#if only people knew the rules of the road
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The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun
doll!jake x fem!reader
warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk!
wc: 7.7k
synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible
masterlist | sunghoon
a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!
p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.
You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.
The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.
Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful.
Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities.
Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.
Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.
Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence.
You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.
“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.
Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.
With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.
“Thank you!”
The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.
Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes.
You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.
"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?
Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries.
Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.
The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.
You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.
Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.
Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.
Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?
You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you.
The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.
Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.
Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.
With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.
After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them.
As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.
“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.
You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.
With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.
Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.
You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.
A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.
First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties.
With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.
A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.
Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.
With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.
"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion.
Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?
Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.
As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.
With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.
“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.
Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.
Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.
The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.
Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.
With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.
Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment.
“Thank you.”
Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.
As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.
Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.
With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.
Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.
Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.
With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.
“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?”
His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.
For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you.
Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.
Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.
"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.
Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.
"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.
“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.
"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"
Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”
As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."
"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.
The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.
Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.
You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.
Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?
His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.
“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.
“What?”
"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.
As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.
“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.
Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.
Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.
But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.
This is a doll, not a real person.
You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.
His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.
"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.
Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure.
"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.
He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.
However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.
However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.
"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable.
Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.
As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.
His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.
But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.
You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked.
With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.
Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.
And he looks so fuckable right now.
Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.
His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.
Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.
You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.
With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.
You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"
He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.
Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.
You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.
There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.
Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful.
His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.
Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.
With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.
"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.
You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling.
There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.
Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.
His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.
"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."
Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.
But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?
You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”
His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.
“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?”
Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.
“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.
His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."
The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again.
You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it.
As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.
With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.
You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.
And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.
Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.
Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.
“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.
You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.
"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."
Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”
Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.
He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.
You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.
His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.
“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.
You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.
“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.
“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.
Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another.
Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.
Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.
He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.
It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.
You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace.
The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.
Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.
“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time.
Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.
You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.
Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.
Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.
Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.
As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.
"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.
You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.
"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.
Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.
Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.
His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”
It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll.
With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.
You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.
“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.
This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.
taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre
#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#jake smut#jake sim smut#sim jaeyun smut#aj writes#enhypen fic#the doll house
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Pool Pitstop | C² Boys
Request: You know…there’s something about this ad Maybe Carlos n Charles splitting reader open on the pool table?
Summary: Charles and Carlos enter your bar right when you were ready to start closing, but instead of becoming frustrated, it might've just made your night.
Warnings: 18+ smut, threesome, oral, unprotected sex, choking, fingering.
Pairing: carlos x fem!reader x charles
wc: 4.1k
You looked at the clock hung up on the wall, sighing in relief as the last person left. You only had a few minutes til you could start closing, and for the first time since you became the owner of this bar, you would actually leave on time.
You picked up the glasses left on the countertop and turned around to place them in the sink when you heard the front door bell jingle, indicating someone's arrival.
Turning around, you were just about to tell the person that you were closing the bar, however your words got stuck in your throat as you looked at the two men who entered.
There was no doubt that they were attractive, but due to your silence after looking at them, one of them began to sit down on the barstool while the other stood behind him.
The one who was still standing looked around, noticing the lack of people around and decided to ask, "is this place still open?" You noticed his accent, telling you that he wasn't from around here. It sounded similar to French, but you could be wrong considering the only 'accent' you knew were the fake ones people tried once they were drunk out of their minds.
The corner of your lip turned up, at least he had the common decency to ask, and just for that you nodded. "Honestly I was about to start closing, but take a seat."
The man who was standing finally decided to sit beside his friend. "Oh good, every other bar in the area was closed." He explained, a smile gracing his lips revealing dimples, which you just newly discovered you had a weak spot for.
You raised an eyebrow in question, "it is nearing two in the morning, you guys should've been out earlier in the evening."
"We're just passing by, making a short pitstop before we're back on the road." The other man spoke, his accent was different telling you that neither men were from around here.
"Well which one of you is driving?" You asked, not wanting to be responsible for a drunk driver. The one with the dimples pointed to the other man, "Carlos' driving, he doesn't think I'm good enough," he says with an exaggerated eye roll.
Carlos shrugged, "well I hate being the passenger, but Charles' on-road driving skills are questionable," he explained to you, earning another eye roll from Charles.
You chuckled at their antics, settling your palms on the countertop. "What will you have, Charles?"
His smile returned to his face and he thought for a moment, "a Moscow mule, please." You nodded, and started gathering the ingredients to make the drink.
"And you, Carlos, anything non-alcoholic?" You asked, not wanting to leave him out but he shook his head.
Carlos' eyes wandered around the bar, eyes widening in surprise when he spotted the pool table in the back corner.
While Charles was casually speaking to you, or as Carlos would describe it; using his charm, the Spaniard decided to walk towards the pool table.
Picking up the cue, he turned to look at Charles with a playful smile on his face. "Charlito, do you want to play?"
Charles looks at him for a moment before turning back to face you with raised eyebrows, silently questioning if they were allowed to play.
You set his drink down in front of him and nodded, "you can play."
He didn't budge, "are you sure? I don't want to keep you here too long." You bit your lip to hide your smile, "yes, I need to clean up anyways and that'll take a while so you two can stay until then."
Fortunately, none of your staff were present; otherwise, they would have poked fun at you about allowing Charles and Carlos to stay when you used to enforce the rule of no stragglers after two.
Charles picks up his drink, takes a sip and hums in agreement before walking over to Carlos.
The boys set up the game, and laughter is quickly heard thought out the bar making your ears perk up at the sound. You watch them from behind the bar, resting your elbows on the countertop, almost forgetting about needing to clean up.
You had a clear view of the pool table from where you stood, watching the men closely, specifically Carlos as he held the cue, about to make his shot.
Slightly leaning over the pool table, Carlos has positioned the cue stick but before he moved an inch, his eyes met yours. For some reason, he didn't look surprised, as if he knew you would be watching them.
Your eyes slightly widened as he gave you a small smirk, his gaze almost turning seductive before he focused his attention back to the game.
You didn't even pay attention to the actual game, because your gaze kept moving back and forth between the two men. Although Carlos caught you looking, Charles was completely oblivious to the tension growing in the room between you and his teammate.
The only reason you didn't shift your gaze away from Carlos is because his eyes were also on you. He was anything but shy, not looking away causing your cheeks to heat up under his unfaltering attention.
The only thing that broke him out of the little bubble he created with you were Charles' giggles. He was holding the cue stick, failing to hide his mischievous grin.
Carlos looked at him in confusion before looking down at the table, and laughed. "Charles, mate, you cheated."
All of Charles' solid pool balls were pocketed while only the striped ones remained. "That's bullshit, I didn't cheat," Charles was offended but if it wasn't for a small smile he failed to hide, you would've thought he was telling the truth.
You smiled for a moment before turning around, hearing the men bicker in a foreign language you didn't understand. You mentally scolded yourself for easily becoming distracted by the two men in your bar—two very attractive men.
You had just started your mental checklist of things to get done before leaving when you heard Carlos' voice call your name—which he spotted earlier on the name tag on your shirt. "Can you watch Charles to make sure he doesn't cheat?" He looked at the individual in question with a harsh expression before returning his eyes to you.
You let out a laugh once you realized Carlos was serious, "you want me to watch him?" You looked at Charles who shrugged, "I didn't cheat, I don't know what he's talking about."
Carlos gave Charles a look, and it was all he needed to do for Charles to agree with him. "Fine, judge our pool skills."
Carlos moved around to reset the game, but Charles was intently looking at you, waiting for an answer. You nodded once before wiping your hands on the nearest towel, "sure."
You knew you wouldn't be able to focus on your task with them around, so you might as well just join them.
The Spaniard set the last ball in the triangle rack before looking up at you with the same smirk he gave you earlier, as if he knew you wouldn't turn them down.
You stood beside Carlos as you both watched Charles break, and since you were supposed to "keep an eye" on Charles, you decided against looking at Carlos. However you could still feel his gaze on you.
"If you keep looking at me, Charles would be able to cheat again," you told him while looking ahead so you didn't see his expression. But you did hear his chuckle, "I can't seem to take my eyes off you."
You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling, but it was nice to hear the compliment from him, even if you barely knew him.
Charles passed the cue to Carlos, and taking his place to stand next to you. Although you willed yourself to look away from Carlos when Charles was playing, you couldn't help but admire the latter, especially as he was standing so close to you.
Either he didn't acknowledge your stares or he did but chose not to comment on it, but it was his turn again. However once Carlos passed the cue stick to him, Charles held it out towards you.
"Be my lucky shot," he stated once you raised your brow in question and Carlos shook his head unable to let him by without commenting, "we all know you need some luck."
Instead of taking the stick from his hand, you grabbed some chalk and rubbed it on the tip while maintaining eye contact with Charles. He didn't say anything but his gaze wandered down your face, passing the seemingly innocent smile before watching your hand grab the cue to play.
You snuck a little smirk directed at Carlos before steadying your feet and slightly bending over the table to get in position. You couldn't tell if both their gazes landed on your ass, but you hoped it did.
You carefully focused on your aim, striking the cue ball and sinking in two solids in adjacent pockets. Turning around with a smile on your face, you saw Charles' smile just as big but Carlos didn't look too happy as he wasn't close to winning anymore.
"Keep playing, sweetheart," Charles commented, unaffected by the use of the nickname but you heard it loud and clear. You walked towards the other side of the table to get a better shot but the move also put you right in front of the two men.
While Charles was still rooting for you, he and Carlos focused on you a little more than on your aim. They weren't watching you play, they were watching you.
The thought made you nervous, but you couldn't help but look up before you made the shot. Carlos was intensely staring at you while Charles' tongue was barely peeking out between his lips, making you lose your focus completely.
You hit the cue ball but missed pocketing the solid, and if you were asked about it, you would blame them for it.
"Is your luck running low?" Carlos teased as you passed him the cue stick while rolling your eyes. "If my luck was running low, I wouldn't have two men walk into my bar right before closing."
Carlos nodded with a teasing smile on his face and moved to play his turn. You stood beside Charles, resting your palm on the edge of the table while looking at Carlos the same way he was at you.
"The way you're staring is making it hard to concentrate on the game," Carlos commented before tilting his head up to look at you.
"Do you really want to concentrate on the game?" You asked slightly teasing, making your intentions very obvious by your tone.
"What would you rather want me to concentrate on?" Carlos stood up straight, forgetting about playing the game as he rounded the table to stand in front of you.
"She wants all the attention on herself," Charles spoke, then added, "am I wrong?" He asked for good measure, but the smile on his face told you that he had idea of what you'd say.
"Well I think of it as you guys want my attention on both of you," you remarked, avoiding the ploy they tried to lure you into.
Carlos took a step back, resting against the pool table behind him, but he was still staring at you. He made brief eye contact with Charles before nodding towards you. With two fingers raised, he motioned for you to come closer to him.
You easily slotted yourself between Carlos' slightly spread legs, and one of his hands rested on your hip while the other pushed back a strand of hair.
Not even a moment later, you felt the heat of Charles' body right behind you. The two men had you right where they wanted you, sandwiched between them.
You felt Charles move your hair to the side, lightly pecking his lips against your shoulder. You quickly tangled your fingers in his hair, preventing him from moving away. He smiled against your shoulder, before looking at Carlos whose gaze was stuck on the way your facial expressions changed.
"What do you say, Carlos, let's thank her for letting us stay past closing?" He asked, trailing his fingers down your sides before settling them on your waist.
You could feel the heat of both their hands seeping through your shirt. Looking at Carlos expectantly, waiting for him to do or say something.
"Do you want that?" he asked, making your eyes twinkle with excitement and anticipation. You nodded, "I want you both to fuck me on this table."
Carlos' hand moved to your cheek before he stepped closer and placed his lips on yours. You quite literally melted into the kiss. Leaning your body against his while your free hand ran through his hair before settling on the nape of his neck.
Your other hand was still occupied in Charles' hair but you didn't move it away, knowing that you wanted both men. You felt his grip tighten on your waist, and he stepped even closer so you not only felt the heat of his body radiating towards yours, but he was fully pressed against you.
While Carlos began kissing down the length of your neck, Charles' hands wandered upwards towards your chest, stopping right when he grazed your nipples over your shirt. They quickly turned into stiff peaks with Charles' attention, poking through the fabric of your bralette underneath your form fitting shirt.
"Charles," you gasped once he pinched your nipples, smirking in satisfaction of how your body reacted under his touch. Carlos nipped at your neck that would surely turn into a mark soon.
You didn't know where to focus, and to think this was just the beginning of what they would do to you together, your mind couldn't comprehend it but you were very eager to know.
Carlos' hands moved to your ass, teasing the waistband of your jeans. He rounded back to the front, eager to free you from the restraints of denim. You helped him, quickly stepping out of your pants and then in the next moment, Charles lifted the hem of your shirt, wanting that piece of clothing off as well.
Standing there almost completely naked, Charles' hands wandered just about everywhere but Carlos took the smallest step back to undress himself.
As he did so, Charles' tilted your face towards him, claiming your lips with his. There weren't any slow, sensual moves, the kisses were full of need.
You turned around in his grasp, facing him and he let out a muffled moan, liking all the attention on himself. He was completely lost in your kisses so he jolted once your hands found the front of his jeans and palmed his dick.
A sudden slap to your ass pushed you further into Charles, making you gasp. Carlos teased your pussy over your panties, feeling the wetness seep through but he didn't stick around long enough as you'd like.
Your lips parted away from Charles, leaning your head back against Carlos' bare shoulder. He had stripped down to his boxers. "On the table, cariño," he whispered in your ear, making you whine at the nickname.
You sat on the table with your legs hanging off, and Charles was quick to slot himself between your legs. He trailed his fingers up your leg, gripping the flimsy waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips up so he could slide it down your legs, then he laid his palm on your calves before pushing it back.
You leaned back, resting your palms on the felt material of the pool table as you watched Charles' pupils dilate once you laid yourself all out for him.
Charles pressed his thumb against your clit, making slow circles that had you arching off the table, lifting your hips to chase the pleasure.
You felt Carlos' hands on your shoulders, leaning you back further until you had laid flat on the width of the pool table. You pushed yourself up so your feet were firmly placed on the felt but your head was hanging over the edge.
The Spaniard ran his fingers up and down the length of your throat. He snuck a little pinch on your nipple after seeing how easily you reacted to their touch, before wrapping his fingers around your neck.
Despite the fact that everything around you was upside down, your hands found the waistband of his underwear, and your attention was drawn to his naked chest, especially given how close you were.
You pulled off the last piece of clothing on him, mouth opening once you saw his cock. The perfect width and there was no doubt he was well endowed.
"Open your mouth," Carlos instructed and you couldn't help but oblige. Licking your lips, your hand grasped the base before you pressed a wet kiss on the tip, tasting him on your tongue and instantly knowing that you needed more.
As your mouth was full of Carlos' dick, Charles spread your pussy with his fingers, watching as you desperately clench around nothing. You bucked your hips up when you felt Charles' lips on your pussy. A kiss to your clit but then as if he was hit with uncontrollable hunger, he added his hot tongue and fingers to the mix. Teasing, circling, Charles was on a mission to bring you so close to your release.
Then, as fast as he was able to bring you to the edge, he moved away with only a string of spit connecting you. A tear slipped out the corner of your eye and you attempted to whine. Charles held your thighs down to prevent you from bucking up into him as a poor attempt at continuing what he started.
"Patience, baby," he cooed, unable to look away from your glistening cunt. Then without warning he thrusted in you in one swift motion, making you moan loudly. Well, as loud as you could with your mouth stuffed.
You didn't see his cock but based on how well he was able to stretch your insides, you knew he was just as pretty underneath his jeans as he was above. He wasn't even fully in from that one thrust and he knew you wouldn't be able to take it in one go. He slowly pulled out and went further in until he was nestled against you completely.
More tears pooled in your eyes, and with the two pairs of hands roaming all over your body, the pleasure became too much to pinpoint where it was coming from.
"Fuck, she's so wet," Charles comments, directed towards his teammate which made you writhe in pleasure at how he chose to ignore you. "All for us," Carlos added, tightening his grip on your neck while his other hand held your face still so he could fuck it as he pleased.
Carlos' restriction made you clench around Charles, all three of you letting out moans and groans as the air in the bar became heavy with the smell of sex.
He hooked his fingers in the corners of your mouth, making you drool as you sucked his cock. Sweat built up on your body, your hair tangling up and you were sure you looked really messy but you couldn't care less about it right now.
Charles was still thrusting in and out of your pussy at a brutal pace, and added stimulation on your clit in small quick circles. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer.
Once again you were just on the brink of release and mentally begged Charles to let you come undone. He didn't stop. Your orgasm took you under, and for a brief moment you lost any sense of your surroundings, focusing just on the pleasure.
With your head hanging off the table, you were becoming lightheaded and the tears wouldn't stop flowing. Carlos seemed to have noticed this since he couldn't take his gaze off the way his cock was sliding in and out of your mouth.
He slid out, and lifted your head to rest on the table. Since your mouth wasn't occupied, your moans got louder as the final waves of your orgasm washed over you. Neither men tried to conceal them since they began to like the noises you made.
Charles felt his own restrain breaking as he felt you cum around him, and he quickly painted your insides with his cum. He didn't stop the torture on your clit until you tried to shuffle away from him, feeling too sensitive. When he slid out, you clenched on air, but it didn't go unnoticed by Charles. "Still needy?" He questioned with an accusatory ton but there was no malice behind it, just lust.
Carlos tapped your cheek once, "on your hands and knees." He wasn't done with you yet, he didn't orgasm yet and even though he wanted you to swallow every drop of his cum, he wanted to feel your cunt wrapped around him.
As you moved, you felt Charles' cum spill out of you and down your thighs. Your ass was now in the air, facing Carlos. He palmed your ass, spreading it to see the work Charles left behind.
He saw the cum continue to spill out of you but he gathered it on his finger and pushed it back in your cunt. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and the strength of your arms holding you up weakened.
"You want me to fuck Charles' cum back into you?" Carlos asked, his voice laced with lust making his accent even deeper.
You nodded, "yes please, want both of your cum to fill me up."
"Hear that? She's so fucking greedy for our cum," Charles commented, tilting your face upwards and noticing the dried tear marks on your face. He pouted in faux sympathy but it was quickly replaced with a small smirk as he looked at the bruises that began to form on your neck.
Without letting any more of Charles' cum spill out of you, Carlos entered your used and slightly overstimulated cunt. His hands gripped your hips tightly, and you were surely going to see his handprints on your body the next day.
You made eye contact with Charles, but as Carlos kept pumping in and out of you, your eyes threatened to roll back in pleasure. The only reason you didn't was because the monégasque's pretty gaze was on you.
He cupped your cheek and leaned down to press a messy kiss on your lips. You were constantly moved back and forth making it harder to kiss him properly. Charles pulled on your bottom lip, making you groan as Carlos' thrusts intensified.
"Fuck, you're so good for us" Carlos leaned over your frame, his hands roaming around the front of your body. Two of his fingers pinched then circled your clit, making you arch into him.
"Carlos, I-I'm gonna cum," your words threatened to get stuck in your throat, and you just needed him to continue exactly how he was for just a little longer.
"Gonna fill you up," Carlos whispered in your ear but it was loud enough for Charles to hear. The latter slipped his hand down to your throat, making your eyes widen when he pulled you closer and tightened his grip.
You opened your mouth in a silent moan, unable to let out any noise with the amount of pleasure overcoming you. You closed your eyes as you felt Carlos' cum fill you up, mixing with Charles’ already inside you.
Charles released his grip on your throat, and your arms were too weak to hold yourself up so your upper half met the felt on the table, your nipples brushing against it.
Carlos pulled out of you slowly, ensuring that your ass stays in the air. Breathing heavily, you closed your eyes and tried to get yourself together when you felt both their arms pick you up and sit you down on the edge of the table.
They didn't let go, letting your cheek rest against Charles' chest while Carlos brushed his fingers through your hair. Your thighs clenched instinctively as you felt the warm liquid dripping out of you and onto the table underneath.
Charles chuckled, "have fun closing with our cum running down your legs."
"Fuck you," you managed to let out but there wasn't any malice behind those words. "Next time, sweetheart."
You looked up at them both and leaned back on your arms, "does that mean you're going to come again?" Charles and Carlos looked at each other, then nodded simultaneously. "Of course we will." Carlos told you and then Charles added cheekily, "excellent service," as he nudged his head towards the bar top.
#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#thef1diary fic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc fic#carlos sainz fic#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz smut#charles x carlos x reader#f1 x reader#f1 smut#smut
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GO!
a/n: racer jjk men …….. mmgfnghgn..gg.f.. if u can tell i’ve never watched f&f, you would be correct. i only watched tokyo drift for research 😭 also im talking out of my ass by using random car terminology !!!! i don’t even know whether anything i said was possible so just close one eye please :3
warnings: essentially car sex & pet names & unprotected sex for everything, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, public sex, geto listens in on a call, riding, implied p → v penetration, implied creampie / breeding, implied threesome w/ stsg (gojo), clit stimulation, handjob, semi-public sex, p → v penetration, doggy, geto asks and then takes a pic of you, creampie / breeding (geto), praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, pleasure dom nanami, squirting, clit stimulation (nanami), age gap (reader’s early 20s, toji is forty), oral (m receiving) while driving, facefucking, semi-public sex, clit stimulation, daddy kink, implied p → v penetration (toji), n*sfw under the cut
✶ GOJO
“my, my,” gojo smirks as he looks over to you in his 1999 Nissan Skyline R34 when your hand makes contact with his thigh, “couldn’t wait till we reached there?” on the way to the races that gojo loved to bring you to, it was a silent rule that gojo was one of the people that ruled the underground racing scene in tokyo — that means leaving his opponent sighing at the steering wheel and being the object of your kisses at the end of it.
gojo was talented, but he knew he wouldn’t sit well in the driver’s seat if he didn’t share the victory with you. the racer speeds at any opportunity, but today he takes the time to drive his baby just so he could have more time to fuck her.
sometimes gojo rubs off on you in terms of disposition, because you’ve become fairly good with composing yourself into times of tribulation with your constantly-horny boyfriend. your calmness could be commended, but your breaths still give off your aroused state, his fingers continuing to draw a faint line up your legs which are rubbing and squeezing against each other. even with the aircon on full blast, you still feel undeniably hot.
“so wet…” gojo hums as his hand feels the wet patch that’s pooling in your panties before slipping it to the side, driving unaffected while he keeps his eyes on the road. he’s fucked you so many times already, memorised the feel of your body that it doesn’t take him much to insert his fingers and find that sweet spot. you squeal, hands flying to grab at his forearm. your pussy clenches around his fingers, and it makes him hum, pushing him to adjust his pelvis in his seat. no doubt your cute sounds are affecting him.
“s-satoru! the race?” you panic and hope to distract his attention elsewhere, but gojo’s a master at multitasking.
“what’re you talking about? we’re on the way, princess.” he’s right, taking you through the familiar streets of shinjuku before switching to a lane that takes the car into an underground tunnel. it’s a route you can remember, but you hardly give a shit currently where you can feel your juices pool below you.
“sato—” you whine, your squeezing thighs doing nothing to deter him, “your s-seat’s getting soaked.”
“s’fine, i’ll clean it up later,” gojo grins, sparing you a quick glance where he likes you the most: lips parted with moans escaping, knuckles white from clutching onto the seat and your pussy leaking your juices all over his palm. “c’mon, you’re a good girl, aren’t you? don’t you want to cum?” gojo knows all of your habits, so he taunts you, teases you by slowing down his fingers just a little and plays with your clit. a ringtone doesn’t distract him, easily accepting the call from his phone on the dashboard.
there’s a soft on the way? from the caller, seemingly whispering into the phone like he was hiding from something and you’re struggling to keep from moaning too loud by keeping a hand to your mouth. you’re hyperfocused on your boyfriend’s fingers that you don’t exactly hear what they’re talking about, but you do faintly make it out to be geto on the other end. you’re so close that you might’ve left bruises on gojo’s forearm.
“satoru, you might wanna camp out in a nearby parking lot before comin’ over. officers are patrolling around the starting line.” it wasn’t weird for races to be pushed back, by engines malfunctioning, by police officers doing their nightly patrol but while the black-haired racer is just a little agitated at the delay, you’re surprised to see your boyfriend sporting a shit-eating smile.
“good, that just means i have more time,” gojo pauses to groan when you start to clench around his fingers. he knows you’re close and you want to fucking kill him when he easily reaches the spot that has you seeing stars, all the while having his best friend on the line, “to fuck my lovely girlfriend.”
“oh f-fuck… satoru! ’m cumming mmf…!” you don’t bother holding back on your mewls and whimpers, then, not exactly caring if geto hears cause he’s shared you with him before. gojo fingers you through your orgasm, your pupils blown wide and jaw dropping as you seek refuge in the hot pink seats gojo got for you while you continue to cry out his name.
within minutes, he’s pulling into an abandoned parking lot and swerving the car into a secluded spot before making use of the modification he made to his Skyline, reclining his driver’s seat (courtesy of your suggestion and he was driving off to the mechanic the next day) and beckoning you over with a smile.
you could only return his sly smile as he removes his pants, cock already hard and weeping from its tip from all the teasing he’s done to you, hard from knowing he’s the only one to get you moaning like a bitch in heat. and when you sink down easily, it’s like heaven on earth, the adrenaline giving the both of you a high.
it’s no surprise when gojo easily wins the race later, receiving you with open arms and a sloppy kiss, all while his cum’s leaking from your panties and your cunt still feels a little empty — so when you both receive a message from geto asking for a late-night drive with just the three of you, you’re quick to leave the scene to get stuffed full again.
✶ GETO
“suguru!” you smile as you enter the garage that’s housed suguru’s cars since he was a high school student, the familiar gold and black accents spread throughout the large space. he was lucky to have a father who’s a manufacturer, and despite the many engines and parts he’s gone through, it was a wonder his dad hasn’t exactly uncovered his rising fame in the tokyo racing scene, even if he comes home with some cuts and a roughed up car to match.
“hey princess,” he calls out, still focused on the minute parts of the 13B-REW engine and switching out his outdated intercooler for the Blitz, something that he had to persuade his father with with good grades and exemplary behaviour in his after school activities. “just making some changes to the Mazda. how’s my baby doin’— oh wow.”
your immediate reaction is to grin at him, heat blooming throughout your face as you descend the steps to where his vehicles were, sporting a cute little miniskirt and knee high boots. it’s not that you haven’t dressed like this before, but every time you do, it manages to make his breath hitch. that’s not the main attractive point today, though, eyes dropping to the fat of your thigh where a new tattoo had found its home — a black widow weaving chinese knots and it looks so damn good on you that your boyfriend wastes no time in removing the hood strut and slamming the hood close.
you don’t usually sit on his 1997 Veilside Mazda RX-7 much, but geto is determined to change that when you’re propped up like a doll on the sleek black design of the car, wandering hands slipping under your skirt as you’re humming into the deepening kiss. the other groans against your lips when he finds your clit, rubbing languid circles into it and you spread your legs further to accommodate his fingers, exposing your neck for his lips to suck on while his free hand gets busy with your perky tits.
“you’re so… fuckin’ wet,” geto mumbles into your neck, stifling your moans with yet another kiss. the way he’s rubbing at your bundle of nerves is so distinct, you couldn’t even replicate it if you tried, usually left dissatisfied after cumming on your own fingers. “my pretty angel.”
“yeah? you like me on your Mazda?” you say with a lilt to your voice, and although the pet names bring another wave of shyness and fire to your cheeks, your hands speak otherwise as they trail down his torso to the trousers he’s got on. it’s you against him to see who makes the other break first — geto moans when you fish out his dick, already semi-hard from all the teasing and your hand’s warm like how your pussy usually feels, stroking him in a pace that matches the hand on your clit.
“fucking love you on it,” geto laughs breathlessly, hot breath fanning against your lips and hips bucking into your palm, “love your hands on my cock, too.”
“ditto, baby,” you reply in a breathy whimper, but geto mutters something else along the lines of too bad i need my cock in you now before a surprised yelp leaves you when you’re flipped over suddenly. with hands flat on the hood and a knee propped up, he’s careful not to bring any discomfort to your new tattoo. bit by bit, he’s sheathing himself into your dripping cunt, pleas and obscenities flooding the spacious garage as you beg him to move.
your boyfriend’s a racer, ’course he knows how to do that, but he takes pride in teasing you, letting you feel every last bit of his dick as he bottoms out. “suguru… fuck me, please.”
