#i hope this helped in some way? 💕 sending you love!
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I Want You to Stay (Series Masterlist) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired); angst, drama, fluff, smut
Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Word count: 261.3k
Status: Complete
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Inspiration: Stay by Mikky Ekko
A/N: Hiii I am BAAACK! 🫡 This story is finally seeing the light of day after 3 years. I feel a little rusty, especially this being my first new JK series in 1.5 years! But it's also been a bit rough getting back into writing (and in Tumblr) after so long and after the year that was, so there won't be a schedule for chapter releases and I'll probably be a lot slower than usual. I wasn't sure if I was gonna go back to writing but I realized that I've missed interacting with you guys and screaming about stories so I do hope you give this some love. Fair warning that it's a really slow burn and some scenes are reminiscent of k-dramas. There are also sensitive and triggering topics so please proceed with caution!
And lastly, my biggest love and deepest gratitude to @wonwoonlight who's been the sweetest and loveliest person to talk to about everything, including this story. 🫶🏼 I give her credit for her amazing photos of Seoul (check moodboard) and for being the playlist manager. Please send her love as well!💕
Season 1 -> Playlist 🎶: on the way home
Episode 1 (wc: 12k)
Episode 2 (wc: 11.9k)
Episode 3 (wc: 14.8k)
Episode 4 (wc: 11.4k)
Episode 5 (wc: 14.8k)
Episode 6 (wc: 14.6k)
Episode 7 (wc: 15.4k)
Episode 8 (wc: 17.4k)
Episode 9 (wc: 18.4k)
Episode 10 (wc: 20.6k)
Episode 11 (wc: 23.5k)
Episode 12 (wc: 24.7k)
Episode 13 (wc: 29k)
Episode 14 - End (wc: 32.8k)
Season 2 (??)
#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook series#jeon jungkook#boss jungkook#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#boss au#workmates au#jungkook#bts jungkook
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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN
previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕
chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one.
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any!
word count: 15.6k
ao3
You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.
There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.
And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.
On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.
Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.
"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"
Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.
"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."
Fuck.
"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.
In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.
That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.
guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.
You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:
Rough. Get some sleep x
This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.
It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.
You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.
you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe
right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.
now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.
telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr
but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.
exactly
i wish you guys were here :(
i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.
--
"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."
Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"
Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."
"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.
You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.
hope you had a good day :)
I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x
Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?
can you call me tonight?
You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.
"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"
You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."
She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.
"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.
Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"
She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."
You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?
Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.
"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.
"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.
Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.
"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."
She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."
"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."
You make a face, "Mom..."
She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."
You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.
"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."
"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.
Your mouth can't stop itself.
"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"
She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.
Checkmate.
--
I will when I get home.
Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.
"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"
"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."
Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"
"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.
You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.
"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."
You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.
"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.
"Are you drunk?"
He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."
You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"
He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."
He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."
He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."
"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."
You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."
"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."
"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."
"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"
"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."
He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.
"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."
"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.
"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."
Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."
"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."
"But why?"
Another sigh, then-
"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."
You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."
He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.
"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."
You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.
"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."
"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."
He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"
You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."
"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."
"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.
"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"
You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."
The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.
"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."
He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."
His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.
"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."
He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."
"Goodnight, J-"
"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"
You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."
"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"
You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."
He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."
"Goodnight, Joel."
You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:
"Hope I dream about you."
You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.
--
You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.
She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.
"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."
She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.
Silent treatment. Typical.
Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.
"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.
You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.
"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.
Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.
Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.
"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"
You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.
"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"
You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."
She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"
"English Lit."
She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."
Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."
"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."
"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."
She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."
Great start.
You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.
Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.
"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."
You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.
It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.
You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:
How's your day going angel?
He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.
"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."
--
The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:
well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕
You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:
Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.
You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:
And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x
But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.
Oh.
You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.
You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.
He replies seconds later:
Fuck
A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:
Send me another baby. Please.
Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:
better?
He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.
Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.
i know :)
You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.
"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.
This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.
Jesus Christ
He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.
Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.
thank you mr. miller :)
Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?
Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.
Oh sweetheart. Look at that.
You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:
Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?
You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.
you. it's yours mr. miller.
That's right. Good girl.
Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.
i'm really wet now :(
I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?
Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.
yes please
Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:
Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.
i promise x
Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.
The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.
“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.
“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.
Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.
Shit.
You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.
Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?
--
Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.
You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.
The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.
You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.
"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.
"Excuse me?"
"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.
“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”
"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."
"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.
"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”
“Bethany, I-”
“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”
My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.
"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.
"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”
It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.
--
Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.
The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.
“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.
“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.
He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?
“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”
You shake your head, still staring at the floor.
“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.
His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.
“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”
“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”
You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.
He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.
He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.
Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”
You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.
You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.
And he listens.
He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.
“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”
“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”
You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.
“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”
Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.
“Give it to me,” he says quietly.
Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.
“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”
You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”
Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.
And just like that, the weight is gone.
--
You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.
You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.
“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.
“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”
“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.
“Are you naked?” you ask softly.
He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”
You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.
“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”
You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."
Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.
He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."
You don't need telling twice either.
The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.
You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.
"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.
You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."
"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.
You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."
His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."
You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"
He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."
You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.
"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."
"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"
"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."
His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.
"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."
You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.
Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.
"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."
He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.
"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.
He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.
He really means it, you know he does.
"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."
And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.
--
You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.
Good morning.
He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.
You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.
"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.
No response.
"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.
"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"
It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.
His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.
"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."
His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.
"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."
"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.
He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."
And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.
"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.
"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.
"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.
"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.
You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.
"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."
You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.
"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."
His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.
"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"
You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.
"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."
Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.
"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"
You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.
"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...
Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.
"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."
He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.
"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."
He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."
You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."
He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."
You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."
"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."
He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.
"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.
--
He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.
"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"
"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."
You end up making toast instead.
"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.
"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."
"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."
"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.
You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.
"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.
"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"
"Five minutes."
That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.
"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."
Yes please.
You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.
"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.
"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.
"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.
He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.
"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"
You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.
He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.
"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."
You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.
"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."
God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.
"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"
"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."
"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"
"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.
"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."
"Y-your cock."
"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."
Oh fuck.
"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."
"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."
You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."
"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"
You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.
"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."
After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.
"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.
You're too blissed out to tease him back.
--
The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.
"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."
You'd practically melted down his front steps.
"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.
She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.
"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."
"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."
"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."
--
You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.
"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."
"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."
"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."
You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.
"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"
"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.
"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."
"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."
"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."
"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."
"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."
You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.
"He is," you murmur softly.
--
You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?
"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.
You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.
Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.
"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"
You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."
"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.
The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."
You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.
"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."
You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.
"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.
"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"
You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."
She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"
You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?
"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"
"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.
"And what's his hair color?"
You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."
Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"
"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.
"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.
"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.
There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.
He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.
You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.
You feel your heart in your throat.
There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.
No. No, something isn't right.
Maybe it's not him.
Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.
A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.
No. Please no.
A woman who he kisses back.
This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.
His hand comes up to cup her face.
"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.
You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.
"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."
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I am actually so mad. I was working on this and for some reason it didn't save correctly and ended up posting a blank draft while deleting the stuff I had already written! I'm so sorry it took so long, @tiaramarijadhkxdyi755, but here it is! i hope this is close to what you wanted, because i wasn't sure how to go about it 🙈
taglist - @kabloswrld
patience with the Straw Hats
featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader
summary - the ask above
warnings - mean/careless/neglectful Straw Hats, im sorry, i changed Luffy's and Usopp's because I don't imagine them ever screaming at or getting angry with their s/o 💕
ZORO
Zoro has a short fuse, and that's common knowledge. Everyone knows just how grumpy and aggressive he can be after a hard fight or a difficult day training. He's snapped at everyone more than once, but you seem to take the brunt of it since you're the closest to him, and today was no different.
"For fucks sake just leave me alone!" Zoro could be heard yelling at you all throughout the Sunny. "You're too damn clingy and I don't need your help right now!" He stormed off.
You stood there in shock, having just asked him if he was okay, and taken aback by the response you had gotten. It wasn't unusual for him to be angry, but he was really upset today for some reason. You decided to give him space, but you had to admit you weren't really hurt or upset. More so disappointed that he had once again pushed you away.
"Zoro-"
"What?!" He snapped, glaring at you as you came up into the crow's nest with some food. "I'm not hungry, just leave."
"But-" You started, until he did something unexpected.
He smacked the food out of your hands, sending it all over your face. Your eyes widened and you stumbled back a bit, stunned.
"Okay, I'm sorry," you apologised, giving him a soft smile, "I'll have food in the room once you're ready to eat."
You waited a long time until Zoro finally entered your shared room, looking embarrassed and guilty about his outbursts today. He didn't say anything as he crossed the room and sat down beside you, but when he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips you knew he was apologising.
"It's okay," you smiled gently, "I'm not upset. Just disappointed that you won't let me help you."
"I know I know," he admitted. "I'll work on it, I promise."
"What made you so angry anyway?" You squeezed his hand.
He sighed, "You almost got hurt in our last fight because I was distracted. It's been haunting me, and I just don't want it to happen again. I snapped because I wanted to train harder instead of resting or eating, so I can properly protect you."
You smiled at him again, "But you always do, that was not your fault babe."
He was so grateful to have such a patient, understanding and loving girlfriend.
SANJI
Sanji usually never snapped at or yelled at you. He didn't ever want to, and never had any reason to. He was sweet, loving and doting just like you were, but unlike you he did have his days where he went against his promise to never lash out at you or hurt you in any way. Today was one of those days. Usopp had pulled him away from some girls who were fawning over him, and he was irritated.
"Why did you do that?" He glared at the sniper. "I was having fun."
"You also have a girlfriend," Usopp reminded him, gesturing towards you. He was nervous now, because Sanji looked pissed off.
"So?" The cook scowled. "I can appreciate and talk to other women without cheating on her!" He spoke like you weren't right next to him. "Right, (Name)?"
"Right," you smiled, a bit disappointed but not showing it.
Then he was off, returning to those women to apologise and your crew turned to you, looking at you quizzically. Nami set her hand on your arm reassuringly.
"It's okay," you told them with a smile, "It doesn't bother me."
Sanji then returned, but was quick to notice the disappointed look you had on your face. He was about to ask but you shook your head and kissed his cheek, continuing your exploration of the island.
"Okay what's your problem?" He suddenly asked, annoyed, when you looked disappointed at another interaction between him and a pretty woman.
Your eyes widened, "I'm not-"
He rolled his eyes, "I'm not stupid, (Name). You're obviously hiding the fact that you want to control my every move and stop me from ever talking to other women again."
That claim was so preposterous, you frowned, "I wouldn't-"
He quickly realised what he had said and his eyes widened, "No no no, my love I didn't mean that! I don't know why I said, I-I-" He fumbled for an excuse but sighed when he didn't have any. "I'm sorry, my love. Let me make it up to you, with your favourite dinner."
"Deal."
LUFFY
In all honesty, I don't see Luffy getting angry with or yelling at you. I think he's more of the neglectful type, when faced with certain situations like facing Boa Hancock out on the sea. She claimed she didn't know you guys would be there, but you're pretty sure she was stalking his movements. Luffy wouldn't listen though.
"It's okay, (Name)!" He replied cheerily when you voiced your concerns, "Hammock's really nice! And she has yummy food!"
And then he was off, leaving you to shake your head and sigh. You retired to your shared room, hoping that Luffy would eventually realise her intentions and come back.
He never did, and after a few hours you were starting to get lonely. So you ventured out to find him, only to see him giving her a tour of the Sunny.
"Luffy!" You called, but frowned when he seemingly ignored you as Hancock said something to him.
That was pretty much how the day went. You were ignored entirely by your boyfriend, simply because Hancock wouldn't let him pay attention to you. But you were disappointed in him too, for not telling her that you were dating and for not coming to spend time with you on his own.
When the day ended and Hancock retreated to her ship, bidding Luffy goodbye, the captain finally made his way to you. You weren't upset or sad, but Luffy could see on your face that you weren't feeling anything good.
"Are you alright, (Name)?" He questioned, hugging you.
"I'm disappointed, Luffy," you told him, but hugged him back and smiled anyway, happy to have him back.
"Disappointed?" He frowned. "Why?"
You sighed, "You didn't make any effort to come and see me for even a few minutes today. You spent the whole day with her. I'm not upset, because she helped you a lot, but I am disappointed that you ignored me."
He hugged you even tighter, "I'm sorry, (Name), really. We can spend the whole day together tomorrow!"
You smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell him that's what you guys did everyday when Boa wasn't around.
USOPP
Usopp is another Straw Hat that I don't see getting angry or yelling easily. He's very patient with you, and he's understanding. He also doesn't have any aggravating circumstances, but the one thing he can be that disappoints you sometimes is careless. He can be very careless when it comes to what he says or does, because he usually acts on emotion.
And today, it seemed, he was missing his old crush Kaya. Because while you were shopping for clothes on one store, seeking to replace your torn and burnt ones, he kept yapping on about how Kaya had this and Kaya had that, and that hers were all real and genuine.
"I'm sorry I'm not Kaya, or as rich as her," you politely reminded him, not upset but starting to feel uncomfortable.
"It's okay!" He smiled, ignoring the subtle hint for him to stop talking about her. "I love you anyway!"
"Love you too," you smiled, but in your disappointment it didn't quite reach your eyes like it usually did. Still, you persevered, hoping he would stop by the next shop.
He did not.
"Kaya had something like this," he looked at the dress you were holding up, "But much prettier."
You frowned, again disappointed that he didn't like it. And that he had once again compared it to someone in his past that should be staying in said past.
Usopp noticed your expression, and his smile faltered, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," you smiled, shaking your head, "It's just not my style."
His eyes widened, "Woah, (Name), I didn't mean-"
"It's okay, Usopp," you kissed his cheek, "Let's go, I think we're done."
"No we're not," he took the dress, "This will look so much nicer on you than Kaya."
You opened your mouth to say something, but giggled when he refused to let you and bought it for you, dragging you back to the Sunny so you could show him just how much prettier you were than Kaya.
#one piece#op#zoro x reader#zoro x you#one piece x reader#one piece x you#roronoa zoro#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#sanji x you#usopp x you#usopp x reader#usopp#monkey d luffy#luffy x reader#luffy x you
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Hello, could you write the reaction of the characters (Lucifer, Adam, Niffty, Charlie, Waggy and Lute) to the fact that the reader saved Adam from Niffty (when she wanted to stab him with a knife) Well, presumably, the reader pushed Niffty away or took her and threw her away, And then she ran away with Adam and Lute or just yelled at everyone or something else, but it's up to you and, by the way, let the reader be an angel, please, thank you very much And I already wrote to you with a big mistake, so I’m sending it again and I apologize for it
I saved you! Adam x fem!reader
A/n: I was actually thinking about this idea and I'm very happy that you requested this. Hope I don't disappoint you 💕💕
It was finally extermination day. You were with Adam and Lute making sure everything went just as planned. Suddenly there was a shield around the hotel.
Adam: The fuck?!
Lute: They appeared to have some kind of shield, Sir!
Y/n: OH YOU DON'T SAY!? I CAN'T EVEN SEE IT! WHERE IS IT?!
Adam: And that's why you are my favorite Little Tits!
Then Lute groans and tries to break the shield but…… it doesn't work. Y/n slaps her face while Adam was just getting more angry.
Adam: I'm fucking over this!
Adam said in an angry voice then broke down the shield. He then saw the Radio Demon in the roof so he went down to fight with him. Soon after Y/n followed him.
Alastor: Adam! First man, next - Oh! Who is this little bird with you?
Alastor looked at you as you flew next to Adam.
Adam: SHE IS MINE SO FUCK OFF!
