn’t cease despite Carla’s unexpected intrusion. You bit back a whimper as he lined his tongue just barely into the tight entrance of your walls, his greedy fingers piercing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you spread. Thank god the counter covered your waist down.
“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be out in a sec.”
Carla looked you up and down, curious but ultimately not giving a damn. You could feel Frankie’s dirty smirk against your thighs.
“Alright... Hurry up. I’m tryna get my dessert.”
And with that, the door swished closed, and your back slumped at the relief.
Frankie’s unexpected voice made you jump lightly, his words echoing against you. “Gotta make ya finish fast, princess. Want my dessert, too.”
You whimpered but willed yourself to stand up straight and turn around to face him. He looked like a mess. Lust-filled black eyes and a cocky smirk to match. Your juices glistened on his lips and chin. Frankie would be incredibly hot if he knew how to keep his mouth shut.
“Taste as good as you look, princess.” Frankie stood up, tall and broad body making a white hot spot form in your stomach. Fuck, you couldn’t do this right now. Not right here.
He could tell. He took a few cautious steps away, you watched him carefully like a rattlesnake. He knew when not to push you and when to let you make the decisions. He also knew how to give you orders when you were too pussy fucked to think straight.
“Serve that cake and meet me out back.” He was looking over you, enjoying the few times you looked totally fucked like you did right now. He stepped back into your space and pulled your panties back into place, a sobby whimper leaving your lips as he gently cupped your aching mound with a smirk. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”
“Fuck off.” You mumbled, fixing the bottom half of your uniform.
You watch as Frankie grabs the beer bottle you all used as a makeshift door prop and his half-carton of cigarettes you had brought out of a drawer in an attempt to find the cake cutter. He disappears out back into the alley. Shit, the cake.
You hurriedly sliced the remainder of the cake, placing a few stray candles into the slices. You lit them once you greeted the group waiting on the floor, singing a shitty rendition of Happy Birthday. Paul lights his cigarette from one of the candles, puffing smoke across the frosting.
The crowd hastily grabbed one of the small plates and a fork. Most of you only tried a bite or two. The cake had been in the display case for far too long.
---
Anxious and impatient, you slip into the back with everyone’s dirty dishes and sneak back into the kitchen. You do nothing more with them than chuck them into the sink for Lou to wash up at some point or another. Your eyes stare at the beer bottle keeping the back kitchen door ajar.
You take in a deep breath, leaving a shaky sigh before following Frankie out into the alley.
The air was warm, a welcome breeze passing over you. The alley was everyone’s hideaway, littered with crushed beer and soda cans, two large garbage dumpsters, and a large one for recycling. You could see the highway in the distance. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning purple and blue. You’d watch those cars drive right past your little town, paying no mind, probably off going to somewhere bigger and better. The only people from the highway who stopped to visit Tommy’s were people who didn’t know any better.
A flick of a lighter crackled, dividing your attention. Frankie was smoking his cigarette, his back leaning against the brick wall of the diner. He was trying not to smirk. Seeing you out here was way too much power for him. He took a drag, the end of his cigarette lighting up in a glowing orange haze before he pulled it from his mouth. The smoke he exhaled was taken by the breeze.
“Happy to see me?” His goading tone asked.
“No.” A challenge. A pause.
“So, you want me to go back inside?”
“No.” Another beat. A step closer to him, arms crossed. He’s smart enough to let his cigarette land on the ground.
“So, you want me to stay out here?”
Silence. Staring. Gauging each other’s reactions. Your tight jaw meets his cocky smirk. Too stubborn to ask meeting too stubborn to give without begging. Fuck.
Maybe it’s because you’re both desperate. Maybe because Frankie knows you. Knows you’re too stubborn to ask for him to fulfill your needs. Your inaction meets his unwillingness to waste another moment that he could be inside of you.
Stomping on his cigarette before closing the distance between you two, he envelopes you in a kiss that robs you of your breath. He tastes musky and bitter. The smoke that recently captured his lungs was hot on your lips.
Your heart was beating with excitement, happy to lose control for a moment as Frankie walked you blindly backward into the brick wall. Ouch.
Your tongues danced in a rhythmic motion, seducing you into letting him take the power as the kiss deepened. The flavor was subtle but distinct. The Marlboro’s held an acrid undertone, an unexpected layer of the kiss you sort of liked. If he tasted like spearmint gum, it might have turned you off.
It was like you were his cigarette now, breathing you in and clinging to you in addiction. It was his bad habit, but who were you to judge. You had a closet full of skeletons you weren’t open to anyone seeing. Maybe this was one of his.
His hands were a welcome guest, feeling his warm palms explore a body he had probably fantasized about.
“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.
You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him.
“Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.