“planning on it — shit, you’re so tight — let me enjoy your cute lil pussy for a bit, princess.” geto has both hands move down the expanse of your back, appreciating your attractive arch, and then then down to your ass and folds where he’s filling you with his fat cock. and when he starts to move, your mewls become incomprehensible and your fingers grasp at anything, but you’re afraid of scratching the smooth finishing of his Mazda, settling for holding onto his forearms.
“suguruuu… oh my g-god!” you love the way your obscene noises fill the space, juices flowing freely down your thighs as the other finds a steady pace. “right there— f-fuck…”
geto is no different, hypnotised with how his length disappears into your heat that he doesn’t notice your twitching body, but he still knows you’re close by how your clamp around him like a vice, pussy tightening up to make sure he gives you all his cum. by this time, you’re delirious from the squelching noises of your cunt and the slap of his hips into yours that your orgasm comes unexpectedly.
“cumming, cumming, suguru—!” your thighs shake and shiver through the euphoric feeling, still riding the wave of the orgasm before geto wraps his arms tight around your middle, mumbling confessions into your ears until he’s spilling deep into you, too. geto cums so much, and you moan at the feeling of being filled up, body slumping forward. between geto’s help and an aching question, you’re content to lay on the stunning car as he snaps a photo of you before cleaning you up.
it’s not until later when you’re at getting pounded again by him when you see his phone screen light up — the screensaver photo being the one of you on his car with legs pried open and cum spilling out your pretty pussy — that you know you’ve got geto wrapped around your finger.
✶ NANAMI
“mr. nanami?” your father calls out in the deserted shop, empty apart from the clang of metal against metal and the late night radio droning on about some love story sent in by a listener. despite how it’s almost 11 at night, your father was always happy to help with people’s cars due to a love for them since he was young.
even if that someone’s car was a 1968 Dodge Charger with a LS3 engine that he only knew the US had. when he comes around the back, he merely rubs his fingers together.
“this guy’s got money money,” you burst out laughing, landing a hit on your dad’s shoulder at his comment, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. looking out from the supply room, the man standing near the entrance of the shop looked exactly like the part: rich, tall, blonde, hot, and donning an annoyed look as he scolds someone named gojo who’s on the other line.
there’s a firm expression set into his features before he lunges forward at the sound of his surname and his pondering expression melts away to make way for a smile, and you swear you feel your knees buckle. but you have no time for daydreaming, also emerging from the room to collect money and complete the transaction like you usually do with clients.
“my daughter here will take your payment,” the older man nods his head toward you after explaining the changes he made to the engine, specifically the crankshaft which contained newer journals with older webs — this particular combination made the oil system faulty and rigid, and even for a tamer temper like nanami’s, it still irritated him to no end when the Dodge Charger wouldn’t start properly.
this would’ve been a piece of cake to solve, though, if it wasn’t for your dad’s japan-only parts, which function minutely different to american engines. so your dad had promised another day to fix nanami’s car after the parts had arrived, even refusing to accept nanami’s apologies and offers to pay for the america-based engine the first time he came to you guys.
it’s like the initial demeanour had faded, bowing profusely at the kind-hearted nature of your dad and he waves it off, passing it off as a passion that still burned strong within him; he only wrote a receipt for the repair of the engine, after all.
“collect the nice man’s payment and close up shop, okay?” your father places a kiss to your template and bids farewell to nanami as well who’s feeling still a little flustered, “i’ll head off to bed first.”
“thank you, truly,” nanami bowed again to you as he felt around for his card, producing a black card for you to process the transaction.
“it’s nothin’. dad’s usually like that, always so generous with his services and then blames it on his passion,” you laugh a little and nanami does too.
“i understand, tell him thank you again.”
you shoot him a thumbs up and a smile, handing him back his card with clammy palms and fidgety fingers. you both know you’re not exactly ready to say goodbye to this fine-ass man so you strike up conversation with a terribly stupid opener.
“so… you drive?”
“i would think so,” nanami chuckles as he makes his way over to his Dodge Charger, loving the way you almost want to dig yourself a hole from what you asked, “i race. actually.”
and you swear you can hear the pulse in your pussy quicken, swallowing a lump in your throat at the vision of being spread out on the hood of nanami’s car, blonde head of hair hidden between your legs.
you just didn’t know that vision would come true today; well — tomorrow, since one question led to a conversation past twelve, led to advances from the both of you and now you’re moaning out nanami’s name as your sensitive core is being devoured by the racer, kneeling at the front of his own car like the hood of his car is your throne.
you voice your concerns about being ate out so shamelessly with the garage door open, voice breaking as he eats and laps at your dripping cunt like a starved man, sucking hard on your clit as he plays with your hole, teasing his thick fingers around your entrance just enough for it to clench around nothing.
“it’s past 12, don’t worry your pretty little head about someone watching,” he reassures you, palms spread out against your stomach. “plus, you taste divine,” nanami groans from your core before he plunges a finger into you, causing you to jerk in shock at the intrusion — it’s so good you forget about your worries. “so tight too, shit.”
“nanami…” you drag out the last bits of his name in a whine, hips bucking up to take in more of his needy tongue and his replied hum sends vibrations throughout your body. you’re so wet that you’re able to take another finger. “just like that. oh my god, your t-tongue.” your hand naturally pulls at his blonde locks, pushing him deeper into your centre; he likes it, squeezing your ass in the process.
“can i cum, nanami?” you plead for it, the unexpected obedience has nanami reeling and he gives you the green light.
“’course you can, such a good girl, aren’t you?” the shop is filled with your moans and the dirty, sopping sounds of your pussy as he flicks his tongue, memorising the way your thighs clench around his head and how sweet you smell and taste. he’s definitely not letting this pussy go, “good girls get to cum.”
“i’m gonna— ooh shiitt…” nanami lets your hips go on their own accord and another groan from the racer is enough to have you cumming on his fingers and tongue, “fuuck, i’m cumming-!” he praises you like you’re his royalty while you gush all over him, squirting your release all over his face as he happily downs your juices like he’s done it before. he’s sure to do it again in the future.
“attagirl,” both the metal of his car and his affectionate names for you sends tremors throughout your body and legs, orgasming so hard you see white and it’s clear he enjoys giving head like his life depended on it.
you catch your breath briefly, brushing your fingers through his hair and admiring the sight before you until he returns to his intimidating and looming height, helping you to sit up and patting your thigh affectionately
“hope that’s enough payment for the parts. or would you prefer instalments instead?” he says the cheesy line with such a calm face you’d think he was in a business meeting, but the stoicism makes you stifle a giggle.
it’s not long before you’re returning your dad the money nanami had insisted on, but more importantly, being all dolled up in the passenger seat, his teasing hand on your thigh and a full pretty lace set underneath your miniskirt.
✶ TOJI
it’s not uncommon to find a veteran on the racing scene. fushiguro toji had his time of fame in the 80s, but now he’s back for more after fathering a whole child — something his close friends back then didn’t think he could do. it was an endearing sight, a large, burly man carrying something as precious as megumi but it didn’t halt his drifting trips on the mountains, taking his 1966 Chevrolet Corvette for a ride every time he needed to clear his mind; on a less safer note, megumi as a toddler was sometimes in the passenger seat.
megumi was already set to follow in his footsteps the moment he was born, showing a keen interest in cars more than robots or barbies (toji did buy one when megumi reached for a doll dressed in all black, though) and that only increased when he accompanied his dad on his drift trips, many times imagining himself in front of the wheel, gliding through the corners easily. even if the corvettes in the 60s weren’t exactly drifting material, he learned to do it perfect. plus, it still held memories for toji.
“who’s that?” your friend could hardly stop her jaw from hitting the floor after her comment, clearly a little flustered at seeing a forty year old stroll through the underground car parks like he owned the place. he did, 20 years ago, but his name seems to still precede him when hushed whispers and murmurs follow him. although he’s here to support his son’s first drifting race, he’s still fairly popular to be getting enquiries from curious mechanics and avid car enjoyers.
“megumi’s dad,” you grin with a hidden sense of satisfaction, because you didn’t just know him from afar. how his hips swayed when he walked or how he loved that stupid compression shirt, that was everyone’s perception of him, but you knew how his hips felt as it grinded against you. you always never fail to recall the raspiness of his voice against your ears as he mumbled the dirtiest things, only for you to hear. it’s why you revel in the way your friend’s jaw drop past the concrete into hell when the older man catches your eye (he always liked to look for you in crowds), and winks, prompting the gossip to only increase in volume.
“you’re in cahoots with megumi’s dad?” you didn’t care much if people suspected something going on between the two of you. even megumi didn’t exactly care, who was a few years younger than you in his last year of high school. he was content enough that his dad wasn’t alone after giving so much of him to raise megumi. anyway, you always had his trust fund to rely on and if anyone fucked you as good at toji did, you wouldn’t give two shits either way.
“hey doll,” toji’s grin matches yours, planting a sloppy kiss to your temple as you both wait at his Corvette, all roughed up from the race the day before. he hasn’t had time to fix it up, driving the familiar route to the mechanics before you sent him a text about how megumi’s got challenged to a race by some newbie at school — it was laughable so much so that it even prompted toji to use those emojis he hated so much.
it was a race worth seeing, especially if one of the contestants was the tokyo drifting king’s son. toji doesn’t need to say much, waving off megumi with a salute before the countdown begins like clockwork. the increasing revs of their engines draw you from your stupor, the newbie looking wrongfully excited despite the failure that’ll befall him in a few minutes. once go is signalled, they take off, giggling at you feel toji’s arm curl around your waist.
“he’ll win,” he’s as nonchalant as they come, but it rings true when he’s the one who had megumi going 15 rounds ’round the docks and mountains every week. with screeching tires, a RB26DETT engine and years of drifting lessons to back him up, megumi finishes the race first. he rolls his eyes when his friends and fans crowd his car like moths to a flame, but he can’t help shoot a wave to his father who smiles genuinely. it was unspoken that megumi was silently thanking him inside, before he drives off to celebrate the easy win.
“c’mon, baby. we’ve had our share. say goodbye like a good girl,” you pull your friend into a side hug who’s still barely able to wrap her head around the two of you, but she’s able to muster a brief goodbye before the rev of his Corvette draws eyes once again, speeding off into the night. it’s clear toji’s on a high from watching his son race and win, seeing it in the way he goes full throttle past shibuya square and down inokashira street with a laugh.
the fire in his eyes, the coy grin he’s got on reminds you of times you’ve experienced the feeling of toji deep in you, clutching onto the sheets on the tatami mats and face shoved into the pillow as he bullies his fat cock into you. the thoughts have you feeling up his thigh, and he doesn’t notice your wandering, needy hands until they come incredibly close to his cock. he shifts gears before grasping onto your wrist, shooting you a look of warning.
but you do anything but listen, rejoicing in your small victory when you feel the car slow down from his speeding spree so it’s safe for you. palming his bulge, you gasp at how hard he already is and he adjusts his lower half, clearly uncomfortable with his tightening pants.
“let me make you feel good, toji,” you mumble, hands fumbling with his belt and zipper before you pull his dick from his boxers, looking so pretty with its mushroom tip that leaks pre-cum. toji pulls lightly on your hair as a second warning before you’re able to twist your body to lean down, eyes flitting up to look at him in faux apology. “sorry, daddy.”
toji sighs once your mouth descends on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and hand squeezing your nape in pleasure. no matter how many times you get his length in his mouth, the size always catches you off guard and it causes you to choke when the car runs over a speedbump. you have to take a second to cough.
“sorry, babylove,” you wordlessly shake your head as a way to say it’s okay, because toji takes care of you without you needing to ask him; it’s only fair he deserves his own fair share of care too. “but your mouth— shit. feels so fuckin’ good on daddy’s cock.”
you suck in your cheeks and pump the places where your mouth can’t reach, sides already aching from the uncomfortable position but you continue to bob your head. toji’s groans and bucking hips has got you soaking your panties, spit and pre-cum dribbling down the sides of his length and you waste no time to lick a stripe to clean up, settling for circling your tongue around his tip.
toji moans out with a number of profanities and a fist tightly clenched around the steering wheel — your mouth is so soft and warm that he decides that he needs to pull over at a quiet parking lot behind a bar so he can focus on fucking your mouth and imagine it’s your tight pussy he’s plunging into, not that he has to imagine. your lips are still on him when the car halts and you feel more stable than ever, both hands pulling apart his thighs to take him deeper into your mouth.
“cock’s so big,” you babble and ramble like a little slut, slurping up your messy job with the help of your hands. just like your walls, the ridges along your mouth feel lovely and when his tip meets the back of your throat, he throws his head back. “need your cum down my throat…”
“yeah?” toji breathes out, hands tangling themselves in your hair before tapping your skull, a discussed rule for the two of you: two taps on your head when he wants to facefuck you, and two taps on his thigh if you can’t breathe. “i’ll have ta fuck your little whore mouth first, can daddy do that?”
you nod lazily, steadying yourself on the compartment housing the stick shift before his hips lift off the seat and he starts a pace that even he can’t keep up for long. one look at your cute doe eyes has got him whining and mumbling about how pretty you look right now, clutching on your head so hard that it has his knuckle turning white.
toji’s thighs are flexing and contracting from the movement, but you can point out when he starts to fumble and tremble at the mercy of your mouth. his thrusts are getting sporadic, just like how you’re reaching your limit, too, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “g’nna cum down your throat, baby, ya want that?”
you sound a hum of agreement before toji’s hips still and he shoots his load down your throat, thick blobs of cum that spill from his tip, “that’s it, doll, take it all like a good slut,” and you swallow at least twice to get it all down. you show him a small amount of cum left on your tongue before he brings you up to kiss you harshly, giving your ass a firm smack and then you’re plopping down onto the seat again, wiping the side of your mouth like a good meal well devoured.
the wind is immediately knocked out of you as he brings up the speed with a hand inching towards your core, and you’re so glad he’s switched out his 327 small-block for a 427 V8 engine, the lampposts speeding past you and his fingers playing with your cunt enough to give you an adrenaline high to last throughout the night, cause toji’s far from done with you.
okay i digress. / pt. 2 here
#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk drabbles#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru drabble#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#geto x reader#geto imagines#toji x reader#toji smut#toji thirst#toji headcanons#fushiguro toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#nanami kento drabble#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami x reader#kento nanami smut
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not allowed — satoru gojo
pairing ; sensei!satoru gojo x student!reader
words ; 7.6k (my bad)
about ; you're given your first solo mission with your sensei gojo overlooking to make sure anything doesn't go wrong. both of you are aware that being borderline obsessed with the other is wrong, but who liked rules anyway?
warning(s) ; smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, age gap but both are consenting adults, gojo may be a little ooc but support my delusions anyway, my yapping, not edited, longing? i don't fucking know.
author's note ; okay okay hi! this is different from my normal content but i've been obsessed with jjk recently and i have gojo brainrot. so consider this my beginning of many fics to come. feel free to request!
YOU HADN’T EVER BEEN ON A MISSION ALONE WITH YOUR SENSEI BEFORE. It was . . . Odd. Typically, one of your other classmates would accompany you along with your Sensei in order to encourage similar teachings. Though this time it seemed as though this mission was something that was matched to you, up your sleeve given your technical curse usage, and it was to be something that you did with the guidance of Satoru Gojo, and he was only allowed to intervene if you were going to get severely harmed. The town that you were assigned to, with a cursed spirit seemingly murdering children who went out into the sea too late at night, was a sleepy little town. You were sure that this was the first time that they had ever experienced turmoil like this, and they were happy to allow you and your Sensei to ‘investigate’ the murders. As you parked the car in the parking lot, you looked around, seeing several townspeople watch as you stepped outside of the drivers side of the road, Satoru out on the passengers side, both dressed in dark black clothing. He had made a joke about how he didn’t trust you driving at all, yet insisted that he wasn’t the one to get you two down there.
I don’t drive myself places.
Yeah, well, then he would put up with your driving after all.
“I can feel your apprehension,” Your Sensei told you, walking in front of you up the stone stairs that came up to the front door of the place you would be staying in with him. Behind you was nothing but your car in the empty lot, the people watching getting uninterested as Gojo pulled out a key and began fiddling with the lock. Damn thing looked as though it had rusted at least three times over. You couldn’t wait to hear him complain about how you two should’ve been granted luxury. You hadn’t even been inside yet and you were already thinking about what he was going to say. The town was so small that there weren’t any hotels, the nearest one over an hour away, meaning that you would have to live in one of these larger homes on the beach for the time being. There wasn’t to be any distractions either, it was supposed to be a pretty open and shut case. Find the curse, exorcize it. It wasn’t that high of a grade anyways, or so you were told by your overachieving Sensei.
If only people knew that it didn’t matter if there was no one other than your Sensei to engage with, because Satoru Gojo, alone, was able to distract you for hours on end if you really put your mind to it. Satoru and you were very similar in age, early adult years, and yet he had the role of Sensei and you were still just a Student. You knew that it was because of his efforts of expelling Suguru Geto from the plane of existence, and that alone was enough to grant him the title of Special Grade Sorcerer, but it still was awkward at points when he talked down on you, because really, he had only four years more experience in life than you did.
You did what you were told. You always did. As a younger student you had a temper, a rebellious streak that for a time was almost concerning for the Jujutsu community that taught you. And yet, here you were, a respectful young sorcerer. Over the years you have grown, probably more than any other student that the community had seen, or at least, since your Sensei himself. It was like overnight somehow you turned from a child to a young woman, and you were adamant about completing your studies so that you could become a Special Grade. Those plans, however, were way easier said than done. You still had to work very hard to even get to the level of Gojo’s left hand in terms of strength and ability. But oh did you want it. You wanted all that power, and that was probably why he was so keen on teaching you, why he brought you on this mission in the first place.
You were just like him, in a lot of ways.
Satoru was not entirely a man of secrets. You could ask him things about almost anything and he would tell you. The only thing that he kept guarded in the deepest parts of his mind was things of his past, and his reasoning behind making such vast decisions like he oh so loved to do. But you and Satoru still managed to be very close, the cursed energy growing strong between both of you as if it too agreed in your compatibility.
You shook your head, immediately refuting his accusations. “No, it’s not apprehension,” you told him, eyes coming up to meet the back of his head since he wasn’t looking at you. “Just concern, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Your Sensei questioned. The second that his foot came up to the top of the stairs, his figure turned around and faced you, those bold, blue eyes from under his black mask looking at you even if you couldn’t see it, you could definitely feel them there. “If you have any doubts about anything, tell me, I am your Sensei after all.” He loved calling himself that.
That’s exactly that problem, you thought to yourself, making sure that your mental shields were up to guard it so that it wasn’t written all over your face. That was the last thing that you needed, for him to know the things that you wished to push down into the darkest depths of your mind. The thought of simply just being with him here alone made your brain almost electrify yourself, thinking about all the possibilities of slipping up and revealing all your emotions towards your Sensei directly to him. It was something to fear, and yet you were not allowed to fear, you couldn’t fear someone like him who was supposed to teach her.
You offered him the fakest smile that you could muster, saying, “Yes, I’m alright. Let’s just get inside, it’s almost dark.” The setting sun was directly to your back, illuminating him in front of you like he was something to be marveled at. And to your defense, Satoru Gojo was definitely something to be marveled at. His chiseled cheeks only looked more distinguished in the golden light, along with his silver-esque blonde hair that seemed to catch it just right. It made you feel weak in the knees, these thoughts of him, and you knew it was wrong to think of him in such ways - but you just couldn’t stop. Every time you tried to vilify him in your mind, another reason why you should love popped right back up in its place. It was a deadly cycle that you have shamelessly fallen victim to, and there was nothing that you could do to stop it or further this attraction. It was forbidden. He was your teacher.
The moment that you stepped into the building, a sigh left your lips, eyes taking in all your surroundings. It was marvelous. There were marbled stone floors that were covered in rugs in some places, plush couches in the middle of the room, and off to the side were the counters of the kitchen, all looking as if no one had ever stepped foot in here. Suddenly you felt out of place here, like you weren’t good enough to live in such a lavish way. After all, your dorm room at the school was nothing compared to this. They were bland, sandy and brown colors everywhere. Only a dresser with a small mirror and a bed were in it. Yet here, there were different hues of reds, greens, and blues, tables and chairs and fancy lamps, and plants that added almost another dimension to the already breathtaking house.
“It’s - It’s,” You started, not able to find the correct words for what you were trying to say.
Luckily, Gojo finished your sentence, “Breathtaking. It’s breathtaking.”
You turned to look back at him, taking in his features for just a moment more.
Breathtaking, you thought to yourself. Yes, everything here is just breathtaking.
-
The soft silks of your bed sheets rolled between your fingers, tempting you to lay into bed and never get back up. How on Earth were you supposed to find this curse when you were living like this? You could imagine yourself, not as a sorcerer but as a normal person, eating wild berries as you sat on your bed near the balcony, looking towards the horizon and not having one single worry in that head of yours. It was tantalizing, the perfect picture in your mind of what you wished to be.
“Why do you have that dumbfounded look on your face?”
You spun around to only be met with Satoru, who was leaning against your doorframe effortlessly. Has he always been that tall? A heat rose up to your cheeks, realizing that you hadn’t been taking the proper precautions of keeping those thoughts only to yourself, it was written all over your face. They were just little flings of ideas, nothing too brash that could get you into any trouble. “I shouldn’t have been thinking of slacking off when we have work to do in the coming days.”
A chuckle escaped his lips from deep within his chest. “It’s okay, Y/N, really, if I am being honest, I was thinking the same not too long ago.”
That was shocking news to you. You always thought that Gojo always wanted to be on the run, as if this trip that he had to take with you was annoying to him because he had to take time away from much more special missions that he would get to be the leader of. But it also made sense, even victorious Special Grade Sorcerers get tired sooner or later. Perhaps you didn’t know him as much as you thought that you did. This trip wasn’t just for you, it was for the both of you. It was good to go back to basics, even for someone as powerful as him.
“And here I was thinking that you didn’t want to be here,” You mused.
Satoru laughed at your jest. “No, quite the opposite. It’ll be nice to take a step back from life for a little bit and get to watch you do all the work.”
“I didn’t know that Satoru Gojo knew what rest meant,” You continued on with your playful banter.
“I don’t,” He chuckled. “Maybe you can teach me?”
Now that sends you through a loop. You knew that he was probably just playing around with you, since you were teasing him a little bit. But that sentence was enough for that place in your mind to unlock all the fantasies you had in your head about him, the ones that you only dared touch when you knew you were alone and it was the dead of night. You held yourself back from becoming flustered, knowing the moment you showed any signs of it that he would know that something was up. Instead you simply nodded your head, taking your eyes off of him to the balcony that was open to your room, seeing the way that the moonlight illuminated the waves of the water. “Perhaps after investigating tomorrow, we could go by the water?” You asked him.
“Sure thing,” Satoru said, turning on his heel and making his way out of your room. You took a sigh of relief at his absence, not because you wanted him gone, but because seeing him in such a leisurely setting was starting to get to your head. That dizzy feeling that got to your head every time you looked at him for too long started to subside, and you were left with only your thoughts as you put away some clothes you packed for the stay.
The moment that your head hit the soft, plush pillow of your large bed, you were completely enveloped by sleep. In your dreams you only saw you and Satoru, happy and smiling in the gracious flower fields you had passed on the way here, preparing meals together half dressed in the kitchen, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. It was so real and lifelike that when you woke up in the morning, you felt as if you had awoken from an alternate universe.
-
Satoru didn’t know what he was doing.
Of course he was excited to be able to take a break from the long days of having to deal with the stupid fucking orderlies at the school, but at the same time he knew that being alone with you was going to be a struggle for him. Gojo loved to train you, he really did. You were a loyal student and was eager to learn from his instruction. He knew the moment that he saw you that he wanted to train you. But he hadn’t prepared for him to become so emotionally attached to you, and it was tearing the young teacher apart.
It was incredibly taboo of him to gain these feelings for two reasons. One: he should really learn to teach other people so that he wasn’t spending all his time giving all of his ‘wisdom’ (as he liked to call it) to you. Two: you were his student. It may have been different if you were within the same ranks as him, but you were not. He was supposed to be your teacher, and there was no way that he would take advantage of his position of power over you if you were not willing.
He, too, was having doubts about this mission. Satoru almost asked Nanami if he would accompany the two of you for as long as it took, but there was too much going on for him to take any time off from his job, and Satoru was sure that it was just an excuse so that he didn’t have to tolerate him more than necessary anyways. So it was just you and him, alone in this house in this beautiful town.
The next day rolled along and you two had spent most of it investigating, talking to locals, etc. It was incredibly boring for him, though part of him felt incredibly proud that you were able to do everything on your own without any hiccup. You two had devised a plan for tomorrow to go after the curse directly from the source: a small cove near some cliffs by the beach. You would go at night and hopefully be able to catch it before it brought in any more deaths into the waves.
He was so engrossed in his own head that he didn’t even realize you had walked up to him.
“You promised we could go to the water afterwards,” You told him, hoping that you were jogging his memory from last night.
But you didn’t need to jog Satoru’s memory, because he had been thinking about it ever since you asked. Thinking about having to watch you submerge under the water and come back up, drops of clear blue dripping down your exposed shoulders, and keeping himself from doing something that he would most likely regret when you would reject him, scolding him for his thinking. He thought about the way he wanted to put his hands on your hips and pull you as close as you possibly could get to him, taking the opportunity to pepper kisses along your smooth skin. It killed him to think that you probably didn’t think the same way about him, it was going to goddamn tear him apart.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to go back on his promise to you. It was the least he could do after thinking such sinful things about you. Gojo gave you a nod and walked beside you on the short trail to the ocean from the house you were staying at. You could hear the water ripple towards the small shoreline, coming up and then receding back again in a timely fashion. You kicked off your shoes, deciding that your tank top and pants were okay to get wet, especially since you wouldn’t take the risk of undressing in front of Satoru. As much as the thought was tempting, you knew better than to test your luck. He watched with intensity as you got into the water, going deep enough to where only the tops of your shoulders and up were exposed. Fuck, he cursed himself, did you have to look so good barely doing anything?
You cocked your head to the side. “Well … are you going to get in or just stare at me?” You asked, immediately submerging yourself under the water to ignore what he had to say about your teasing. Your heart thumped profusely as you sat there under the water holding your breath. Satoru had been looking at you.
He mentally cursed himself once again, taking his shoes off and following you into the water. It did feel good, the water having an almost calming effect over him as he walked deeper in the lake. He looked around him, taking in the appearance of all the beautiful trees that lined up, beautiful fruit hanging off of the branches. Little flowers were along the bay, facing right towards him as if they were welcoming him to their home.
The sun spilled harsh rays along his skin, causing Gojo to dip his head down fully into the water. Once he came back up for air, his eyes shifted over to you, both of you holding a type of eye contact that you swore almost knocked your breath out. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, like he was looking right into your soul and you to his, a sense of desire burning a pit in your stomach. Feeling exposed, you shifted your gaze to the fish swimming in the water near you. You could still feel his eyes on you, in them holding truths that he wished to tell you, but being unable to put the words together to explain.
-
“There’s something that you’re not telling me.”
Your eyes opened at your Sensei’s voice and looked directly at him. You had been simply laying on your bed before sleeping, on your phone, trying to distract yourself with something dumb online before being able to sleep. You had only just closed your eyes as he walked in. At school they usually kept you on some kind of schedule, though here with Satoru, rules were a little - no, more loose than normal.
He once again stood in your doorframe, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed in, like he didn’t feel like he had a place stepping into your bedroom. You searched his face to gauge a feeling for what he was talking about, looking for hints of mischief or anger. There was nothing, his face was completely blank, almost too blank like he was hiding something from you.
You knew you had nothing to hide — or at least nothing that he should know about. “I don’t know what you mean,” You replied, uncrossing your legs from their criss cross position and hugging them close to your chest. “Have I done something wrong?”