And with that Adam attacked Alastor. They were fighting with each other and Y/n tries to be helpful to Adam but he doesn't want her to get hurt. (But he is Adam so he would rather say it rudely)
Adam: BITCH JUST SIT DOWN IN YOUR DAM ASS!!
Alastor threw him into a wall that's when Y/n decided to step in. She broke his cane while Adam got up and gave a deep cut to Alastor. Then Alastor disappeared.
So Adam began a raging out burst. Well Y/n just slapped her face again...... Then she went down to kill sinners. She wasn't the fan of killing sinners but she loves Adam so she do it for him.
Although Y/n was very happy when she heard Charlie's plan and she wanted to help her but Adam didn't let her.
She was so busy fighting that she didn't notice when Charlie and Vaggie went after Adam. Just for that to Lute went down with Vaggie to fight while Charlie was fighting with Adam.
Y/n heard something big crash in the hotel where Lute and Vaggie was fighting. So she immediately fly there to see if everything is alright. But Y/n saw Lute arm got stuck under some rocks so she helped her out.
Y/n: You know you could have cut your hand off with that.
Lute: I don't need you're smart ass to tell me that!!!
And with that Lute went after Vaggie Y/n wanted to go with her.
Lute: STAY THE FUCK HERE Y/N!! IF YOU GET HURT ADAM IS GOING TO KILL ME!! LITERALLY KILL ME!!
Y/n: ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!!!
Y/n went back killing sinners but when the hotel was cut in half she knew something was wrong so she went to find Adam.
When she found him in a hole getting up saying some bullshit.
Adam: I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man! And you're just some fucking clown or something. I started everything on Earth.
Well as long as Y/n saw none was interested by what he was saying. But she noticed someone sneaking behind him with a angelic knife. So she went down next to Adam lifted the little red killer up. Every one was shocked to see Nifty. But Charlie did told her to stab every angle that she saw.
Nifty was trying to kill Y/n too but she trow her to Charlie. Y/n looked at the group with a very disappointed look especially Charlie.
Y/n: I thought you are better than this Charlie.…
She said looking away from her.
Adam: HA! THAT'S MY BITCH!!
Adam said looking at the others with a mocking face. Y/n helped Adam as they and the other exterminators went back to heaven.
Bonus:
Back in heaven Y/n were helping Adam with his wounds. She was putting some bandage on him when he started to talk.
Adam: THAT WAS INTENSE!!
Y/n: You don't have to yell anymore.
Adam: Sorry Little Tits. I'm happy that you chose me tho.
Y/n: Excuse me?
Adam: I thought you are going to go on Little Miss Butterflies and Rainbows side.
Y/n: I'm not going anywhere Adam……
He grabbed Y/n's face to turn to his face.
Adam: Good because you are mine~
Then he kissed her.
Characters: 3603
Words: 694
#fan fiction#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam fanfiction#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader
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I'm Here.
Miguel O'Hara x Fem reader
Synopsis: Miguel is here to help fix your back pain. Fluff ensues. 💕🖤 Word count: 2k
A/N: for the lovely @ilovetoomanymen . Thanks for the inspiration! I ran across one of their posts with this prompt in mind and decided to give it a go. Hope you like it. 😁🫶🏽 Cuddles with Mig would be soooo heavenly. Mrpmphhhhjj. This was written for fem pov, but besides the gendered terms the story could be enjoyed by anyone.
TW: established relationship, back pain, crying, fluff, some heavy kisses
Miguel sighs loudly as his mask dissipates, rubbing his temples as he shuffles towards your shared bedroom, nearly tripping over the jam-packed laundry basket with a mountain of clothes that's now begun to lean lopsided, until he knocked it slightly, sending the underwear, shirts, and dirty sheets on top into a heap on the floor with Miguel rolling his eyes in annoyance.
He kicks a stray sock off his foot and opens the door carefully with a small creak. The TV is playing your favorite show, but it's long forgotten, the autoplay on its sixth or seventh episode by now, no longer following the plot. You're sprawled out in the middle of the bed, sheets askew. You let out a small groan, your sweatpants you're wearing are starting to ride up on one leg, socks mismatched, your hoodie is making your skin itch but you're in too much pain and feel too lazy to move. Your hair is wild and one of your arms is covering both of your eyes as it lays across your face. You dip slightly as Miguel sits on the bed next to your torso, the soreness of your back triggered by the mild disturbance and you let another loud groan escape, this one slightly more dramatic than the previous.
Miguel raises an eyebrow, one of his hands gently pulling at your arm that's covering your eyes, wanting to have you look at him. "Looks like both of us had a shitty day, huh?" A very faint chuckle rolls from his chest as he notices your arm flops like a dead fish, but his eyes grow slightly wide in alarm when he notices your eyes are wet. Your glistening lashes blink rapidly at him as more tears build up in your irises below, gravity already causing some to leak out of the corners, racing down your face and grazing your ears, the temperature warm, the feeling salty, your face puffy indicating this wasn't the first time today you cried.
¿Qué pasa? ¿Por qué lloras, mi alma? (What happened? Why are you crying, my soul) Miguel murmurs, laying on his stomach as he cups your face in his hands, looking down at you as you look up at him, his face upside down in your vision because of how you're positioned.
You shake your head with a small sniffle, one of your hands pawing weakly for the tissue box that lay next to you. Miguel reaches over, taking the box and offers you one. You greedily pull out one after another, Miguel's brows raising slightly at how many tissues you could possibly need. You sit up, a pained wince flashing across your face as you blow furiously into the Kleenex bouquet.
Miguel watches you patiently as you furiously rub your nose, your breath shaky as it exits and you turn and look at your boyfriend fully for the first time. "My back is killing me."
Miguel's eyes flicker across your form, as though he was trying to search for the spot that was giving you trouble. "Where?"
"Everywhere..." you whine feebly, a scowl appearing on your face as you go to lay backwards again. "I slept on it funny last night...I had to call off work today because there was no way I could do everything in this much pain..." You suck in air between your teeth as you try and shift positions and move the pillows.
Miguel sits up, trying to stop you from overexerting yourself. "Hey...hey..." He drags a pillow to your front, patting it so it's nice and fluffed, flipping it to the colder side. "First of all....you shouldn't lay directly on your back if it's hurting, mi vida..."
You brace yourself for more pain to radiate through your body, squinting as you gently lower yourself down, laying on your favorite side. Miguel places both hands on either side of you, guiding your head to the pillow which you hit with a gentle sigh. The cold temperature of the fabric brushing your face in a satisfying feeling that tickles your brain, soft purrs of contentment leaving your lips. Miguel smiles and hums, one of his hands sliding down your hip as he gently lifts your knee, propping another pillow between them for support.
"That better...?" he asks in a soothing tone, careful not to make his voice too loud and disrupt the pain-free trajectory you were finally on after hours of discomfort.
"Much better, baby...thank you."
"You're welcome, baby..." He presses a soft kiss into your cheek which you answer with a faint twitch of your mouth.
Miguel's eyes wander to your overcrowded nightstand, the space being taken up by empty bottles, plastic drink tumblrs, bobby pins and a couple of your favorite books you keep forgetting to finish. "You been drinking enough water?"
"Mmm..." you lazily answer, the cozy position you were laying in already making your eyes droopy, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts to audible sentences. "Yeahhh kiindaa.."
Miguel shakes his head and gets your water cup off the night table, brushing all the empty bottles into your mini trash can, carefully creeping across the room and down the hall to get you a fresh glass.
Once he's back, he sets the glass in the nightstand, gently waking you up for you to take several generous sips before you get comfy again. Miguel brings the bed comforter over you, tucking your feet in like a human burrito. "Where you going, babe?" You ask him, your voice a little sad at the thought of him leaving you already.
Miguel gives you a soft look, crouching down to your level next to the bed. Crimson irises flicker with tender study as they look back into your own. "I was gonna see if you needed anything else?"
You shake your head, one of your hands reaching behind his head, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, making his face go warm. "Just you..."
Miguel gives you a dazzling smile, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He lays behind you in the spoon position, being careful not to press too forcefully against you and hurt your back again. He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, running his fingertips across the side of your face, tracing the outline of your body as you squeak out a small yawn.
"Rub my back, please?" You ask, closing your eyes. Miguel nods, sitting up, gesturing for you to reposition so you're on your tummy. You wince again as you lay on your stomach, Miguel positions himself over you so his knees are in between the gaps in your legs, lowering his upper body so he's hovering and careful not to press too much weight onto you.
He brings both hands to your shoulder blades, working his palms into a gentle caress on the skin below. You suck air between your teeth, jerking your head slightly upwards in pain with a whimper.
Miguel tilts his head in concern, "I hurt you?"
You nod a little, pressing your cheek back into the pillow. "It's okay..."
"Pobrecita..." (Poor thing) Miguel murmurs, moving his hands away from that spot for now, working on the other areas of your back.
Miguel's not a stranger to back pain, although his physical ailments he's dealt with are usually few and far between after his transformation into a Spider person. If he is feeling crummy he doesn't need to deal with it for long, thanks to his enhanced ability to heal. The scientist he is, he loved anatomy and studied muscle groups, incorporating it into his trainings and used the knowledge to help him maintain his envious physique. Now, he was transferring what he knew into this moment as he began his massage on your tender back.
He hummed quietly as he worked on you, calloused hands from climbing, webbing, and fighting normally tense and rough handling you as though you were made of glass and paper. Gently kneading, skillfully transferring weight between different parts of his hand, murmuring to you in a sweet tone, checking to make sure you were doing alright, that he wasn't overwhelming you, that he was handling you gently and properly rubbing the muscles without triggering your pain.
Your skin utterly melted under his touch. His hands the brush and your back morphing into something of a canvas. Your chest gently heaved, breaths becoming more relaxed, more content as you just allowed your discomfort to leave you and he soaked it up like a sponge. You could feel the tension and worry being tugged out of your body with each ginger press of his fingers. You could never get over the way this seemingly intimidating man to those who didn't know him seemed to evolve into the biggest sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly the moment you entered his orbit.
You were dissipating at this point, your skin and your body rendered to a liquid underneath this man. He stayed silent, save it for his soft murmurs and your gentle purrs of satisfaction. He looked at you when you weren't looking like you were responsible for putting the breath in his lungs, a quiet sense of pride making him feel warm all over when he saw how successful he was at making you feel better. His sweet girl.
When you were fully satisfied with his work and your pain much more manageable, he shifted so he was laying behind you once again. You felt an emptiness when you could no longer sense him above you. "Miggy..."
"I'm here." He reassures. His tone dulcet. "I'm here...." he coos again. Mellifluous, soothing melody that silenced all your fears and put them to sleep. You exhaled as you felt his body press against yours in the bed, making yourself small against him. His strength wrapping you up like a hug.
He pulled you closer to him, a fuzzy feeling running through his veins at the outline of you. A shape he could never get used to, a pattern he became an expert in. Handling and taking care of your body was a job he'd gladly accept and take ownership in. It made him feel special, the way you so trustfully lent yourself to him, though he knew how stubborn you could be. You all but turned to putty in his hands.
He rests his chin in the crook of your neck, letting the silence between you amplify in tranquility when the gentle patter of raindrops begins to beat against the window. He presses soft kiss after kiss into your temple, the plump feeling of his lips on your skin is too sweet to resist. You gently roll over, meeting his kiss and he groans feebly, his turn to become completely helpless under the tenderness of your touch.
You lay there and kiss him, your fingers tangling themselves in his tousled locks, the soft moan you release in his mouth causing him to respond by lightly sliding his tongue into your mouth. You oblige, the kiss deepening, making him sigh. His pleasant noises leaving you with a healthy dose of desire, your pain all but a distant memory at this point.
He pulls away for a moment and you shift your face closer to his, your gazes become intertwined for several intimate moments.
"I love you, you know that....?" you ask softly.
Miguel places a hand on your hips, his thumbs leaving tiny circles, gradually finding residence underneath your hoodie so he can feel your bare skin. His touch sending a tiny pulse of electricity up your spine. He leans in closer, "I sure do, beautiful..."
He plants a kiss in the middle of your forehead. "Te quiero tanto, mi cielo(I love you so much, my sweetheart)..." He murmurs against your skin, the tremor of his voice calming your soul.
"Mi cielo..."(My sweetheart) He presses another kiss, this time on your cheekbone, gently dragging his lips down to yours, a trail of adoration on your face. You lock lips with him again, softly sighing and moaning, both your hands and his all over the other's body, raindrops persistent on the roof of your little apartment, light slowly draining, leaving the sky a murky gray, his lips the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment as your heart stirs alongside his in your cozy bed.
#miguel o'hara#miguel atsv#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel ohara fluff#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#Spotify
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Hiiii 🥰
I'm obsessed with Jujutsu Kaisen lately and I love your blog, so I thought a possible Jujutsu Kaisen request: could you pls write a hc where yan!platonic Sukuna (in Itadori's body) being overprotective and obsessed with reader.
Thanks 😘💕
An Exception (Platonic Yandere Sukuna)
I wrote a short fic instead, hope you're good with that.
Check out my other works here: masterlist
---
Hanging out with Yuji was a near daily occurrence at this point. He's a very loveable boy, whose always happy to help, even during the most mundane tasks.
What was also a near daily occurrence was Sukuna infecting Yuji at the worst times possible. Like when you were grocery shopping.
"Hey, stop staring."
"It's a baby, that's what they do." You say, shushing him. You were already fed up with his behavior, you didn't even have to look at him to know Sukuna was present you could tell by just the sound of his voice.
"Baby needs to learn some fucking manners."
Sukuna mumbles, watching you grab a box of very sugary cereal and place it into the cart. He quickly grabs it, placing it back on the shelf before replacing it with something, while healthier, far less enjoyable.
You furrow your brows at him, "Hey, what gives?" You yell quietly. He shrugs, uncaring.
"You shouldn't be eating that sugary shit, it's not good for you." He responds, eyeing your basket and snarling at anything he deems harmful to you. You in response, roll your eyes.
"You're one to talk." You reach for something on a higher shelf, Sukuna grabbing it before you could yourself. "You fill Yuji on so much crap he's sick for days." Sukuna snickers, following you as you walk down the stalls, eyeing anyone who looks at you too long.
"Yeah, well, it's not my fault this body has a small stomach." You roll your eyes, yet again. You swear, Sukuna's going to make your eyes fall out of your head.
You finish up quickly, skipping over some things you really didn't need in order to get out of the store before Sukuna kills someone. You pay for your items, not lingering too long at the cashier in fear Sukuna starts a needless argument, before leaving.
You take a breath of fresh air, before you're rudely interrupted by the brute Sukuna, "man I'm hungry, let's go eat." He says, walking in the other direction from you. You eye him, annoyed.
"I have to put away these groceries, be patient, jeez." You hear him groan, but he follows you none the less, pushing you away from part of the sidewalk nearest to the road, taking the place instead.
---
Sukuna was scarfing down a burger, uncaring about your discomfort at his messy eating. He's always like this when he appears, taking Yuji's body and using you for food or entertainment. He was never kind with it either, more so demanding. He'd yell at you to get him food, watch a movie with him, play video games, whatever until he got bored and then give Yuji back his body.
Though, the days where he's not like that, days where he is kind and protective, those are the ones that throw you for a loop. When he helps you put away your groceries without complaint, when he pays for your food when you go out to eat, and like now, when he's eying the service worker who yelled at you for bumping into him.
Sukuna wiped his face roughly with a napkin, furrowing his brows at the young boy joking around with his friends. "Dude, calm down, I'm over it." You say, laughing at his very angry expression.
Sukuna, in fact, does not calm down.