Frankie guided you further from the backdoor, hearing voices enter the kitchen. Probably Paul and Lou to start working on closing chores. He took you behind the dumpsters and hiked up your dress. You decided to be useful and push your panties down. He rounded up the material that was tying you up at your ankles and shoved them into his pocket. You were not letting him keep those.
You pushed his apron aside, fingers fussing over his belt buckle. He watched, amused, unwilling to help. He liked seeing you so desperate for his cock. Unbuttoned. Unzippered. Black boxer trim peaking out now. You made slight eye contact with him before you shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Your heart clenches at how girthy he was. Fuckkk, this was gonna feel good.
He didn’t take his apron off, merely shoved it to the side as it haphazardly swayed on his hip. He closed the distance between you again, a greedy kiss, a kiss to mark you with. You pulled away to spit into your hand, taking him by his base and squeezing.
Frankie’s eyes shuddered closed, his head dropping as you took his manhood in the small of your hand. He was.. more than a handful. He was so meaty, not even able to wrap your fist fully around him.
You purred out a little moan as you worked your hand over him, feeling him grow heavy in your hand as you lubed up his tip, slowly circling your thumb teasingly around the pulsing head.
“Enough.” He muttered. He didn’t like you toying with him.
Frankie hiked up your leg by the underside of your calf, hooking around his hip as you leaned your back against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t comfy, but when you fuck against a run-down diner, you don’t get many options.
Your chest shuddered as you felt his cock heavy against your folds, erect and brushing up against where you needed him most. He was running his hand up and down himself now. You watched as he put down another line of spit from his mouth to his cock before his knuckles shuffled up and down his shaft a few more times.
The sight made you reel your head back and stare up at the sky. As eager as you are, you’re worried about feeling how thick he is. He knows.
“M’gonna go real slow.” He punches out, setting his forehead down against yours, and you shakily nod. Please don’t fucking split me in two, Frankie Morales. You still have a shift to finish, after all. You’re thankful he at least acknowledges his girth. It’s sort of the elephant in the room.
You both look down at your centers, your dripping one and his angry, pink head meeting in unison. It’s sort of fucked up the way that you’re two horrible people. But you knew horrible people always seemed to find each other.
You wet your lips and bite down. Hard. You weren’t a fresh spring virgin, but this wasn’t any other half-decent dick.
You lay your head back against the wall as Frankie guides himself into your welcoming entrance. Your wetness lubes him up well, but he’s still large.
You clench your eyes close and smile. The pain is always pleasure. “Fuck,” you mutter, your head wanting to come back down and watch.
Frankie’s being gentle, an odd word you’d never describe him as. He’s grunting and impatient, but patient for you. He fills you up to the brim and your head is flooded with clouds. You’re in the sky, lightheaded, but so fucking horny.
His hips meeting yours are a gentle greeting, both of your lips brushing as you shared pants of desperation as well as relief. Your stomach was tight, recoiling with the pressure he was providing to the inside of your walls.
“God-
“Jesus-
“-fucking damn.”
“Christ.”
The two of you moaned in unison.
Your nails are piercing into his shirt, bunching around the tops of his shoulders. You move to grip his apron for some sort of control. There is none.
One of his hands is still supporting your leg wrapped around his hip, the other flattened against the brick wall beside your head. You took solace in his arm, resting your forehead against it weakly.
He was cocky for a reason. His length in inches was his amount of reasons.
“Fuck me.” You finally mustered up enough strength to demand. He shakes his head against yours.
“Give it a minute.” He mutters, barely coherent. You’re scrumptiously tight around him, and you know it. You both do.
“We don’t have a minute.” You feverishly bite back, attempting to shift your hips against his. He retaliates by planting his hips against you, fucking the final few inches of his dick into you as you both fell deeper into the wall.
A hot moan rolled off your tongue, hiding your face away in his forearm and shuddering your eyes closed. Frankie’s hand slipped from your leg, cupping the globe of your ass in his warm hand. He squeezed and it made you smile as he reeled his hips slowly back.
He grumbles something.
“What?” You asked with a dopey grin.
He pushes back inside you and wipes the smirk clear off your face.
“I said… you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” His voice was tattered with grunts, your tight little pussy making it hard for him to breath.
Now he was creating a rhythm, fucking you into the wall in steady thrusts. You were already feeling your insides tug eagerly in excitement, the hot pool he had created in your guts simmering to a boil.
“Mhmm, mhm, mhm,” you moaned in silent begs, moans you had to read between the lines to understand. Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck you feel good, I-I can’t think of anything other than fuck! Fuck me, Frankie!
He filled you up to a brim you had yet to discover you had. His tip tickled your cervix with each snap of his hips. He was getting greedy, a little sloppy. You’d judge him on this short-lived fuck later, for now, it was perfectly timed to get back into work without anyone noticing.