That answer seemed to not satisfy him, because for a moment something flickered in his eyes. “No, nothing like that,” He told you, furrowing his brows together under the mask and taking a tentative step closer into your room. “It’s just, I get this feeling when I’m around you. Like something is just gnawing at you and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Oh, you were screwed. Alarms blared in your mind, thinking about how you had let your thoughts run too much during this trip. All the worst outcomes of this came to your mind, like how he would laugh at your growing feelings towards him, how much you wanted him almost shamelessly. It made your stomach twist into several knots, wanting to bury yourself into a hole and never ever come out of it again.
Your face must’ve told it all, because he spoke again, saying, “There. Right there. I can feel it, Y/N. Just talk to me. What is going on?” Your bottom lip quivered, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this. This was it. The day you had been dreading and hoping didn’t come. Everything was about to come crash down onto your life.
“I can’t,” You said in a low voice, shifting your weight to sit at the edge of the bed, putting your head into your hands and staring down at the plush carpet in an attempt to get away from his stare. Almost as if you thought if you looked away long enough, he would suddenly disappear.
“What do you mean ‘you can’t’? You’re my student, you can tell me anything.”
Student. The title felt foreign in your mind now. It was something that you knew you couldn’t hold onto for much longer once the truth was out. You would be stripped of it and be a sorcerer no more. The school would hear of your feelings and immediately expel you. Student. Student. Student. The more the word bounced around in your mind the more you felt tears welling up into your eyes.
And you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it, but your hands were balling up into fists as you said, “That’s what’s wrong!” Your head tilted up, seeing that Satoru had walked closer to you, towering over your frame. His face showed confusion, not understanding what you were alluding to. He didn’t even have to say it, but his expression was saying explain.
How could you even begin?
You were wordless.
“Please . . . I just want to help you,” Gojo told you, his hand coming to grab onto your forearm. The touch felt like hot coals on your body, scorching your soul. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” Which you knew translated to I don’t like not knowing how to fix it.
“It’s you,” You confessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
For a moment, Satoru thought that he had stepped into some parallel universe. Or that this was some sort of prank let on by someone else. There was no way that this was happening, you were confessing. You had been thinking about him, probably as much as he was thinking about you. It felt as if the world had turned on its axis and was spinning the opposite direction.
You, on the other hand, were waiting for the words that never came. You expected him to immediately tell you that he was going to report you to . . . oh you didn’t even know. And yet, he stood there, almost looking as dumbfounded as you did, maybe even more. This prompted you to stand up, his hand falling down and getting dangerously close to your own.
“I know …” You started again, seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything. “I know that it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t be thinking of you in the ways that I am. But I can’t stop, Satoru, you consume me.”
The usage of his name snapped him back to reality and out of his own spinning thoughts, and hearing it come from specifically your lips was not helping his frame of mind. It sounded … different coming from your mouth. Like you were saying it like a praise rather than just a passing phrase like most people did. He wanted you to say it over and over again, repeating it like a mantra you were to speak or you would die if you didn’t. His eyes flickered into your own and saw how scared you were of how he would react and how he was definitely not helping to settle your nerves.
In truth, he didn’t know how to handle this situation. After all, this was not a lesson that had been given to him and he was definitely not in the best place to tell you anything, since his emotions were starting to cloud his judgment and all he could think was how he wished to tell you he felt the same way.
You waited for his response, getting impatient and wanting to just get this over with. You were waiting for the words he was supposed to say.
But Satoru didn’t always do the things he was supposed to do, in fact, he almost never did the things that he was supposed to. So why would he think to start now?
“You and I both know that this isn’t allowed,” Satoru said. “And yet I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
A visible look of shock washed over your face, mouth opening slightly and eyes widening, heart pounding against your ribcage. His hand reached down and grabbed your own, fingertips softly touching the palm of your hand. This felt like a dream. Were you sure that you weren’t dreaming? No, this was definitely real. Satoru was in front of you for sure, confessing that he was feeling the exact same way.
Satoru tipped his head down to meet your own, his breath fanning along your face, making you shiver. Your breath hitched in your throat, his lips brushing against your own, almost like he was testing you. You could feel the tips of his hair tickling against your forehead, nose against nose. You were so close. The hand on your own was grasping now, pulling your body close to his. And the two of you sat there, lips millimeters close while each of your minds buzzed with the feeling of doing something so daring.
You felt yourself going mad, you couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t wait. All of your feelings erupted inside of your throat and suddenly you were kissing him, lips smashing against his own with no care in the world. You didn’t care about the ramifications, the school … anything. All you cared about was Gojo, wanting as much of him that he was willing to give you.
You had never really kissed anyone before. There was a moment back when you were only ten and you were with another student, seeing one of the citizens of Tokyo kissing each other on the street. Interested in what they were doing, you and your friend kissed, thinking that it was weird and dismissing it. That had been your first kiss, a rather embarrassing one, but it was nothing compared to the way Gojo kissed you. He kissed you like there was a purpose to every single move of his muscles. He kissed you like you were forbidden fruit and he was starving.
His other hand came up to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and keeping your face close to his. For just a moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you made a small sound, butterflies swarming in your stomach. You tried to mimic what he was doing, going with your instincts and grasping onto his bicep, feeling the taut muscles under your touch.
Everything about yours and his actions were needy and hungry, wanting each other with such need that you had pushed down for so long. All of it seemed to come out of you like crashing waves. The kissing was nice, though after a while you needed more, you were dying for more of him. Please, Satoru, you thought.
As if he could read your thoughts, he pulled away, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you two. “What do you want?” He whispered, tilting his head to the side and giving you one of those damn smirks of his. Of course he wanted you to say it. And you knew better than to not do what he wanted.
“You, Satoru, I want you,” You whispered to him, as if someone was going to hear if you talked too loud. “Please.” You thought that you probably sounded like someone desperate, and in a way you were, you had waited for this forever and had convinced yourself that it would never happen. But he thought the exact opposite, he marveled in the way that you looked at him, wanting to show you how much you truly meant to him. The attraction and lust was there, intermingled with something more that neither of you dared to acknowledge.
He didn’t hesitate to give you what you wanted, slowly inching you towards the bed and helping you rest on your back, the silk sheets against the back of your arms and neck. Satoru was quick to follow, climbing on top of you and connecting his lips onto the skin right below your jaw. His lips were soft like snowflakes falling onto your skin, creating a masterpiece on your skin like you were his canvas. It all felt too good, the heightening the sensations to an almost unbearable amount. It sent shockwaves to your core, igniting a feeling you often only felt during the late hours of the night.
Seeing how well your body responded to him, well, almost drove Gojo crazy. You were so willing, so ready for him that his mind became cloudy, the only thing he could make out was his thoughts of you. His lips trailed down from your jaw to your neck, paying extra attention to the places that made you breathe out more than the others. He pressed a searing kiss to your pulse point, his teeth grazing the nerve and using his lips to suck a deep, purple mark into your skin. And then, when he felt it was the right time, he did it again and again, properly marking you as his. He didn’t care anymore. Your hands found their respective place in his hair, feeling the softness of the blond tufts between your fingers. It was so damn soft that you wondered how you had resisted the urge for so long before.
Your clothes suddenly felt foreign on your body, you wanted them off, you wanted his off so that you could see all of him. He seemed to hear your thoughts, humming against your skin and pulling away, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips and helping you get out of them, and in turn you helped him get out of his.
Gojo’s body was like nothing you imagined. He was breathtaking. You knew that he had a nice body because of all the training and countless amounts of physical strain he has been through, but looking at those abs that he had, along with the sun kissed skin he had, you felt your throat close up, feeling inferior to what he looked like. “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He said. “Don’t ever think that you’re not.” And you believed him.
His hands came to your hips, fingers toying with the fabric of your underwear that was the only thing blocking him from seeing you fully. His eyes scanned you, taking in the sheer and utter beauty before him. He wanted to kiss, lick, and nip on every single inch of skin on you. He wanted to learn each and every single curve, hear every story behind your scars, and know just what touches would have you squirming from underneath him. He wanted to know exactly where he had to kiss to get those sweet sounds out from you and he was sure that he could spend hours just doing that.
No one has seen you this exposed before. You didn’t know whether or not to feel embarrassed, because he seemed to know what he was doing. You hadn’t felt the need to do anything like this with anyone else, not when you were too busy lusting over your teacher for so long. You didn’t want anyone to take that last bit of innocence from you except him, you were sure of it. And only now did you actually realize what was going to happen. Who was he to leave you pining and wanting, when you were basically offering your virginity up on a silver platter for him?
Your whole body felt hot, needing to feel the release that was beginning to build up from all of his kisses and your imagination running its course. “Satoru,” You breathed out, not knowing how to form into words what you wanted from him. Of course he knew, he could feel your hands pulling into his hair, all the while he began to whisper all the dirty little things that he wanted to do with you. How he wanted to keep you here all for himself, how he wanted to taste every single inch of you, and everything else that he could think about. After all, neither of you were hiding anything anymore. He knew exactly what he was going to do to you so that he could hear the plethora of moans that he knew you had just for him, wanting to hear his name come off of your lips in pleasure.
His head ducked down and kissed your hipbone, fingers hooking under your underwear and slowly sliding them off. Your eyes stayed on his actions, mouth forming into an ‘O’ when you realized what he was going to do. He was going to use his mouth on you. These were only things that you thought in your deepest, darkest fantasies, like he had reached into those parts of your mind and did exactly what you wanted.
As if Satoru was just tempting you, he pressed another slow kiss to the inside of your thigh and then did the same thing to the other side. Your hips lifted up only slightly, showing him that you couldn’t wait much longer. A chuckle left him, eyes reaching your own and saying, “Eager?” You weren’t even ashamed when you shook your head, keeping eye contact with him as he licked a bold stripe right up your slit. It felt as if an earthquake hit your body, your back arching and hands gripping onto his hair.
He hummed against you, liking the way that you responded to his actions. If he had it his way, he would sit here with you like this for hours on end, bringing you up to that high place again and again until you were a wrecked mess before him. It made him simply go crazy to think that he was the first person to ever do this to you, that he would be the first of anyone to hear those moans and profanities that slipped from your cherry kissed lips. Satoru’s own thoughts made him groan out, a noise that you played on repeat in your mind as your eyes screwed closed.
Your thighs quivered beside his face, attempting to squeeze shut so that you could keep him there forever. But his hands came and held them in place, fingers digging into your muscles that gave in to his touch like it was nothing. You were putty in his hands, the only movement you had was your hands pulling on his hair and the arch of your back while he lapped his tongue against you with no mercy.
“Stay still,” He told you, pulling away for a moment to lick what was left of you on his lips. You nodded, chest heaving and heart sinking at the loss of contact. But Satoru didn’t leave for long, his mouth on your clit accompanied with one of his fingers circling your entrance. You nearly lost it when he dipped his middle finger in experimentally, gauging your reaction. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, which only amplified once his finger pushed into you all the way.
You didn’t even attempt to try and censor the obscenities that came out of your mouth, mixed in rhyme with his name. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. It was the only word that felt real in your mind.
You waited for that final jump towards a euphoric end, but it never came. Instead Satoru pulled away from you and his fingers left, making you feel uneasily empty. Opening your eyes, you saw that he was pulling down his boxers, taking his cock into his hands and watching as you almost became slack jawed - realizing what was about to happen. A moment of worry nestled its way into your mind, making your heart thump. If anyone was to find out, you would surely not be accepted back into the school. You would never be able to have Gojo again. It was your moment to choose. You knew that if you backed out, at least you would be able to work under him still and not have his affections. It would be better than never seeing him again. And yet, you couldn’t see your life without him, all of him. Not just the side that was your Sensei.
Satoru sensed your worry, taking your chin in his hands so that you looked up at him. “Are you sure?” He asked you, not wanting to move forward before you were ready. And God, were you ready. “Because once I start, I don’t think that I’m ever going to get enough of this pretty pussy.”
And with all the courage that you mustered up, you gave him a small smile and said, “Yes.” You felt like you were flinging yourself off of some sort of cliff, or even more sinfully feeling like you were Persephone, cutting up her own slice of pomegranate and looking right into Hades eyes as she tasted the fruit, securing your fate that you would stay with him. You would stay with Satoru, even if it was only for this night.
He nestled between your legs and you could feel his tip press against your entrance. Air was caught in your lungs, sitting up on your elbows so that you could see as he eased himself into you. A sting of pain and a subtle feeling of pleasure was seated inside of you, watching as his cock was enveloped by you inch by inch. Satoru hissed at the feeling, you were so goddamn tight and he never wanted to stop from being inside of you. You looked down at where he was inside, thinking about how you could do this all day every day for the rest of your life. You now understood why this was so talked about, why your body craved it so much. Once all of him was inside, he leaned over so his head was in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to your searing skin as you adjusted to him bottoming out.
You urged him to continue, thinking that the discomfort would soon go away with time. And you were eager to get all of him that you could, temptation coming forward instead of reason. He pulled out all the way then eased himself back in, continuing the slower pace and watching your reaction before him, your hands reaching to his back and finding their place there. One of his hands kept your legs open, taking you by your thigh and hoisting it up.
It took all that he could muster to not just ram into you, the want starting to cloud his judgment. The cursed energy between the two of you felt as if it was pushing both you and him towards each other, the connection almost driving each of you crazy. “You feel …” He started. “You feel so good.” That alone, along with the raspiness in his voice, made a fire erupt in your stomach. You sighed in response, eyes fluttering closed once again.
And then, much to his surprise, you whispered, “Go faster, Satoru.” You needed him so bad you felt like you were going to explode, lust enveloping the both of you and intertwining with your energies.
He didn’t need to be told twice, and he gripped onto the leg he lifted up, beginning a slightly faster rhythm that had you arching your neck and back, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Satoru was so big, stretching you out in just the right way that had you almost keeling over if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on you. Your one leg wrapped along his waist, heel digging into his back while his pace increased.
This angle he had you in made you yelp and moan shamelessly, not caring if people all the way in the capital could hear you as you yelled his name like a prayer. His pace finally became a fast rhythm and you found comfort in being able to finally feel nothing but pleasure with every deep stroke he made.
In this place, it was only you and him. Like you were in your own little place of paradise where you could explore each other in every way. There was nothing that could take this moment from you or him, this moment would forever be engraved in your mind for many years to come, remembering the way that he moaned out your name and the way he looked when you opened your eyes to peek at his face. His brows were furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead and mouth spilled open saying nothing but your name.
He made you feel so good, so euphoric that the fire grew and grew, becoming a wildfire raging inside of you. And you looked so heavenly to him, the way that your eyes only looked at him, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust he gave you. You took him so well, like you were made for only him. His hips brushed against your own, hand coming up to caress your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I want to see you look at me when I fuck you,” he whispered, a deep sense of posessiveness suddenly washing over him.
You weren’t going to last much longer. Not with the way that he was pounding into you with sheer force you didn’t know was possible until now. But you didn’t want this to end, you never wanted this to end in fear that things would go back to the way they were before. You would have to try and forget that this ever happened. It wasn’t something you wanted to do and didn’t even know if you had the strength to do it. After this moment both of you would be connected.
You made a guttural noise, teetering over the edge of what felt like a wave of bliss. This was it, there was no way that you could keep yourself from it now. It only took a singular deep stroke of his cock to send you right over the edge, your back arching and body spasming, his name rolling off of your tongue in the most sinful way you have ever said it before. Your hands gripped for any part of him that you could reach, groping his muscles to keep him close to you. He didn’t stop moving inside of you, making you ride it out even harder as he chased his own high.
“Yeah? You came all over my cock like a good student, didn’t you?”
You could only whimper in response.
You were so sensitive as he fucked into you, giving you no mercy. He groaned as you came, watching the way that your eyes screwed shut and mouth opening in as you sucked in harsh breaths. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you and you knew that he was close, wondering if he was going to cum inside of you or pull out before he did. He did the latter, taking one more deep stroke before pulling out. Satoru was about to start stroking himself with his hand but you rushed with your own to meet him there, using your own and pumping a few times.
A string of profanities came from his lips as he came, white hot liquid spurting onto your stomach, dripping like beads coating your skin. He had no shame as he shuddered, muscles flexing with every passing second. He drank in your body, seeing how wet you were for him, how soft your hand was on his cock, how much he longed to see you like this more times before you and him left. And soon enough he was finished, the only thing between both of you was both of your panting breaths.
Satoru moved to grab something on the floor, realizing that it was the shirt he had on before and moving to wipe your stomach off, dropping it to the floor and coming to lay down next to you. You winced for a moment as you moved to look at him, his own eyes staring at the ceiling. You were scared of what was to come next, if there was anything that was supposed to come next. You knew that the two of you couldn’t be together, at least openly, though it was even risky to continue doing something like this in private.
“Satoru,” You called out to him, forcing him to look at you. “What will happen next?”
“I don’t know, Y/N, I don’t know,” He responded. All he knew was that he wanted you, again and again. In the domestic moments and in the explicit ones like before. You were so tantalizing, and he realized now that because he had tasted the forbidden fruit that was you, he would never be able to stop. There was simply no way that he would be able to conceal his want for you from you anymore.
You waited for his answer, knowing that it would probably be one you didn’t want to hear. But for the second time this evening, Satoru surprised you again.
He leaned over and kissed you.
And you knew his answer from that.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jjk x reader smut#gojo smut#gojo satoru#satoru smut#satoru x reader#gojo saturo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru x you
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They're My Future, You're The Past
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris
Rating: PG
Warnings: Light Angst, fluff
Words: 3.6K
A/N: I can't believe this series is over, I think I've cried 4 times over writing this and I just, wow, the love it got and how patient you all have been waiting for this, I could never thank you enough for the support. Thank you! Peace Out
Our Boy Series Masterlist / Prev: Just Come Home To Us
The sun's glow casts on your face, warming your cold body. It was customary for you to sit here and watch the people move along the cobblestone. "Would you like some more?" Craning your head, you nod to the waiter, who smiles as they fill your mug with fresh tea. You turn back, watching the people as they pass the cafe. The same restaurant that was the one you met Charles at. Right up the road was where he asked you out, and now you're waiting for your past to catch you.
"You're actually here," The voice behind you sounds out of breath like they ran here, but you knew it was due to the cold. His blonde hair looks like silver strands, and his blue eyes look like bright orbs of stars. "Nico, sit." You open your hand to the chair across from you. Nico shifts his weight from side to side, wondering if he should. "Nico, we're not going to argue, we're not….we'll. I'm not who I used to be. Now, please, sit." You urge, wanting to put this to rest.
You initially didn't want to meet with Nico; you were perfectly fine with just leaving things as they were, not talking. But Elijah wants you to speak to him, having given you his letter, and all it left you with was annoyance and pain. It's been 16 years. Why did your son want you to deal with this now?
"Elijah called me," Nico clears his throat, looking everywhere but you. "He told me Lando was next to him the entire time." It was one of Lando's new rules: no more secrets and Lando wanted to be there when Elijah talked to Nico. He didn't want his boy exposed to whatever hatred Nico had to spill. "I wouldn't trash talk you to our son." You scuff and look into the sun, letting it warm your skin. "My son, he's not yours." You held no anger or venom in those words, more so truth.
"He is, my blood, my," "Nico Rosberg, stop right now." Your voice holds a stern edge that has Nico sitting up straight. "Let me make this clear," You lean onto the table, staring deep into those blue eyes your son mirrors. "Charles and Lando are his father's. You either accept that or will have no part in Elijah's life. And I don't care if Elijah wants to be a part of it; you will respect the two men who stood up and supported me from the moment they knew me." You hiss, keeping your voice low so you don't draw any attention to you two.
"Y/n," Nico huffs, tugging at the once vibrant blonde, now dull with specks of grey lining. "I don't have a problem with them, but that respect needs to go both ways," Nico pleads, but you roll your shoulders back, refusing to back down. "No, Nico, it doesn't. They will be "respectful" in front of Elijah, and I will only stand beside them if you give my husbands any reason to cut ties." Nico and you fall silent, staring each other down.
Nico cuts his eyes away, and you get a little thrill at how you could make Nico Rosberg back down. "Nico, we'll never be what we used to be. You taught me many lessons and some I didn't deserve to learn, yet they landed me two men I should've valued and trusted more. I damaged our relationship because of the lies I carried from us, and I won't do that anymore. I won't carry this hate we both hold into my life." You whisper the last part, fiddling with your tea.
"You're drinking tea?" Nico notices, and you look up, his eyes locking with yours. "Yes," Looking away first and watching a new yacht dock. "That's….good." He smiles at you softly, and you feel your lips curl slightly. "Um, Elijah texted me; he wants to come over and meet Vivian and the girls; is that okay?" Nico seemed happy about his son meeting his daughters and wife. You remember Vivian. She was a wonderful person and always so sweet to you.
"It would be wonderful; Vivian is a wonderful person. I just want Elijah to have another place he can go to. I want him to be welcomed, Nico; he deserves it. Elijah is a wonderful boy," Nico nods and sighs deeply. "I know we'll have to work on our communication, but we're going to the Alpes, and if Elijah wants to come, he can even bring Cecile." Nico smiles brightly at the thought of the two Leclerc-Norris children joining.
"I'm not going to replace Charles or Lando, Y/n. But I want to be a part of my so- of Elijah's life. However much you let me be there, I won't cross any boundaries or parent him, but I will be…..firm." You nod and sip the tea, letting it warm your bones. "We'll figure something out; I must get home now." Nico nods, stands up, and moves to hug you but stops. You smile; you have no ill will toward him; stepping forward, you let him hug you, and all those memories of being in his arms come rushing back.
"Do you think you could do a favor?" You give him a confused look, and Nico looks almost ashamed to ask you this. "Do you think you could talk to Lewis?" You raise an eyebrow, and Nico groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "After what happened to us, we haven't talked in a while." You admit, and your eyes grow wide. "Are you serious? He stopped talking to you because of you and I?" You couldn't believe this.
"Yeah, I didn't really appreciate me hurting you." You have to cover your mouth to stop laughing and sigh. "I'll see what I can do; he's coming over for lunch anyways." Nico nods, and you both stand there, unsure what else you could say. "I'll see you later, Nico." Nico nods and lays down some money, more than enough for the both of you.
"I love Vivian, Y/n, but you were the one thing I regret getting away. But," Nico takes a deep breath and smiles. "I think it was for the better, don't you?" You smile, a genuine smile that made Nico always stop and stare. "It was all worth it,"
"Cece baby, you can't give up just because it's hard," Lando begs, really hating that they're in the stage where if something was hard, Cecile would just stop working on it. "But, I don't understand it, Dad. Can't I just stop?" She whines, and Lando sighs, rubbing his hair. Sometimes, Lando really hates being a dad because he remembers what it was like growing up and how hard things were, but he just takes a deep breath and tries again.
"Cece, sit down. You need to know how to do this for your school. Now, you and I do it, or I get Papa or Uncle Max to help you. Now, which one do you want?" Lando asks, trying hard to keep his stern voice. "You," She whispers and throws herself down into her chair beside him. Chuckling, Lando fixes her hair and kisses her temple. "Math wasn't easy for me either, baby," Cecile whines and shakes her head.
"It's not that, Daddy. All the words get jumbled when I read them." She whispers, casting her head down, and Lando freezes. He tries to wipe off the panic look on his face and clears the knot in his throat. "What do you mean the words get jumbled?" He asks, not wanting to jump straight to his first thought. "I mean, the letters move across the paper, and it doesn't make sense. I try my best, but it makes it harder, and then it gets harder when I get frustrated. What's happening?" Cece turns, eyes wide and filled with tears.
"Nothing is wrong; we just need to schedule an appointment with your doctor. There's nothing wrong with you, Cece; your brain is wired differently, like mine. It's called dyslexia, I have it, and after we talk to your doctor, then I can teach you tricks on how to deal with it?" "Does that mean we can stop with the homework?" Lando chuckles and, kisses her forehead and nods. "Yep, go." Lando smiles as he watches Cecile run off into the house.
Lando sighed and buried his face in his hands and tugged his hair gently, "Shit," Lando didn't want Cecile to be trouble in school; he remembered and still how hard it is for him sometimes to read, but taking a deep breath he leans back in the chair and smiles at the doorway. "How long have you been there?" Charles chuckles and steps into the room, holding a tray of snacks, clearly about to go to waste. "Not long; you think she has dyslexia?" Charles places the tray down, and Lando scoops up an apple slice and munches it.
"Yeah, she said the same words I said when I was her age and finally admitted to having trouble." Charles hums, reaching up and tugging on his husband's signature curls, making him groan from the slight pressure. "You're stressing, stop stressing." He whispers, and Lando chuckles, swallowing down another apple slice. "She's our little girl, Charles. I don't want her to struggle." Charles sighs and sits in Lando's lap, who smiles and pulls him closer.
"Lando, she's not going to struggle, she's got you, me, Elijah, and Y/n. She'll be good." Charles whispers and wraps his arms around his husband's neck, who hums and rests his head on Charles's chest. "How's Elijah? Is he doing okay?" Lando asks, knowing your relationship with Elijah has been challenging since you returned. He's been a little stand-offish with you, something Charles has been trying to fix.
"Fine, he's with Arthur and Mama and wants to spend the night, but I told him he's coming home. I think he's worried that Y/n will be gone again when he comes home." Charles's fingers tangle in those curls he loves so much, and he takes in the hint of lemon in his shampoo. It was a weird scent, but Lando loves his lemon and mint shampoo. "Good, he needs to be home. We can have a movie night or something," Lando's words trail off as you step into the house laughing, and Lando tenses, hearing the familiar laughter of his fellow Brit.
"Be nice," Charles whispers; Lando grumbles and pats Charles's thigh so they can stand as you and Lewis come into view. "Hey guys," Lewis smiles, and Charles happily hugs his old teammate, and Lando stands there glaring. "Lando," Lewis smiles, and Lando bites his tongue but fails. "You knew everything, didn't you?" "Lando!" You and Charles blurt, having wanted lunch first before Lando jumped Lewis.
"What? He's in our house and probably knew where you were and didn't tell us! Why should I be nice?" Lando asks, and Lewis chuckles and lays his coat over the back of the chair. "Lando, let's sit this straight. She is my family, and you and I are friends, but she is my baby sister, and I'll toss everything away between us for her. Understand?" Lewis's eyes narrow at Lando, who stands there, trying to make himself look bigger.
"I don't like that," Lando grumbles, and you roll your eyes and fix your sweatshirt as Charles comes over and kisses you gently. You smile and pray he doesn't notice, but he doesn't and kisses you again. "They're going to kill each other," You whisper, but Charles rolls his eyes at Lando's childish antics. "Lando, I don't give a fuck if you don't like it. She's my sister, fucking deal with it." Lewis rolls his eyes but stops seeing his niece's dirty blonde hair.
"Uncle Lewis!" Cecile screams and comes barreling at him. "Hey, gorgeous." He smiles and picks her up a little bit as she giggles and hugs her uncle tighter. "Guess what?" Cecile asks as Lewis sits her down. You notice him wince, his back still hurting him. "What?" "I'm just like Daddy!" Lando turns and looks at his daughter, and you notice his eyes grow a little shiny.
"Yeah? How are you like Daddy?" Cecile gets the biggest smile on her face as she bounces around. "Daddy and I both see letters moving! How cool is that?" She laughs as Lando turns and clears his throat. "I think that's very cool, gorgeous; you and Lando are very good to each other." Lewis smiles, and Cecile gives a big, toothy grin. "Yeah, I think so too! I'm even going to work for McLaren one day." She smiles up at Lando, who walks over and pulls her close, hugging her.
"Hey! I'm home, Pa!" You smile and turn, greeting Elijah, who stops and stares at you like a deer in headlights. "Hey Ma," Your smile drops slightly, hearing the hesitancy in your boy's voice. "Hi, honey, um, your Uncle Lewis is here." Elijah seems to relax at that. "Sweet, I want his advice about my driving in F4." Elijah brushes past you and eyes Lando and Cecile weirdly. "Why is Dad crying?" "I'm not crying! Lewis stupid ass cologne is burning my eyes!" Lewis scuffs and hugs Elijah as they walk deeper into the house, discussing F4.
"Daddy, can you let go of me now? I'm hungry." Lando sniffles pulls back, and rubs the top of her head. "Yeah, go. I'll join you in the kitchen soon." Cecile nods and stops at you and Charles, kissing your cheeks. The silence around you three grows, and you smile at Charles and Lando.