He instead, choses to huff and puff at the boy when he walks by, audibly growling when he gets to close, much to your dismay. You groan, lying your head down in the table, trying to avoid looking at the confused patrons sending glances your way.
You decide enough is enough when Sukuna yells at mother for laughing at your clear embarrassment, calling her a nosy bitch and continuing his tirade as you push and pull him out the door.
It's fair to say you won't be eating their again.
---
Sukuna's never cared for anyone other than himself.
He revels in people's suffering, their anger and fear. He baths in the blood of his enemies, laughing at their pain.
But when he's with you, something in him changes.
Sukuna's chest heaves as he remembers seeing you for the first time. Through Yuji's eyes, he saw you great him during school, walking past him quickly in order to be on time to your class. Even from that quick moment, he could tell you were diligent by the way you carried yourself, hardworking by the plethora of books in your arms, and most of all, kind, by the nearly blinding smile you gave Yuji.
Blood runs down Sukuna's knuckles as he remembers meeting you for the first time, officially. How scared and confused you were, how you demanded him to give Yuji's body back, and how the fear in your eyes didn't please him. It made his, or Yuji's, stomach churn, his breath quicken, and his mind to scramble to find a way to comfort you. He opted for the usual strategy at yelling for you to calm down, which seemed to work. But the fear was ever so present, and he despised it.
A body, unrecognizable, groans, bloody and bruised, as he remembers when you finally became "friends." It wasn't an official thing, no declaration or statement of friendship. Instead, your relationship was solidified when you were knocked out in battle. A mission your idiot teacher sent you on. The curse was too dangerous, but you put up a damn good fight. Right up until your body couldn't take it anymore. Yuji was there with you, and before he could do anything, Sukuna was obliterating the curse and rushing to your aid in an instant. He could barely hear you grumble in pain over the sound of his own rage. In this moment, Sukuna felt a slurry of knew emotions, most of which he did not enjoy. He felt sadness, guilt, pain, fear. He demanded you stay awake, shaking you when your eyes started to close, and silently cursing the world for doing this to you.
From that moment on, Sukuna needed to protect you. Not because he cares, but because he cannot feel weakness again. He is not allowed to feel pain or fear, definitely not for a sorcerer who would kill him if he wasn't inhabiting their friend's body. He needs to keep you safe in order to keep himself strong.
None of that explained his behavior though. It didn't explain eating out with you and using Yuji's money to pay. It doesn't explain playing video games with you until you fall asleep, tucking you into bed with all the gentleness left in his body. It doesn't explain absolutely ruining curses that dare to lay a finger on you. And it definitely doesn't explain beating up the service worker who was rude to you in a dingy ally way.
The body goes silent, cold, and limp as Sukuna thinks of you. Thinks of the fear you felt earlier today and thinks of the split second where you looked at him, panic flashing through your eyes. At that moment, he feels fear, anger, rage, all at once, all because of you, and he attempts to act before you calm him down, his emotions quickly shifting to something foreign. Something strangely peaceful he feels only with you. He doesn't mind the feeling, it's nice, warm, and he craved it.
Sukuna's never cared for anyone other than himself.
But you, you are an exception.
---
A/n: Sorry if this was too short.
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#platonic yandere#platonic yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#platonic yandere jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yandere jjk#sukuna ryomen#platonic sukuna#sukuna x reader
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TEACH ME PT.4 | TRAVIS KELCE
a/n : I've been swamped with Universty 🫠 sorry for the wait but I hope you like this 4th part 💕 Enjoy !!
Warning : None, Some kissing
Words: 1,473 (Not proofread)
Pairing : Travis Kelce x Reader
Part 3
TEACH ME PART 4 | TRAVIS KELCE
‘’Y/N?’’ he slurred, a mix of surprise and recognition in his eyes. ‘’I’ve been thinking about you.’
Time seemed to slow, and your heart raced. He took a step forward, his presence, unexpected and unwelcome, sent a shiver down your spine and you took a step back, getting closer to Travis.
‘’I’ve …I’ve tried to call but…’’ You instinctively tightened your grip on Travis’s hand, drawing strength from his steady presence.
"Is there a problem here?" Travis's voice was calm but firm, his protective stance unwavering.
Christopher’s gaze shifted between the both of you, a mix of surprise and discomfort in his eyes. You knew from his look that he was aware of who Travis was. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Since when do you two know each other?’’ he asked, shocked and hurt when he saw your hands intertwined.
‘’It’s none of your business anymore, Christopher.’’ You responded looking at your feet before meeting his gaze again, feeling uncomfortable. He went on to speak but Travis cut him off before he could.
"I think it would be best if you go back inside with your friends, don’t you think?" Travis’s powering figure was imposing. Christopher hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before turning and stumbling back into the bar.
You let out a shaky breath, your heart still pounding. Travis turned to face you, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
You nodded, trying to find your words. "Yeah, I... I didn't expect to see him. Thank you, for being here."
He squeezed your hand gently, offering silent support. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you're okay."
As you continued your walk, the weight of the encounter lingered. Your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, and you couldn't help but be grateful for Travis's unwavering presence. He didn't press for details, understanding the complexity of the situation.
His protective instinct and genuine concern were a testament to the kind of person he was, caring, strong, and ready to stand by your side.
In that moment, you knew that this unexpected encounter had only deepened the connection between you guys. And as you continued to walk hand in hand through the city, you felt a sense of trust and comfort settling in, solidifying the special bond you were building. You had made your way to Travis’s car, riding back towards your place.
"You know," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I was thinking we should do this again sometime. Maybe catch a game together?"
You turned to face him, a playful glint in my eye. "Are you trying to impress me with your football prowess, Mr. Kelce?"
He chuckled, a deep, melodic sound that made your heart flutter. "Maybe just a little. But mostly, I just enjoy spending time with you."
You couldn't help but smile, the sincerity in his words washing over you like a warm wave. "I'd love to catch a game with you. Just promise not to quiz me on the finer points of the sport."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Deal. I'll fly you out to KC and stick to teaching you the basics."
‘’When are you going back?’’ you asked him, realising he played in a totally different state.
‘’Tomorrow, I hope it doesn’t stop us from doing this again, because I really like you’’ he said as you reached your apartment. His gaze locked with yours. "You know, this has been one of the best evenings I've had in a long time," he admitted, a touch of vulnerability in his eyes.
He stepped closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was tender, sending a wave of warmth through you. "I feel the same way," you confessed murmuring, heart pounding in your chest, blushing as your gaze locked with his. He looked down at your lips. His gaze lingered there, making his intention obvious as you moved even closer to him.
With your hearts racing, Travis leaned in, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, a silent caress that spoke volumes.
Your breaths mingled and his mouth worked against yours. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a cocoon of intimacy. You could feel the soft press of his lips, gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity, as if he was pouring his feelings into that kiss.
His lips were warm and soft and there was a sweetness to it, a tenderness that carried all the unspoken emotions that had built between the two of you over the past few days. It was a kiss that tasted like promise, like the beginning of something beautiful and profound.
The kiss deepened, though still retaining its tender nature. Your mouths moved in a slow, synchronous dance, expressing a deep affection that had grown between you both. There was no rush, only the quiet assurance that you wanted to savor this moment for as long as you could.
When you finally parted, it was with a gentle shyness, as if you were both aware that this was just the beginning. Your eyes met, and in his gaze, you saw a reflection of you own feelings - a mixture of longing, hope, and a promise for the future.
"I don’t want to sound clingy but, I wish you didn't have to go," You murmured, a touch of longing in your voice.
He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I know," he replied, his voice carrying the same wistful tone. "But we'll see each other soon, and until then, you'll be in my thoughts every day."
You couldn't help but giggle softly, your eyes locked on his. "That's a lot of thoughts, you know."
His grin was infectious, and his hand cupped your cheek. "Well, you're worth it. Besides, we'll make plans, video calls, and send each other cute messages. It'll feel like no time has passed at all. Plus, I promised to fly you out to KC"
You leaned in, wrapping your arms around his neck as you got on your tiptoes, and whispered, "I'll hold you to that."
Your noses brushed, and you shared a tender laugh. You knew that goodbyes were hard, but they were only temporary. With one last lingering kiss, you reluctantly stepped away from each other, your hearts feeling a little lighter.
That night as you laid in bed, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within you, and you couldn't quite pinpoint the source of it all. Perhaps it was the unexpected encounter with your ex-fiancé earlier in the evening, a painfull reminder of a past chapter. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Travis lived in a completely different state, a geographical distance that seemed scary and daunting.
However, amid the chaos of those emotions, one feeling stood out like a beacon. The butterflies that danced in your stomach from the magical evening with him. The way he made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, the laughter you guys shared, and the electric anticipation before the moment your lips collied.
As the morning sun gently streamed through the curtains, you rose from bed and with a quick glance at the clock, you knew it was time to get ready for another day at work with the little kids.
After a brisk shower and a fresh cup of coffee, you got dressed and made your way to school, where you found Camille waiting for you in your class.
"Tell me everything, from the beginning!" she rushed as you fumbled with your bags.
As you recounted each moment, from the charming restaurant to the heartfelt conversation, you could see Camille staring at you with her infectious grin. Her support and genuine happiness for you made the memory even more special. She freaked out when you told her about running into Christopher, but she freaked out even more when you mentioned you and Travis kissing.
Later, as you stood in your bustling classroom, children flitting about like little whirlwinds of creativity, a soft knock on the door drew your attention. Opening it, you were greeted by a breathtaking bouquet of flowers, their colors a vibrant celebration. Gasps of delight echoed from the kids, their eyes wide with wonder.
A small note was nestled among the blooms, its message a testament to the thoughtfulness of the man who took you out the night before.
‘’I couldn't wait to brighten your day as much as you brightened mine last night, I hope you take me on my offer" it read, the words etching a smile on your face that could rival the sun's warmth.
To the note was attached a plane ticket to KC, scheduled in a little bit more than a week.
Part 5
To Be Continued
Taglist : @kkrenae @spencerreidisbootiful @nabiiturner @ilove-tswizzle @legit9thlunaticwarrior @evernova @kelcemenow @bellstwd @my-regrets @green-lxght @thecubanator2 @corvusmorte @vznggh @kxllanxtdoor @youareadistraction @blackstabbath6 @queenmendes @@maryleclerc
#travis kelce#travis kelce fic#travis kelce imagine#travis kelce nfl#travis kelce x reader#kelce x reader#nfl fic#nfl imagine#nfl x reader
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#🏷️#malakai’s txt post#malakai’s ask#malakai’s pics#important#blocklist#my puppy 🐶#my cat 🐱#my mutuals post 🤌🏻
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Hii!! Hope you're doing well, i just discovered you and im OBSESSED with your posts. Idk if you saw the chapter 260 leaks yet, so if you dont wanna get spoiled, please read this request after reading the new chapter. I wanted to request some headcanons for ness, kaiser, reo and bachira where they are dating the reader and the readers parents basically sees them as their son (my parents are just like that for my older sisters boyfriend and they call him their son. Even invite him over for vacations and family dinners everytime. I think its really cute🥹💕) I was thinking of this request especially for kaiser after seeing his backstory. Feel free to ignore if you want to. Also thank you for your posts i LOVE the way you write💕
S/o with a welcoming family - Reo, Kaiser, Bachira, Ness
m.list | rules
Note : hi thank you for your request! You're so sweet thank you dear ♡ You don't know but that's a sensible point for myself and the day you send this I spend the night crying about my shitty parents
Kaiser
He's shocked the first time he meets your parents
He's not the type to feel comfortable around parental figure for obvious reasons
Your parents welcoming him like he belongs here touch him in a way he can't explain
He's invited more and more, your mom rely on him when she needs help and so does your dad, it's all new to him
If you have a rather intimate and physical touch is a norm, he's probably shocked at first
It has nothing to do with you and the way you touch him, yet he feels like crying the first time your mother hugged him
He's probably less cocky since he doesn't feel the need to do so around them
It just became a safe place, just after you
Ness
With you and how you talk about your parents, he already thinks that he can get along with them
But when your mom mentions how she loves books/movies he can't help but talk about what he likes as well !
He would probably be closer to her in that sense but he does his best for your dad to like him as well
He likes to help around so he's accepted really soon
If you have younger siblings he LOVES to spend time with them !!
It's endearing and you know how bad he needs it
Bachira
He'll bring so much joy to your parents
Particularly if your an only child
Seeing you with someone so childish will probably heal sometignf in them, you seem so happy and joyful
Bachrira would feel weird at first to be treated like you are but will comes to love it
He loves your parents a lot
To the point where he'll even celebrate his birthday with your family once in a while
He's never been welcome somewhere like this, it will heal something inside of him as well for sure
Reo
He's always welcome with hugs or your father's gently patting his back
He learn what it is to be listened to
He's used to speak without people listening to him so the first time your parents answer and go on the same conversation as him, he'll feel seen
His jaw clenched but a genuine smile will form on his lips
They're just like you are, warm and welcoming
Your dad LOVES him so much
They can talk together for hours and you love to see him this comfortable around your family
If you have siblings, they love him I just know it they told me
You can tell how radiant he is and it makes you glad you introduced him
He's always welcome with hugs or your father's gently patting his back
#blue lock x reader#blue lock fluff#blue lock hc#blue lock headcanons#blue lock#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#bllk hcs#bllk headcanons#bllk#kaiser x reader#kaiser hcs#kaiser fluff#alexis ness#ness x reader#ness hcs#ness fluff#reo x reader#reo headcanons#reo mikage#bachira x reader#bachira meguru#bachira meguru x reader#bachira hcs
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Heyy!! Love ur work eveytime I read one of ur fics I get so many butterflies lolll, ✨✨
I was wondering if you could do like a Toji x shy/studious reader where they are in a library and she’s trying to reach for a book on a tall shelf and Toji flirts w her and helps her only with a kiss or smth. LMAO so specific but yeah play around with it if u want! <33 I LUV FLIRTY TOJI 💕💕💕
hiii!! ahh thank you <33 sorry this took so long! I hope you like what I wrote and thank you for sending in a request! <33
request by/written for: @allisonr729 ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝
Toji was impossible. Impossible to study with and certainly impossible to focus around. It was easy to slip away from him—well it was easy to lie. Toji was clingy and telling him you wanted to study alone was an invitation to an hour-long glare. So you simply lied.
You were in the library, books spread out on your table and the swinging of your legs to keep you company. You needed to get up at some point to reach for a book. Your height preventing you from even getting close. But you managed to successfully sneak away from a 6'2 man, a book shouldn't be a problem.
10 seconds of frustration in and someone's arm reached over your head to pull the book out. Whoever it was had their body caging you in against the shelf. You knew exactly who it was. The familiar hands gave it away. Or was it how close he was to you? How you could smell his cologne and how his chest was almost touching your back.
You wouldn't turn around. You lied and he still found his way to you. He was impossible.
"Wanna look at me?" His gruff voice causing your face to blush.
You bit your lip and cringed at how you were caught in such a stupid lie. If anyone else were to look at you, they'd think you were caught with your hands bloodied.
You shake your head and keep your body facing the bookcase.
Toji sets the book somewhere on the shelf and turns you around. His hands set on your waist.
You lower your head and look at your feet. He trails one hand towards your neck, thumb placed on your chin as he gently lifts up your face. But your eyes keep moving towards everything except him. Which was hard given the fact that he was everything, everywhere.
He chuckles and taps his thumb on your chin.
"What's up, sweetheart?"
"Nothing." You squeak out.
He lowers your head to be directly in your eyesight. Now this, this was what made him impossible. He had the ability to dumb you down to nothing when you were just studying. When you were so smart, you made him look at you like a love-struck idiot—listening to whatever you were spewing.
"Why's your face all red then?"
Him and his pretty eyes would probably find you if you were stranded at sea.