Your eyes widened and met his murky brown ones as he moved the hand he had against the wall nudged between your thighs, circling your clit. It was messy at first, but he found what made you tick and adjusted. Now he was running tight circles around you, and you were finding it hard to stay silent.
“Feel so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing motion. You actually wanted to taste him again, so you leaned into it, your tongue lining his mouth and tasting his old cigarette with a moan.
Now he was filling you up, no hesitancy in his hips as he snapped the full extent of his length into your cunt. Your head flew back against the orange and red brick, a fucked moan leaving your mouth. Neither of you cared. Frankie’s face was nuzzled against your jawline and neck, sloppy kisses tasting old perfume as the circles on your clit intensified your impending orgasm.
“F-Fuck, Frankie, shit, I’m gonna-” You gasped and closed your eyes, clutching your arms weakly around his shoulders and holding him to you. His body enveloped you like a shield protecting you from anything in your surroundings.
Your orgasm crashed over you, coursing through your body like a million volts of electricity as you whimpered and moaned into his neck. Your eyes were clamped closed, your walls clenching and fluttering around his sensitive cock.
His moans were heavenly, guttural and deep, a little shaky even as he puffed them into your neck and shoulder. His hips twitched against the inside of your thighs as he came undone inside of you. It felt like he was cumming for days, filling you up with white rope after white rope of his semen and painting your insides with only remnants of him.
You couldn’t think. You just focused on the distant sound of the highway, creating a bustling amount of white noise for you. You gently held his head to keep him close, your shaky hand winding into his hair as the two of you reconciled over your orgasms.
He was the first one to move. He slipped himself from you and gave you a few lazy kisses. Your stomach fluttered before you shook your head.
Stop it, Frankie.
‘M not doin’ anything.
Teasing smiles. Hands softening their holds on each other’s bodies. Fixing hair. Fixing undergarments.
He would have held onto your panties. He probably hoped you forgot about them. You tugged them from his pocket and attempted to slip into them with ease, but you ended up having to use the brick wall as a support to lean into.
You steadied his apron straight, and he pulled the skirt of your uniform down. Teamwork.
You don’t really talk, just clean yourselves up, nod, and dart back inside before anyone can really notice or give a damn that you were missing in action. You kept having to excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling Frankie still seeping from you. It made your chest hot, an embarrassed smile on your face.
Fuck it. That’s what Plan B is for. Or you can just wait to see if you get your period in a few days time.
---
You and Frankie danced around one another during the closing shift. Carla went home and took the cake in a to-go container to give to her kids. It was shitty that she had to work on her birthday, but she said that getting to see your gorgeous face was a present of its own.
You tiredly yawned, seeing it was a few minutes past ten. You helped Tina even out the cash register, putting today’s earnings in an envelope, then putting it in the safe for Rudy to take to the bank at the end of the week.
“You sure you don’t mind cleaning up on your own?” Tina asked, giving her a tired smile and a soft shrug.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Despite her annoying singing, Tina wasn’t that bad. She gave you a big grin before she hopped off the stool and left out the front door. Lou and Paul had already left at the start of closing. You didn’t know if Frankie snuck out the back early.
You did a double take to the jukebox, watching Frankie flip his baseball hat backward and push a quarter into the machine. Your face softened, seeing him flip between the different records before landing on one.
Something by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You watched him reach up and untack your banner from the wall easily. You nodded softly before grabbing the spray bottle filled with disinfectant and began wiping down the counters, seats, and tables.
He walked up to you once you finished cleaning, handing you your folded-up banner. You twisted your lips in thought, rolling the banner around in your hands.
“Wanna help me burn this in the burn barrel out back?”
Frankie sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Fuck it. Got nothin’ better to do.”
---
With Frankie’s lighter, both of you watched with glassy eyes as the Happy Birthday! banner burnt to ashes. His face was lit up in orange and yellow hues. He haphazardly tried to lean into the flames with a cigarette dangling between his lips, a stupid laugh leaving you. He shrugged and put the cigarette behind his ear.
“Fuck it.” He huffed, both of your eyes transfixed on the fading flames.
There was a beat of silence.
Frankie’s eyes met yours. “We should do that again sometime.”
Half of your mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Do what?”
He cocked his head to the side in annoyance. “You know what.”
You shrugged and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets. The hum of the highway in the distance made you flashback to just a few hours ago with Frankie railing you against Tumbleweed. A black and purple-streaked night sky submerged the two of you, making you feel tiny. You sigh and shift on your feet, keeping your eyes on the flames that licked up the ay! in Birthday!
“Maybe.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Maybe?”
“Mhm.”
Frankie teetered on your half-ass decision. Even the notion of having an open door left for him to sneak in was enough to make him happy. “Okay. I’ll take a maybe.”
God, you were bluffing so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be sooo bad to throw him a bone every once in a while.