"So I might've told Nico he can come over later tonight," You blurt, and Charles and Lando whip their heads your way. "Why?" Charles sputters, and you laugh gently and fix the back of his hair. "Elijah wants a relationship with him and his half-sisters; who am I to stop that?" "His mother," Lando groans, sitting down as he knows arguing with you is useless. "Lando, that is Elijah's fat," You stop yourself, knowing calling Nico Elijah's father before Charles and Lando wasn't the wisest thing in the world.
"I think it's a good idea," Lando whips around, staring at his husband in shock, but Charles has a delicate smile. "Of course, if he still comes home to us, yes?" Hearing such vulnerability and raw emotion, your throat tightens, and you waver momentarily. Charles was still scared that you and Elijah would be gone without notice one day. He'd come back from a race, and you're just gone. It's been his nightmare since he's gotten you back. "Yes, Charles, he won't stay the night there." Charles nods, the tension soaking out of his shoulders while Lando turns and scuffs.
"Dad, I want this." Lando turns and sees Elijah standing there, bag in hand, ready to go to Nico's place. Elijah, ducky, I know you do, but it scares me." Lando whispers; Elijah places his bag down and sighs. "I know, Dad, but I'm not a kid anymore. I know my real parents, but I deserve to see the man who could've been my Dad. I get that right, but you, you're the one who raised me, Dad. That's never going to change." Lando rubbed his hair hard, a sign that he was getting anxious. "I don't want you to be hurt." Lando mummers, and Elijah moves closer.
"Come here, old man." Lando chuckles, and Elijah hugs his Dad, kissing his cheek too. You smile, noticing they hug the same way by burrowing their noses in the person's neck. "I love you, not him. You and Pa raised me, my fathers, and that will never change." Lando nods and tightens his arms before dropping them as Elijah steps back. "I got the girls gifts. Nico says they like dress-up, and pink and mint blue are their favorite colors." You giggle, seeing the way Elijah lights up talking about his half-sisters. Elijah's phone buzzes, and he looks at his watch, smiling. "Nico's here. See ya'll later." You wave and walk outside, seeing two little blonde heads run up and hug your boy. Your husband walks out and glares at Nico.
Nico, taking it like a champ, waves and walks toward you. You step forward, and Nico goes, still seeing Lewis step out of the house with Cece. "Ignore them so he can stay as late as he likes, but he's not spending the night. Also, please be careful with nuts; he's allergic." Nico nods, listening intently as Elijah groans, the girls crawling over him. "Sometimes he gets anxious and hides it well, but he pulls his hair or runs his hands through it pretty hard. So if he does get anxious, just ask him to run an errand, and he'll be okay." Nico smiles and stops you by placing a hand on your shoulder.
"I've got it. You have to let me learn. But I'd rather ask him what he needs than hear it from you." You smile and move, hugging Nico back. You take a breath and start to giggle. "God, you still wear that god-awful perfume." Nico begins to laugh, and you shake your head. "Jesus, man, get a better perfume." Nico rolls his eyes and turns to his girls. "Girls, leave your brother alone," Elijah laughs and lifts them up, making them squeal. "Come on, little Rosbergs, in the car." Elijah opens the door, helps them in, and even buckles them in.
Your breath catches as you notice how similar Nico's girls and your boy look alike. "Bye-bye, Eli!" Cece yells from Lewis's side, and Elijah turns, smiling brightly. "Bye-bye, Cece." Elijah laughs and climbs into the car, and Nico smiles and nods at the men behind you and jogs to the vehicle. You hear giggles as the car drives off slowly.
You smile while watching Lando and Charles follow a recipe, something you've been craving from home. You miss how your relationship used to be, but you know you'll never get that back and must embrace the new dynamics in your life. Lando giggles when Charles kisses his nose, and you lean back, barely sipping from your wine glass—something Lewis clocks immediately.
"Y/n, can you show me the new flowers you planted?" You turn and nod, and Charles and Lando smile at you. You leave the wine behind and walk outside into your small private garden. You got lucky in Monaco to build an actual home and have a little bit of land. No one really wanted to live in the mountains anyway. "How far along?" He asks softly, turning you to smile brightly at your best friend.
"For a couple of months, I haven't told them yet," you whisper, touching your stomach and feeling happiness wash over you. "Lando or Charles's?" You laugh and hook your arm with Lewis's, staring at the fading tattoos, remembering all the nights you'd come to his room crying and tracing them as he nursed your broken heart all those years ago. "Charles's," There was no doubt in your voice.
When you returned from Finland, Charles and you were all over each other as Lando had to go to Mercedes headquarters and take the kids with him to visit his parents. You and Charles didn't leave the bed and may have gotten through a pack of condoms and said screw it, laughing as you both didn't care if you had another baby. Your therapist might judge, though.
"Great, just what the world needs, another one of you," Lewis teases, and you giggle, walking up to the gorgeous new butterfly bushes you had planted. "What do they mean?" Lewis asks, and you rock back and forth, sighing. "New beginnings. I think we all deserve a clean slate, don't you?" Lewis smiles, touching the flowers gently, admiring the vibrant purple. "Yeah, I think it's time to forgive the past," Lewis turns, running a hand over his braids before taking back your hand. "So, who'll be the godfather of this one?" You slap his chest, which makes him snicker.
"Nico," "I'll fucking sue!" Lewis barks, and you throw your head back laughing, seeing the smoke coming from his ears. "What happened to forgiving the past?" "Not for him! He's dead to me," Lewis lets go of you and storms inside, and you hear the giggles of Cece and Lewis grumbling as they come back out and head towards the karts. "Be careful!" "We will, Mama!" Cece waves, and you shake your head, like her father, with wild curls.
Stepping inside, you kick off your sandals and enjoy the cool tiles as you enter your open kitchen. The same kitchen you told them about, Cece. The memory makes you get choked up, but you quickly push it down, not wanting to worry the boys. Stepping deeper, you see Lando pull away, smiling as Charles chases him for another kiss and blushes to see you. You move between them and hug Charles, melting into Lando when he presses you into Charles more.
It's silent, and you enjoy it, hearing Charles's calming heartbeat and Lando's hums, which make you shiver. He chuckles, kissing your bare shoulder. "Did you not like the wine?" Lando asks, knowing you usually had a glass as they cooked. "Nah, it doesn't sit well with the baby," Charles chuckles. "Yeah, babies normally don't, wait." He pushes you back, his face filled with joy.
"Wait, what, baby?" You burst out laughing at those exact words said from the beginning. You knew this was the last chapter of your old life, your new one beginning. And you're going to love this new chapter.
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could you do some drunk Eddie blurbs or oneshots? Thanks! I love your stuff btw
✶ ┄ DRUNK IN LOVE !
summary: "you're drunk, eds" / "yeah, super drunk. and in the morning, when i'm sober, you’ll still be beautiful… i’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you."
pairing: best friend!eddie munson / f!reader
word count: 3.8k
warnings: talks of alcohol, getting drunk, and taking care of a super drunk eddie! barely proofread so pretend any typos are nonexistent <3
a/n: i'm learning it's next impossible for me to write blurbs. i get an idea for one and boom. it's nearly 4k words. thanks for the request, anon! hope you like it xoxo
( MASTERLIST )
Eddie didn’t realize until he was halfway through his fifth beer, that he probably should’ve stopped at his fourth.
He’d stumbled upon that finicky little fork in the road at the crux both drinks, a line he was toeing all night between blissfully tipsy and borderline obliterated. You can only really maneuver it if you’re smart about it, and in true Munson fashion, Eddie opted for the exact wrong decision.
It wasn’t like he’d ever prided himself on being a man of self-control. He was gluttonous to a fault, green and greedy at times, especially when there was free alcohol involved.
Eddie had been a grumpy little stick in the mud when you and him first got to Steve’s place. He didn’t feel like partying that night or sharing you with people he could barely stand. They were your friends, after all, not his. He only tolerated the bunch of them because you did. He spent the entire drive lamenting about how illegal it was — to be his best friend and have other people in your life you cared about the same way you cared about him.
“That’s obviously against the rules,” he joked.
You only scoffed in response. “Obviously.”
Undeterred by his complaints, you drug him halfway across Hawkins with you like a storm cloud on a leash.
When you arrived, he found that it wasn’t a party at all. It was just Steve and Robin drinking together on the couch while Nancy and Jonathan stirred around in the kitchen and scolded Argyle for rifling through all the cabinets.
Music spilled lowly from the radio, a platter of snacks were laid out on the coffee table, and everyone smiled at you when you walked in. It wasn’t nearly as loud or as overwhelming as he’d dreaded it might be on the drive over.
Didn’t mean he was any happier about it, though.
“I don’t know about this,” he cautioned in your ear from where he stood behind your shoulder, seeking a familiar refuge in you once all the greetings were done. “We talked to everyone, can’t we just, like… go? I don’t think I’m gonna have a good time here, babe.”
Babe, he calls you, a nickname that’s left half of Hawkins believing the two of you were really dating. You stopped blushing about it some years ago, when the novelty of it wore off and it ultimately replaced your actual name.
You shrugged, grasping for a reason to make him stay. “Steve said he had a keg.”
The big silver thing next to the kitchen island didn’t catch his eye until then. You peered up at him, finding a sudden sparkle in his gaze. His bushy brows bounced and his pink mouth fell soft agape at the sight of it. Something swelled in his heart then, a distant and boyish happiness.
“…I’m gonna try.”
He was pretty much a goner after that.
The beer was pretty stellar, but more than anything, the keg kept it cold. Eddie could barely drag himself away from the damn thing — the red solo cup hadn’t left his right hand all night. And when Steve let him handle the music, that was even better… Well, technically, he let you handle the music, but you sifted through his tapes and picked only what you knew Eddie would like — just like you always did.
Any other time, Eddie might’ve asked what the hell King Steve was doing with so many KISS cassettes, but he was already too drunk to think logically about anything by the time “Detroit Rock City” started playing. He stopped caring and let all the beer and music coursing through his system do all the work for him.
And while stumbling for his sixth refill with Robin, he concludes that he is, in fact, completely and utterly and unabashedly drunk. He’s still sober yet, enough to make such an admission to himself, but too far gone now to stop drinking.
He crouches slightly to bring the nozzle to the rim of his cup without much resistance. His tongue pokes through his tingling lips as he pours all of his concentration into aiming the beer into his plastic chalice and not completely toppling over onto the kitchen floor below him.
That’s when he spots you and Steve sitting on the couch, a little too close for his liking.
The brunette boy has his arms sprawled over the back of the sofa like he owns the place (Eddie’s too drink to remember he does, in fact, own the place) and your legs are delicately crossed and turned towards him, too enraptured in whatever conversation you were having to notice that your best friend had run off (you’d been trying to look after him all night, it wasn’t your fault he kept dodging you).
And it wasn’t his place to be jealous, he knew that. You didn’t belong to him. You could do whatever the hell you wanted to.
If he wasn’t so sloshed, he might’ve been able to recall that you don’t have a thing for Steve — that you’ve never had a thing for Steve, because you’ve spent your entire life in love with your best friend.
But you were too chicken shit to tell Eddie and Eddie was too oblivious to see any of it and it left the both of you in a permanent limbo of unsaid feelings.
So much so, that he once encouraged you to conquer the feat of King Steve one night, many moons ago. He thought he’d noticed the two of you being overtly touchy in the back of a dimly lit club.
Eddie was sober enough then to make fun of it all while still feeling every ounce of his misplaced jealousy as he playfully promised you that “you had his blessing to screw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”
You should’ve known you were screwed when you told him that you didn’t want to screw Steve because “you had your eyes on someone else,” and he completely missed the brave, longing look you shot his way.
Eddie spent the rest of the night pestering you endlessly about your crush, while you just sat there, red hot and embarrassed about the whole thing.
Now he’s the one feeling like a fool, watching his best friend make nice with the dowager king of Hawkins.
Being without you makes the distance feel somehow wider from where stands across the too big house, feeling like a stray puppy everyone adores but never actually choses.
Robin taps him on the shoulder to bring him from his stupor before he can waste the foaming beer rapidly filling his cup, though there was no stopping the drunken war path he goes on after.
You and Steve giggle to yourselves as you watch Nancy twirl drunkenly to the tune of the Joan Jett, louder when Jonathan fights to keep her from stumbling over herself. The boy leans over to you, whispering a joke only you can hear, and smiling when it makes you laugh.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie scolds when he stumbles up to the couch. “What’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over here, huh?”
The two of you blink up at the boy, surprised by his sudden visit and how much drunker he’d gotten since you spoke to him last.
He’s all flushed out, cheeks glowing red with the alcohol in his system, and slurring something fierce — the kind of drawled out garbles that only sound clear to the one that’s speaking.
“We were talking about you, Eds,” you smile without missing a beat. “Been missin’ you over here.”
Steve nods with a dumb, tight-lipped grin. “Yeah. You’ve been making friends with that keg instead of the rest of us, man—”
“Yeah, right,” the boy scoffs out a laugh with a bitter nod. He less than gracefully squeezes between your legs and the coffee table. “Scooch over, Harrington. Make some room. ’S too damn cuddly over here.”
With no choice but to comply, the two of you part.
“Scooch?” you hear Steve mutter under his breath with a faint laugh that has you giggling too. Eddie’s not drunk enough to miss the glance that both of you share, seemingly having some sort of silent conversation that’s left him, yet again, out of the loop.
He’s got a full on pout on his numbing face when he settles between you and Steve, losing his balance briefly before landing in a clumsy pile between the both of you. The beer in his freshly filled up cup sloshes over the rim and splashes into your lap. The alcohol stains the belly of your t-shirt, leaving it cold and clinging to your skin.
And it’s not as dramatic as the movies make it seem, where a guy spills a drink on a girl and something terribly melodramatic ensues. You weren’t trying to impress anybody, least of all with your outfit — hell, you’d probably stolen it from Eddie himself a lifetime or more ago. You don’t get angry or rush out of the room for a good cry.
Actually, you smile sweetly at him, with the realization that it was time for you and your way-too-drunk-to-function best friend to head home.
Eddie gets all sad about it anyway, though, because to him it really does feel all that dramatic. His face screws up like he’s just done something irreversible. His umber eyes glimmer at you with a particular sadness only a drunk person could possess.
“Shit, babe… I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s okay, Eds—”
“No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry,” he slurs with the sloppy shake of his head. “Please don’t be mad at me, babe. I didn’t mean to.”
“No one’s mad at you, Eddie,” you affirm with a soft laugh, dabbing at the wet spot of your shirt with the bunch of napkins Jonathan (the only other half-sober person aside from you and Steve) haphazardly hands to you.
“I can give you another shirt, if you want,” Steve offers, already standing to retrieve it for you. “Might be too big but it’s—”
Eddie’s head snaps away from you and to the brunette boy. A cartoon-like anger coats his buzzing features. “Like hell you will, Harrington,” he tries to threaten, though the words come out half-jumbled together. “Won’t have my girl wearin’ your shit, Steven—”
You burn red hot at the new nickname, equal parts embarrassed and delighted as you stand from your position on the sofa. Suddenly eager to escape the situation, you reach for Eddie’s hand. “Alright, Eds. Let’s go.”
He accepts your touch without question, rising on swaying feet and forcing you to keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady.
He’s already forgotten what he just said. He has no idea that your heart’s just done a billion backflips for him. He focuses, instead, on the thought of a new adventure with you. “Ooh. Where we goin’ now?”
“I’m taking you back to the trailer, okay?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, suddenly displeased again. “Yeah, whatever… You wanna spend more time with King Steve, I see what you’re doin’—”
“I’m coming with you, Eds,” you laugh.
It’s like the switch flipped and he’s grinning all sloppy and stupid at you again. He tosses the smug look to the boy standing at his other side. “Suck it, Stevie—”
“Eddie!” you scold.
“You guys can just take the spare bedroom,” Steve offers despite Eddie’s teasing. “I don’t want you driving like this.”
“Oh, how fucking chivalrous,” your best friend grumbles under his breath.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” you press with brows furrowed in concern. “I don’t want to, you know, intrude or whatever. I’m good to drive—”
“No, it’s fine. Really. He should probably lie down anyway.”
“Yeah… Okay.”
“You know where it is, right?” he asks you and you nod
Eddie takes great offense to your affirmative answer.
“Wait, why do you know where it is?” he pouts down at you, figuring there’s something dirty hidden in the fact you’ve slept in your friend’s guest bedroom before. You shake your head and opt not to answer as you help him towards the stairs. “Why do you know where it is?”
“—Go upstairs, okay?” you shout over him, trying your best to stay patient. “I’ll check on you in a second.”
He lingers on the first stair and juts out his lip. His pointer fingers trails the intricate carvings in the wood of the banister while his glassy puppy dog eyes glimmer down at you. “…Promise?”
“Yes, Eddie. I promise.”
With that, he makes careful work climbing the stairs, hanging onto the railing for dear life as he goes. You watch attentively, prepared to rush to him if he stumbles, and able to breathe out a sigh of relief when he makes it to the top step.
You turn away from the hallway of the staircase and back to your friends, who — save for Steve and maybe Jonathan — haven’t yet bothered to acknowledge the situation.
Robin is rifling through Steve’s cabinets for food, Argyle’s at the keg pouring beer into his mouth straight from the nozzle, and Nancy hasn’t stopped dancing the entire time. You’re not even sure if she knows the song.
“I didn’t know you guys were dating,” Stevie remarks with a smile. “No wonder he was being so… like that.”
You shake your head and duck your gaze. “We’re not. Dating, I mean— he’s just, like, super drunk.”
“…Really?”
“Really,” you breathe out a laugh at the way your admission make this face twist in confusion.
“I’ve just— I’ve never heard a drunk person talk that way about someone they didn’t, you know… like.”
A part of you so desperately wants that to be true.
Eddie’s never been particularly shy about calling you babe or sweetheart or honey in front of people — sometimes he did it just to throw them off. But something about him getting jealous over a guy you’ve never liked, calling you his girl to bat the believed ‘affections’ away, has a foreign feeling swirling in your belly.
You force yourself to swallow your hopes down.
“Well, you’ve never met drunk Eddie,” you tell him with a shrug. “The freak’ll say just about anything.”
You make your way up to the guest bedroom and find Eddie slouched at the top step. He looks terribly sad, pouting with his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands on his chin. But he lights up like a christmas tree all over again at the sight of you.
“What are you doing, Eddie? You were supposed to be laying down,” you scold softly.
“I missed you,” he whines, gazing up at you with twinkling, red-rimmed eyes. “And I got lost… And then I forgot how to walk.”
You try your best to keep a straight face as you help him up again, trying to ignore the way your heart thrums like a hummingbird when he leans completely into your side.
You walk the staggering boy the short distance to Steve’s guest bedroom.
It’s as extravagant as the rest of the house, complete with large windows and expensive furniture and a thousand throw pillows on the freshly made bed. The entire room practically sparkles, there’s not a single crease in the bedsheets; it probably hasn’t been touched since the last time one of you spent the night there.
Eddie flops onto the bed when you urge him to sit down. He makes himself comfortable with ease, legs still hanging over the side as he throws his arms out, melting easily into the newly laundered blankets.
You navigate through the darkness, illuminated only by a subtle moonlight, to the seating area across the room. The newly granted privacy of the guest bedroom allows you to strip off your damp shirt. The wet spot sticks to your skin when you peel it off of you. The feeling makes you grimace.
You don’t think twice about being in your bra in front of Eddie — he’s not even looking at you now — and besides, he’s seen you in less. You’ve been friends for far too long to care. Being naked in front of each other stops meaning so much after accidentally catching each other changing a half a billion times.
Leaving your shirt in a crumpled pile on the arm of the couch, you make the silent decision to sleep there for the night. Many a bed has been shared between you and Eddie, but he’s going to need all the comfort he can get tonight — the hangover he’ll have tomorrow will feel like hell, no doubt.
You look across the dark room at Eddie and find he hasn’t moved an inch. “Take off your clothes, Eds. You’re not gonna be comfortable sleeping in jeans.”
“Mm,” he groans in the darkness, as though in protest, already half-asleep.
“You’re already gonna feel like shit in the morning, especially if you’re sleeping like that,” you advise with a soft laugh. “Come on, Eds. At least take off your shoes.”
“…Don’t know how,” he murmurs.
You roll your eyes at him, even though he can’t see you, even though you do it all for him anyway. It was second nature to you, taking care of Eddie, and you do it with an ease that makes his drunken little heart swell.
You start with his shoes, not having to untie them because they’re so loose on his feet. His jeans come next, a far bigger struggle because you do it with little help from the boy in the bed. His belt is strangely tricky and he claims his body feels too heavy to lift his hips for you.
But what he lacks in assistance, he makes up for in cheeky one-liners — “At least, take me out to dinner first, babe” and “If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you coulda just said" to name a few.
Once he’s clad in nothing but his Hellfire t-shirt, R2D2 patterned underwear, and hand-me-down socks that barely fit him, you maneuver him so he’s lying properly in bed.
You toss away all the pillows that are more for decoration than anything else, pull the covers down and over his body, and Eddie doesn’t do a single damn thing but watch.
He couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to because his heart is so far in his throat he can’t breathe.
You’re so unfamiliarly soft with him — sweet in your way than anyone will ever be to him in his lifetime, than anyone will ever be to anyone else.
The love you bathe him in half-sobers him and tosses him into a spiral of self-hatred. Why did it take getting drunk at Steve’s place to realize he’s been so head over heels for you he hasn’t stood up straight in years?
Drunken words sit impatiently on his tongue. He lacks the self-control to keep the hidden.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles tiredly.
Your hands almost immediately still where they bunch the covers up at his chest. Your eyes dart to his face and it takes everything in you not to duck away all over again, when you see the way he’s looking at you.
Eddie looks so soft, basked in a soft moonlight streaming in through parted sheer curtains.
His brown eyes twinkle with stars of their own. He gazes up at you like you put them there.
He doesn’t miss the shock that coats your features. Your eyes widen in surprise of his words at first, before your brows furrow and you shake your head to yourself in denial — like you’re not deserving of them. Like you’re not standing over him in your baggy jeans and five-year-old cotton bra after he spilt his beer all over you, taking care of him because he’s too drunk to take care of himself, doting on him like it’s second nature to you.
As far as Eddie’s concerned, there’s never been a sight more beautiful than this one.
“Stop,” you manage a laugh, still swallowing down that glimmer of hope that lingers on the back of your tongue. “You’re drunk, Eds.”
“Yeah. Super drunk,” he nods unabashedly. A distant smile hints at the corner of his lips as he gazes up at you like he’s trying to commit your features to memory — the angle of your nose, the shape of your jaw, the softness of your lips, and the way you’re looking down at him like you’re wondering if he’s real or not. “And in the morning, when I’m sober, you’ll still be beautiful… I’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you.”
You never thought Eddie would say something like this — not something so profound it makes your heart stop and especially not to you. You always dreamed that he might. And you had nightmares that it wouldn’t. That he would utter them to someone who wasn’t you.
But here he is now, loving on you and calling you pretty and hating himself for not being able to tell you that, and you don’t know what to do.
“…Okay,” is all you can say in response, nodding your head like an idiot. You force yourself to move on quickly, focusing instead on tucking him further into the unfamiliar bed.
It’s easier than concentrating on your racing heart that ticks like a time bomb seconds away from going off.
“Thanks for taking care of me, babe,” he murmurs quietly, blinking slow and heavy up at you. “I’m sorry… I know I don’t deserve it—”
“I’ll take care of you forever, Eds. You know that,” you interject without thinking. “And you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”
Eddie lets your words settle over him like the cozy blanket you cover him with. They bathe him like warm water, prickle his skin like they’re cleansing him.
The intent behind them means more than he could ever comprehend, half-drunk or sober still.
He rises abruptly, disrupting the cocoon you’d just tucked him into, as he works with disoriented hands to peel off his shirt. “What are you doing, Eds?” he hears you laugh when his head and arms get caught in the fabric.
You help him out of it anyway, tugging the cotton over him and gaping at him when he hands the bunched up t-shirt over to you.
“Here,” he offers like you’re supposed to know what to do with it.
“…What?”
“Want you to wear it… And to go downstairs so Steve will see you in it.”
You roll your eyes though a smile plasters itself on your mouth. You slip the thing over your head and pretend it's just to appease him. It isn’t the first time you’ve worn something of his, but this time feels so much different.
“Better?” you tease.
Eddie nods with a childlike happiness.
You’ve always been his, in your own special way, but wearing his shirt? It’s like you’re waving a big, brightly-colored flag — a lit up I’m with stupid sign with a flashing arrow pointed right at him. It makes him grin like an idiot.
“Now, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk in the morning. When you’re so hungover you wanna die,” you joke, still perched at his bedside.
Before you rise, you lean over and press a quick peck to the tip of his warm nose.
You want to do more than that, so much more than that, but you know that he’s still half-drunk — and that he might not mean a single word of this come sunrise.
You’ll revel in this softness now, either way it goes.
“And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful too.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fic#st oneshots#eddie spaghetti oneshot
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Illicit 5
Here's Illicit part 5.. It's a fun one for sure hehe
Check out our Patreon for early access and 100+ exclusives
Illicit Masterlist
WC- 3k
Warnings- exhibitionism(?), Voyerism(?), Really mean H, Cheating (H w Y/N), spit play, smut etc
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It was safe to say that Brant was not pleased in the slightest that his daughter had tricked Harry. While he wasn’t pleased with the fact that it had come to that in order for them to spend time together, his company took precedence over his daughter’s relationship. He had apologized profusely to Harry, telling him he would speak to his daughter and make sure she knew how inappropriate her actions were. That wasn’t what he was looking for.
He wanted this contract terminated.
Perhaps, if he hadn’t met Y/N, he would have a bit more tact. Suffer in silence and just roll his eyes at her antics, let her do what she needed to get him off of her back. But he did. He met the love of his life and this girl was standing in the way of what he wanted. That never turned out well for anyone, really, but this girl had pushed his last straw. He needed her to break up with him so this agreement was void. The moment she told him it was done, he would perhaps just for joy. It was exhausting. The annoyance he used to feel for her had built up into a sweltering hatred, a loathing. Every little thing she did pissed him off and put her higher and higher on his shit list. He needed her gone, and fast. He couldn’t keep hiding Y/N.
Katherine on the other hand, only wanted to chase harder. She was livid with him for speaking out loud, letting people question their relationship. Sure enough there was a grainy video of a pissed off Harry growling at her from across the table, throwing cash on to the table. The articles had come out in droves.
Trouble in Paradise for the New IT Couple?
UnStylish Dinner- Waitress Tells All
Rocky Road for Heiress and Mogul
Is THE Couple Calling it Quits?
Tantrum at the Table? Katherine Brant EXPOSED!
Needless to say, she was twitching and angry. Her carefully curated brand had been tarnished. She’d put in months now of effort, building up their story. Letting herself sit aside while Harry was busy but getting her head bitten off when she wanted a bit of attention. Her crush on him was obsessive. It wasn’t just getting his love anymore, it was building their relationship up to legendary levels. Give them a ship name! Katrry? Hatherine? She was fine with either, but she wanted that influencer reputation. The wealth itself wasn’t enough. She wanted attention, damn it, and Harry was ruining her plans.
When Katherine had originally gotten this deal, she was ecstatic. She was convinced she could get the ‘emotionless beast’ as people around there called him, to love her. She knew she was pretty, funny, she had a lot to offer. Her plan had been foolproof, or so she thought. Thinking about how they could rise up and be the perfect power couple. New money and Old coming together and ruling over the city with a golden fist.
They had been ruined, however, when he didn’t give. They had sex 2 times, she gave him oral once, and the man had barely said anything to her except ‘shut up.’ He was selfish, using her as a mere fleshlight to get off on. No praise, no words besides a grunt when he came. He’d demanded her face down, ass up, and to keep quiet. Bite the pillow if you need, your voice is annoying. It hadn’t been bad, his cock thick and hitting the right spots, but he showed no interest in her. No affection. Simply slapping her ass and getting up to shower alone after he was done. He’d asked if she was good, but that was about it. She’d thought maybe using sex to get to him would work, but after the second time he straight up denied her. No phsycial contact.