"The library's h-hot, you know? B-books and all." You had no clue what you were saying.
An amused smile stretches across his face.
"So it's not because I caught you running away from me?"
"Ye- No? I wasn't running." You looked up at him, begging to be believed.
He raises an eyebrow in amusement. You stayed quiet.
He hums and moves his hand to move your hair out of the way. He tucks a strand behind your ear and trails his hand to the side of your neck to lift your face up one more time.
He brings his face incredibly close to yours. His lips barely touching yours. Your eyes were hooded, you looked down at his lips, and you leaned forward hoping to catch them with your own. Time stopped and you could feel his breath against your lips. This close.
Instead, he laughs and pulls his face back. His hand was warm against your face.
"You want me to touch you that badly? I thought you wanted to be alone."
You brought your hands up to cover your face.
"My poor baby." He chuckles. "She's all red."
You shook your head and tried to move away from him. Back to your table and hopefully away from how he was making you feel. But he wouldn't let you.
"Toji." You whined. "I need my book."
He reached for the book again and held it above you. He looks at you, blinking slowly.
"You need this, sweetheart?" He teases.
You pout and furrow your eyebrows at him. He uses his thumbs to smooth over them.
"Kiss me." He demands. "Kiss me and I'll give you the book."
Your jaw drops slightly. "I tried and you-"
"That was then, this is now." He explains.
You leaned up and quickly pecked his lips
You feel his arms reach around you to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up. You gasp and softly yell out his name.
"Toji. Put me down."
He starts walking towards the table you were seated at. Did he forget this was a public space?
If it was possible, you had gotten redder so you shoved your face in his neck, hoping to avoid his gaze as well as anyone else's.
He sat down with you on top of him. You were unmoving against his lap. He was comfortable against you and far too annoying to make you look at him.
"Was that supposed to be a kiss?"
You pulled your head out of the crook of his neck and bit your lips nervously. You sighed and leaned forwards as you brushed your lips against his— you were finally close enough to completely and fully kiss him. He lets out a breath as he moves his lips in tandem with yours. Gripping your shirt tightly. Everything around you disappeared. No books, no people, no one, except him.
Him, him, him.
He pulls away looking at you with a hooded gaze.
He moves his hands against the side of your hip and taps his thumb against it.
"Study, sweetheart. Isn't that why we're here?"
Unbelievable.
You stood up off his lap, still out of breath, to move to another chair but he grabs your wrist softly and pulls you back on top of him. Now, you were facing the table whilst his chest was pressed against your back.
"Here, baby."
You couldn't even fight the smile off of your face. You try to get serious.
"Fine. But you can't distract me Toji. I mean it." You looked back at him.
"I won't. Have to let my baby get smart. Hm?"
You were about to start studying, only 10 seconds had passed, ten, when he lifts his hips upwards and moves himself forwards to lean back on the chair.
"You comfortable?" He asks twirling your hair around his fingers.
Impossible.
#toji fluff#toji x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#toji comfort#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#soft toji#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen#toji imagine#jjk toji#fushiguro toji#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#tojismain౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹#tojismain
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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SIX
previous chapters | again, thank you so much for all the love on this fic. it's so beyond overwhelming and wonderful to know that people are enjoying this story. i hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip 💕
chapter summary: it's time for your first official "lesson" with joel.
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, fingering, oral (f receiving), lap-sitting, grinding
word count: 8.7k
ao3
You feel ridiculous.
You stare in your bedroom mirror at yourself with a look of pure mortification, assessing the beige dress you're currently wearing that your mother picked out from her own closet, falling to your ankles and bagging off your hips in the most unflattering way imaginable. It looks like a potato sack with long sleeves, long and floppy and absolutely horrendous.
You slowly shake your head at your reflection as she comes up behind you with attentive eyes, assessing the same trainwreck you are. You can see in her expression that she's similarly disappointed in the way it looks.
"I'm not wearing this," you say quietly, trying not to sound too harsh, "Please, Mom, this doesn't fit me right."
She bites her lip, eyes still scanning you up and down, "You're probably right," she sighs.
She wants you to dress modestly for your first lesson with Joel. You'd settled on Saturdays as your official "lesson" day, a perfect choice in your opinion as you now have an excuse to go to his house on the weekend without having to lie to your parents about where you are. You want to appease them in some way, your mom in particular; you've felt so bad about all the lying you've been doing, you feel you owe her something. And that something is apparently agreeing to let her pick your outfit, a decision you're already regretting immensely.
"The navy blue one was nice," you say, gesturing toward one of the other options she's laid out on your bed - one that's actually from your own closet and not hers, "I know I've grown out of it but it's not that short."
She walks over to your bed and picks up the dress in question with an exasperated sigh, eyeing the clock on your night stand, "I guess it'll have to do, we're running out of time. You don't want to be late," she hands it to you quickly, "You'll have to wear stockings with it though."
You nod - that's a compromise you can deal with.
She gives you some privacy to change, leaving you to fight your way out of the oddly shaped beige atrocity on your own. It crumples into a pile at your feet and you kick it to the side with a little too much aggression. Imagine if she'd actually made you wear that - Joel would never want to touch you again.
The thought of Joel sends a rush of warmth throughout your body as you slip into the other dress, velvet and modest but nowhere near as awful as the previous one. You'd talked to him on the phone last night after he'd finished work, cuddled in bed against an extra pillow in place of him - you'd slept so well on Thursday night when you'd slept in his bed, felt so safe and warm in his arms, you're now doing anything you can to replicate it. You'd wrapped his flannel shirt around it, coating it in his scent.
"I miss you," you'd whispered through the phone, the insecurities from the previous night almost nonexistent as you nuzzled your cheek into the fabric of his shirt, "I know I saw you this morning but I can't help it."
He'd laughed lightly, soft and familiar in your ear, "I miss you too, babygirl. Miss havin' you in my bed."
You'd taken only one deep breath before admitting softly, "I miss your cock."
He'd groaned, low and deep, "I know, darlin'. I know you do."
You'd both had simultaneous orgasms about ten minutes later, your name on his lips as he came into his fist and you buried your face in the pillow you wished was him, fingers scissoring inside you. You walk over to your bed now and pull up the mattress a bit, tugging his shirt out from underneath while you have a spare moment alone. You bring it to your face and inhale deeply, eyes closing and heart fluttering; you're obsessed.
"Ready to go?" your mom calls from downstairs, and you quickly shove the flannel back under the mattress, making sure it's hidden before you dash to your dresser to grab a pair of stockings. They're black and stop at your thigh, the edges hidden beneath the dress; you already know Joel will take them off soon enough.
You immediately notice the grimace on your mother's face when you appear at the bottom of the stairs and you wonder what you've done wrong already. She assesses you again without saying anything, gnawing on her lip and circling you a bit.
"Can I go?" you ask quietly, unsure what she's going to say, "I don't wanna be late."
"Where's your crucifix?" she finally says, tilting her head slightly, "I don't think I've seen you wear it all summer."
Astute observation - you haven't worn it all summer. It's still upstairs in your jewelry box, exactly where you'd left it when you went off to college several years ago. You'd begun to resent everything it represented and no longer felt like parading around with it on your neck like you'd done your whole life. The thought of wearing it now after so many years of forgetting it even existed... well, it certainly doesn't appeal to you whatsoever.
But you are trying to make up for all the lying, even if she doesn't necessarily know it.
You plaster a forced smile on your face, "I'll go get it." She mirrors it and nods as you turn around and head back up to your bedroom. Do it for the lessons, you think to yourself calmly.
Looking in the mirror after clasping the gold cross around your neck is a trip to the say the least. You suddenly feel ten years younger, standing in your bedroom preparing for an early service, Sunday School homework crumpled in your backpack and an immense weight of pressure on your shoulders to be perfect. You stare at the crucifix and feel that familiar sense of guilt begin to creep in, surrounding you in a quiet but palpable void of judgement that you've spent years trying to escape.
Why the fuck are you doing this? Why are you so hellbent on following the rules, after everything you've done? Why does the approval of your parents still mean so much to you? How is any of this even worth it?
You swallow back the pain you feel, the guilt, the anger, the resentment, all of it. Now is not the time to have an existential crisis; you have a "lesson" to go to - something you are not going to feel guilty about, no matter how bad your former Catholic brain may want you to.
As if by some ironic miracle, your phone buzzes and you unlock it to see a sudden surge of text messages in your college group chat:
have fun at your lesson 😘
don't do anything we wouldn't do!!!
pls give us all the details later 🥵
ITS ENTIRELY POSSIBLE TO SUCK DICK ON ACCIDENT JUST FYI
A breathless laugh escapes you, relief flooding your body at the sudden sense of normalcy, the reminder that what you're doing is not wrong. You're so glad you told your friends about what's been going on - you can't imagine keeping this secret all to yourself any longer. Knowing that they're there, that they support you and care about you and want you to have these experiences... it's enough for you to turn from the mirror without a second glance.
It's just a fucking necklace.
--
You arrive on Joel's doorstep at exactly ten o'clock, smoothing down your dress a bit and taking a deep breath before knocking. You're not sure how he's going to react to you standing there in all your Catholic glory, hair down and parted through the middle, crucifix dangling from your neck, hymn book weighing heavily in your purse. You still feel like that past version of yourself, shifting nervously from right foot to left as you stand there waiting for him to open the door.
The knob finally twists and there he stands, tall and broad in front of you. Your eyes widen when you see him, lips parting in surprise - the exact same reaction he has when he sees you.
He's dressed up. No band t-shirt or jeans to be seen, no bare feet or messy hair or disheveled beard. His grey curls are gelled back, demure and handsome, scruff trimmed up to shape his jaw. He's wearing a grey button down tucked into a pair of black dress pants, shoes that look freshly shined. For all intents and purposes, he looks like he's about to go to a church service.
You both stand there staring at each other without saying anything, both pairs of eyes scanning up and down your bodies with almost no regard for politeness. You're speechless, completely in awe of his sudden transformation, a transformation you certainly had not been expecting.
"I thought, uh-" he chokes out, breaking the silence between the two of you as his hand reaches up to awkwardly touch the back of his neck, "I thought your mother might bring you."
You continue to stare at him, a ball of emotion suddenly growing heavy in your throat, "Y-you wore this in case my mom came with me?"
He slowly nods, suddenly looking a bit sheepish as his eyes scan the road behind you for any onlookers, "I wanted to make a good impression."
With a shaky inhale full of a feeling you can't describe, you take a step toward him, unable to stop yourself from reaching forward to grab his hand, "Joel," you whisper, barely audible and almost alien in your mouth - you're so used to calling him Mr. Miller, "That's... that's..." you don't even know what to say, words completely failing you.
"It's no big deal," he says with a small smile, tugging on your hand and urging you to follow him inside, "C'mere."
As soon as the door closes behind you he's grabbing both your hands and pulling back to look at you again, eyes still awestruck. You can't help but feel embarrassed when his gaze freezes on your crucifix.
"My mom made me dress up," you mumble, "I know, it's a lot."
He nods and clears his throat, taking a long exhale through his mouth as he continues to peer at you, "I'm a bad man." Your brow furrows, confused for a moment before he laughs breathlessly and shakes his head, "I am, I must be, 'cause I shouldn't find you wearin' all this so damn sexy."
A giggle slips past your lips, skin warming as he entwines his fingers with yours and moves forward a bit to tower over you, eyes trailing to your lips.
"I mean it, darlin'," he whispers with a tender smile, "You look... fuck, you look pretty."
"Thank you," you whisper back, tilting your head up a bit more, waiting for him to kiss you - and he does. It's soft and sweet, not the type you'd been expecting after a comment like that. He seems slightly reserved as he kisses you, squeezing your hands in his and pulling away far too quickly, "What is it?" you ask quietly, raising an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"
He shakes his head again with a chuckle, "Nothin' at all, babygirl. I'm just... I'm tryin' to keep at least some of these next two hours focused on learnin' guitar."
You make a face, "Oh. Right."
"Remember what I said the other night?" he looks down at you with a playful smirk.
We'll make it sexy.
A smile spreads slowly across your face, "I remember."
--
He sits you between his legs on the couch, just like the first time he'd touched you. He noses your shoulder and breathes you in, pulls you close as he carefully places the guitar into your lap. His arms are warm and comforting, thighs strong and safe. You lean back into his touch immediately with a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes.
"Now, how am I supposed to teach you if you've got your eyes shut?" he asks with a laugh. You pout and open your eyes again, turning your face a bit to catch a glimpse of his relaxed expression.
"Sorry, it's just - you're distracting."
He snorts and redirects your attention to the task at hand, reaching down to capture your fingers in his and bring them up to the neck of the guitar. It's already distracting having him so close, but you can feel the shape of his cock against your lower back; it's not even hard -not yet, anyway - and your heart is already pounding.
"I mean it," you mutter softly, "I can't think when you're so close to me. Not after..." you trail off, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought, "Not after what we did the other night."
You feel him smile against your jaw, lips ghosting your skin, "I know, it's overwhelmin' isn't it?" His fingers trace the shape of yours, pressing gently against the guitar, "That's normal, sweetheart. We took a big step."
You can't help but lean back into him as he speaks, head coming to rest gently on his shoulder, forehead brushing his neck, "It felt so good," you whisper, secretive and shy, "When you were on top of me like that. When you had your mouth..."
He hums softly in understanding without you having to finish the thought, turns a bit to nose your hairline, "You want my mouth on you again, huh?"
"Yes."
He kisses your skin softly, lingering for a moment before moving his face downward, "How 'bout this?" he murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to the bare skin at your neck, "How 'bout I teach you three chords? Just three," another kiss, this time to the spot above your collarbone, near your crucifix, "and when you can play them for me without my help, I'll give you a reward."
"What kind of reward?" you breathe, eyes closing again as his lips graze your neck back and forth.
"Somethin' that feels really good," he whispers, and you swear you feel the tip of his tongue flutter against you for a brief moment, warm and wet, "Somethin' new I wanna show you, if you'll let me."
"I'll let you do anything," you admit, voice shaky, "You know that."
He smiles against you, then slowly licks a long stripe up from your neck to your cheek, an act that probably would have disgusted a previous version of yourself but now sends you reeling, skin going hot beneath his mouth. You turn your head toward his and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, the kind you'd expected at the door, full of arousal and sex and the promise of more. You're already wet and throbbing when he pulls back to peer at you.
"I know," he murmurs, hand that's not on the guitar coming up to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger, "You'd do anything I asked, huh?" You nod, eyelashes fluttering as he thumbs your chin and whispers, "Such a good girl."
Your mind is empty as he releases your chin and takes your other hand in his, bringing it down to the strings. You let him move you the way he wants to, adjusting you a bit between his legs so you're pressed more firmly against him, his broad chest tight against your back. You can't help but let out a breathless noise, almost a whimper.
"I know," he repeats, voice calm and soothing as he pushes his groin forward so his clothed cock makes even more contact with your lower back, "I know, babygirl, it's so much, isn't it? Feelin' so many different things," he carefully adjusts your fingers on the neck of the guitar, places them on the correct strings and murmurs, "You can do this, I know you can. And then you'll get your reward, I promise."
His words are smooth as butter and have almost no meaning at this point, thoughts foggy as you press down on the strings and try your best to focus on what he's asking of you. You're suddenly completely pliant under his touch - he could pick you up and bend you over the kitchen counter and you'd let him, wouldn't even have a thought in your mind as he did it.
But he won't - that's not why you're here.