Your fantasizing was cut short as ashes of the banner spewed up from the depths of the barrel and fluttered up into the air between you and Frankie, both of you taking a preemptive step away.
His lighter clicked again; he had to do it a few times before the end of his cigarette caught a flame. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmured. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to walk you to your car, wanting to leave, but not until you started heading home, too.
He swung his body into the driver seat of his beaten-up pickup truck. You decided to follow suit, sliding into your car. You saw Tommy’s fade away from the rearview mirror in the distance. But the thoughts of Frankie between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, and begging to serve your aching center would sit with you until your next shift at Tumbleweed. Sorry. Tommy’s Diner.
---
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#frankie morales#pedro pascal#triple frontier#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales smut#catfish morales#francisco morales#joel miller#joel miller smut
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shifts.
(part of my seventeen first love series!) [m.list]
synopsis - working at a 24/7 hypermarket and thinking you're about to get killed is not fun...but the dude you meet is beautiful so hey worth it?
pairing — jeonghan x gn!reader (reader is called pretty once)
genre/s — fluff, jeonghan is a menace, friends older brother troupe if you squint, reader works at a hypermarket late at night
cw— mentions of dark streets and getting followed (but like not really because he thought you were someone else), one direction is mentioned for a second (yes this is a cw), a lot of cursing
w/c - 1k ish
it's 11:03pm when your shift is finally over. it's a quiet friday night, the 24/7 hypermart you're working at is pretty empty which is perfect. most of your shift was spend in just organizing the shelfs and listening to music. that's why you love working here, it's easy money and it's near your house so why not?
“y/n! thank you so much for covering my shift today!”
“hey haein, how was your meeting?”
“um..it was fine haha, I know you like your 11-4am shift more but i had no choice, hope I'm not ruining your saturday”
“it's fine, I was free today anyway”
“let me get changed and you can log out” haein gives you a small smile.
haein is a year younger than you, you first met her when she randomly once ran into the shop at 1am in dire need of ramen. it looked like she was on the verge of tears. that told you enough, she was definitely your type of person.
“is it really that cold or are you dramatic?” haein chuckles looking at your large comically hoodie. you got it matching with her a few weeks ago. she wanted to thank you for putting up with her antics at early hours of the morning. you didn't refuse, a free hoodie is a free hoodie.
“it's December and I'm cold." you give her a glare (affectionate)
"don't leave the store until mark comes in and please dont put your headphones on, if someone walks in your need to greet them” haein gives you a small laugh with a salute and hugs you.
walking through this neighborhood has never been a problem. you know this place like the back of your hand, nothing could go-
“huh?” you turn around. there was something. you swear you felt someone walk behind you.
you look around for a minute, no ones around. that's when you decide to book it. taking a deep breath you start to run and crash into something, or, someone.
“haein chill out why the fuck are you running”
“who the fuck are you??”
you stare at the boy in front of you. long hair, lean frame and beautiful eyes-
“you're not haein.”
“last time i checked no I'm not” you quip back at him. being good looking does not excuse being a bitch.
“oh my god I'm so sorry” he extends his hand out to you which you take and pull yourself up.
“you have the same hoodie as my sister so i thought you were her.. I was planning to scare her so that i could ask why she was out so late I'm really sorry. it's just that usually her shifts ends right now and she takes this street home and”
“jeonghan?”
"you know me?"
it made sense. haein would come in sometimes and rant about her menace of a brother who she loved but sometimes was hard to deal with. for someone who has so much shit talked about him, damn does he look good.
you spend the next 5minutes telling jeonghan about how you know haein, the matching hoodies and why you were leaving the store at her shift time.
“she had a meeting with a club? she's not in any clubs?"
"I don't know I don't interrogate your sister"
“maybe you can” he hands his phone out and you give him a confused look
“put your number in, I'll ask you for sister updates. you can be my spy”
“that's creepy”
“I'm just concerned for her”
“still creepy”
“okay how about you give me your number because I think you're pretty”
you're so glad the street has barely any lights or he would've seen you red as a tomato right now. you quietly take his phone and put your number in, no further words needed.
jeonghan smiles at you and saves your number.
“I'll go meet haein now but I'll text you, you have good taste” and he walks away laughing. you stand there confused. what does he mean by good taste??
you start to walk home when it hits you. he pointed at your bag. a bag with a one direction badge on it that you put on when you were 12 and forgot about it.
“definitely a menace.”
a/n - I'm still on hiatus but I wrote this at 4am when I was sad and needed something to do sorry if it's not my best work :/
#—🪭first love#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#seventeen series#caratsland#svt jeonghan#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan imagines#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan x y/n#jeonghan#jeonghan svt#seventeen jeonghan#seventeen yoon jeonghan#svt x you#svt x reader#svt x y/n#svt#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n
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