There was no way he was normal. He didn’t have emotions nor morals, it seemed, but she didn’t need those in order to have a happy life. Giving up on the affection, she’d tried to perfect the image, manipulating photos, planting people to see things at certain angles. Making people think she had done the impossible- she had turned the mottled, charred heart of Harry Styles into a blooming forest, just for her. But obviously- things were not turning out her way. Katherine was used to getting her way.
So she devised a plan. An intervention of sorts, one that had her stomping into his office only to be told he had taken the day off. A direct lie he had told her just an hour earlier, saying he was busy at work all day and not to bother him with silly things. Like her feelings. She was fuming and irrational, knowing what she had to do. It would perhaps get people fired, maybe get her in big trouble with her father, but she wasn't thinking clearly right now. All she wanted to do was to yell at him. Give Harry a taste of his own medicine, damn it. He acted so high and mighty, so above her, and it infuriated her.
Knowing it wasn’t smart and the back of her mind reminding her of how much he valued his privacy, she knew it was dirty. But seeing her opportunity with a new doorman to his building, proving their relationship status with his phone number in her phone and photos of them together, she got the spare key to his place.
Her heart was beating in her throat as she pushed the front door handle down, heels clicking as she walked inside the foyer. The place was quiet, really, except for a faint sound coming from the upstairs of the penthouse. Naive, she assumed it was the television. Harry hadn’t allowed her here more than to meet her in the hallway, so part of this was saving her curiosity as she saw the large panoramic views of the city in this high rise, floor to ceiling windows. His step down living room with a half one puzzle on the coffee table and a U Shaped couch, she walked past it and towards the grand staircase to make her way up to where he must be.
It was nerve wracking, really. Being here, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be, but the rage simmering under her skin was too hot to make sense of it. Each step clicked, bringing her closer to the sound she still couldn’t quite make out.
“Oh, fuuuuck.” A feminine voice let out, faint but loud enough to make her throat tight. There was no way. Each step closer gained another sound. A grunt, a smack, a whimper. A manly cooing, the sound of flesh slapping together and hushed words that only got clearer as she neared the door that was ajar.
“S’good, baby?” It was Harry. Harry Styles, with his low crooning voice. A tone she had never heard before, making her stiffen up and her eyes blink hard as the deep words continue. “S’so good for me. Always so fucking good, swallowing me up.” A weak whine sounded in reply. Tip toeing closer, her curiosity got the best of her again as she peeked inside.
On the plush bed, the blankets were crumpled and wrinkled. A starkly naked, almost faceless woman was laying on her back, fingers clutching the broad expanse of Harry’s bare, tanned back. The pearly pink of her demure manicured nails digging into the skin, making a groan Katherine had never imagined the man capable of falling from swollen lips. She was getting a side view, a real pornographic image playing in front of her face. Frozen, like watching a car crash as she looked at the couple.
He was fucking another woman. A woman he was treating much differently than she had ever treated her. His hand scooping under her neck, cooing down at her as tiny repetitive whimpers left her lips. “I know, M’Love. I know, I’m getting that spot, aren’t I? S’my spot.” He brushed her nose with his own, fucking into her deep and concentrated. The sweat glistened on his skin as she watched her supposed ‘boyfriend’ fuck into the cunt of another woman. He called her ‘his love.’. She was shaking, face pale as she couldn't seem to uncement her feet from the carpeted hall.
“Yes, yes, right there. Right there, H.” The woman panted. Desperation was clear in her tone, her legs pulled up and on his shoulders. H? She was allowed a nickname and Katherine wasn't? “I can’t stop, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum I-” A needy squeal sounded in the room as Harry leaned down, spitting over her cunt and smearing it in with his hand. Unashamed and passionate. He was being filthy, but the way he looked at the woman- it broke her a little. Whoever this was, she had gotten her dream. She was the one standing in the way of it, she was the one who had ruined her plans. She’d hypnotized him with sex, somehow managing to get her goal of unfreezing his heart. Just the way he handled her made Katherine well aware of the fact that he was in love.
“There we fuckin’ go, my love. Soak my cock.” He hissed through his teeth, eyes looking up from Y/N to follow his gut feeling, eyes meeting Katherine’s in the doorway. Instead of stopping, of growling at her, instead of making her presence known, he simply laughed, turning his attention back to Y/N and let her watch. His thrusts increased in tempo, a hand placed on her tummy as he worked harder. Like he was trying to prove something. “S’my perfect girl. All mine, let go all over my cock. S’all yours, baby.” He hummed. “I can feel it- fuck, you’re trying to milk me. Y’want it, sweet girl?” He mumbled down at her. “Want my cum again?”
Her eyes betrayed her, looking down to find that his cock was indeed bare. Something she knew he was notorious for never allowing. It solidified a lot to Katherine, knowing that he was fucking this girl raw, that she was the one that had beat her to him. Anger and shame bubbled inside of her as her face stays red, watching his slick pick drive into her, spreading her open with each pass. Creamy at the base, like this wasn’t their first round, maybe a third. Bitten skin and scratch marks, her breasts with pebbled nipples arched up as begged for it, unashamed at her pleas as Harry stared down at her with pure love and lust. It seemed to be his undoing, dropping down her legs and finding himself on top of her, deep and hard thrusts as he pressed his nose to hers before his face contorted in rapture. A deep growl, his hips stuttering as he pushed in one final time and the wet sounds of sex ended. Only then, he took her mouth with his own while he stayed balls deep, humping into her and kissing her hard, more passion going into that one kiss than he had given her the whole of their relationship.
His expression hardened as he pulled away, looking up at Katherine with a single warning mouthed to her by his swollen, spit slicked lips. ‘Get the fuck out.’
—---------
“I love you.” Harry mumbled into Y/N’s neck, peppering it with kisses. He wasn’t going to ruin this post orgasm bliss quite yet, ignoring the woman standing with a gaping mouth at their bedroom door. “So much. My sweet angel.” He stroked the messy locks from her face, their second round on his day off being usually one of his favorites. This time, it was again, but for a much more nefarious reason.
Harry wasn’t one to tell someone they were wrong if they called him cruel. He was. Y/N, his nieces and his family were the only ones shielded by his gray morals, but there was a sick part of him that was relieved. Excited, even, that Katherine got a glimpse. Saw that she could never compare, that he was a taken man and was only with her. Maybe now, she would get it through her impossibly thick skull. Only, it seemed she was stupider than Harry had originally thought, standing like a deer in headlights as Harry gently pulled out, using his fingers to curl inside her cunt and the other grabbing the blanket to cover up Y/N.
“Can you not read lips? I said to get the fuck out.” He said coldly, fingers pressing the cum further into Y/N’s cunt as he looked at Katherine. “You come in here, invade my privacy? More so, my girl’s privacy? Not fucking okay.”
“Are you kidding me?” Katherine squeaked. Y/N had been clued in and felt herself curl in on herself, hiding under the blanket as her thundering heart didn’t take the second to calm down. It only got worse. “I’m your girlfriend! Not this, this-”
“I’d choose your words very fucking carefully.” He snapped, eyes darker than she had ever seen. He was naked as the day he was born, cock wet and filthy with another woman's orgasm mixed with his own, and he was more threatening than she could have ever imagined. “This is the woman who will be the mother of my children. You, Katherine, are a means to an end. An end I’ve been trying to work on and you’ve been too pathetic to catch a clue. Or stupid, actually, considering I’ve told you I’m here because you whined to your father who was dumb enough to add a personal matter cloud his judgment. I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now.” He pulled his fingers from Y/N, licking them clean without breaking eye contact with the wicked witch. He hoped it made her sick.
“You are a monster.” She whispered, face paling. “You don’t care about anything! Any of the effort I put in, it’s because you’ve had a whore on the side-”
“Watch your fucking mouth.” He interrupted again. “She’s not the whore. If anything, you’re the one on the side trying to desperately prove to people who don’t care about you that you are important. It’s pathetic. I tried to help you by treating you like shit, but let me spell it out for you.” He stood up, giving Y/N’s forehead a kiss before crossing his arms. “You are nothing to me. You’ve never been anything to me. She has been my everything since the day we met. I have been dreaming of marrying her, impregnating her, keeping her. You and this fucked up deal have been an inconvenience since day one. And don’t even think about running to your father crying. There is no clause saying I need to be loyal to you. No monogamy, no fidelity clause. Your father’s company was a welcome inquisition to my empire, but it means nothing to me now. You mean nothing to me. Your time is worthless.”
Harry was harsh but real. Y/N had her hand over her mouth, watching the exchange in horror. She wasn’t pleased about being seen, as it felt extremely violating, but she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t feeling that weird sense of satisfaction over finally being seen as his one and only. It was a weird juxtaposition of feelings swirling in her gut, blinking as she watched the girl’s face fall. Harry was being ruthless, trying to cement the facts in her head.
“I’ve been as kind as I can be given the situation. I went along with your little schemes but I’m tired. Frankly, the things you care about are vapid, stupid, and you will fall out of public favor in seconds once the next heiress with a camera pops up. But you’ve fucked up massively, Katherine.First, wasting my time and business hours. But this? Breaking and entering? Are you really that pathetic?” He sneered. It must have been a sight, seeing a stark nude Harry Styles sneering at a shivling excuse of an influencer who was standing in his doorway. “And here you are now, wasting my time with my love. I was going to continue this agreement and let you continue whatever social media posts, but this is too far for me. No deal is worth a psychotic woman breaking into my house and making my woman feel unsafe.”
He crossed the room to grab his phone when he heard her sputter.
“Wait! No- No, don’t call my dad.” She said shakily. “Please don’t call him. I’ll do anything. He’s going to kill me.” Katherine, above all else, couldn’t stand the threat of being cut off. That’s what he threatened the other day for using his phone to trick Harry. Katherine was used to her lifestyle and if that was taken away, she didn’t know what she would do.
“Call off the contract.” He said. “That’s the only way I’m not telling your father and ruining your life. Break up with me, do your silly influencer thing and call the paparazzi. Call me an asshole, I don’t give a fuck. But break this contract. I want out of it and I want to be rid of you.” He found his briefs, pulling them up his legs. This was the one thing he wanted. To be honest, part of him did want to ruin her life- but he didn’t want to be held responsible for all the other shit that came with it. So for one final time, he gave her a shot. “And get the fuck out before I call security.”
If she didn’t take this warning seriously, he’d be happy to show her what kind of monster he could be.
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Hiii
Chishiya x reader that takes place in the first episode (season 2) when the king of spades starts shooting everyone and Chishiya protects reader in his own Chishiya ways 🙏🏻 And they both don’t get in the car with arisu & the others so they go off to find somewhere they can stay. Maybe established relationship & from chishiyas pov
TyTyTy ❤️
— GUNS AND SPADES
chishiya x gn!reader | ? words
genre: established relationship, slight angst
warnings: s2 spoilers, shooting, guns, blood, death, mentions of fainting, kinda spoilers for chishiya’s past, aib stuff… badly written might edit later idk
synopsis: Surviving in the Borderlands was something you’d been forced to get used to. Getting shot at for absolutely no reason when no game was ongoing was something else entirely.
author’s note: thank you for requesting! hope you like it!! to be honest i struggle with writing about chishiya this way a bit so this isn’t nearly as good as i wanted it to be. also i have no idea where i was going with this. nevertheless i hope it’s nice to read!
The sound of shots was clear. People scrambled around Shibuya Crossing, running for their lives without a care for one another’s. When faced with Death, people showed their true selves— Or whatever.
It would seem that, as per usual, your true self in this situation was to start running away before cursing at Chishiya and pulling him so he’d follow. Sure, he would start running eventually either way, but he certainly took his time.
“Chishiya, seriously.” you scoffed.
Thus the run began.
Arisu, Usagi, Kuina, you, and Chishiya were all lined up hiding behind an underground subway’s stairs entrance, crouching behind the wall and checking through the glass for the unknown shooter.
“Is this a game? Where are the rules?” Usagi exclaimed through panicked breaths. Arisu shook his head immediately.
“There’s nothing. This is just mass murder.”
“Seriously.” you mumbled, checking through the glass, “More people are coming this way. We should get moving.”
You all started running away in a group before realizing there was no point. Arisu yelled at everyone to split up and you all did. Running through a crowd of scared people, all confused and fearing for their lives— It was never a good feeling.
“Ah!”
Especially when some were too rushed in their run and tripped over, resulting in you falling along with them.
“I’m sorry!” the man yelled, scrambling to get up.
You laughed dryly, jumping up to your feet with ease. “You should be.” you breathed out, before ducking and running to the nearest corner. You turned and ran and avoided people and ran and it felt like hours of your breathing getting progressively worse and more heavy before you finally ran into a familiar face.
“[name]!” Kuina exclaimed, stopping in her tracks before you two could run into each other, “Come with me!”
She grabbed your wrist and ran to a car nearby, quickly pulling you to sit down behind it along with her. You exhaled a heavy sigh, your chest heaving up and down and your head spinning.
“You look tired.” a familiar voice spoke casually. You lifted your head up only to see Chishiya look at you with an easy smile, waving his hand from his seat on Kuina’s other side. You deadpanned.
“Yeah. And you don’t.” you scoffed, “Are you two okay?”
“I’m surprised I don’t have a single wound, honestly.” Kuina sighed, head hitting the car’s door in exhaustion, “Seriously, what the fuck is going on?“
You glanced at Chishiya and he gave you a slight nod, affirming that he was okay. You nodded back before looking over your shoulder. “There’s people on the other side of the road. Usagi and Arisu, I think.”
Kuina furrowed her eyebrows before moving her head to the side, signaling you to move over and switch places with her. You did, as discreetly as possible, and let her check whatever it is she wanted to. Chishiya waved two fingers in front of your face and brought your attention to him.
“You good?”
“Yeah.” you sighed, “Just tired. I knew things weren’t over but I expected a little break after the hell that went down at the Beach, at least.”
“The hell continues, I guess.” he said casually, smiling.
You could only sigh.
“You have to stay focused if you don’t wanna die!” Kuina suddenly yelled. You looked over to her and jumped at the sound of shooting right at the road the car you were hiding behind was parked on. Chishiya grabbed your shoulder to pull you back when he did, only relaxing when the shots stopped. Kuina scoffed, “Where the fuck are they shooting from?”
Just as she sat back down properly, an airship of sorts appeared over everyone, creating a looming shadow that did nothing to reassure the players. Chishiya hummed. “The King of Spades.”
“Great.” you commented. There were probably hundreds of pieces of fabric tied together to form a giant King of Spades card floating in the sky, attached to the bottom of the airship. You wondered just how much more of this hell you would have to go through before you could return to the comfort of the hell you knew. The normal world.
Chishiya leaned forward and handed Kuina something. It looked like a can and… Oh. You’d seen him make this back at the Beach one day. He’d made three. They were small bombs but they could definitely help out if you ever needed it. His words. He handed you one as well and you inspected it. “Here you go. A good luck charm.”
“What’s this? A bomb?” Kuina asked.
“Use it when you’re in a pinch.” he said casually.
“You have questionable hobbies, Chishiya.” you hummed, spinning the object in your hand before putting it in your jacket, “Thank you.”
“I second that. Thanks.” Kuina chuckled.
The sound of shots rung in the air as well as several running footsteps along with it. You checked Kuina’s side and saw Arisu and Usagi hide behind the car directly next to yours— Just a few meters away. Kuina tilted her head, “Are you hurt?”
“Did you seriously stop to try and save someone?” you followed after glancing at the dying boy they’d seemingly carried all the way there, and Arisu looked at you with wide eyes, before looking away and grimacing. Nothing new, you thought.
Shots fired again but the sound didn’t drown out the clear, loud honking of a car. You thought you’d imagined it, honestly, because logically speaking there was no reason for anyone to not only show themselves so obviously with a moving car but also announce themselves by honking.
Yet when the entire group looked over to the road there was, indeed, a car waiting. Ann and Tatta. Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Hurry up! Get in!” Tatta yelled.
Usagi and Arisu were the first to run into the car, closely followed by Kuina. Chishiya, irritating as he could get, refused to take his hands out of his pockets to run. You were a bit behind, careful, and caught up to him quickly. “What part of hurry up are you missing?!” you exclaimed.
Chishiya stopped and stared at the ground. You were about to question why he wasn’t going into the car despite standing right in front of it but followed his gaze.
A grenade.
“This is bad. Run!” he instantly yelled, pulling you back and moving to start running away, “Get going! Drive!” he told Tatta, knowing there was no point in risking getting into the car anymore.
“[name]!” Usagi yelled.
Kuina seemed just as worried, “Chishiya!”
The sound of their voices were quickly drowned out when your head hit the hard concrete of the sidewalk as you and Chishiya jumped as far away as possible from the bomb. The explosion went off before your senses could start coming back and just as the car started driving away. You covered the sides of your head with your arms and felt Chishiya’s arm wrap around them.
Everything was spinning. For a moment, you weren’t sure you were alive. Then Chishiya’s voice brushed that thought away.
“We have to move.” he tried to speak over all the noise. You nodded faintly and got up on your feet to the best of your ability, before running away with him— Bullets following you closely.
To Chishiya, this would’ve been fine if you hadn’t been there.
If he had been alone during that shooting, even including the part where he fails to get in the car because of a grenade— it would all have been fine because Chishiya Shuntaro is used to dealing with whatever hellish cards the Borderlands hand him. But that’s where the problem lies;
You’re there.
Chishiya met you before the cruelty of the reality of the world stripped him of his empathy— Forced him into the stoicism of a person suppressing their own emotions. He met you before his job ruined a part of him, and his feelings seemingly didn’t waver one bit at that. The importance of your wellbeing had been something he cared about before but even with attempts at erasing his emotions he couldn’t erase the quickening pace of his heartbeat if he heard you weren’t doing well.
Chishiya made the mistake of letting himself fall for someone back in college (though he claims fall is too ridiculous) and now has to deal with the pains of feeling like he needs to protect said person. You were good at dealing with things yourself, too— Sure, but that didn’t mean anything to the instinctive worry that held him by the throat.
So he watches you, unconscious due to the amount of things that happened in a few seconds, lying on the ground of some empty apartment complex— With something anyone could easily mistake as disdain. It used to be easy dealing with complicated things when he was alone. He was also sure playing games would be so much more simple if you weren’t by his side. All he would have to care for would be his own survival and that would just be it. Now he had to fear Heart games and count you into every calculations he made to get himself out of a deadly game of chess.
It was almost infuriating how much you unconsciously forced him into changing his ways, even after all these years. He figured that was just how things went when you loved someone.
When you shift in your sleep and start sighing, eyes slowly blinking to force yourself awake, Chishiya doesn’t feel the smile form on his lips. “You’re lucky we found this place before you decided to pass out.”
“My God.” you grumbled, sitting up with some effort. “Have you just been sitting there? I’m surprised. Were you watching over me, or something?”
Even in situations like this, you just didn’t miss an opportunity to try and tease him. It’s not like it ever worked, but the attempts were amusing.“You weren’t out for that long.” he spoke as calmly as usual, “Sleep fine?”
“I dreamt of fireworks at Shibuya.” you said, and your voice dropped to a silent low. The shift from casual to slight anxiousness was barely noticeable, but very obvious to Chishiya. You cracked your neck and stretched. “Guess my head decided to make people yelling and loud sounds seem more happy than how it really was.”
“At least your mind’s version of the events that just transpired is less disturbing and nightmarish. Glad to know you slept well.” he said, pushing himself up to stand. “We should check the game nearby. I don’t like the idea of us standing there waiting.”
“Less chances of getting shot by that Kind of Spades, I guess.” you sighed, following him to stand up, “Just as many to get killed, though.”
Chishiya held his hand up and you looked at it, then at him, and a small smile pulled at your lips. You high-fived him and then you both wrapped your fingers around the other’s hand.
“Not if I’m there.” he claims, smirking a little. You scoff lightly and Chishiya knows you feel slightly better. It’s enough for now. The feelings of anxiety are pushed back far away enough for you to focus during games. Enough for you to play properly and keep yourself alive. Chishiya nodded a bit, “Let’s get going.”
“Alright.” you tightened your hold on his hand and you both walked towards the game near where you were staying at— Steeling yourselves for whatever the Borderlands had prepared for you.
#chishiya x reader#chishiya shuntaro x reader#shuntaro chishiya x reader#alice in borderland x reader#aib x reader#x reader
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the girl across your street
Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader
Summary: "Hi!" You exclaimed, mouth jutting as you shook from the cold, that was oddly hot? You couldn't explain the feeling, being this close to Jenna in the freezing cold, every sense you had was malfunctioning. Nothing really prepared you to meet the girl across the street, the girl that caught your heart in mere seconds.
Words: 1.7k
Warnings: Swearing. Other than that, I believe none
a/n: i'm new to writing in tumblr so apologies if its not the best!!
part 2 || masterlist.
Invisible string.
That was the saying for those who believed there was some string of fate binding people who were destined to be together, or for anyone who believed in love for that matter. It's a sweet thing, you'd admit, but you can't just shake the feeling that it's not entirely true. Given the fact that you spent so much of your life waiting for that person tied to your soul to magically appear in front of you, you were growing weary of love. It's not that you've entirely given up on it; hope was definitely there, but it just feels like your string was loose by the person who was tied to it.
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'All along there was some invisible string...
tying you to me...?'
Music from your wired headphones was blasting in your ears while you took your morning walks around your neighborhood. The air was chilly and took upon like an ocean breeze. Ever since winter came, you were always going on walks than usual; it was your favorite time of the year. Snow was starting to build up on roads, and it was even snowing as you strolled down. It was only 7:00 in the morning, and you were already feeling slightly happy.
Your neighborhood was a small one, everyone knew each other along with their secrets. That's why you should let it all out before it becomes the number #1 talk of the town.
You'd take different routes every day, and soon enough, you became familiar with everyone and everything. A smile played on your lips as you allowed snow to fall on your body, and let the music take over your steps.
But something changed when a girl across the street recently moved a couple weeks ago. Everyone welcomed her but you.
It was an unspoken rule in your area to always greet a newcomer whenever you pass by their house. But you? You were too afraid.
She was stunning, that was an understatement, she was too stunning. She's like a breath of fresh air after a long walk, she's like an untouchable star for people who study astronomy, she was everything to you.
You knew of her name, yes, it was Jenna. But did she know yours? You only hoped so. Ever since she caught your eye, you only ever took that route instead of the other ones. Your morning walks would never be the same now that you have something, someone rather, to look forward to. You even started waking up earlier than usual to catch a glimpse of her.
You wanted to talk to her, you really did, seeing how she consistently wakes up at, like, 5:30 in the morning to sit on a bench, engrossed in a book. Hell, you even bought the same book she was reading a couple of days ago to understand what she likes.
Sometimes, she would just sit there with closed eyes, Sony headphones on her ears, immersed in her music—a sight that warmed your heart, seeing how close she is to her own music like you are to yours. Maybe that was a conversation opener? To ask what type of music she likes listening to? But then again, how many random strangers you live with randomly asks you on a cool winter day what type of music you listen to.
——————————————————————————————————
You find yourself unconsciously walking down the same road that never failed to make you giddy, knowing that you'd find her sitting down on a bench, either reading or listening to music. One of your favorite moments of the day, you'd say.
You look up to your side, and there she was. Jenna. A little crush you formed on her was starting to take over your heart, wanting to fill it until it was no longer yours to beat. A faint smile ever so slightly graced your lips, taking how she was still in her PJs yet so effortlessly breathtaking at the same time. A beanie pushed down on her bangs, slightly covering her eyes, and she was, obviously, wearing her wired headphones, listening to music with her eyes closed. Oddly, she has her Sony ones still wrapped around her neck.
Then she opened her eyes, her gaze meeting yours.
Oh fu—
"—FUCK!" You screamed as you landed face-first on the pile of snow that had built up on the side of the road. You tripped on a fucking crack on the sidewalk.
You heard laughter, followed by more laughter from one of the prettiest voices you ever heard in your entire life.
If you stand up now, you'd face one of the most embarrassing moments of your life that would play every time you go to sleep, and if you lay in the snow forever, you'd probably freeze to death and still embarrass yourself in front of the girl that was beautiful than any forms of nature. Not a lot of good choices.
You started to get up, shaking your face to get the snow that stuck to your face. Then you heard footsteps coming your way, a hand extended out to you. You could only hear the faint sound of her voice, "here," she muttered, and then the whole world went silent as you reached for her hand then pulled yourself up.
Shit, she's even prettier up close.
You start to wonder if she was even real or not.
"Hi!" You exclaimed, mouth jutting as you shook from the cold, that was oddly hot? You couldn't explain the feeling, being this close to Jenna in the freezing cold, every sense you had was malfunctioning. Nothing really prepared you to meet the girl across the street, the girl that caught your heart in mere seconds.
She chuckled, "Gosh, You're freezing!" She took your hand yet again, and you felt warm. Warm enough to start a fire, her hands fit perfectly into yours, and your freezing palm was melted by the slight touch of her fingers. "Here, come, let's get you warmed up."
——————————————————————————————————
The inside of her house was warm to the bone, it was unlike any other, even if all the houses were built the same, but Jennas home felt like it was built by the Greek Gods themselves. It was perfect, and all too comforting for you, hell, you'd live in this one if given the chance. There were pictures of her family across the living room, and her dining area was right near her kitchen.
You didn't really know this day could come, to even get a slight interaction with Jenna you had been undoubtedly crushing on ever since she arrived in your neighborhood, and now you're literally in her place, warming yourself down because you trip over a damn crack.
You were sitting comfortably, but also had this shiver in your spine, on the chair she had offered you. You had your hands wrapped around you while you were staring at Jenna who was preparing hot coffee for the both of you. You insisted on making it yourself, considering how you were the book-perfect description of a people pleaser and would rather jump off a cliff before you ever make someone do something nice for you, but she persisted on doing it herself. 'A thank you for making her day slightly better,' she had argued.
"People don't often invite other people in their houses the first time they meet eachother," you remarked, your voice slightly jittery from the cold, and mostly how you're talking to the girl of your dreams.
"You seem nice enough to not murder me. Seeing how most murderers don't really fall face-first into the snow." She grinned, a sight only you could really fall for. Apart from cracks on the sidewalks.
She approached you with two steaming coffee mugs then placed it down on the table, one for you and one for herself. "Also, I already knew you." She mentioned, taking a seat and cradling her mug as she gaze locked with yours.
You furrowed your eyebrows, eyes squinting. She knew you? As in, the pretty Goddess you've been anticipating seeing every morning, knew you? Well, it was definitely expected, but you never really hoped she would notice you. Considering how many people must walk pass her house.
"You... know me?" You pointed towards yourself. "Thank.. Thank you for the coffee, by the way."
"You think I wouldn't know the girl who wakes up so early to take a morning walk?" She exclaimed, "I sometimes hear the music playing in your headphones. You really do jam it all the way up, huh?" Her mouth curled up into a smile before blowing her mug and then taking a little sip.
"You're..." She closed her eyes, lips forming in a line as she snapped her fingers, "y/n! Y/n, right?" She clicked her fingers as she pointed towards you, her dimples showing from her smile.
At that moment, your heart was definitely skipping a thousand beats, and you couldn't help but let a smile come out. Her dimples might just be your favorite thing of all time, apart from your favorite snacks and TV shows.
"Yeah! I'm y/n. And you're Jenna, right?"
"One and only, I guess."
Time passed, and you both settled into a space that felt comforting. Jenna admitted to feeling nervous initially, considering she only knew you from observing your morning walks outside her home. However, the moment you spoke, she found herself at ease.
Before you realized it, the clock showed noon. Four hours had flown by, and in that time, you felt like you knew her. Maybe not on a personal level, but like someone you'd consider a friend.
"You'll walk by here tomorrow, right?" Jenna questioned as you stepped down from her porch.
"Yeah, of course!" You turned around, showing two thumbs up, slowly walking away with your back turned before she smiled at your antics.
You started to walk back to your house, headphones now jammed into your ears. The way she talks, and the way she makes you feel comfortable—even after meeting just a couple of seconds ago—exceeded your expectations. The way she smiles, the way she acts. Everything about her, from her actions to her demeanor, painted a picture that made you feel so at home.
You loved Jenna, fuck you loved her. The girl across the street, you loved her so much, you only realized the intensity of your emotions once she had invited you into her home. You were head over heels in love, it was over for you.
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a/n: thank you for reading, im absolute shit with writing endings. also! this will have a part 2 soon!!