Learning guitar chords with a half-hard cock digging into your back and warm breath at your neck is much easier said than done. You don't know how you manage to get through the fifteen minutes it takes you to learn the C chord, and the ten minutes it takes to learn what you think is the D chord - you can't even remember now, you're so distracted by his body against yours. He's teaching you G when you feel yourself slipping, thighs rubbing together to seek some kind of relief. It's never felt like this before; usually you'd be touching yourself at this point or he'd be touching you. The lack of contact almost hurts, your pussy throbbing around absolutely nothing and dampening your underwear, begging silently to be relieved in some way.
"What's wrong?" he whispers, big fingers still pinning yours to the neck of the guitar, stubble scratching against your skin as he presses a feather-light kiss to your ear, "Tell me, darlin'. Why're you wigglin' around like that, huh?"
He knows why; you can feel the smirk on his face, sense the teasing edge to his voice. He's enjoying this, having you completely under his spell while you try your hardest to learn and remember. His cock is getting harder by the second, the movement of your hips and ass certainly not helping the situation by any means. You know what it looks like now, what it feels like, can picture it in your mind growing stiffer and stiffer, leaking from the tip through his pants.
"Feels f-funny," you manage to whimper, forcing yourself to strum out your first G with shaky results. You try again, pushing your fingers more firmly against the strings with Joel's help, feeling his nose trailing gently across your temple.
"What feels funny, sweetheart?" he murmurs, and part of you wants to rip yourself from between his legs, toss the guitar to the floor, and straddle his lap, grind yourself down on him. You've never done it before but you can suddenly see it in your mind plain as day, an obvious solution to the problem in your panties that's growing worse by the second.
"My pussy," you moan, closing your eyes and tilting your head against his shoulder again, hands loosening on the guitar, "It hurts."
He pulls you in closer, inhales your perfume and releases a low groan, "Poor baby," he murmurs, "I know, honey, you're just achin' to be touched, huh?" He tightens your fingers against the strings again, eyelashes fluttering against your neck, "Come on, sweet girl, you almost got it, you're so close."
You're not sure he intends for that to have a double meaning but it makes you groan nonetheless, a weak sound that makes him chuckle. He removes his fingers from yours and waits for you to show him the chord without help - you can feel his eyes on you as you shakily strum. You wince when it comes out sounding wrong.
"Gotta push down harder," he murmurs, "You almost got it, babygirl, show me."
"I can't," you whimper, shaking your head, "I can't, Mr. Miller, it's too much, please."
"Shhh," he soothes, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, "You can, darlin'. You're doin' so good." You feel him pull your dress up in the back as he speaks, and then he's suddenly pulling you up and into his lap, sitting you directly on his clothed cock. "You just gotta push a little bit harder." He grinds against you at the word, firm and purposeful, pinning you to the solid length of him.
"Oh my god," you gasp out, awestruck by the feeling of him, so big and thick and warm beneath you. Your pussy continues to pulse and throb and you know you're already starting to soak the nice pair of dress pants he'd worn for you, covering his crotch in your slick.
It's somehow still not enough. You find yourself grinding down onto him, matching his own movements as your hands squeeze the guitar and your thighs push together. You whimper pitifully in his lap, squirming and making a mess but too horny to care about how ridiculous you probably look.
"You feel my cock against your pussy, baby?" he asks, voice low and deep, and all you can do is nod frantically, a moan tearing from your throat, "That feel better? Think you can play now?"
You truly don't think you can, but he's clearly still waiting for you to show him. Your whole body is on fire, hands trembling as you push your fingers against the strings as hard as you can, strumming out the G chord with more success this time. You sigh in relief, loosening your grip on the guitar and leaning back into his touch.
"Now show me all three," he whispers.
"Mr. Miller," you groan, frustration and arousal starting to fully overtake you, "Please."
"Shhh," he repeats, "Shh, baby, it's okay. It's okay, I'll touch you this time. Just play those three chords while I play with your pussy, alright? Can you do that for me?"
You nod again, swallowing tightly as you reposition your fingers on the neck of the guitar and try to remember where they're supposed to go for the C chord. It's impossible to focus as Joel snakes his arm up around your belly, slips his hand down beneath your dress to where you're aching.
"Lemme feel," he murmurs, fingertips tickling over the wet spot of your panties and pressing down gently against you, "Oh, she's throbbin', babygirl." You moan again, borderline hysterical as he uses two fingers to circle your hole through the fabric, callused tips prodding your folds. "Shhh, I know, baby, I know. Keep goin honey, keep playin'."
You don't know how you do it, have absolutely no idea how you manage to actually strum out the chords while he's touching you like this, but you do. You shakily play the C as he slips his index finger inside your panties and places it against your hole, feels how much you're dripping for him and groans into your neck.
"Always so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs, "Never even had a cock inside you and your pussy's so ready for it every time, babygirl, just beggin' to be filled up."
He pushes both his index and middle fingers inside as you play the D chord, slipping them in with barely any resistance as you grip the guitar and try your hardest to keep going, to not give up - you're so close, in more ways than one. You whimper when the tips of his fingers brush gently against that spongey part inside you that you can't reach yourself.
"That's it," he encourages you softly, slowly beginning to fuck you with them, pulling them out and pushing them back in as he noses your neck and breathes you in as you tremble, "I know, sweetheart, feels so good, doesn't it? One more, baby, one more."
Tears are stinging in your eyes as you strum out the G chord, the last one you need to play in order to get your reward, to end Joel's teasing and finally get what you were promised. You push your fingers down as hard as you can and play it with a finality that makes him smile against your skin.
"All done," he murmurs, taking the guitar from you with one hand and tossing it to the other end of the couch. You moan out a sound of relief and he pulls you in close, holds you firm against his lap and speeds up his fingers, fucking you harder and smiling wider when you cry out in pleasure, "Good girl, angel, good girl."
You can't speak, jaw going lax and eyes hooded as his fingers plunge in and out, his other hand spread on your belly as he pushes you down onto his cock. You turn your head slightly to bury your face in his neck, biting down on your lip and letting the sensations overwhelm you, whimpering when you feel his cock twitch and pulse through the material.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks huskily, "Didn't even wanna learn guitar today, did you? Just wanted to come over and be my good little girl, get fucked by my fingers and grind against my cock, that right?"
You're unable to answer any of his questions, letting your body do all the talking for itself as you become completely loose and pliant under his touch, a ragdoll in his lap as whimpers continue to escape your mouth.
"Wearin' this little dress," he murmurs, "And these fuckin' socks," the hand that's not on your pussy comes down to rest on your thigh, squeezes the bare spot between your dress and your stocking, "Just beggin' to be touched, babygirl."
You should've seen what I had on before I left the house, you think to yourself, remembering the beige potato sack and thanking the heavens that your mother hadn't made you wear it. You watch as Joel pulls up your dress in the front, exposing both of you to the pornographic image of his hand inside your panties, fingers fucking you relentlessly while you drip and soak everything within reach.
"You want your reward now, baby?" he asks you softly, pulling your hair back and pressing a wet kiss to your temple, fingers beginning to slow, "Huh? You wanna try somethin' new?"
"Y-yes," you manage to finally speak, voice faint and weak, "W-want it so bad." And it's true - you don't even know what it is but you're dying for him to do it already, teach you something else that's not just chords on the guitar.
At your words he pulls his fingers out of you and you whine, petulant and frustrated as your hips buck in his lap. Without a word he pulls you off of him and carefully slips off the couch, placing you back against the cushions where he was sitting. You watch with wide eyes as he kneels on the floor in front of you, hands coming up to rest on your knees as he slowly pushes your legs apart.
"W-what are you doing?" you whisper, but a small voice in the back of your mind tells you that you already know, recalling past discussions from your friends that you'd listened to with curiosity. Is he...? Is he really going to?
"Gonna kiss it better, baby," he breathes, hands trailing up to the edges of your stockings and carefully thumbing your bare skin, shuffling closer and looking up at you with those big brown eyes, "Gonna make you feel so good."
"Isn't it..." you feel yourself frowning, thoughts muddled, "Don't guys not like..." you're not sure how to word it, grimacing, "Aren't you supposed to hate doing that?"
His brow furrows, "And where'd you hear that from?"
"My friends at college," you breathe, "They say guys hate doing it. Or... or they don't know how to do it right or something like that."
He surprises you when he smirks, eyes going devilish and sexy in that rugged way you love, "That's 'cause college girls usually sleep with college boys, babygirl," he says softly, "And college boys are dumb as rocks."
You giggle at his words, thinking back to that freshman party you'd attended where the handsome college boy had rejected you, gone for your friend instead. Joel's words are validating, comforting.
He pushes up your dress a bit more, then drags your panties down your legs, completely soaked. He smirks again at the sight of them, squeezes them in his palm before dropping them to the floor and picking your legs up to place them on his shoulders, pulling you toward him. You let out a gasp, eyes going hooded again as he scoots you forward and then dips his head down, presses a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.
"This," he murmurs against your skin, "is one of my favorite things to do in the whole world." He kisses your other thigh, the hint of his tongue just barely flicking out to wet your skin, "And I wanted to do it to you," another kiss, "since the first day," and another, "you showed up on my doorstep."
You're losing your breath again, lips parting as he finally brings his lips to where you're aching for him, soaking the couch with your arousal. He presses a small and tender kiss to one of your outer lips, then the other, then carefully moves his hands up to thumb them apart, holding you open for him. You don't dare make a sound, biting down hard on your lip as you watch him look at you, take you in.
"Prettiest pussy I ever saw," he says quietly, breath fanning out over your wet skin, "I mean it, sweetheart. Ain't never gotten to kiss a pussy like this," he leans forward then and presses a small kiss to your clit, feather light. Your hips buck immediately, an odd sound coming from the back of your throat as you try to keep yourself together, "I know," he murmurs, "Just let go, honey. Don't hold back, want you to come all over my mouth."
And then he's licking a stripe up your folds, just like he'd done to your neck, long and languid and wet. Your eyes roll back, head hitting the back of the couch as he tastes you. The feeling of his mouth on such a sensitive part of you is indescribable; your head is suddenly empty again, no thoughts to be found other than feels so good, feels so good, feels so good. You don't even realize you're saying it out loud until he laughs, mouth vibrating against your pussy in the most perfect way.
"Love this cute little clit," he murmurs, kissing it again and then tugging it into his mouth with his tongue, sucking on it and making you writhe on the couch, fingernails digging into the cushions. He hums around it, pulls off it relatively quickly, then drags his mouth downward and pushes his tongue inside your hole, fucks you with it as your head lolls atop your shoulders.
College boys really are dumb as rocks.
"Your tongue," you moan out, eyes scrunching together as gasps continuously rip from your throat, "Oh fuck, oh my god." He licks inside you, pulls his tongue out to suck your labia, nose bumping against your clit. You shriek, hands coming up to cover your face as you bite down so hard on your lip you fear you might draw blood.
"Tastes so fuckin' sweet, babygirl" he says gruffly, pulling away for only a few seconds to peer up at you, chin glistening with your juices, "Just like I knew you would." He drops back down to suckle on your clit again, the tip of his tongue circling it over and over until you're on the verge of completely falling apart, a fire burning inside your belly that's growing stronger and stronger by the second.
The only thought that comes into your mind before you come is how sinful you must look right now, wearing your Sunday best, crucifix around your neck, hymn book strewn to the side as your fifty-six year old neighbor eats your pussy, coaxes noises out of you that you didn't even know you could make. You should feel ashamed, should feel sorry, but you don't. In fact, it's probably the hottest thing you've ever experienced in your life.
You have no time to give him any sort of warning, not that he needs one anyway. With one final suck to your clit you're gone, hips bucking upward as you cry out into Joel's living room pathetically, eyes shut tight as you flail beneath him. He puts his hands on your hips, pins you to the couch so you don't fall off as you come all over his mouth, just like he asked.
You lay there for what feels like a long time, body like jelly as you sink further and further into his couch. He peppers tiny kisses all over your pussy, avoiding your clit as not to cause you too much overstimulation, then very slowly pulls back to look at you, dropping your thighs from his shoulders.
"Good reward?" he asks softly, and all you can do is nod.
You listen as he gets up and busies himself in the kitchen for a moment, running the tap. He returns with a wet cloth and a glass of cold water, handing it to you before dropping back to his knees to wipe you clean. You hiss a bit when he touches your clit, hips stuttering.
"Shh, it's okay," he murmurs, "Just cleanin' you up, sweetheart."
When he's done he scoots in beside you on the couch, lets you curl up against him and lay there for a few quiet moments, breath evening out as you come back down to Earth. He strokes your hair, kisses your forehead, thumbs your cheek.
"That felt really good," you finally whisper softly, eyes hazy as you open them to look at him, "Thank you."
He smiles, charming and gentle, "You're welcome, babygirl."
"What time is it?"
He looks at his watch, "Ten after eleven, still got some time to spare," he brushes his nose against yours, "You wanna keep practicin' or do you wanna relax?"
"Relax," you hum, "Definitely relax."
He chuckles, "I'll put this away then," he extricates himself from you and reaches for the guitar, turning around to lean it back against the wall. He picks up your hymn book and goes to slip it back inside your purse before you sit up, shaking your head.
"I told my mom I loaned that to you," you smile sheepishly, "You should probably, um, keep it for a little bit."
"Ah, so that's my reward," he says with a laugh, thumbing the pages gently, "I'll take good care of it, promise."
Your eyes go wide at his words, "Oh my god."
He raises an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction, "What?"
"You never came," you sit up on the couch, shaking your head frantically, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, come here, let me help," you reach toward his belt and he just laughs again, taking a step back.
"You don't need to do that, sweetheart," he says softly, kindly, but you're not having it.
"No, I want to, please," you stand up from the couch and step toward him, gripping his belt buckle, "Please let me."
He shakes his head; suddenly he's the one looking sheepish. You halt your movements, staring at him in confusion.
"I came, darlin'," he says with a breathless sort of laugh, smiling at you, "I came in my pants like one of your college boys. Haven't done it in years, actually. I'm surprised I still could." He pulls your hand off his belt and brings it to his lips, presses a kiss to your knuckles, "You're not the only one who learned somethin' new today."
You feel a proud warmth flood your cheeks, smiling softly to yourself as you take his words in.
"That bein' said, I'm gonna need to change," he winces a bit as he adjusts his pants, "I'm a bit of a mess right now." His eyes suddenly light up with some kind of realization, and he quickly puts his finger up before walking over to one of his bookshelves and pulling a little gift bag off the bottom shelf, "Which reminds me," he says with a smile, heading back over to you, "This is for you."
You stare at the bag, confused, "For me?"
"For you."
You take it from him, feeling beyond touched despite not having any idea what's inside. Your heart is beating fast as you reach in the bag, push past the tissue paper and pull out something lightweight, soft under your touch. You stare at it for a few seconds, looking at the pastel pink material and thumbing it gently, brow slowly beginning to furrow.
"You said you needed a new swimsuit," he says softly, "You wanted a bikini, remember? I picked this up for you."
"Yeah, I... I remember," you're still staring at it; it's cute and ruffled, nothing too crazy like the things you'd worried he might get for you. However there's an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach as you look at it, dropping the bag at your feet and holding up the top half in front of your face, staring at it like it could attack you at any second.
It's quiet for a moment, then, "I can take it back if you don't like it, darlin'. No worries."
"No, no, I...I like it," you say quickly, "I just..." you can't really explain how you're feeling, unsure how exactly to word it, "If my parents ever saw me in this..." you suddenly feel like you're going to cry, shaking your head and dropping the top back into the bag, "I'm sorry, I know I told you to get it but... now that I'm actually looking at it... there's no way I can wear this in my pool. Not without my mother having a conniption. I don't know what I was thinking."
You feel his eyes on you as you reach down to pick the bag back up, pushing it back toward him, waiting for him to take it from you - he doesn't.
"It's yours, angel," he says softly, "You don't have to wear it but I want you to have it."
You shake your head, pushing it toward him again, "No, you don't need to waste your money on something I'll never wear."
"I don't care, I want you to have it," he repeats, voice kind yet firm, "I bought it for you, it's a present, and I think you deserve to have somethin' nice for yourself."
"I have plenty of nice things," you snap, letting go of the bag and watching as it cascades to the floor, "I don't need it."
You can't bring yourself to look at him, crossing your arms against your chest and biting down on your lip to keep the tears at bay. He stands there for a few seconds silently, probably waiting for you to say something else, but you don't.
"Well, I'm gonna go change outta these clothes," he says quietly, "I'll meet you out on the back deck, alright? It's real private out there, don't gotta worry about anyone seein' you."
You nod slowly, staring at a spot on the floor. He turns away from you and heads upstairs, leaving you standing there feeling like a complete asshole. What is wrong with you? He just gave you a fucking present, not to mention the best orgasm of your life, and this is how you treat him? You take a deep breath and force the tears away, sighing to yourself and bringing your gaze back to the little bag on the floor.
You hate this. Why does every single thought you have need to be somehow policed by your parents despite them not even being in the room? Why is every decision, every move you make, always influenced by that guilty part of you, the part of you that wants to be their perfect girl, their star student, their obedient God fearing daughter? How has it gotten this deep? Why are they so ingrained in you to the point where something you literally asked for is tainted by thoughts of their disapproval?
You stand there staring at the bag, arms still crossed, thoughts going a mile a minute. Get over yourself. You just had a man's mouth on your pussy and you're suddenly worried about wearing a bikini? You make a grumbling sound in your throat, exhaling and shaking your head. Stop letting them control you. Stop giving them power.
You slip inside the downstairs bathroom, little bag in tow.
--
The sun is hot against your skin as you step out onto Joel's back patio, clad in your brand new bikini and surprisingly less self conscious than you thought you'd be. He was right; the backyard is very private, shielded by trees and a tall white fence similar to your own. You briefly wonder why he'd choose to play guitar on his front step when he has such a nice atmosphere back here, but the thought fades quickly when you see him sitting there in front of you in a lounge chair, wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else.
You feel your heart pound as you walk forward, shutting the door behind you with eyes glued to the hair on his chest, the sweat clinging to his skin, dipping into his tummy. You're still a bit embarrassed by your initial reaction to your gift but it's seemingly water under Joel's bridge when he turns around at the sound of the door to see you standing there.
He whistles when he sees you, low and cartoonish, "Phew. I think I made a good choice," he looks you up and down as you smile shyly, "Gimme a twirl."
You do as you're told, the thin ruffles tickling the tops of your thighs as you spin on the spot. You giggle when he whistles again.
"I really do like it," you say softly, walking over to him and settling into the other lounge chair, "It suits me. I'm sorry I got all weird."
He smiles at you tenderly, "That's alright, babygirl. I understand," he pauses then, looks thoughtful for a moment before saying, "You know... I know what it feels like to be worried about disappointin' your parents. To always be seekin' approval."
Your brow furrows at his words, "You do?"
He nods, leaning back a bit in the chair and sighing a bit, "I may be new to this neighborhood but I ain't new to Texas, darlin'. Born and raised here, went to church every Sunday just like you, had a curfew and rules and expectations and all those things you have." He closes his eyes against the rays of sun, "Difference is, I'm not an only child. I wasn't dealin' with it alone, thank God. Had my little brother Tommy with me every step of the way."
You smile at that, trying to picture a much younger version of Joel in his childhood, horsing around with another little boy. You'd always thought about what it would have been like to have a sibling, to not be the only one with all the pressure on your shoulders, but your parents had never given you any. Your mom had wanted to have more kids and simply couldn't, another layer of guilt added to your ever increasing pile. Her only daughter - a sinner. You shake the thought away and continue to listen to Joel.
"The thing about havin' a brother, in my experience anyway, is that people will always find ways to compare you. Tommy was always the smart one, the moral one, good head on his shoulders, always did well in school and knew his scripture back to front," he chuckles to himself, "I tried so hard to be like him but I just couldn't do it, wasn't built that way, never have been. I was the angry one, the problem child. Was always good with my hands but my parents never saw much value in that, always ended up askin' me the same shit: Why can't you be more like Tommy? Tommy's got straight A's, why don't you? When are you gonna start actin' more like Tommy?"
You frown, feeling a pang in your heart at the words.
"Was too much pressure to be like Tommy. He was their golden boy, you know? And I just couldn't compare. God knows I tried but..." he reaches over the side of his chair and picks up a bottle of beer you hadn't noticed before, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip, "I started messin' up a lot when I hit my teenage years," he continues, "Drinkin', breakin' curfew, sneakin' out to see girls. I had fun but my parents...phew, my father in particular, he was not happy, let me tell you. And then -" he cuts himself off suddenly, frozen for a moment before taking one last sip of beer and putting it down again.
"Then...?" you ask softly.
He shrugs to himself, hesitating a bit before answering, "Then... I got myself into some trouble. Won't go into it, not right now, but they kicked me out. That was that, didn't wanna have nothin' to do with me after that."
Your stomach twists at his words, "That's horrible."
He shrugs again, finally turning to look at you, "It ain't as bad as it sounds, trust me. I was better off, I didn't need any of their judgement in my life, any of that Catholic guilt. It was like a weight came off my shoulders. Sure, I had some bigger fish to fry after that, had to do a lot of things on my own, but I wouldn't change a thing."
"So, do you still talk?" you can't help but ask, feeling slightly selfish; it's for you, for your own conscious.
"Who, me and my parents?" he laughs lightly, "They're long gone now, sweetheart. But yeah, after my Dad died I spent some more time with my Momma, got to have her in my life again for a bit. That was nice." He ponders to himself for a moment, "I think, as cliché as it sounds, time really does heal most wounds. Nothin's ever perfect, nothin' can ever go back to the way it was, but people change. And while they're changin', you gotta focus on what's right for you, on livin' the life you want, not worryin' about what they'll think."
You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. "So... this life, the one you're living right now... is it what you want?" you ask softly, brow furrowed, "Are you happy?"
He sighs then, leans further back into the chair and closes his eyes once more, "Now that's a complicated question."
You both lay there in silence for a little while, though it's neither awkward nor uncomfortable. It feels nice, to just sit with somebody with no pressure of making conversation or answering things about yourself. Every time you've interacted with anyone this summer, whether it be your parents or your mom's friends or people you used to know, there's always been an expectation to inform. To prove yourself, to show how good of a person you are, how much you've achieved. With Joel none of that pressure exists; it's so easy to just be with him and not have to be anyone but yourself.
Though he hadn't really answered your question, you have an answer of your own. Before you met Joel, almost two weeks ago now, you hadn't known where you stood in life, what you wanted, who you were. And now you're slowly beginning to realize that there's this whole other person inside of you, dying to get out, to be free. And you like that person, want to be her more than anything, want to live that life.
But just like Joel said - it's complicated.
"Do you ever..." you break the silence, trailing off slightly before continuing, "Do you ever feel like you're just kind of going through the motions? Like... wasting all your time doing things for other people instead of yourself?"
"Honey, you just summed up my whole life," he says with a laugh, deep and smooth, "You think I wanna be out workin' til ten every night, doin' construction and barkin' orders and layin' plans for shit I got no interest in? I'm fifty six, I should be thinkin' about retirin' by now." He winces at his own words and then sits up a bit, giving you an odd look, "Forget I said that."
You raise an eyebrow, confused, "Why?"
He grimaces, "I don't need to be remindin' you how old I am."
You can't help but laugh, smiling to yourself and shaking your head quickly, "I don't mind, Mr. Miller, really."
His expression softens at your words, but then his brow furrows. He's quiet for a moment, the cogs in his head seemingly turning until he finally says softly, "Call me Joel, darlin'."
You're a bit surprised by his words, eyes widening, "Oh, I'm sorry."
He smiles, "Don't be sorry, sweetheart. I... I do like you callin' me Mr. Miller, but you can call me by my name too, if you want. If it feels natural for you."
You nod slowly, "Joel," you say quietly and he chuckles, "Joel," you repeat, smiling to yourself, "Joel."
"Don't wear it out," he admonishes with a grin, reaching down to pick up his bottle of beer again, "Though I do like how you say it."
Your cheeks warm at his words and you settle back into the chair, closing your eyes and inhaling the fresh air. Your time is winding down now - you'd told your mom you'd be home around noon; the sun is almost at the highest point in the sky.
"So what would you be doing?" you ask suddenly, "If you had more freedom for yourself, if you weren't doing the whole contracting thing?"
He thinks to himself for a moment, then shrugs, "Playin' music, I guess. Always wanted to when I was young but my parents didn't like the idea, I'm sure you can imagine." You grimace at his words, understanding completely. "But yeah... doin' some gigs, playin' guitar, singin' a bit here and there... that'd be the dream." He smiles at you then, crinkly eyed and gorgeous, "What about you, darlin'? If you didn't have all these things with your parents to worry about, what would you do?"
You bite your lip, averting your eyes from his as you softly murmur, "I think I'd still be sitting right here with you."
He looks at you for a long time, thoughtful and soft. You can't help but feel shy under his gaze, toying with a ruffle on your bikini and wondering if maybe you've said too much. You've barely known him two weeks, you doubt he's feeling any ounce of the butterflies that have been fluttering in your belly since the day you met him, and yet you can't help but hope that maybe...just maybe... he's starting to.
"You want a beer or anything, sweetheart?" he interrupts your thoughts, standing up from his chair and gesturing toward the house, "I'm goin' in to get another one. I have some lemonade too."
"Lemonade sounds nice," you say with a smile, and he mirrors it, reaching down to push a strand of hair behind your ear.
"One lemonade comin' right up," he murmurs, then leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, sweet and quick. You melt under his touch, eyes closing as he strokes your cheek, realizing you could sit here forever just existing with him, being touched by him, being kissed by him.
Yup. Very complicated.
--
You arrive home to find your mother sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch; she looks up as soon as she sees you, eyes lighting up, "So? How'd it go?"
You're wearing the dress again, the stockings, the crucifix. The only difference is that the hymn book in your purse has been replaced with the pink bikini, wrapped in tissue paper. You sit down across the table from your mother, feeling a little lighter, like there's a little less weight on your shoulders.
"It was amazing," you tell her, unable to stop the genuine smile that spreads across your face, "I learned so much."
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in motion, in 3D. ー jeon jungkook.
pics not mine!
you touched yourself so well through the screen of jungkook's cellphone that he couldn't help but call you in the middle of the night.
jungkook × f!reader.
mature content, maybe fluff, mentions of squirt, sweet and trying something new, sex call.
note: i'm doing a lot of drabbles 'bout jk, but this man is living in my head! especially now with '3D' lyrics.. hope you guys don't mind!
Jungkook drove alone to the hotel he would stay with his band members, being the last one to arrive because he wanted to stay with you a little longer before traveling again.
Getting out of the car, jeon grabbed two bags, ready to go inside when his cellphone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. Knowing who was possibly calling, he immediately dropped everything that had in hands and grabbed the phone. Your name appearing on the bright screen.
pretty girl 💕 sent a video.
pretty girl 💕 : i'm already missing yoooou
pretty girl 💕 : trying something new, ive never recorded myself like this before
pretty girl 💕 : sleep well ;)
You actually sent him a 'sleep well' after sending that abused pussy of yours gushing cum in a way that jungkook had never in person before?! No fucking way.
How cute of you to think that he could at least close his eyes for more than five minutes without thinking of your little cries in the back of that video, fitting perfectly with the wet sounds.
Her clit clearly needs more than just fingers. ー jeon thoughts making his dick even harder.
Unfortunately, jeon couldn't just grab his bags and go back but he had something on his mind. When entering the hotel, he tried his best to be cool and smile at some people who recognized him, but he was in a hurry.
Anxiously, he locked the door of the room in which would spend the night, not needing to share bed with anyone this time.
gguk: hope you're still awake
gguk: cause i am
You smile at the notification, not expecting him to respond so late at night.
Or maybe you expected, since the sheet beneath your body is a complete mess, your legs are still open and the only piece of clothing you wear is a white tank top from jungkook. You didn't move a finger, wanting to make sure if he would return soon or just the next morning.
gguk is calling . . .
And there you go.
You answered quickly and put it on speakerphone, leaving the phone aside since it wasn't a video call.
"what was that?" Jungkook immediately asks.
"what?"
"you know what i'm talking about, pretty. that fucking video is driving me insane."
"oh!" You chuckle a bit, feeling dizzy by the way his voice sounded hoarser than normal. "did you like it?"
Suddenly you receive a new notification. It was a photo of your boyfriend sitting on a hotel bed, in front of a mirror wearing only dark sweatpants, no shirt. His tattooed arm held his clearly hard cock through the fabric. Strands of his freshly cut hair fell over his forehead and a silver chain hung around his neck.
Your body will always burn with desire and shyness whenever you see him like this, despite the years of relationship.
"this answer your question, love?"
"y-yeah." Still staring wide-eyed at the photo as your legs close without you even noticing; thighs pressed together.
"i can't touch you through the phone and that's torture, baby." He growls the last word, left hand going down to his dick. "but you can fuck that sweet pussy of yours while i'm away. do this for me, yeah? now."
"mm-hm."
He smiles with the way you already seem so surrendered. "tell me if you're still wearing my tank top, pretty girl. i want to imagine you."
"yes, i'm still wearing." You say in a sigh. Now, with both hands free and the cellphone's close, fingers play with your nipple and pussy at the same time.
"fuck..." Jeon curses. His wide hands are already running up and down on his cock, slowly but firmly. "so wet my tank top and our sheets with your cum, love. 'want to smell your scent as soon as i get back to home."
"koo..."
"just like that..." At this point you can hear how wet he is and vice versa. "say my name louder, princess. put three fingers in like you know i would, fast and deep."
He gives the instructions calmly and affectionately, but still manages to sound dominant to your ears, which makes you even whiny. You do as jungkook asks and he notices it by the way your moans become louder, knowing that maybe you could even have tears in your eyes. He furrows his eyebrows and lets the air escape from his lips adorned with a small silver jewel in the corner, muttering small 'ooh's.'
Jungkook was loving having sex with you over the phone, but nothing compares to the feeling of having your body pressed against his, sweat running down his forehead as he gives his life while eat you out. He simply loves the sound that echoes when his balls slap against your ass and can't wait to see you squirting now he know that you can. But in person.
In motion.
"i'm cumming, koo!"
"go ahead, baby. i'm so close too..."
And more than ever, he can't wait to see you again.
`✦ !
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Hey I’m not sure if you’re doing requests right now (if not then please just ignore😭) if you are doing requests I was wondering if you could write and Aemond x Wife Reader where she’s with child, in where the dinner scene takes place but when Jace goes to hit Aemond the reader tries to stop him and jace blond in anger pushes her and she falls to the floor and starts to bleed (the child is okay in the end) and it the whole table goes quite! Please and thank you!! I love your writing sm💕💕
'If looks could kill'
A/N: I got this request ages ago so sorryyyyyy~ I was unsure how to approach this one as there is a very similar fic by the wonderful @aemonds-war-crime and I was really weary and making it not too similar, hopefully I did it? lol
Go read theirs cos honestly it's better anyway
Warnings: mention of miscarriages, hurt reader, protective aemond, childbirth / Ao3 link
You raised your arms out in a silent plea, feeling too heavy and weak to be able to pull yourself up. Smiling up to him, you wiggle your fingers.
“A little help?” you say in a half-mischievous tone.
“Hm” Aemond responded with that half-smile before bending at the knees to take your hands to pull you up.