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control freak - t.n x female!reader
Blurb: theo has control issues but his girlfriend doesn't mind
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: this was originally 6k words but i felt like the second part was really intense self indulgence but if people like this i'm happy to fix the second part up and post it as well :))
Masterlist | Part 2
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
If Theodore Nott had his way, people would stop calling him controlling. Okay, maybe there had been times where he had lied and deceived to get his way, and sure, he was quick to rise to temper which often made people just agree with him, but it was just because he always knew what was best.
He had first said this thought outloud to the pretty girl he had been dating during their seventh year at Hogwarts and after two years of being with him, she felt comfortable enough to scoff at his words.
“Because you know what’s best?” They had just left Draco Malfoy’s and Theo was driving her home.
His eyes flickered to hers and back to the road, astounded that she had the audacity to scoff at him.
“Well, yeah.” The only reason they were having this conversation was because of something stupid Draco had said.
“You need another drink,” Draco had said as soon as he noticed the girl sitting on Theo’s lap had an empty cup in her hand.
“Ooh, yes please.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
She turned to look at her frowning boyfriend and gave him a look to match his.
“Theo,” she had whined.
“You’ve already drank enough, if you drink something else, you’ll get sick.” He had sat up to whisper in her ear and there was a piece of her deep down that knew he was right. She was currently happy and drunk and she had drunk that last drink quite fast. Another would probably move her to the next level of drunk that she did not want nor need for a casual get together with friends.
“I might have one a bit later, Draco, thank you.” Theo slouched back down, happy with the compromise.
“Merlin, Nott,” Draco scoffed, “you keep her on a tight leash.”
Theo suddenly wasn’t slouching anymore nor was she sitting on his lap.
“You were happy and drunk, another drink only would have made you feel worse.”
She took a deep breath and bit her tongue as they came to a red light. It casted a shadow on Theo’s face as he turned to look at her. He kept one hand on the steering wheel but brought the other to give the flesh of the thigh closest to him a squeeze. He left it there as she sighed.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying you’re controlling.”
His gaze wasn’t harsh, but it still let her know that he wasn’t happy with her response.
She did her best to change her face in a way that would please the boy who had a small tick in his jaw. She widened her eyes and wet her lips, sinking into her seat slightly and glancing at the large hand still sprawled over the top of her thigh.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
That made his gaze soften.
It was true.
She had been in the same house as Theo for seven years when she first started dating him and had been in the same circle for the same time.
She had seen him yell at first years to get out of their spot, she had seen him lead all of their group projects and she had seen him get angry with new people on the Quidditch team because they couldn’t understand his new formation.
But she had only really realised this in their sixth year during the Sytherin’s annual end of year celebration. There was a bottle of firewhiskey and a deck of cards that Theo was currently dealing.
She had known amost since their first day that Theodore Nott was attractive, but it wasn’t until a couple of months ago that she had decided that she was going to do something about it. And doing her best to make sure she was in his line of site at all times, she had somehow ended up next to him in the circle, trying to keep up with the rules he was currently explaining to her.
“-and if you don’t, you drink. Does that make sense?” She was nodding even though she was still caught up on the first rule he had started with.
He had finished dealing and was looking down at her in a way that told her he knew she was lying.
She didn’t mind.
Nor did she mind when he said, “how about I help you for the first round?”
And she wasn’t surprised either when it was her second turn and she had been staring at her cards for less than thirty seconds before he grabbed them out of her hands and said, “here, let me have a look.”
It reminded her of how he’d grab the parchment out of anyone’s hands whenever he didn’t trust them to write in enough detail for their group tasks.
“Play this one,” he had said, already throwing down her card before he handed her deal back to her.
She didn’t really mind this. She still chose to date him halfway through their last year and it wasn’t until the next year’s celebration that she came to the realisation that she even kinda liked it.
She was sitting in his lap and he had a cigarette in his mouth. He tried to blow it away from her but sometimes it would waft back and she would try to stop her nose from scrunching up. Their relationship was still too new for that.
She blamed the red plastic cup in her hand for the reason she asked, “Can I have a go?”
Theodore had been laughing at something Blaise said, but in the second he had turned down to look at her, Blaise had turned to Pansy and she took his opportunity to nod at the cigarette in the hand that wasn’t gripping her waist.
The chucke lines on his pretty face smoothed out and he let his hand drop as he immediately said, “No.”
She pouted at him.
“Why not?” She was giggling and she wasn’t entirely sure why, it did nothing to change the harsh angles of his jawline nor the serious look she was now on the receiving end of.
“They’re not good for you.”
“You do it.”
“That’s different.”
She giggled again, giving him a faux confused look at his contradiction.
“Please,” she whined. She really had no desire to smoke said cigarette, she just wanted to see where this would go.
“No,” he said, “end of discussion.”
There was a fluttering in her tummy and Theodore wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but he didn’t miss the way her body gave a slight twitch at his words.
And in his defence, after seeing that boy with a cigarette in his hand almost everyday for the last couple of years, she could count the times she had seen smoke blow from his pretty mouth on one hand since that incident even if his clothes stil smet like smoke.
But it wasn’t until that night that they had spoken about it. And it was hard to tell whether that small confession in Theo’s car had changed the amount of control he usually used over her.
As shown by the events that had led up to that conversation, Theo had always kept her on a tight leash at parties.
“I just care about you, s’all,” he’d shrug when she gave him a pout everytime he cut off her drinking.
“Come straight back though,” he’d instruct when she’d get up from her designated seat (his lap) and go with Pansy to the bathroom.
“Stay where I can see you,” he’d whisper when she went to go join Pansy on the dance floor.
And he was even worse when he wasn’t at said party.
It had been three years since they started dating, over a year since the conversation in his car and a few of her friends from her work had convinced her to join them in testing the new club that had opened in Diagon Alley.
When she came out in a tight back dress that rested just below the flesh of her bum, she didn’t even react when she saw the muscle jump in her boyfriends jaw. He had come over to hers to annoy her while she was getting ready.
“I’m not annoying,” he had scowled when she said this to him.
He was driving her in and he only came early so he could make sure he knew exactly what the night would entail.
“You don’t like it?” He was sitting on her bed and she made her way over to him, nudging his knees with her own so she could stand in between his legs. His hands rested happily on her hips, rubbing the fabric of her dress he wished wasn’t covering her pretty skin.
When she let out a playful giggle he tore his hands away, only to bring them back to make a loud slapping noise as he brought them down on the flesh of her bum. She squealed as he continued to give it a tight squeeze making her body draw closer to his.
“You know I love this dress,” he whispered over her small gigges, “and I don’t care when I’m there, people know not to mess with me.” She wanted to roll her eyes at his corny words, but refrained knowing she was already pushing his buttons by wanting to wear this dress. “But I won’t be there tonight, baby.”
His voice was soft and she was letting herself melt into his touch. His hands were now rubbing the fabric covering the flesh he had tortured and she was feeling content.
Which was why she was sure she had gotten whiplash when he said, “So go change.”
He was using the same tone he had used when he told her that he wasn’t going to let her smoke. She could almost hear him say, ‘end of discussion.’
She turned her head to look at him, her mouth slightly agape in shock at the change in her boyfriend but he kept his gaze firm and she was quite dumbfounded at what had just happened so she kissed the top of his head and moved herself out of his embrace to go change.
She hadn’t thought too much about what she was wearing. She had only been out without Theo a handful of times and she had never had to worry about what she wore, only ever choosing what she felt best in at that moment in time.
She came out in another black dress, but this time it was longer.
“How’s this?” She had asked when she came out to show Theo again.
“Better.” He stood up this time to walk over to her.
When he was standing in front of her he placed the palm of his hands under her jaw, his thumbs resting on her cheeks. His palms were soft and warm and she let her head sink into his touch.
“If anyone bothers you, you know I’ll be there straight away.”
“I know,” she said, going on her tippy toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips. And she was truly grateful for that.
In the car, Theo continued.
“Message me as soon you’re ready, I’ll be there straight away. Cover your drink. If you feel even sightly off, just let me know. Trust your intuition. If you go anywhere else, let me know as well. And if anyone-”
“Gives me trouble I’ll let you know.” They were parked outside the club, but the car was still on. Theo turned his head to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.
“Don’t be a brat.”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I know you’re just looking out for me, I promise I’ll keep you updated the whole night.”
“Good girl,” he mumbled as she leaned over to kiss him.
“I love you.”
“I love you pretty girl, have fun.” And what that, she slammed the door.
He watched her walk over to her friends and then began his drive back home.
The whole drive home his mind was full of worry for the pretty girl he had just left barely seconds ago.
What if something happened to her? Whenever he was there he made sure she could let her guard down and of course, he trusted her and knew she was more than capable, but he couldn’t help himself.
When he got home he sent her a message.
‘home x’
‘did you get in okay?’
He stared down at the two bubbles that had come from his phone. He tried to get his mind off it.
He got out a book, but all he was doing was looking at words, he wasn’t comprehending anything.
Five minutes had passed.
‘my love’
‘please answer’
He tried to make himself a snack. But he found he wasn’t actuay hungry.
Ten minutes.
This wasn’t good enough. She needed to answer him. Did she not know that he was going crazy wondering about all the horrible things that could have happened to her?
He pulled out his phone and rang her number.
She didn’t answer.
He was seconds away from going there himself. He knew it was crazy, but there was a part of him that wanted to go in with her. Sit at a tabel by himself so she could have her fun and he could still keep an eye on her. But even he thought that might be going to far. Except now he knew that that was what he should have done all along.
He was twirling his keys in his hand, seconds away from going there himself when her pretty picture filled up his screen.
“Theo?”His heart started beating again when he heard her voice.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we were just on the dancefloor. I’m sorry.” And he could just imagine the sheepish look that was overtaking her pretty face.
“It’s okay my love, please just keep your phone on you, yeah?”
“Ok Theo,” she said, “I will, I promise. I love you.”
“I love you my girl.”
He waited until she hung up the phone and put his keys back down.
Now that he knew she was okay, he feared he may have been a bit dramatic. But he coudn’t help it.
He was sure that it had come from his father. His father who was quick to temper and was aways the leader in his group of friends. It wasn’t a trait he was proud of, but the pretty girl he called his girlfriend claimed not to mind and he had to trust her on that.
It was later that night that the discussion had been brought up once more since that night in his car after Draco’s party.
Theo had picked her up and she was tipsy in his bathroom taking her makeup off with the makeup wipes he had bought for her after a night out when she didn’t have anything to take her make up off and had whined the whole night.
“Be quiet, I’lll buy you some tomorrow.” He had grumbled when they were in bed and all he wanted to do was sleep after hearing her moan and groan for the last forty-five minutes.
“My friends thought it was weird when you rang me.” He wasn’t sure she really knew what she was saying, but her words still made him sit up in his bed where he was waiting for her to join.
“What do you mean?” Her eyes were closed as she stumbled back into the bathroom to put the wipes away. Theo had already dressed her in her pyjamas and he watched her stumble back to the bed to join him.
As she pulled the blanket up she giggled out, “They think it’s controlling.”
“What did you say?” He asked, turning to his side and putting his weight on his elbow so he was looking down at the pretty girl with her head on the pillow.
“I said,” her eyes were closed and she finally opened them to meet his, “you have no idea.”
Theo frowned and before he could move to turn the other way, her hand shot up and grabbed his jaw.
“You know I love it.”
#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott blurb#theodore nott fluff#tn#tni#tnf#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter blurb#harry potter fluff#harry potter angst#theodore nott angst#tna
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...Hey Dad, Fancy Seeing You Here ⎥ CB98
Pairing: Connor Bedard x fem!Crosby!reader
Warnings: swearing, underage drinking (at home, closed environment, limited people)
Summary: Connor and Y/N Crosby, Sidney's daughter, are in a secret relationship and are outed when she watches a Blackhawks vs. Penguins game
Notes: The italics section is the flashback to how Connor and Y/N met. This is my new longest fic, and man I got carried away writing how Y/N and Connor met. Not really proofread, so hope for the best. Requested/suggested by anonymous.
masterlist
Word Count: 2.3k
It’s not exactly unexpected, for Connor Bedard and Y/N Crosby to be dating. His childhood idol, her father. Their lives are interconnected by a web of hockey players, former teammates, and friendships a mile deep. But, the caveat is, no one actually knows they are together.
Y/N knew her dad would lose his mind when he found out who exactly her boyfriend is. From the time she was old enough to date, the rule was no hockey players, absolutely no teammates, and especially no rookies. Will he find out? Eventually, but not any time soon if Y/N has anything to say about it.
-
“I have tickets to most of the Canadian games, and I want to watch them win gold, in person. I was planning on going to the condo. No Dad, I'm fine. No, you don’t need to have Auntie Taylor come with me. I’m absolutely taking advantage of the fact that we have a place right where the World Juniors are happening. I’m seventeen for God’s sake, and I’ve been fairly independent for years. I’ll be fine.” Y/N says, on the phone with her dad.
“I know, but you’re still my little girl. I’ll always want to protect you, no matter how old you get.” her dad, Sidney, says.
“I know dad, but this will be good practice for when I’m away at university.” She tells him teasingly.
“Uhhhg, don’t remind me.” he groans, “I trust you not to burn the place down, and try not to go overboard, with anything. The credit card for food and stuff is in the safe, and you have your own for anything else. Call me, if you need anything.”
“Thanks dad, I will.”
“Love you honey.”
Love you too, dad. Bye.”
There, that’s settled, Y/N thinks to herself. She is already in Cole Harbour, staying with her grandparents for Christmas. They already know her plans, and she convinced –not that she needed any convincing– her aunt Taylor to come with her for a girls trip. She flips her laptop open, hits play on Downton Abbey, and finishes her packing.
“Tay, are you ready yet?” Y/N calls a few hours later. She hefts her suitcase down the stairs, shouldering a backpack.
“Yeah bug, just put my bags in the car. Bring yours out here too.” Taylor replies, “We can be on the road in twenty if we hurry.”
“Make it fifteen.” Y/N challenges with a grin.
The preliminary round of the tournament passes fast. After the shocking Game 1 loss, Canada bounces back and plows through every game afterwards. An exciting quarterfinals win against Slovakia has Canada set to play USA in the semifinals. A match up that always promises an electric game.
After the quarterfinal game, Y/N and Taylor head back to the dressing rooms and player’s entrance for a shortcut to the parking lot. They both have access, thanks to Sid. They talk excitedly about Bedard’s OT winner, a wicked 3-on-1 goal.
“That was incredible.” Y/N exclaims. She’s no stranger to good hockey, but seeing a player that young, one her own age, to have such amazing talent is unreal to see.
“Yes it was-” Taylor starts, but is cut off by a man in a suit stalking towards them.
“Hey! You two aren’t allowed back here. Players and staff only. Who do you think you are? Waltzing around here like you own the place? No respect anymore.” He rants before someone grabs him, pulling him away from Y/N and Taylor.
“I am so sorry about Randy. I’m Jim, by the way.” Jim apologizes, “I’m assuming that since you’re back here, you have permission. Is there something I can do to make it up to you? Wait, you’re Crosby’s daughter, aren't you? This makes a lot more sense now.”
“Yes I am, and we have permission. I can’t think of anything, it’s not necessary.” Y/N says. But Jim is determined, knowing who she is now. He offers to introduce the women to the team. They agree, and after Jim explains the situation to Randy, they all head back towards Canada’s dressing room. Talking the whole way, Jim explains that the team has a place rented for the tournament where the boys can hang out and relax.
“If you’d like to join us, you are more than welcome. I won’t tell them who you are, I’ll let that happen naturally.” Jim says with a wink. “I want to see the look on their faces. It’s too bad your dad couldn't make it. That would really blow their socks off.” The group laughs and waits for Randy to make sure all the guys are decent, and beacons them in with a sheepish look, apologizing once again. The introduction is basic, no announcement or anything. Taylor and Y/N meet the rest of the staff first, quickly becoming engrossed in conversation.
“So,” the head coach says, “Crosby’s daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you.” Y/N replies.
“Coach, did you just say Crosby's daughter? She's here? Holy shit!” one of the players exclaims, joining their little group. “I’m Brandt, nice to meet you. Is your dad here, by chance?” He says, very quickly. The energy rolls right off of him.
“No, he’s not, unfortunately. West Coast road trip.” Y/N says, failing to hide a giggle.
“Wanna mess with the guys with me?” Brandt asks, a scheming look on his face.
“Always.”
“Ok, I’m going to introduce you around, but not mention your last name. I want to see how long it takes the guys to figure out who you are.”
“Oh I like that.” They grin at each other, and make their way around the room. Before long, the whole team is standing or sitting close together, chatting with Y/N. The adrenaline can still be felt in the dressing room.
“So how long are you in town for?” Dylan asks, “Hopefully long enough to watch us win gold.”
Y/N and Brandt exchange a look, “I’m planning on it. I don’t have to be back in Pittsburg until the tenth.”
“Pittsburg? You came all the way up here, to watch a Canadian team win? That makes no sense.” Logan wonders, looking confused.
“Oh I’m Canadian, I just live in Pittsburg with my dad. I was up visiting my grandparents for Christmas.” Y/N says. It is getting awfully difficult to keep a straight face.
“Where do your grandparents live?” That comes from Olen.
“Cole Harbour.”
“Does that mean you've met Sidney Crosby?” Ethan asks.
“Yup, see him all the time.” She bites back a smile. Brandt has to turn around and take a deep, shuddering breath so he doesn’t give them away. Connor sees him out of the corner of his eye.
“Wait, you’re Y/N Crosby!” Connor says, standing up just as Y/N and Brandt burst out laughing. The rest of the boys look shocked as the two struggle to stop laughing. Connor grins, chuckling as Y/N wipes honest-to-goodness tears from her eyes. The staff and Taylor laugh amongst themselves, watching the young folks.
“Guilty as charged.” She says breathlessly, silently wondering if Brandt is going to die of oxygen deprivation at this point. His face is pretty red. Now the questions are really flowing by the time Brandt finally regains some composure. The excited chatter doesn’t stop at the restaurant, either. Y/N and Taylor are invited to stay. As the evening winds down, Y/N finds herself with Connor, conversation flowing easily.
“Nice goal, by the way. Dad was impressed.” Y/N says, nudging his shoulder with hers.
“Really?” Connor flushes. Cute.
“Yeah, he sees a lot in you.”
“That is…I have no words.” He admits. “Do you, um, do you think you’d want to sit with my family for the rest of the games? I want to talk to you more, and um…I’m just going to stop talking before I make a fool out of myself.”
“I’d love to.”
Connor and Y/N spend a lot of time together in the following days. She sits with his family during the final, and celebrates with them after they win gold.
“We did it!” Connor shouts, picking Y/N up and spinning her around. There is a moment when he sets her down where her arms are still on his shoulders and his hands are on her waist. The noise fades away, just the two of them in a little bubble. “Can I have your number? I’d like to keep talking to you, and take you out sometime.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” She replies.
-
Now, over a year and 10 months into dating later, Connor and Y/N are both in Toronto for the All Stars.
“Hey baby.” Connor says, putting his phone away when Y/N slips into the empty visitors dressing room.
“Hey Con.” She goes to him easily, settling comfortably into his open arms. He puts his chin on her head and tightens his hold on her. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I’m glad you decided to come.”
“Me too.” She tips her head up, meeting Connor in the middle for a sweet kiss. They go back to their hug, Y/N tucked against his chest, feeling warm again in the cold arena. They simply stand like that, swaying gently and soaking up the moment. They get so wrapped up in each other that they fail to hear voices outside the door. Connor goes to kiss Y/N again, but is interrupted by the door slamming open. Their heads snap to the door, wide eyed and scared.
“Y/N ANNA CROSBY. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Sidney yells furiously, steam practically shooting from his ears like a cartoon character. Nate is standing close behind him, and Cale, Mathew Barzal, and Brady Tkachuk stand in the doorway. Connor and Y/N take a step back from each other, but keep their hands tightly clasped.
“How dare you not tell me about this. You know the rules, I expect you to follow them.”
“I-” She begins.
“And you,” Sid says, pointing at Connor, “I expected better from you. You’re a good kid, but I have rules for a reason.” Y/N grips Connor’s hand, squeezing three times.
“You can’t control me like this, Dad. I’ve never had a real relationship because of you. So much of my life is wrapped up in hockey that it was easy to find my person there, and if it wasn’t a hockey-playing boyfriend, it was a hockey fan boyfriend which is worse. All they ever wanted to talk about was you, they never wanted me for who I am. Or you just plain scared them off because ‘no one is good enough for my daughter so why should she even bother’.” Y/N says back to him. Her chest is heaving and she is fighting off tears.
“I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me this. How long have you two been together anyways?” Sid asks, still pissed off.
“Ten months.” Connor replies, voice strong and true despite the situation. He is nervous, of course, but he loves Y/N too much to let his childhood idol have much of an impact.
“TEN MONTHS!” Sid exclaims, incredulous that his daughter kept this secret, “Bloody hell. What possessed you to keep this from me?”
“This exact reaction that I knew would happen. I knew that if I told you when Connor first asked me out, you would flat-out forbid me to see him, and that wouldn’t have ended the way you wanted anyway. At least this way the two of us can act as a united front and you can see that this isn’t bad. We are both 18, legal adults. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”
Sid stays silent. He is still angry, but the figurative steam has gone away. Nate and the others hover around the door.
Y/N continues, “I get it, Dad. You just want to protect me, and I love you for it. But I’m not a little kid anymore, I can’t be sheltered forever. And Connor’s good to me. You know he would be.” She takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I knew that if I did, you would react exactly the way you are. I wanted to be able to figure out my relationship without my dad looking over my shoulder the whole time.”
Sid’s face falls at her monologue. He can finally understand what Y/N was trying to say for years. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I had no intention for it to go that far. It is hard to watch you grow up, but I need to grow up some too and understand that you are an adult now. In my attempts to protect you, I drove you straight into what I always knew would happen. Thankfully, you picked a good one.” Sid pulls his daughter into a hug, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, it wasn’t fair of me.”
“Thanks dad, for apologizing. I know you meant well, but I don’t think this wasn’t the best way to get you to see my side of it” Y/N quips, a wry smile on her face.
“I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me, but I’d rather it was you than a lot of other guys” Sid states, reaching out to shake Connor’s hand, “but if you hurt her, I have a lot of power in this game.”
“I know,” Connor says, eyes focused on Y/N. A look so full of love even Sidney can’t deny it, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Awwww.” The trio looks up to see the other four guys with their hands clasped over their hearts, cute pouts on their lips.
“The babies are in love.” Cale says with a grin.
#sunset fics#connor bedard#nhl#chicago blackhawks#connor bedard x reader#hockey imagine#nhl x reader#connor bedard imagine#nhl fluff
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Okay. The Knuckles series.
One thing that really struck me was how separated he seemed from the rest of the family. He told Sonic he only remained on Earth because of the vow he made with him and Tails. That's it. He didn't sound like there was anything else keeping him here except for that agreement to watch over the Master Emerald together.
He doesn't see himself as part of the family. He doesn't see Tom and Maddie as anything but the guardians of Sonic and Tails. He appreciates their offers of shelter and food, but he doesn't need them. They're simply useful for his end mission.
I think a lot of what we're seeing is Knux being uncomfortable and unsure of his place now. That's why he built the arena in the living room--that's what he knows. There are rules and an easy-to-understand system of surviving. Two warriors enter, one leaves. That's what his life was like. Fighting was all he knew for over 10 years after the fall of his tribe. He likely doesn't remember his life before that, and the title of 'warrior' may have become warped in his mind, too. Less 'fight for a true cause' and more 'use violence to solve all your problems'.
His entire life he's kept people at arm's length, and now likely feels frustrated because these people keep telling him to relax and open up and tell them what he needs. It's ridiculous and strange and confusing for him. He's having major problems adjusting. He wants to carry on like he's always done, but it doesn't mesh with the lifestyle of this planet. It's what's worked for him, yet it's not working for them.
I'm eager to see where they take his character arc. Will he realize that being a 'warrior' shouldn't be what defines him?
And that's not even touching on what I hope Wade discovers about himself on this little road trip. God, I hope he gets some good characterization.
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im in LOVE w your yandere ddlg fics… can i request one w namjoon? 🫣🫣 i feel like he fits the ddlg concept so well ugh
𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦:
pairing: yandere! namjoon x f. reader
genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship au ||
summary: if namjoon’s life were a book, he thinks the day his eyes set on you, it had been the start of a fairytale. where he is the prince, and you, his princess.
word count: 5.5k
tags/ warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff, buff bf namjoon, reader is definitely an ipad baby, she’s also very very spoiled, and very very shy, ddlg themes, non-sexual dom joon, descriptions of murder, a few references to literature, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), dom! namjoon, sub! reader, he’s girthy, size kink, cockwarming, belly bulge, dick riding, female masturbation, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of praise, and she’s a bit of a pillow princess, aftercare
notes: i agree!! he fits this concept so well!! and thank you for reading my other works babes! and here i present my last post of 2022! if there are mistakes, no there aren’t you didn’t see anything
request rules can be found here || my masterlist
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
You were Namjoon’s fairytale dream. A distressed princess locked in the wicked witch’s tower— that was this corrupt world that the two of you lived in.
Him, your knight in shining armour, sweeping you off your feet and dressing you in pretty dresses and jewels just like a true princess.
Truthfully Namjoon liked the classics better, words articulated like poetry and feelings forever carved into paper with ink. Little pieces of each author weaved into each book they’d ever written, secrets between pages and fantasies hidden behind flowery words. Hours upon hours of knowledge stacked up in Namjoon’s mind, useless little things that no one had ever cared to ask him about.
Perhaps romance novels were his guilty pleasure. That sickly feeling you get, reading about two people so in love that you have to sit back and realise that your own life is nothing more than a slow burn. Where truly, you’re the side character that is left and forgotten, watching the people around you— the main cast of the story, fall in love and find their god-awful happiness that you can only dream of.
You see, Namjoon had learnt how patience was a virtue. He’d waited year and years for that love story, for the perfect, pure, unadulterated adoration for another human, like in all those romance novels.
Countless flings and unexplainable anger from all the women who had shattered his heart over and over again had led him to you. Had steered him towards the right path. Perhaps like the yellow brick road, him being Dorothy and you, Emerald City. His final destination.
You’d always been awfully shy. Something Namjoon completely adored about you. Something he knew you were a little insecure about; among other things.
His remedy to your doubt, fucking you until all you knew was his and your names. Fucked so dumb you could only cry, clinging onto him like he weren’t the wolf and you weren’t little red, pure white dove chomped and chewed in his jaws like Carol Ann Duffey had described— you locked in his claws as he ripped away at tattered old clothing.
Past relationships had ended on bad terms for you, similar to himself, because it seemed no one had ever taken the time to read into you properly. Hadn’t taken the time to map out your story on paper and analyze you; the perfect specimen, the apple of his eye, a goddess among humans and his pretty little princess.
So soft and so pretty. Something a little sick, twisted, in his mind that he’d been able to lock you away in a cage like a bird, delicate little wings snapped in two where escape was impossible; thoughts of a life without him nothing more than a breathy whisper in the wind.
“Which one do you want today, sweetheart?” Namjoon’s arm laces around your shoulder, tugging you closer into his side. Your Mary Janes tapping gently against the tile floor.
You peer into the display case, fingers tightly clasped around the sleeve of his hoodie; an anchor for your fraying feelings, anxiety creeping up your spine.
He doesn’t rush you, simply raising an eyebrow at the worker behind the counter who gets angsty at your thoughtful pondering. Line of customers slowly building behind the two of you; and Namjoon can hear a few impatient mutters.
“Strawberry, please” you fall back into his side, weight solely dependent on Namjoon holding you up.
Your boyfriend turns his attention back towards the barista, fingers carding through your hair.
“One americano, a hot chocolate and one of the strawberry cakes, thank you” he turns his attention back to you; watching as you rock and forth on your heels.
“Why don’t you go and pick a table out for us, darling?”
You hum, fingers tugging at his sleeve mindlessly once more before you’re scampering towards a table by the window.
Namjoon feels his cock twitch in his pants as you bend over the table slightly, collecting the discarded straw wrappers that had been left on the table; and he watches your skirt raise a little up your thighs, supple skin taunting him.