You feigned a groan of pain as you came to your feet, one hand stationed under the large bump as if for protection. It took no effort from Aemond at all to pull you up and he smoothed his large hands down your side. He stood before you in silence, but you could feel his eye over your form, beaming with pride at the bump that touched against him. So much so, he placed his palm to it and closed his eye. His expression was so peaceful you would think he is falling asleep, but with a soft laugh you lay your own palm on his face, softly stroking your thumb against it.
When he looks down at you, there is a flash of worry.
“Are you sure you are well enough to do this?” he asks.
Without a beat, you nod, hand still finding its home on his face.
It was only natural that Aemond was worried for you throughout this long and tortuous pregnancy. He had concerned himself with your wellbeing the entire time, making sure the right foods and the right care was provided, lest the servants feel the wrath of a Targaryen soon-to-be father.
It made you regard him with love and trust the way he took care of you. But a tug of sadness was always there.
Before this pregnancy, your marriage had been plagued with a few miscarriages, some later than others, but still painful nonetheless. The first had been the most painful to your emotions and every one after had chipped a little piece of you away with it. But what worried you the most was the extent at which Aemond seemed to hide his own feelings from you. He was always there for comfort when it happened and you desperately wanted him to at least tell you what was on his mind. If he was grief-stricken, would he tell you?
When this pregnancy came around, there was a deep, dark and hurt part of you that thought it would not last. You thought to not get any hopes of passing a particular milestone and many nights you were crying in Aemond’s arms just praying for the Gods to end it if it was not to result in a baby. To spare you the sadness and grief at another lost child.
But days, weeks and months passed and you only swelled more. You would pull the dress under your bump in the mirror to see how big you had gotten and a motherly pride would overwhelm you at the feeling of growing Aemond’s child and heir inside you.
You meet Aemond’s gaze, half-worried, “Are you going to be alright?”
He sighs deeply, “I shall have to be”
You send him a sad smile, resting your hand on top of his, “And you will not antagonise them?”
I raise my eyebrow when Aemond doesn’t respond, a smirk appears on his face.
“I am not sure if that’s a promise I can make”
You huff a laugh and press a quick kiss to his lips, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of him alone with you before you were to share the evening with Rhaenyra and her children.
“Just try and be good”
You smile, knowing that he most certainly will not.
Between waddling to the table and feeling the kicks of the baby against your insides, the evening wasn’t so bad. There was a bit of squabbling for certain and some glares exchanged, namely by Aemond and Luke, but you supposed it was to be expected. Nobody had expected them to be the best of friends after all.
You pushed the food around your place, feeling your appetite dwindle as the night went on. Even the comfort of wine didn’t seem to touch the discomfort you felt at the baby resting on your pelvis. But nothing seemed to cause more discomfort than when Viserys was escorted from the table back to his chambers. The atmosphere changed entirely and there was a thick layer of tension to the room, threatening to snap at any moment.
You watched as Jace invited Helaena for a dance. It would have been nice to see had Aegon not adopted a sour frown at the sight of the brunet’s hands on his sister-wife. Perhaps he felt embarrassed, you were not sure, but it was certainly of no bother to you as you closed your eyes, one hand rested at the bump. A habit adopted only in the last month or two.
You jumped slightly and opened your eyes when Aemond squeezed his hand over yours, looking at you with concern.
“Are you alright, my love” he asked.
You nodded slowly, “Just tired. I may retire soon”
Aemond tapped your hand before pulling back, passing a scathing look to the younger brunet at the other side of the table. Your eyes watch your husband as a roasted pig is brought to the table, and to your discomfort, is placed right before your husband. You close your eyes, hoping Luke isn’t stupid enough to retort to it, but when Aemond turns to see Luke and a hateful smirk makes its way to his face, you know it was too late for the kind words of a wife to bring him back.
Luke immediately ceases his laughter when Aemond’s fist makes contact with the table, standing with his cup. You open your mouth to ask Aemond to calm down, but the words tumble from your husband’s mouth before you get the chance. Everyone in the room has their eyes trained on Aemond.
The tension in the room is as tight as a bowstring.
“Final tribute” he finally says. His deep voice resonates throughout the room, authoritative and well-meaning in his eyes.
“To the health of my nephews”
His eye meets Jace, who is sending daggers at him from across the room, “Jace” Aemond says.
“Luke”
The younger brunet pretends to feign indifference, but he must know as well as everyone else, he is afraid of what his Uncle might do or say, given the circumstances of their relationship.
“And Joffrey”
The table braces themself for more. You look up to your husband on the off chance he is looking down at you to ask him to stop, but he is far too deep now.
“Each of them handsome, wise…”
Alicent looks as if she might throw up anticipating what Aemond then says.
“...strong”
“Aemond” Alicent scolds in a soothing voice, her panicked eyes meet yours. Both the women in Aemond’s life give one another a silent plea that all this end, but powerless to do anything to stop him. And in some strange truth, perhaps Aemond deserves to have this word in some way.
“Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys”
Jace’s return sounds angrier even though he is to your back and you cannot see his face, “I dare you to say that again”
“Why?” Aemond barks back, “T’was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”
You had enough and you rise from your chair as Aemond rounds the table to approach Jace.
“That is enough, Aemond” you scold quietly, placing yourself before him.
Aemond attempts to go around you, but Jace is already advancing and before you know it he is almost right before you. He looks blind with rage, almost unrecognisably so and there is something in his eye which seems unhinged, as if not thinking clearly.
Instinctively, you step in front of Aemond, arm reaching across as if you could offer any protection despite Aemond’s clearly larger frame. But Jace’s eyes only land on his Uncle and without thinking he places his palm flat on your shoulder to shove you out of the way to land a punch to the side of Aemond’s face.
You gasp out as your hand reaches out for the table as you tumble, your weight off balance due to the bump before you. But your eyes widen when your hands miss the table and you topple over the chair to land square on your front on the cold, hard stone floor, landing with a groan of pain.
Hands flat on the stone floor, it takes you a moment to really realise what has happened. Everyone in the room takes a breath and is completely silent while they watch you come to the realisation of what had just happened. Pushing yourself from the floor shakily, you realise you have landed on your bump and a sound halfway between a cry and a choke escapes you as you feel the familiar ache in your womb.
You look up to Aemond with glassy eyes and his form is entirely still, his face stoic and you see his eye flit from you to Jace. His whole body is charged with something and you realise exactly what it is when in just a second he had Jace pressed against the wall, his dagger pressed against the older brunet’s throat. His expression is not crazed or angry and you are surprised just how calm Aemond looks as he threatens Jace’s life.
Jace blabbers incoherently, making half-apologies. All on deaf ears.
Alicent rounds the table in a jog to kneel by you and she goes from helping you to a more comfortable position, to wiping away the tears on your face.
“You dare harm my wife, bastard” Aemond spits, pinning the smaller boy to the wall with ease.
You grip Alicent’s forearm, a new wave of pain crashing through you, taking every ounce of strength with it. She looks down at you with furrowed eyes and out-of-breath you say,
“What’s happening…?” you ask, feeling a warm sensation between your legs.
Rhaenyra and Daemon only watch from the other side of the table as the scene unfolds. Daemon has one hand resting on his sword’s handle, just in case anything goes too far, a sickening smirk on his face.
You look up to Aemond to find he is already staring down at you. The previous anger now turned to complete shock and concern at the situation that has befallen the evening. With a soft sheen of sweat on your face and the lines of tears that had run down your face, you meet his gaze with concern and fear. This feeling you knew and you shook your head, it could not be another, could it? Could the gods truly be this cruel?
Alicent is jittering with anxiety and pulls Aemond off of Jace, having spaced out with the blade still at the brunet’s throat.
“Aemond…” you let out a quiet sob as he kneels to you, “...something is wrong…”
Without thinking, Aemond brings your body into his arms, rushing you with an entourage of people to your chambers. Before he has a chance to question, the family are pushed to the other side of the door, various maesters and midwives all filing in to fill their stations. It was like preparing for battle.
Concealed on the outside, Aemond was entirely inconsolable and paced for hours, flinching whenever you made a sound that evoked pain. He felt his fist clench so hard he thought the bones may give out, and he imagined bashing Jace’s head through for merely laying a hand on you in your delicate condition. Oh the things he would like to do to that boy.
But the sheer anxiety of your situation had him obediently outside your chambers. The family could only wait for those fated doors to open. Alicent grasped her son’s arm in comfort, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
Aemond had been sitting outside the doors for hours now and to put it bluntly, he had made himself sick with worry for your wellbeing. He had heard very little through the thick doors, and this seemed to concern him even more. His eye looked up to find Alicent pacing the hallway before him, seemingly attempting to soothe herself.
One side of the door opened and the maester poked his head out and almost immediately Aemond stood to attention, lending his ear to the maester to whisper. It was the dead of night and in fact may have been very early the next morning, and the Keep was completely silent, even the whispers of the maester seemed to echo.
Face blanched with worry, Aemond was allowed into the room. His gaze scanned the room in a panic, eventually landing on your form, sitting upright in the bed you shared together. Your tired eyes met him and gave him a soft, but exhausted smile, one hand underneath a bundle held tightly to your chest. Your husband’s ghostly white expression never faltered once, fully expectant for all this to be some cruel dream.
You extended a hand out to him and swallowing heavily, Aemond dragged his feet over to you and shakily reached out to touch you. You pulled him to sit next to you, but his gaze was stuck on you the entire time to observe you. Your shift had been abandoned and a silk robe had been tied around you as you laid in bed, multiple cushions and blankets stacked upon one another to create the soft mound to rest your body against.
Your face was flushed and a thin layer of sweat was still evident on your brow, but all the same, your smile warmed him. You huff a laugh as you lay a hand against his face,
“My love” you say, bringing him out of a trance-like state, “this is our daughter”
His eyeline follows yours down to your chest, where a small bundle of a baby was suckling against your chest. A warmth that was not previously there spreads through Aemond’s heart almost painfully and some semblance of colour is once again painted at his cheeks.
His index finger reaches out to stroke the infant’s head. Halfway between a choked sob and a laugh rattles through Aemond’s chest. The infant was small, but flushed with a pink flush, looking healthy. You leaned forward to stroke his hair and he leaned against you, placing his forehead with yours. A silent act of love.
He grasped your hand tightly, not wanting to let go.
“Well done, my love” he said quietly, “I thought the worst”
You look back down at your daughter, who made a content sound, “I did as well” you admit.
After a few minutes, Aemond stood and straightened his clothing, turning towards the door.
“Aemond” you call after him.
His purple eye lands on you once more, softening instantly.
“Don’t hurt him too badly” you smile.
#aemond fic#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond angst#aemond fluff#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen angst#hotd fluff#hotd angst#hotd fanfic#aemond fandom#aemond fanfiction#aemond imagine
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Attatched At The Hip
Word Count: 660
A/N: ahh this was just some rambly thoughts about bucky that kinda turned into a fic? i don't love how i ended it so maybe i'll revisit this in a little bit when my computer is fixed but i couldn't resist posting it already because i just. guys i love bucky so much and i just wanna tlk about him all the time. lol. so yeah this is just some bucky fluff that i hope you guys enjoy 💕
That’s what Steve always teased that you and Bucky were, attached at the hip. If you could spend the rest of your life anywhere in the whole world, it would be cradled in Bucky’s left arm, held safely and firmly against his side. It wasn’t a matter of favoritism, you loved your daddy just as dearly as your Baba, and you were always eager and excited for hugs and kisses from the great Captain America. You and Bucky had a deep bond just between the two of you, one that Steve respected and understood, and being constantly held was mutually beneficial for that bond: you were always able to be soothed and cared for whenever your heart desired it, and Bucky was persistently reminded that he was loved, safe, and doing good by you.
Plus, it helped that his metal arm never, ever got tired.
That’s how you found yourself now, cradled into Bucky’s side and perched upon his muscular thigh in the Avengers compound briefing room. Usually when a meeting was called, you’d be left with whichever caregiver didn’t have to attend that day, or you got to go to daycare if both were recruited that day. This time, however, you were still fast asleep on Bucky’s chest where you’d decided to take your nap that day when he got the meeting alert. Steve was off that day and offered to take care of you while Bucky was busy, but the thought of rousing you from your most peaceful state made both their hearts ache, so along you came.
Coos of adoration had echoed through the meeting room when Bucky entered with you, but he politely shushed his coworkers. The goal was to keep you asleep for as much of the meeting as possible, knowing that as soon as you woke up you’d want a bottle, and that waking up in a strange room would probably send you into a tantrum anyways. Fortunately, with Bucky’s enhanced hearing, he was able to sit in the far back of the room with you and still hear everything being said.
The change in location from the couch all the way to the briefing room only caused you to stir the tiniest bit, Bucky’s even breaths keeping you rooted in your slumber as the meeting commenced. At one point, Thor let out a raucous laugh, and you seemed to react in your sleep, flexing your fingers at the sound of your friend, but not even the excitement at the thought of playtime could outweigh the comfort you felt in Bucky’s arms. He ran his right hand across your back, soothing you back into dreamland for the rest of the meeting, and you only finally awoke as everybody was saying their goodbyes and Bucky stood up to leave.
Maybe it was because you’d already napped for over two hours, maybe it was the shift of energy in the room as all the Avengers were now free to shake off work mode and socialize with each other. You lifted your heavy head from Bucky’s shoulder and blearily looked around, half open eyes taking in the fact that you were not at home and instead in an area of the compound you rarely had reason to visit. Seeing all your Avenger friends together in this location, you put two and two together, grabbing tightly onto Bucky’s shirt as you looked up at him with worry.
“Baba gotta go to a meeting now?” You asked, still fragile from your nap and not wanting to give up the comfort of your caretaker’s embrace. But Bucky only chuckled.
“Doll, I already went to the meeting, you slept through it!”
“I did?” You questioned with genuine surprise, in disbelief that you’d done such a thing.
“Sure did, angel. Did you have a good nap?”
“Uh huh!” You nodded. “I had a dream… I was playin’ wif Thor.”
You smiled to yourself, recalling the way you’d heard him laugh even in your slumber.
#stucky x little!reader#bucky x little!reader#daddy!stucky x little!reader#agere fic#little!reader#marvel agere#bucky barnes x little!reader#bucky x reader fluff#cg!bucky#daddy!bucky#chloe's fic
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Hello!! I hope you are doing well, wanted to say I love your work !!
Can I request how the BSD boys (Dazai, Kunikida, Ranpo, Chuuya, Fukuzawa etc) would react to gf!fem!reader saying “I am just a hole” after they did something attractive? Something fun and suggestive ehehe~
No brain, just horny!
Summary: No one cared about you being down bad for you bfs since everything's mutual, right? (Dazai, Kunikida, Ranpo, Fukuzawa)
Genre: fluff, maybe crack, def suggestive themes, maybe a tiny tiny bit of smut. Who knows 💀
Warnings: yall gonna be horny after this 🤓
A/N: was kinda difficult to think of fitting scenarios but i had fun writing this!! Also thank you for loving my work, anonnnn 💕💕💕💕
Part 2
Dazai Osamu
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAAAAAAT 💀💀💀💀
HES HORNY 24/7, DONT EXPECT HIM TO HOLD BACK LMAOO 💀💀😭😭
okay okay so lets say yall are at the ADA office
hes done with annoying the shit ouf of kuni and now hes just sitting on the couch, literally bored out of his mind
Kuni tells u to tell "that dumbass idiot of a boyfriend🤩" to finally get back to work so u go up to him
u know that scene where he leans his head back onto the grave and slowly tilts it back down and opens his eyes while having that soft smile on his face? oda's only purpose was him dying so we'd get that scene, crying fr 😭😭😭
Yeah hes doing exactly THAT as he notices your presence infront of him, flashing you a smile and only for it to spread even further as he notices your dazed face 💀
"Oh, bella? Too lovestruck to talk to me, I see. Can't help it that I'm just so hands-"
"I'm nothing but a hole for you"
I DONT KNOW HOW SOMEONE COULD EVEN SAY THAT 😭😭 THATS SUCH A WEIRD THING TO SAY AND SO DUMB BUT NO ONE CARES 🥲🥲🥲
AND HIS HORNY ASS DOESNT GIVE TWO SHITS EITHER 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️
his eyes are fking bulging as he hears you say that infront of him
ACTUALLY shocked that you had the guts to legit say that outloud and luckily no one rly heard that except him he wouldnt mind if the whole ass office wouldve heard that, we KNOW 💀
you manage to get a good laugh out of him before he just shoots you that god awful handsome smirk before he suddenly stands up
Towering over you, he leans in and whispers "Never thought you'd be so dirty to say stuff like that during working hours. Not that I'm complaining! I'm glad to have such a strong effect on you, bella~" got me blushing fr😳😳😳
Its too late to realise what you've just said. Your fate has been sealed.
OFF TO HORNY JAIL YALL GO 💀💀🗣️
no jk but nah nah he wont stop there
Youve awakened the fking horny beast in him and how could he refuse his love offering herself so blatantly while your coworkers were literally in the same room?? 🤩😋
He just takes your hand as he proceeds to leave the office
Kuni just yells "Oi, where the hell do you think you're going?! Only told you to tell him to work! Not join his stupid shenanigans!! 😡😡"
YOU KNOW that ur bf just turns around and shoots him that annoying ass smirk, only to say
"But Kunikida, we are off to work actually! Nothing you'd be able to do anyway. Tell me when you've found something interesting in all that paper work of yours! Can tell you that our job will definitely be more fun than that~ 😁😁"
You can only give poor kuni a sheepish smile as atsushi just deadpans at the both of you, muttering a "good luck 😐" towards you as your bf just drags you to his car because your job's gonna be too loud to do at the ada and going home wont be an option since dazai's not patient in that sense 💀💀💀
Already sending prayers to you for having to go back to "work" while being sore af and dazai looking like he got out of a 10 day wellness vacation 😭🥲🥲
dazai's actually gonna spare our poor kuni by kinda doing some paper work but our man will be forever traumatised bc hes not oblivious 🗣️
Especially after seeing your neck littered with hickeys 😭😭 u cant hide them, youve got a damn mosquito as a bf 💀
kuni just tosses a bottle of water your way without looking at u bc he thinks its not modest to shamelessly look at them 😤 I LOVE U KUNI
"thanks, i guess" is all you'll hear from him bc at the end, you DID get dazai to work but at what cost 😭
Kunikida Doppo
Flabbergasted. Shocked. Disappointed. Shamefully not too hard to turn on. 💀
His first reaction is gonna be like u just told ur mom u forgot to do the laundry 😭
DEF gonna scold your ass off for saying such things in such an inappropiate setting
its not your fault hes being so hot during work 😤😤😤😤
Tell him off for being so handsome!! 🤩
Wont stop his scolding but u cant take him serious when hes fumbling over his words
Still manages to thank you for ur compliment even though its embarassing af 😭 no way would he refuse such kind words from his love 😋
So anyway it could go two ways with him
The first would be if yall wouldnt be alone at the ADA
You go up to him to ask him about a report you need help with
Ive never seen kuni tie his hair up but... imagine catching him doing that...
With the hair tie in his mouth as he pulls his hair back and like...
It makes u think of the times you'd yank it back during yk what 🤭
So he notices you gape at him and is all like "🤨 are you alright?"
Cue to you just uttering "Damn, kuni. You only gotta ask. Am just a hole for you anyway" out of nowhere
LMAO you can just hear dazai cackling from the couch as your bf just looks at you like 😳 with his mouth agape and everything
Dazai just walks up to you to pat your shoulder
"Kunikida, you've got quite the daring girlfriend!" "SHUT YOUR ANNOYING MOUTH UP"
kuni just quickly ties his hair back and BROO he nearly feels so violated and exposed 😭😭😭😭
Why would u do this to him AT WORK 😭
Ngl u and dazai prob team up to annoy him to death like hes just so fun to TEASE 😤
Anyway he just tells you to get back to work and when u tell him you need some help, he begrudgingly does it bc its important but you can still his hands shake a bit and his face is red as he tries to give you advice on ur work skskksks 💀
Be ready to get scolded for HOURS when yall are on ur way home 🤓
But dw u know how to shut his beautiful mouth up 🤭😋
But if you do the whole thing while yall are alone at work bc kuni decided to stay a bit longer then THATS a different story
Lets say he does the same thing again as above ^ and u say the same thing
He'll def turn a bit red and tell you that you cant say stuff like that during work!
"But kuni, we're alone and no ones gonna come back anyway. It's nearly 8pm after all."
The sun's setting and the only light that softly illuminates the room and it just steals ur fking breath bc 😭 hes so gorgeous with his hair open 😭😭😭
But u can still see his gaze on u, making ur knees weak bc BROO
horny jail for kuni too????? 💀💀💀
jk but he'll clear his throat and just say "a work place is still a work place so i cant let this inappropiate behavior just go like that..."
You're like standing infront of him and he grabs you by your waist, softly kneading it as he tells u to sit on his lap 😭
"Will teach that mouth of yours how to behave. Maybe after this you'll be a bit more tame. Think that idiot has been a bad influence on you like he has with everyone but don't worry. I'll be sure to teach you everything again."
I'll let you imagine the rest here 🤭🤭
Edogawa Ranpo
man just wants to eat his candy in peace, get ur horny ass away from him 🤨🤨🤨🤨
u thought dazai's a whole bitch???? Nah nah this is a MAN CHILD right here
This man wont give u what u want, nah he'll let u suffer alone LOL 💀💀
if this happens at work then 🤷 honestly depends on what mood he is i think
its a hot day in yokohama and the air conditioning is not rly helping yall
so u kinda wanna go grab some ice cream during ur break and u dont need to think twice about asking ur bf to go with u
fr he'll be SO annoying if u dont take him with u 💀 but dw he obviously knows why u r approaching him rn 🤩
but he takes a while to catch on why u just stopped and looked like a fish rn like a combo of this :0 and 😳
he just goes "🤨"
"Damn, the bathroom's close. 'am just a hole for you anyway so let's go" u legit go 😨 after realising what u just said
How no one hears that, idk but this hoe DEF heard u well
U r even more scared bc he just sits there and doesnt react but oops
only needs some sec before he opens his eyes and smirks at u 🤭
"Eh~ You've got guts, Y/N. Saying naughty stuff like that during work hours. Not that I mind though. Just shows how smitten you are by the World's Greatest Detective~"
"N-"
He just waves a finger at u like you're a lil kid getting scolded rn 💀
"Ah ah ah, don't try to refute that fact. Can't blame you for your reaction after all. It's still funny to me that all it took was me losening my tie, gliding a hand through my hair and open up a button of my shirt. ~ "
He just gets up and gives you a peck on your cheek before walking ahead
"I still want that ice ream though! If it's good then I'll give tending to your needs a thought!" 💀 THIS BITCH
but dw he'll make sure to show u how smitten he is after that bc ur mouth just tastes better after some sweet ice cream, right 🤓??
but u know whats the best combo with saying that sentence?
a jealous ranpo 🤩
like ok quick scenario
lets move this outside of work, ok?
So yall are walking around and some random dude decides to hit on u and hello 🤨cant he see that u r legit holding hands with the world's greatest detective??
u kindly tell the man to fuck off but nah hes not letting u chill
wraps protectively his arm around ur waist, clearly showing him that YOU. ARE. TAKEN.
"with that scrawny lookin dude???" bro hes got a death sentence 💀
time for ur bf to show him his skills 🤭 which means threatening him to expose everything about him
immediately tells him where he lives, what he does for a living, where he likes to shop, where his parents live. E. V. E. R. Y. T. H. I. N. G
he just smirks and puffs his chest slightly out as that dude just fking runs off bc id be terrified too 😨
He deserves it tho ✋
"What a fool! Thinking he could challenge ME?! The greatest detective to ever live! See how terrified he was!" hes fking cackling before stopping as he sees ur face
brothers and sisters, we are LOVESTRUCK
and that hoe cann see that right away 💀
"Thank you..." like should we say how hot that was???? maybe 😳😳???
"And?" AH obviously he got us 😭
but we too embarassed to say smth but NICE, theres a nearby alley so u know where hes dragging us 🤩
Pressed up against the wall and hes just centimeters away from u as he asks again
"That wasn't everything you wanted to say, right~? Of course you find me" hot" but just wanna hear it from you, love."
"FUCK, am just a hole for u" 💀😳
goes wide eyed for a sec before chuckling and saying "Well, that wasn't what I wanted to hear but I'll let it count!"
His eyes travel down your neck before finally saying "Hm, I've got an idea in how to make everyone know that you're taken. I deserve a little treat after having saved you, no?" 🤭🤭🤭 got me blushing fr
Anyway problem solved, no one made moves onto u after that and it might turn into a habit before yall go out for the next times 🗣️
But no one's complaining hihi 🤭🤭😳
Fukuzawa Yukichi
oh god where do i even begin 💀
i gotta hold myself back from getting off topic when it comes to HIM 😭
honestly this man has seen and experienced so many things, u gotta do a lot to catch THIS man off guard 💀💀
bro he had to deal with mori's ass in his 20's for too long and STILL deals with it till this day 😐😐😐😐😐
not to mention the agency is like his fking orphanage at this point 😐
Already enough that his first child is still a child with his thirty years of living on this damn planet 🤓
lets say u work at the ADA as well and now yall r holding a meeting to go over some details for a random mission
Idk if its just me but... the way he sits there and is leading that whole shit, telling em what to do and how they could handle it the best way, while encouraging everyone to work hard n stuff... idk....
Its just so HOT 😳😳😳🤭
like hes so charismatic, fuck dazai, yall cant compare ANYONE to this man 😭😭😭😭😭😭 no wonder everyone follows him, id lick his shoes too 😭😭 HORNY JAIL FOR ME?????
anyway he dismisses everyone and the both of you are the last ones to be in the room bc u r just sitting at the table and staring at him like 😳
Dw my girl, hes been noticing the way you've been looking at him the whole time
"Is everything alright, my love? You've been staring at me for quite a while now."
"N-No its nothing 😳"
nah no need to hold back bc we know our knees r gonna buckle the second he takes ur hand
AND HE DOES 🤩🤩
his eyes slightly crinkle at the end as you can see amusement dance in them
"I know that look when something's on your mind. I'll respect your decision to not tell me but I'd like to know what it is."
honestly your red face is already proof enough whats on ur mind but how can u hide it when hes just looking at you with such an intense gaze UGH I LOVE THIS MAAAAAN 😭😭😭😭😭😭
"W-Well the way you just handle everything with ease even though its a lot of pressure and i dont know...it's just really admirable but also hot when you tell them what to do. wouldnt mind you doing that in the bedroom too, you know. id be a hole for u anytime like this... "
u tryna mumble that shit out of embarassement but he clearly heard you 💀
And he does go wide eyed out of surprise because DAMN thats still pretty straightforward and was kinda the last thing he'd thought you'd say but honestly... he doesnt mind it 💀
in facr hes liking it a bit too much for himself 💀💀 but who is he to complain? Especially when his lover is being so honest with him?
" So you want me to be a bit more authoritative in the bedroom? I-It might be a bit awkward for me to do so but if it's something you desire then we'll gladly try it out together. We should be done with the mission around the evening but if not then..."
you feel his hands gently cup your face as he presses his lips against yours before pulling a bit too soon for your liking
"Then I hope this will suffice until then. I'll be sure to thank you for your patience after everything's over."
THE ONLY THIINNGG
THE ONLY THING YOU CAN DO IS SAY YESSSS 🤩🤩😭😭😭😭😭
IDC IF IM NOT SPEAKING FOR EVERYONE BC
We WILL wait for him OKAY 💀💀✋✋✋
he just strokes your hair lovingly as you try to hide ur face bc hes just too blinding
anyway as the both of u get ready to leave, yall just hear quick shuffling behind yall bc OOPS
THE DOOR WAS OPEN 💀
THE KIDS DIDNT LEAVE LOL 💀💀 THEY HEARD EVERYTHING
"😳☺️🤭😏" u can choose which ADA member would make which face 💀💀💀
ngl u prob sometimes call them ur children and BRO
ranpo actually annoys u for some candy ngl 💀
u once punched dazai's gut bc yk he'd ask the stupid question like
"if you're our mom, would that make you a milf?"
send him back to the MAFIA trash can he came from 🤩🤩
jk but might write a oneshot about him even tho hes difficult to write 💀
will def do a part 2 of this bc it gives me an excuse to simp for these men 💀
#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd dazai#dazai x reader#bsd kunikida#kunikida x reader#bsd ranpo#ranpo x reader#bsd fukuzawa#fukuzawa x reader
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hi! I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do some headcannons about dating Sodapop? can be sfw or nsfw <3 thank you sm 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Sodapop Curtis x Reader Headcannons 💕
A/N: I did sfw and nsfw! Hope you enjoy this! My request box is open. Feel free to request anything!
✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
❥ When you guys met, you both were 16
❥ You started off as friends as he was just getting over Sandy
❥ After a while, romantic feelings came about.
❥ You were each others favorite people. you helped him through his heartbreak and he helped you with just his presence.
❥ You fell first and he fell harder in a way.
❥ Cuddling even before you started dating
"Soda, can we cuddle?" He turns around, your backs no longer facing eachother. He nods sleepily and holds you tight.
❥ Once you guys started dating, your relationship was the same but 10x
❥ He loves to give you forehead kisses
❥ He's not one for holding hands but his arm stays around your waist.
❥ Sometimes you'll just find him staring at you, and he claims he's "admiring your beauty"
❥ He gives some the most heart warming hugs
❥ Taking non-sexual showers together.
❥ Him showing off in-front of you and making you flustered!
"Soda focus and stop flexing for your girlfriend" Pony said after a groan. Him and Soda were moving their bed frame but Soda kept flexing bc you were there.
❥ Hands on your thigh every time he drives.
❥ He puts a little money up every check to save up for promise ring
❥ Since he doesn't have the money yet, He makes you paper rings.
✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
❥ He into breath play. Your hand on his neck sends him all the way. He loves how his hand looks around your neck.
❥ He prefers to give instead of receive.
❥ He gives the best head. He makes it almost impossible to stay quiet.
❥ He loves having his own hair pulled in bed. You discovered it on accident. He whimpered when it happened
Soda had his mouth on your clit, sucking every now and then. “Keep going, Soda. Fuck!” Your hands started tugging harshly at his hair. He whimpered slightly into your pussy. “Do it again”
❥ He loves to fuck raw but only when you are on the pill.
❥ Leaves huge hickeys almost everywhere.
❥ He loves to watch you beg but he’s not afraid to do it too.
❥ Hes very loud most of the time. You’ve had to put your hand over his mouth a couple times.
❥ He prefers to take you from the back but still fucks in missionary
❥ He’s a big sucker for overstimulation.
“You’re so sensitive, huh? Give me a couple more.”
❥ He likes when you guys make eye contact when he’s thrusting into you.
#the outsiders#sodapop x reader smut#sodapop#sodapop curtis#sodapop imagine#sodapop x reader#sodapop patrick curtis#sodapop smut#sodapop x reader imagine#darry curtis#johnny cade#ponyboy curtis#steve randle#two bit mathews#dallas winston#the outsiders smut#the outsiders 1983#the outsiders headcanons#the outsiders x reader#the outsiders fluff
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