He doesn’t bother with whatever the barista tells him, pushing his card across the counter as he watches you; legs bouncing anxiously as you grip the hem of your shirt, finally taking a seat.
He waves at you as he waits at the end of the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee thick in the air and Namjoon worries about the impeding headache you’re sure to have.
“Here you go, pretty” he places the tray in the middle of the table, tutting when you go to grab your mug of hot chocolate. You simply fall back into your chair, eyes trained on Namjoon’s hand as he places your drink before you.
“Thank you” you smile up at him as he pulls out the chair beside you.
“You’re welcome” he coos, dragging your chair closer to his own, his neck craning to kiss your temple.
Your smile is shy though your attention is quickly snatched by his fingers that dig around the pocket of his hoodie.
He pushes his phone to your side of the table, hand laying heavy on the back of your neck as you pick it up.
“I’m gonna get a new high score” you tell your boyfriend, turning to give him a determined smile as your tap tap tile game loads.
“Yeah?” he asks, eye smile so pretty you get lost looking at him for a moment. Only snapping out of your own little reverie when he blows on your hot chocolate. “Drink up” he reminds you.
You nod, delicate fingers picking your mug up by the handle, and you watch as Namjoon brings his own coffee to his lips for a taste.
“Good?”
You nod, “Good”
Namjoon’s thumb continues to brush over the back of your neck as you hunch over the table, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you load up one of the songs of your game.
Your mouth falls open when Namjoon’s fingers dig into the back of your hair, tugging your head back.
He watches as your lips close around the forkful of cake he feeds you, endeared smile on his face as a little bit of the cream clings to the corners of your lips. You don’t seem to take much notice as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen of his phone.
Your lips part after swallowing, tongue peeking out to lick at the pad of Namjoon’s thumb before he’s slipping it into your mouth.
“Yummy?” he asks, and you fall back into your chair— game suddenly long forgotten as Namjoon’s thumb lays heavy on your tongue.
You nod, fingers itching for the fork. Your boyfriend simply tuts, “Let me do that for you” his thumb slips out of your mouth, soon replaced with another large forkful of strawberries and cream.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
Namjoon’s attention is quickly snatched from his laptop when he hears a gentle knock on the door of his home office.
You always seemed to count a few seconds before you opened the door, always mindful that he was often busy; even if he’d made it clear that he was never too busy for you.
“What’s wrong, darling?” he closes his laptop, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
“You’re not in bed” you whisper, still lingering in the doorway. Frilly-socked feet shuffling anxiously against the carpet.
Namjoon thinks you look like a dream, eyes heavy with lingering sleep, thin strap of your silk nightdress slipping off your shoulder as you curl in on yourself. Always ever so shy, even after years together.
He’d taken his time pampering you that evening. An hour spent in the bath where’d he’d lathered your body in thick suds of soap, sweet smelling like roses that had sat in the summer sun all afternoon, skin warm like petals that had basked in the golden rays of light. Silent promises of a love that will last forever, until he takes his last breath, until the world ceases to exist and his love can longer be— traced under light fingertips that knew your body better than you ever would.
You squirmed as he’d rubbed lotion into every inch of skin your body had to offer— body his temple, your soul his goddess that he worshiped like you were his only purpose in life. Each breath he took, every step he’d continue to take, everything for you.
You’d laid spread across his lap as he’d worked any knots out of your back before dressing you up pretty for bed. Flimsy silk nightdress tickling your skin, brushing against bare thighs, where Namjoon’s hands had the freedom to roam your body until you’d been giggling at him to stop.
His favorite pastime, brushing your hair before bed; his hands those of Rumplestiltskin, each strand treated like intricately created golden thread, gentle as he tugs each knot until perfect.
He’d been there when you’d fallen asleep, bones jelly after he’d fingered you to an orgasm and mind nothing more than cotton candy softness as you’d tugged your precious little bunny to your chest. A gift he’d given you your first date together; and although you claimed you never had favorites , it was always his bunny that remained in your arms as you slept.
And truly he thought tonight he would finish up the last of the project he’d been given, the rest of the week yours; his time cupped in your hands to use however you pleased. The smile you were sure to give him each day after work, worth the pain of a single one nighter.
“I have some work to finish up, why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll be there in a little while” he tilts his head, gentle smile toying at the corners of his lips.
Your lips mould into a pout, “No” you shake your head, voice pulling out a little whiny “You have to come with me, Joonie. Right now”
“But I’m busy, darling” he coos, rolling his chair away from his desk. Legs falling open and he wonders how long it’ll take you to crawl into his lap.
He watches you thrown yourself to the floor, falling to your knees with a dull thump, and he worries they’ll bruise. You don’t seem to care, too pre-occupied with the start of your bubbling tantrum to care about any future injuries; you’ll be sure to milk all of your boyfriend’s sympathy when you he patches you up later. Crying until he’s kissing it all better, and maybe he’ll buy you a gift for being so brave.
He’d seen you scrolling through a few shops online earlier in the day before dinner, rosy-red blush painting your cheeks at a few items you’d hopefully saved.
You hiccup, stuffed bunny clung to your chest as you shake your head. “No, no” you sniffle, “You have to come now” your legs kick a little underneath you.
It was no secret that Namjoon liked to spoil you. Truthfully, he didn’t see the issue— what else was he supposed to do when housing a little princess? If you wanted something then who was he to say no?
Especially when you looked up at him through wet lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks like freshly fallen rain would the petal of a flower.
“Don’t cry” he frowns, heart clenching at the utter distraught on your face; cheeks glazed in saline tears and eyes watery, another miserable cry ready to slip past your lips. “Come here, my precious little baby”
The sob you let out is pitiful, bunny’s fluffy little paw held so tight in your hand as you push yourself to stand. Floppy ears soaking up your tears as you wipe your cheeks.
Namjoon’s hand’s curl under your thighs as you push yourself into his lap, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.
“oh dolly” he croons, “You’ve been fussy all day, haven’t you? What’s wrong?”
Your arms wrap around his neck, face tucked tightly into his shoulder as you choke on another sob. Bunny tucked between your chests.
His thumb is gentle as it brushes over the top of your thighs.
“Tell me what happened” he rests his cheek against the top of your head, mean little smile pulling at his cheeks as your sobs fizzle to little hiccups.
“Work” you whisper, fingers threading into his hair, tugging rhythmically as you mouth at his neck.
“What happened at work?”
You whine, pushing your body flush against Namjoon’s. His hands wander, grabbing your ass as you rock forwards; bare pussy brushing over his pyjama pants.
“There’s a— there’s a new guy” your hips falter and Namjoon holds in a groan as your weight settles right over his cock.
Namjoon hums, “What about him?”
“He—“ a breathy moan drips off your tongue as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass.
“He what, darling? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he murmurs, fingers mean as he tugs your face away from his neck by the back of your hair.
Your mouth falls open, and Namjoon watches your eyes glaze over, though this time it’s not tears; and he wonders if you can see how ruined you look in the reflection of his glasses.
“Tell me” your thighs clenching at his tone.
You whimper, “He said a bad word, can’t say it”
Namjoon’s head tips backwards, “Go ahead and say it, baby. I won’t get mad”
“Promise?”
He smiles, endeared “Promise”
“He asked me on a date” your fingers grasp onto the neckline of his shirt, and your boyfriend hums, “I said no, because I have a boyfriend”
“And?”
He watches as your bottom lip quivers, breath hitching in your throat. “Said you didn’t need to know, could be a quick fuck in the back room”
Namjoon’s jaw ticks, “What’s his name?” his fingers skim over your jaw, your hips jutting forward. “Name, darling”
“Jimin” you breathe, “Told Nana, and she said she’d talk to him”
“Yeah?” Namjoon hums, “I’ll sort him out, okay?”
“Okay” you nod.
“Well done for telling me, darling” he smiles, an attempt to ease any lingering anxiety you had. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate work when you enjoyed it so much.
Your hips rut forwards, Namjoon pulling your nightdress up around your hips, watching as your bare cunt drags over his slowly hardening cock.
You lean forwards, lips brushing over Namjoon’s jaw as his hands guide your hips. You moan as the head of his cock brushes over your clit.
“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon’s breathing is heavy, one of his arms tucking under your thighs as he hoists you further up his chest, his free hand tugging his pants down.
Your hand travels between your bodies, tips of your fingers brushing over Namjoon’s slit, precum oozing out the tip as your hand runs down his length.
“Up you get” he helps you, head of his cock running through your slit as you roll your hips forwards.
You bite down on your bottom lip, watery whines bubbling up your throat with each nudge of your boyfriend’s cock running over your clit. Arousal seeps past your folds down Namjoon’s length.
You hold his cock against your cunt, Namjoon’s fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t seem to care all that much as your hips roll forward.
“Inside Joonie” you whine, tongue laving over the skin of his neck.
Namjoon takes a hold of the base of his cock, and you use his shoulders as leverage, chair wobbling under your joint weight as you line up his cockhead with your hole.
Your fingers run through your folds, wetness soaking your fingers as you circle your clit gently, Namjoon helping you as the tip of his cock brushes over your hole. And you let out an involuntary whine as the stimulation.
Your arms wrap around Namjoon’s neck, head of his cock splitting you open as you ease yourself down an inch before you’re pulling off slowly.
“Your pretty little pussy is so small” Namjoon groans. Flared cockhead pulling your pussy taught as you try and ease down lower.
You breath gets stuck in your throat, Namjoon’s fingers gently thumbing at your clit as you clench around his length. Slowly starting to stuff each agonizing inch into your cunt.
You whine as you reach the hilt, hips rutting forward messily. You moan at the lick of please that wracks through your body with each slow drag of Namjoon’s thick cock against your walls.
Namjoon pulls your face away from hiding by the back of your neck, tugging you until your lips mould into one, tongue pushed into your mouth, fresh minty toothpaste coating his tastebuds.
You start to bounce in his lap, childish impatience starting to take over as you chase after an orgasm. Always a little greedy when it came to your own pleasure, using Namjoon to get yourself off before you ever allow him to chase his own release.
“That’s it” he moans, unabashed in his arousal.
Namjoon uses his legs as an anchor, holding the two of you in place, ensuring the chair doesn’t tip over as the back of your thighs slap against the top of his own.
You moan as his thumb continues to brush over your clit, a ring of your arousal gathered at the base of his cock with each jittery raise of your hips.
“Doing so well for me” Namjoon groans, “Always such a good girl, yeah?”
“Mhmm” you nod, bunny tumbling to the floor. Long forgotten as you feel the precipice of your pleasure slowly boiling away in your stomach.
“Gonna cum for me?”
Your thighs shake at that, deep groan of pleasure shooting straight to your cunt as you continue to ride Namjoon like it were the last time.
“Go on, cum for me”
Namjoon’s hands find themselves perched under your ass, aiding you as your legs start to grow tired. Muscles in his arms bulging as he drags you up and down his length.
“So small, could use you as my own little fleshlight. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he groans, mirth swimming in his eyes.
Meanly, Namjoon pinches your clit and that’s all it takes for searing hot pleasure to wash over your body, thighs shaking at your release.
You hiccup another sob at the burning arousal as Namjoon continues to ram his cock back up inside you, thick rivulets of your slick coating his balls as he chases his own release.
“Too much” you cry, hands wrapping around his wrists as his fingers dig into your hips.
“I’m close, hold on for me” Namjoon’s head tips back.
Namjoon can feel your pussy as it pulsates around his length; you let out something akin to a squeak as you feel his cock twitch.
Mouth falling open in a silent moan as his warm cum paints your insides white.
You raise up on shaky legs, tip of his cock left nestled between your walls before you’re falling back down on his length; cum pushed deep inside of you.
“Oh my baby” he coos, fingers gentle as they brush through your hair, “Sleepy?”
You nod, words fizzling out on your tongue as you yawn.
Your cunt continues to clench around his cock, even as you fall asleep on his chest.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
The bell above the door is obnoxious in announcing Namjoon’s arrival.
‘Pages of Love’ the little bookshop you worked at.
He would have gotten you to quit the shitty little job by now if it didn’t hold such significance in your relationship. He’d first met you here, had dates here, and it made you so happy that Namjoon couldn’t bare to see the sad pout that would be sure to form if he ever suggested you left this place behind.
“Namjoon” the old woman behind the counter smiles, waving him over. “I’m sure you’re aware but it’s y/n’s day off”
“Actually, Nana, I’m here for something else” he smiles, expression saddened and the old woman frowns.
“Anything” she nods.
“It’s about Jimin. He doesn’t happen to be working today, does he?”
“He’s on break right now.” She tuts, “Is this about what he said to y/n. I’ve already warned him about it”
“She came home upset” he shakes his head and Nana sighs.
“Poor girl. She’s lucky to have you, Namjoon”
“Thank you” his smile is genuine, though it drops the moment he steps out the door.
And he waits, waits weeks before he decided what he wants to do with the lowly piece of shit that dared suggest you cheat on him.
Waited weeks as he wrote down every sick little fantasy he had about the ways he’d maul his body. Shredding limbs, gutting him alive. Maybe he’d decapitate him and then send his head to his mother, or chop his filthy dick off and make him watch as he fed it to whatever animal is willing to chew on nearly nothing.
Written fantasies weren’t enough. Namjoon’s fingers always itching, always eager to finally wrap around the boy’s lithe throat and make him beg for mercy until his face is red and pride oozing out of his body with his fear.
“I’m gonna be home late tonight, little one” Namjoon tucks your hair behind your ear, gentle smile rivaling your frown.
“Why?” you ask, blinking up at him through your lashes.
“I have a small job I need to take care of”
“Can I help?”
“Nope” he leans down, soft feathery kiss pressed to you cheek before he’s pulling back, standing at full height.
You look up at him, “You can’t go”
“And why not?” he challenges.
“Because” your defense weak and truly Namjoon wishes he could stay.
“I charged your ipad this morning” and your eyes light up.
“Be quick, okay?” you push yourself up on your tippy toes, hands cupping his cheeks as you press a kiss to his lips.
“Promise” he smiles, “Now be a good girl, and don’t cause any trouble”
“I won’t” you wave him off.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
Namjoon isn’t exactly sure what he expects to see when he finally gets home, a quick detour to Seokjin’s house to wash off Jimin’s blood and a change of clothes taking longer than he’d anticipated when his friend had insisted on making them both tea.
He can’t help the groan that bubbles up his throat at the sight of you. Skirt flipped up with three fingers, knuckle deep inside your pretty little pussy as you play a colour by number game on your ipad.
“Fucking hell, darling” he kicks his shoes off, jacket long forgotten on the floor as he crouches down in front of you.
You pull your slick covered fingers out of your cunt, gently circling your clit as you blink down at him.
“Couldn’t wait until I got home?”
“I got bored” you whine, legs falling open wider and Namjoon takes that as his invitation to run his thumb through your slit.
His hands hold your thighs in place as he leans down to press a kiss over your clit, tongue slipping from between his lips to lick over the bundle of nerves.
You hips stutter as his tongue drags across your folds, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt at the unexpected nudge of his tongue against you hole.
Your fingers tangle into your boyfriend’s hair as he sucks over your clit, fingers teasing your entrance before he’s pushing two fingers inside of you.
“How pretty” he coos, accompanied by a wet squelch. “The prettiest little pussy, it’s a wonder how you fit anything inside of you”
You squirm, finger stuffed into your mouth as you try and hold back an embarrassed moan.
“Not little” you whine, hips chasing Namjoon’s fingers each time he pulls out.
“Oh, but you are” your thighs twitch as his warm breath brushes over your sensitive clit, hours of mindless toying with your cunt bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.
Namjoon kisses over your mound, kisses over your clit, and then kisses over his fingers as they curl up inside of you.
He can’t help the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the guttural moan you let out when he finds that particular spot inside of you.
“Cum for me, darling” his voice breathless, as he starts to scissor his fingers.
All it takes is one mean little nip to your clit and you’re tipping over the edge; legs shaking as they clamp around your boyfriend’s head.
His tongue continues to flick over your clit, fingers nestled deep within your walls as he helps you ride out your high.
“Enough” you whimper, tugging his head away from between your legs.
You squirm at the glossy sheen that covers Namjoon’s chin when he finally pulls away from your pussy.
“Well done” his hands run up and down your trembling thighs, “Think you can take a little more?”
Your eyes flicker down to his cock, heavy in his pants and you nod; tongue wetting your lips.
“My good girl”
Namjoon pulls you to lay across the length of the couch, fingers tugging your blouse over your head as you shuck off your skirt.
You tug messily at the back of your bra, and Namjoon smiles, bending down to help you.
He groans, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he palms himself through his slacks.
“God, you’re so pretty”
Your squeak when he bites the plush skin, trail of kisses searing as he reaches your neck.
Your hands fumble with his pants, waistband pulled taught as your try and slip your fingers into his underwear.
“Always so impatient, aren’t you?” he coos, “here let me help you”
You pout at the loss of warmth, the loss of his large body completely covering your own; hands grabbing for neck when he sits up on his knees.
Your hips rock upwards, silently begging for any sort of stimulation as you watch Namjoon’s cock spring free, slapping against his stomach.
Your pussy gushes another wave of slick at the sight of your boyfriend with his hand wrapped around his cock, his hands always had been big; swallowing the girth of his cock when your fingers barely wrapped around it.
You can feel the phantom ache in your jaw, countless times he’d shoved his dick into your mouth, splitting it open like he would your cunt with absolutely no mercy.
“You’re staring” though there’s no embarrassment in his tone, eyebrow lifted cocky and lazy smile tugging at your lips.
“Inside, please” you whine, legs falling open enough for him to slot in place.
“Of course, sweetheart”
Your legs tremble in anticipation, eyes squeezing shut as he runs the head through the slit; slicking up his length before he’s pushing at your entrance.
“You sure you can fit me?” you can hear the laugh in his voice, retort on the tip of your tongue only he chooses that moment to nudge the tip of his cock over your clit.
“Joonie” you complain, “please, need you”
And Namjoon watches, lets you, grab onto his length, watching as you rut your hips down until he’s popping inside of you.
Your walls constrict around him, and he’s absolutely fascinated by how such a small pussy is even able to stretch around him.
“Good girl” and he can’t help the moan that follows.
He’s barely thrusting, gentle roll of his hips feeding each inch of his cock into your wet cunt.
You moan like he was ramming into you, always so sensitive, always so responsive to his touch.
“Feel good?” he asks when he finally bottoms out, thighs connected and heartbeats in sync. It’s moments like these Namjoon revels being alive, being one with you. Truly the closest you’ll ever be to one another; and he thinks he finally feels complete when lodged between your sodden walls.
“So deep” you whisper, fingers skimming over your stomach.
Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders, bending forwards until you’re almost folded in half.
Your moan is breathless when he gently pulls out, only to snap his hips back into you.
Your hands grasp onto the pillows of the couch as Namjoon picks up his pace, your tits bouncing, and cunt squelching with every brutal thrust into you.
“Fucking hell, you are tiny” Namjoon groans, and you whimper as his hand presses down on your lower stomach.
You dare take a look, hiccup of a moan ripped from your throat as you see it. An outline of his cock right bellow your belly button, head nudging the taught skin with each thrust into you, only for it to disappear as he pulls out.
Your fingers splay over it, cunt convulsing around his length as your feel him move under your skin.
You feel it rising, pussy swollen and worn from your previous orgasm. Namjoon seems to know, he always knows when you’re slowly climbing to the peak of high.
His fingers find clit, tight little circles sending jolts of pure, blissful pleasure through your body, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt to soak his cock.
“Gonna cum for me?” he moans between eat thrust, “Be a good girl and cum for me”
The cry you let out is near pornographic, knees knocking against the side of Namjoon’s head as he continues to flick at your clit. Pleasure numbing that when you finally reach your high, your mind blanks, a blanket of fluff consuming you as Namjoon continues to jackhammer into your used cunt.
“Doing so well for me. So close. I’m so close” he groans, fingers finally pulling off your clit as your thighs continue to shake.
When you come to, Namjoon’s thrusts are a sloppy, thrusts barely coordinated as he ruts into you.
And your breath hitches at the final twitch of his cock, he pushes as far into you as he can before he’s cumming.
Thick waves of cum filling you up. He groans as you clench around him, walls still spasming from your own release. And he gently rocks into you, an attempt to push his cum as deep into your soiled cunt as possible.
“You did so well, darling” he swallows thickly, back of his hand wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.
You whine as he begins to pull out, mixture of both your releases dribbling out of your hole.
Your thighs twitch when Namjoon parts your lips, hole clenching around nothing as you push another wave of his cum out of your pussy. His fingers scoop it up, circling your entrance before he’s pushing them back between your walls.
“What do you think about a bath?” he hums, watching your eyes fall droopy.
You nod, hands blindly grabbing for your boyfriend to pick you up.
He smiles down at you, arms slipping beneath your body to pick you up as he wanders further into the house.
You wriggle around when he flips the light on, eyes stinging a little at the sudden burst of brightness.
“Alright missy” he sits you on the toilet, and you lean your head against his hip as pee, bones too floppy to even think of holding yourself up.
You remain sat on the toilet as he runs a bath, fussy when he picks you up again though it’s easily soothed with a gentle kiss to your lips.
He thinks you fall asleep as he washes your back, gentle as his soapy hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you squirm at that.
Namjoon is endeared when the two of you finally get out the bath, skin soft and sweet smelling, perfect for kisses. And he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat when you kick your pyjamas away, refusing to put them on yourself when his hands were fully capable.
“Oh my little princess” he kisses both your cheeks, “How about some cake for being such a good girl?”
You see, Namjoon had always been a little bit of a liar. Had told so many lies that truly he didn’t know the what was real and what was not anymore. And if he didn’t know then you never would either.
Every little lie he’d told you from the start, every white lie, every left out detail of his life suddenly seemed insignificant when you were tucked under his chin, sleeping so peacefully, a true sleeping beauty.
And maybe he didn’t really like the classics. Maybe his real love of novels were romances, because he’d always be the prince and you’d always be his princess. A perfect fairytale that would always have a happy ending.
Because if anyone dared scribble out the pages, change his plot, then he would simply erase their existence, and the readers of his life would never know the difference.
You belonged to him. You are his as much as he is yours.
Your life his only reason. Your happiness that little spark of good that still resides inside him. And as long as you come home every day with that same pretty little smile on your face, then Namjoon feels no guilt for the countless people that lay dead, long forgotten by the world as they rest six feet under for daring bring you sadness. Because he’d erased them, with no way to wiggle their way back into the story of his life.
Because what was a prince if he couldn’t take care of a villain that would disturb his perfect fairytale ending?
#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts smut#bts angst#bts namjoon#namjoon x reader#namjoon imagine#namjoon fluff#bts x reader#bts imagines#namjoon smut#namjoon angst#namjoon fanfic#bts requests#namjoon x y/n#bts yandere#yandere namjoon
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I haven't said anything on here because I've been so focused on what's been happening on Twitter. I spent six or more hours last night just retweeting whatever I could to help raise a ruckus. For anybody who isn't aware of what's been happening:
For the past 75 years, Israel has been doing exactly what the United States of America did to indigenous natives when we first began to claim the territory. They've been pushing Palestinians off of their homeland and claiming the land for themselves. They've been stealing homes and territory that doesn't belong to them, engaging in a quiet genocide.
They control what goes in an out of the border. They control how much food Palestinians are allowed to have access to. They control how much water and electricity Palestinians have access to in a day. They control how many times a year and how far out fishing boats are able to go, and they're relegated to areas where there are no fish. The amount of ships aren't enough to sustain the population. Israel has ensured that Palestinians cannot build bomb shelters by preventing those materials from coming into the country.
On October 7th, 2023, a Gazan organization named Hamas, which is stationed in the Palestinian city of Gaza, decided to retaliate. They did a plethora of horrible things to Israeli people, taking hostages. In response, Israel has begun being more aggressive and upfront in its genocidal attempts to eradicate Palestinians.
This is not an exaggeration. Israel is very upfront about what they want. The official Israeli account has posted what they've done proudly. The first event that made people outside of Palestine aware of what was going on was the bombing of a hospital that Israel boasted of, and then later walked back to claim it was a Hamas base.
There are rules of war to follow. Among them, it is a war crime to attack where people are taking shelter in places of religion and hospitals. Once this information was revealed and made obvious, public outcry for the support of Palestine began to ring out. Apparently it wasn't even the first hospital that Israel had targeted--there were over 10 at the time and more to come in the following days.
Consider that Israel knew they were targeting the hospital and sent out a warning for them to evacuate, and then remind yourself that there were people in the in the hospital who relied on the medical equipment to live. Where were they supposed to go on such short notice? Children and babies were killed. Israel admitted to doing this and then claimed that the hospital was a Hamas base. And soon after, they claimed that it was a misfired rocket by Hamas that hit the hospital. Isn't that so convenient?
Israel has warned a city to travel the road down south in ten hours--on foot, on a hiking trail that takes more than twelve--to reach safety. They promised they would be safe and that Gaza was the only place they were aiming to destroy. Instead, Israel proceeded to bomb and destroy the only safe passage that they were able to get. They weren't safe at all.
In the days to come, Israel would proceed to turn off all electricity and water in Palestine. They would continue to bomb various places under the presumption that they were Hamas bases. Hamas comes from the city of Gaza, so that doesn't explain why several of those places--even hospitals--were much farther south.
Yesterday, they bombed the communication tower that Palestinians have been relying on to communicate with the outside world. As far as I know, they've been dark ever since.
Egyptians have been trying to help. They've been trying to demand the gates to open so that they can send humanitarian aid in. There are people--good people--who don't care if they die for the cause or not. Hardly any humanitarian aid has been able to come in, and Israel has been teasing Egypt, their own weaponry poking at their boarder as a threat. If several missiles cross Egyptian boarders, how is it their fault of they were aiming at a hostile air craft?
Remember how much Israel monitored what comes in and what comes out of Palestine. They control how much electricity and water a day they have. They control their maritime and how far from the coast they're allowed to fish. Do you think that Palestinians are able to build such air crafts?
Egyptians have witnessed the horrors that have been happening from across the sea. The sky was red with fire and alight with bombs. The horizon echoed with the noise and the assault didn't cease. I don't know if it's still going on. I don't know if it ever stopped. But Israel is sending out ground troops now, and who knows how far that went since last night.
Israel calls this a war. Palestinians haven't been able to fight back. They don't have any weapons or a military of their own. Entire families have been wiped off of the face of the earth, numbering probably well over forty by this point. Entire generations are at risk of being killed. This isn't a war. This is a genocide.
Israel claims that Hamas hides behind its civilians for protection, but all Israel is doing is hiding behind Hamas as an excuse to commit ethnic cleansing.
The worst part to me is that world powers who could have done something to prevent this are actively doing nothing. The United States has been providing Israel with the very weapons that they're using to obliterate Palestine off of the face of the map. Britain has outlawed protests speaking up in support of Palestine. And there are a lot of protests. The public opinion knows that this is wrong. Joseph Biden has casted doubt on how many Palestinians have actually died just before the blackout occured.
The warning signs have been here for 75 years, and nobody has done anything about it. And now Palestinians are facing the most brutal evil that mankind is capable of, and nobody who can do anything about it is willing to lift a finger. What's the point of the United Nations to create laws of war that are to be followed if those laws aren't going to be enforced? What kind of message does that send to countries that violate those laws?
That they can get away with it.
This isn't even to touch on the fact that Israel has been paying content creators and companies to speak up in support of Israel. I wouldn't be surprised if they're doing the same with popular celebrities in the United States and elsewhere. I wouldn't be surprised if this is a part of why politicians are refusing to lift a finger to hold Israel accountable for their actions. Israel has always wanted control of the narrative. This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last.
I do want to point out that despite these horrors, it's important to remember that, while Israel has done these horrible things, you shouldn't blame the individual people. Not every single Israeli believes in this genocidal cause, but the system of government that encourages and rewards these behaviors should be held accountable. Israelis who disagree with Israel are very likely at risk of being punished severely if they express their beliefs. It's important to remember that.
Israel will cry antisemitism because they are a Jewish state: Holding them accountable for their actions is not antisemitism. Do not be afraid to do so. I have seen videos of Jewish people in the United States leading mass protests in support of Palestine, calling for a ceasefire in Gaza, for Palestine to be free. Don't blame all Jewish people or Israelites for this horror. Be angry at Israel the government, Israel the politicians, Israel the people who support them rabidly and celebrate the death of millions.
I know for a fact that there are some things I've missed. It's so difficult to tactfully cover everything that's happened over the past couple of weeks. But hopefully this is enough to let those who aren't aware of what's been happening know.
I'm ashamed to be a United States American. And I am angry at the politicians and the people in power who could have voted for a ceasefire and didn't. We are witnessing the evils of humanity at work this month. And yet we are also witnessing the selfless good that humanity is capable of, leading protests to free Palestine and call for a ceasefire, trying their best to raise attention to the people who did nothing. History will remember them as the villains of this story.
It feels like there isn't much you can do. But just knowing and spreading awareness of the situation is enough. It is enough. Israel has hired companies and social media to do their best to stifle talk and conversation about Palestine. YouTube has deleted fifteen years' worth of videos examining the Palestinian occupation and Palestinian culture as a whole. Israel wants Palestine to die in silence and be forgotten.
All you need to know is what is happening. All you need to know is to remember and not forget. All you need to know is acknowledge the Palestinian's generations-long suffering, know that we're living through a genocide, and see how world powers do nothing about it. This is how Adolf Hitler got away with it for so long.
So remember. Keep it in mind. Learn the warning signs. And be sure to remember this when it happens again.
Free Palestine.
#free palestine#ceasefire in gaza#ceasefire NOW#palestine#gaza#hamas#israel#israel hamas war#israel hamas conflict#free gaza#gazaunderattack#gaza strip#save gaza
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Lead me to the truth and I
will follow you with my whole life (joel miller x platonic!reader)
joel miller x platonic!reader
summary: perhaps now, twenty one years later, joel finally found the courage to face his fears. aka joel finally allows himself to accept the role he has in your life.
warnings: father-figure joel miller (more like an invitation rather than warning), fluff, slight angst at times, father-daughter duo kind of moments.
words count: 9.5k
a/n: joel miller was always the coolest father but pedro's portrayal took that to a whole new level. dedicated to all the daddy issues strugglers out there (myself included). here's the dad you deserved to have.
ps: this is my first work focused solely on joel's character so be patient with me. <3
enjoy!
"and I will go if you ask me to. and I will stay if you dare."
•
You were a mission, something that was supposed to have a beginning and the end. Someone he was supposed to lead to a given location and walk away. It was supposed to be easy—that what Tess promised to Joel when she begged him to take you, fulfilling her dying wish. How easy it was for her to ask, how difficult it was for Joel to keep that promise.
There was a reason as for why was Joel so reluctant to take you—to temporarily care for you. Reason unknown to you. He was cold from the day you met him; made sure you knew all the rules and understood that whatever role you were going to assign him, he was not going to take it. After all, that was what he promised himself.
To keep his distance, to put the walls up and protect himself from the possibility of being hurt again. But you were too determined to tear them all down.
And at a certain point, he didn’t know for whom he was fighting anymore. To protect himself from you or to protect you from him? You’ve encountered things, places, people and tragedies one could only fear.
And with each strike he took, with each throat he slit before they lied their hands on you, Joel fell deeper. Into the sense of protection that was rising within him each time a danger appeared in your sight. Before he knew it, he was in the same spot he was twenty years ago.
That’s when the breaking point came. And he turned around, grabbed your hand and walked back to the only place that could’ve offered you the life you deserved. And deep down hoped Tess would’ve understood. In the end, he kept the promise—he made sure you were safe, more than that. He gave you the opportunity of the best life you could’ve had, given the fungal conditions around.
And you didn’t protest, didn’t utter a single objection. Because you would’ve followed Joel to the edge of the universe and back.
Or at least to Jackson.
You arrived at dawn, holding tightly onto his back, nearly falling asleep on the horse. The last few weeks you’ve spent outside were taking its toll on you. It was deadly cold out there with temperating falling down every second. You heard his voice, calling out your name three times before you opened your eyes. You were standing by the stables with Joel’s younger brother walking towards you.
“We’re here,” Joel whispered.
“Oh,” you yawned. “I’m sorry,” you pulled your hands away and slowly got off the horse with Tommy immediately offering his help.
“Good to see you,” he smiled politely, “both of you,” his eyes landed on his brother.
You waited outside whilst Joel and Tommy stabled the horse.
“So,” Tommy spoke again as soon as the three of you were together, “how long is it this time?”
And your eyes met with Joel. He shrugged his shoulders and briefly looked at you before his eyes met with Tommy’s again.
Joel was never good with words which you learned pretty quickly. It was all about his subtle actions—that’s how the two of you bonded. For all those days on the road and nights under the dark skies, you never led any deep conversations, instead found a comfort in each other’s presence. In your signals.
Being back in Jackson felt strange at first. Accustoming to such world after months in the wildness was odd to say the least. But it felt easier with Joel by your side—or at least, that’s what you were hoping for since he brought you here. Yet, after a few days in, you couldn’t overlook the way he was trying to distance himself from you.
First, it was about the house.
With the previous one being given to a family that recently came to Jackson, Maria and Tommy had to find a new place for you.
“I wanted you to have something of your own,” Joel admitted one night whilst the two of you were sitting in the kitchen, eating leftovers. “But Maria said they’re full right now. As soon as something opens, I will let you know… if you’d like.”
You were caught off guard by that.
There was a part of you that hoped—no, that took this as a foregone conclusion that you and Joel would be living together. You couldn’t even picture yourself being alone considering how accustomed you’ve gotten to Joel’s constant presence. In certain sense, he represented some sort of safety blanket. He was the reason you came to Jackson in the first place.
Perhaps, you thought, now that his job was done, he might have thought that the two of you should go your separate ways. At the end of the day, he wasn’t your family—just someone who was promised to look after you.
Perhaps, you were not as significant to him as he was to you. There were too many scenarios running through your anxious mind. But you never asked.
Then, it was the patrol duty.
When Tommy showed up at your doorstep, three days after your arrival, he mentioned that kids your age were starting to learn how to shoot so they could join the junior patrol groups.
“You should go,” Joel proposed once Tommy left. “Tommy’s good with guns. You’re going to learn from the best.”
He sounded almost uninterested.
You looked up from your bowl of breakfast, hurt glancing in your eyes.
And he quickly became aware of that.
“What?” he asked and you didn’t know whether it was care or rather annoyance that you heard in his voice.
“You promised you were going to teach me how to shoot.”
There it was again in his eyes—the regret.
He thought, with genuine worry in his heart, that giving you space was what you wanted—what you deserved. Without realising he was hurting you both in the process.
Joel didn’t know how to walk in this, how to approach this new situation he found himself in. He wanted you around, he wanted to make sure were alright. But didn’t know how.
That afternoon, when you left the house to join Tommy and the rest of the kids, Joel was already gone. His brother had him signed on old kinds of duty around the settlement—giving him an opportunity to contribute. And as much as Joel complained and growled, he like the idea of being of use—being needed.
You arrived by the Tipsy Bison, joining the group of kids standing around and registered.
A young man, approximately in his early twenties looked upon the list of names he was holding before his eyes met with yours.
“You’re signed on the East Gate, Tommy’s waiting for you there,” he informed you.
You squeezed the straps of your backpack as you walked by the stables, nervously looking around. You were still trying to adjust but it felt so difficult at times, especially when you were alone. Tommy was nice, considering he most likely knew nothing about you, beside what Joel must have told him. But you didn’t felt that kind of safety you had around Joel.
Joel, who was standing three feet away from you, with riffle hanging over his shoulder.
Maybe he joined the patrol group as well, you thought as you headed towards him.
“Do you know where Tommy is?” you asked as you looked around, looking for his brother.
Joel frowned, almost offended.
“Am I not capable enough?” he mumbled playfully.
You couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on.
“What?”
Before you uttered another mumble of confusion, Joel stepped closer and handed you the riffle.
“C’mon kid, it’s gonna be dark soon.”
The gate opened and Joel headed outside the safety, with you following his steps. There was a smile on your lips as you looked up and saw him, already explaining the route you were going to take—the high spots you were searching for. This was his way of apologising—his way of trying to do better.
Of making sure you knew that.
That day, you spent the whole afternoon together. What was supposed to be a regular two hour training that most kids took Joel turned into five, with the two of you coming back shortly after sundown, already past dinner time. It was the first time in a while you saw Joel genuinely laugh as he watched you struggling to reach the target.
You returned to Jackson with an empty magazine and one successful shot. But as you the two of you were walking home, side by side—it didn’t matter to you. It didn’t matter how terrible your aim was, how much of Tommy’s ammo you waisted. What mattered to you was the look in Joel's eyes, the smile on his lips he had as he was watching you.
He let his guard down, even if it was just for a second. And there he was—the Joel that was watching stars with you on the road.
It was about these moments. They meant whole world to you.
“You hungry?” he asked as you passed the dining hall.
You shook your head. “I’m alright. Besides, I think we’re already past the dinner time.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you eat since breakfast,” he commented. “I could make you something at home.”
Home.
It stuck with you.
He didn’t think about it when he said that. Perhaps, that was the revelation you were waiting for. That Joel felt the same way and what you had was, indeed, a home.
Joel’s parental instincts were always there, no matter how determined he was to suppress them. Every night on the road, he stood by your side with gun in his hand, every time you fell asleep without ur blanket, Joel made sure you were tucked in. Each time he promised himself it would be the last. But always failed to do so.
Truth was, without the fear of enemies lurking in every corner and in the safety of Jackson’s settlement, it was easier to slip back into his old, fatherly habits without even realising. Only took a few weeks for Joel to accustom to this life—to having you around every day.
You sat together for breakfast every morning and met by the gates every afternoon after your assignments ended to take you for another shooting lesson.
Month later, you hit three out of six targets. Each time, he stood beside, that proud smirk on his lips. Three weeks after that, you hit five of them. That night, Joel even offered to take you to the movies as a reward for your successful lesson.
You were so excited—you wanted to join the others for so long but didn’t feel like going by yourself so having Joel propose that idea felt quite nice. But after all the training and another two hour long shooting lesson, you started to get weary. Twenty minutes into the movie, your head crashed onto Joel’s shoulder as you slowly fell asleep. His eyes landed on your sleepy face and there it was again—that smile. The one he didn’t have in a while.
Two hours later, you woke up in half empty dining hall.
“Need a hand?” you heard a familiar voice around you, mixed with laughter.
“I got it,” Joel replied.
A few seconds later, Joel’s hand caressed your cheek. “Kid?”
You quickly became aware of your pposition and immediately pulled away, despite the tiredness still wearing off.
“Shit,” you whispered, rubbing your sleepy eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Joel shook his head. “Let’s go get your jacket.”
He got up and you, still not fulling woken up, followed his steps. Joel noticed how somnolent you were, so he walked you to the door, helped you put on the your jacket, wished Maria and Tommy good night before you headed out back to your place.
You were barely seeing above your own feet, tiredness still having power over you as you struggled to keep up with Joel’s pace. Didn’t take long for him to realise that you were two feet behind. He swiftly turned around, rushing towards you.
“I’m so tired,” you yawned. “I just want to lie down.”
“Absolutely not,” Joel mumbled. “Let’s go, we’re two streets away.”
“That’s so far,” you whined. “I could just lie down right here and fall sleep.”
He couldn���t help but laugh over your statement. He stepped closer, threw his hand around your shoulder and pulled you closer to keep you warm. “Two streets and we’re home.”
There it was again.
Being too tired to notice, you paid no mind. This time it was Joel who was caught off guard by his own words. As the two you walked through the quiet streets of his brother’s settlement, it slowly dawned on him. There was no point in denying. It was a home—to you, to him. Even if he wasn’t strong enough to admit it out loud, it was your home.
Three weeks later, Jackson county was covered in snow. Due to an ongoing blizzard, all of Joel’s shooting lessons were postponed until further notice, as Maria prohibited him from taking you outside the settlement in such unpredictable conditions.
That afternoon, she showed up unannounced by the east gate—already figuring out your and Joel’s teaching schedule. To keep the two of you busy, she signed you to decoration duty instead.
As the holiday season was slowly approaching, the whole settlement was getting ready.
Joel’s disgruntlement over her orders couldn’t be more obvious. But he swallowed his need to object and accepted the orders, leaving you in Maria’s hands.
“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t like those little trips of yours,” Maria admitted whilst the two of you were scavenging the decorations for the Christmas tree Tommy, Joel and other men were putting up.
You shrugged your shoulders, “We’re not going that far. Just around the settlement.”
“Why can’t you just go with the other kids at school?” she asked.
“Don’t you always say that we should only head out there with those we trust?”
She saw the look in your eyes and knew there was no need to say anything more. You knew she meant well—Maria wanted you to adjust to this place, to make friends of your own age. But she was also aware of the fact that separating you from Joel would do more harm than good. She did not agree with most of his actions but still respected that man. After all, he was her family.
That day, you got there late. Joel was already back, sitting in the living room with book in his lap. As interesting as the crime thriller could have been, Joel’s attention was elsewhere. Sitting in an old chair by the window, he was impatiently waiting for your arrival. It was shortly after nine when you came. As soon as he saw you on the porch, he grabbed the book, suddenly finding interest in every line.
You entered the dark hall, seeing the only source of light coming from the living room. That’s when Joel finally looked up, seeing you standing there with snowflakes in your hair.
“Hey, didn’t hear you coming,” he greeted you, closing the book. “How was your decorating duty?”
“How was yours?” you mumbled sarcastically, ready to roll your eyes.
Joel chuckled over your reaction. “Fair enough.”
For a second, the awkward silence crept in until Joel spoke again.
“I grabbed you some food on the way back,” he announced. “Left it in the fridge for you.”
“Oh… thanks,” you whispered, quite taken aback by that gesture. “But uh, Maria took me to dinner…so.”
“It’s okay,” he shook his head.
There was a reassuring smile on his lips—even if it was for a moment.
“By the way…” Joel spoke again, sensing that you wanted to head upstairs. Once he got your attention again, he continued: “Tommy asked me today if we’d want to join him and Maria for Christmas Eve dinner next week.”
We.
You tried to hide that unexpected excitement his words left in you, yet Joel still managed to spot that glimpse of sparks in your eyes.
“It’s not mandatory, so if you don’t want—“
“No!” you interrupted him. “I mean yes… yes, we can go.”
“Oh,” he whispered, surprised by your sudden reaction. “Alright then, I’ll tell Tommy.”
After that, the awkward silence appeared again. You stood there for moment or two before Joel considered that it was time to go—he wished you good night and quietly disappeared upstairs, whilst you stayed there for another second. It was so unusual to see Joel this nervous and you wondered what could’ve been the cause of that.
With the holidays approaching, the thought of the old days was harder to avoid, especially with all those children running around. Everywhere he went, he saw her, saw the memories tied to her. It was easier to avoid those when he lived in Boston. The only haunting things were his nightmares which he usually deadened with a bottle of whisky and sack of pills. But here in Jackson, it was different. There was the glimpse of normal life—as normal as one could get in such world. It was way too easy to look at those luckier than him and wonder what could been.
That could been the root of the problem as for why Joel struggled with the way he felt about you. Each time he grew closer, it frightened him. He was frightened by the idea of encountering the same pain again because he knew that this time—he couldn’t bear through. He couldn’t suffer through the loss of another daughter.
Because that's who you were for Joel.
You were his daughter. Despite the numerous times he tried to fight, despite his inability to express this, deep down, Joel knew it. Even as terrifying as it was to admit it, you were his kid. He never stopped being a dad, he was just now yours.
And when he lied awake that night, he made a decision. Maybe it was time to stop running away from it—to stop running away from you.
When you woke the next morning, something felt different. Dressed up and ready, you ran down the stairs, surprised to see what was in front of you. Lighted and decorated, there was a Christmas tree standing by the fireplace. You couldn’t quite comprehend that sight.
It was barely after eight o’clock. You couldn’t help but wonder when did Joel managed to do this. In the kitchen, you found a message on the table along with a piece of apple pie that he must have brought from the dining hall.
Tommy and I had to leave early,
there’s been accident at the power plant.
Maria’s going to bring you dinner tonight.
We should be back in a few
days but if not, Merry Christmas kid.
— Joel
A part of you felt saddened over the thought of Joel possibly missing the Christmas Eve. But at the same time—you couldn’t help but smile over him doing all of this before he left. Putting the Christmas tree, getting you breakfast. He wanted to make sure you would still have good time, despite him missing it.
Later that day, Maria stopped by with dinner. As soon as she entered the hall, she couldn’t overlook the shining Christmas three. You two dined together in silence, washed the dishes and even offered for you to stay at their place until Joel and Tommy return. But as kind as her offer was, you politely declined. That night, you fell asleep on the couch, staring at those lights, hoping Joel was alright.
The blizzard out there wasn’t going away anytime soon. Each morning, whilst walking to your training, you couldn’t stop worrying. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, yet that didn’t stop the ongoing fear that was rising within you each time you came home and he wasn’t there.
The house felt so empty without him there. Even though the two of you spend most of your time in silence or in separate rooms, you both had your comfort in each other’s presence. The idea of Joel being door away from you felt reassuring. Naively, you never thought that could change. In this sense, Jackson has softened you. Those gates around gave you sense of protection.
But he didn’t have that.
Each night, you waited. Sitting in his old chair by the window, you held your switchblade between your fingers and waited until you fell asleep. Fell asleep with a hope and woke with coldness wrapping around your body and disappointment that dawned on you when you found his room empty.
Three days before Christmas, you felt the need to express your anxiousness to Maria.
“The plant is a few of miles away. And with the snowstorm out there, it would be too dangerous to head back in such conditions,” she explained. “They’ll be back soon, you’ll see.”
You knew she was worried as well. But she did much better job at hiding it. She promised you that even if Joel and Tommy didn’t make it in time, you would still celebrate the Christmas Eve, together. And as much as you appreciated that effort—you didn’t care about celebrations of any kind. The only thing you cared about was Joel.
On twenty third of December, the clouds of fog and heavy flakes of snow finally disappeared. Yet there was no sign of Joel nor Tommy. You waited by the East Gate whole afternoon until your fingers felt numb from the coldness. You waited there until the sundown when Maria came to pick you up. You protested, begging her to let you stay up with men from the night watch.
“You’ll wait for him at home,” she insisted. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re freezing.”
But you didn’t care and she knew. But there was no point in fighting with her. You sighed, jumped down from the lookout and with disappointment hidden behind your eyes, you returned to that empty house. That night, you sat in that chair with switchblade in your hand—just like all those previous nights and waited.
On the twenty four of December, Christmas Eve, you were sitting by the kitchen table with Joel’s note in your hand.
“We should be back in a few
days but if not, Merry Christmas kid.”
The chances of Joel and Tommy returning before the Christmas dinner were slimmer with each hour that past. At noun, it was decided that small group of patrollers would head to that plant and bring them back. With the weather conditions improving, you knew there must have been a different reason as for why they were still not coming back. And Maria knew it as well, despite her best efforts to keep you calm.
“There’s Christmas dance going on at the hall tonight. We could go if you’d like,” Maria offered when the two of you met at the stables. “Or we could still make the dinner.”
“I think I’ll just stay home,” you whispered, grabbing your backpack from the floor. “I’m quite tired. And I have the kindergarten duty tomorrow, so.”
“Y/N—?”
“Just tired, really,” you interrupted her. “Don’t worry.”
“Alright then,” she sighed, not trying to persuade you. “But tomorrow—dinner at my house. No excuses, six o’clock sharp.”
You felt guilty for declining again. So this time, you agreed to her proposal. After all, you could really use a moment out of your house. Maria meant well, she cared about you and she wasn’t exactly happy with the thought of you being all alone there.
On your way back, you passed the gate again, stayed a second or two and waited. For a moment, you thought you could sneak out tonight and try bribing one of those junior patrols guys at the watch to let you sneak up there. But you knew one of them would tell and you didn’t want to cause any more unnecessary worry for Maria. She already cut you a lot of slack with all those assignments you signed yourself off of.
When the clock stroke eight, you lost all your hope that Joel could make it before midnight. But knew that he wouldn’t want you to stare out of that window forever. So you decided to stop by the Christmas dance to grab a dinner, at least. When you returned, you lit a candle and sat down by the tree. Though as much as you tried, your eyes always landed on that view.
Shortly before midnight, you headed upstairs to his bedroom. His bed has not been made since the day he left. There wasn’t much of sight of him, besides the stuff in the clothes where you were headed. You opened the wooden door and took out his old jacket. Maria forced two of you to get rid of most of your old clothes and gave you new, not ripped and stained ones, but he still kept that one jacket.
You took it off the hanger and put over your sweater. It still had it scent.
With that, you went back and with switchblade in your hand, you sat down on the stairs on the front porch. You heard the celebratory noises coming from the hall but didn’t feel the need to join. Instead, you looked up at the stars.
During one of those night out there, you told Joel how much you loved the constellations and even showed him some of them—which he found profoundly interesting, as much as he tried to tell otherwise.
There you saw it—Big Dipper. The one you showed him, the only one he managed to spot.
That’s when midnight stroke.
And tears rolled down your face. As you looked ahead and saw the darkness.
And a shadow.
Shadow of a man.
For a second, you thought you could blame it on your somnolent mind. But when your name slipped from his lips, twice, it wasn’t your imagination anymore.
It was Joel.
“Joel?” you whispered as you saw him, heading towards you.
You couldn’t quite believe it.
“Joel!” you called out, not waiting another second to rush towards him, meeting him halfway.
He was out of the darkness, standing right there in front of you.
It was him.
But the smile you had on your lips faded away the second you saw a blood seeping through the fabric on his right leg.
“Are you—“ you gasped, eyes landing on his injury.
He immediately realised where your mind went.
“No,” he reassured you, stepping closer. “It’s just an injury, a scratch. Nothing more.”
You noticed the trouble he had whilst walking.
“I still have aid kit in my backpack upstairs,” you mumbled, worried thoughts jumping from one another in your mind. “It’s not much but I can fix it. I could just go and fix it, just let me—“
“Y/N!”
His voice echoed in your ears. Suddenly, he stood right in front of you, his cold hands grabbing both of your puffy cheeks. There was one thing you had in common in that very moment. The fear that rose in both of you, the worry that was put on display when you looked into his eyes. You couldn’t hold it together anymore, despite the efforts.
“I thought,” you gasped between the sobs, “I thought you didn’t come because…”
“No,” Joel reassured you again, this time with a smile on his lips. “See? I didn’t. I’m alright, I’m alright.”
“Joel,” you whimpered, trying to comprehend what was going on.
And as he saw you, standing there in his old jacket, freezing and crying—if there were any remaining walls, they all fell down. In that moment, every single one of his parental instincts kicked the minute he pulled you into his arms.
“I’m alright, kiddo,” he whispered, caressing your hair as you cried out. “I’m alright.”
As soon as you pulled away, Joel threw his hand over your shoulder as you quickly helped him get inside. Sitting him down on the couch, you ran upstairs, throwing the backpack on the bed as you impatiently took out one thing after another until you find the first aid kit. Only then you rushed downstairs, fix Joel’s wounds.
You almost tripped over your own feet.
He was sitting in the same spot, eyes landing on the lightened Christmas tree.
After you sewed his injury, the two of you sat there in silence. Neither of you needed the words in order to embrace the comfort you had in each other’s presence. You sat there, watching the lights until you fell asleep on his shoulder. In that moment—Joel didn’t need anything else. He was home.
“Merry Christmas, kid,” he whispered, looking down on you.
Twenty minutes past midnight, Joel made it.
But then the dawn came.
You woke up, eight hours later, finally without those worries hanging over your head. In the same spot you fell asleep, only with blanket covering your body. It was quiet, peaceful. Until you slowly awakened and your eyes landed on the wall clock above the living room dresser.
Within a second, you were up on your feet.
“Shit!” you yelled out, ignoring the possibility of Joel, still being asleep.
With tiredness wearing off, you tripped over your feet tree times, with each almost landing on your face. You quickly changed your clothes and ran back downstairs.
And there he was.
Leaning against the kitchen desk with cup of coffee in his hand, Joel couldn’t overlook the distress pictured all over you.
“Ever heard of a hairbrush?” he commented your appearance, being in the mood to have a little dig at you.
You didn’t have the time to roll your eyes over his words.
“I’m running late,” you whispered, looking around, trying to find your backpack. “I was supposed be at the kindergarten twenty minutes ago!” you cried out, stressed, trying to find your possessions. “Maria’s going to kill me. And where is that fucking thing?”
“Tried your room?” Joel proposed, visibly being amused by your current state.
“Dammit!” you yelled out, running back upstairs.
Within seconds, you were rushing back down, pushing your switchblade into your back-pocket.
“Gotta go—!” before you managed the disappear outside, Joel’s voice stopped you.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he headed towards you.
You turned from the doors, “to my assignment? I already missed most of them this week. Can’t screw this one as well.”
“Where’s your other jacket? The down one that Maria brought the other day?”
You stared at his, utterly confused over that question.
“What?” you shook your head. “What are you talking about?”
“Y/N, it’s freezing out there, you’re not going in this,” he pointed to your windbreaker.
In this moment, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“I don’t have time for this—“
“Y/N, this is not open for discussion,” he stepped closer. “Go and get the other jacket.”
“Joel—!”
“Now, Y/N,” he repeated, admonishing look in his eyes.
He was never more parental than in that moment as he watched you grumpily running upstairs to grab your other jacket.
You came down, clothes changed.
“Now hat, and gloves. Where are your gloves?”
“Seriously?!”
There was something unimaginably funny as he watched you losing your temper when you did a second round of running and came back, redness in your cheeks.
You put it on and looked at Joel, annoyance expressed all over your face.
“Happy?” you mumbled sarcastically, grabbing your backpack from the floor.
“That you’re not going to freeze out there? Yes, I am,” he shrugged his shoulder. “Although,” he stepped closer and pulled the zip of your down jacket up to the top. “Now, I am.”
You rolled your eyes, once again.
He couldn’t help but chuckle over that response.
“You’re warm enough?” he asked.
“I’m sweating like a pig, Joel.”
“Better than freezing, don’t you think?” he couldn’t help but have another dig at you. “If you caught cold, I would be the one running around you.”
“Well, I couldn’t rob you of your favourite I told you moment, could I?” you grinned. “Besides, with this leg… you can barely walk so I don’t know what running you’re talking about, old man.”
He bursted into laughter.
“You're such a stubborn pain the ass, you know that?” he observed between laughs.
But then it happened.
“Okay, dad.”
That one sentence that was supposed to be an innocent joke—a little dig.
Carrying little no meaning.
Until you saw how Joel’s eyes suddenly shifted. And the laughter was no longer there. The spark was gone and he stood there, quiet and frozen. Stiff and numb over your words.
It’s been more than twenty one years since he last heard that.
His heart dropped into his stomach, the world around became too heavy.
There she was, in his mind again. That day, that exact moment. His eyes landed on his watch.
He heard his name coming out of your mouth, three times before he looked up—seeing the genuine worry displayed right in front of him.
“Joel—?“
“Go,” he whispered, so coldly.
You shook your head, confused. “Joel, are you—?”
“Go,” he repeated. “Your assignment is waiting. Leave.”
You stood there for two second, before you heard him again—urging you to leave. All at once, you couldn’t recognise him. You had no idea what caused this strange reaction, but didn’t dare to ask. Instead, you obeyed. You bowed your head and walked out of your house.
Each step you take, the further you were from the house, the more guilt was rising within you. What could you have done to displease him this much?
You’ve experienced Joel’s anger a few times, while the two of you were on the road. To be honest, Joel’s patience was thin and you knew what strings to pull to get him into rage. Him yelling at you became a daily routine at one point. But you’ve never seen him like this. The stare he had, the emptiness in his eyes.
As if you were dead to him. Truth was, you would much rather had him screaming at you than being this eerily quiet.
You arrived to your assignment and quickly got to work, hoping no one would notice your delay. But even with the amount of work you had around, you couldn’t stop thinking about that odd encounter with Joel. What could’ve been that made him so upset?
Could’ve been the joke, you thought. But it was an innocent statement, with not much truth in it. Or was it? Or was it something that accidentally carried more truth that you were willing to let on? Could Joel sense that?
One too many scenarios running through your worried mind.
“Y/N?” Maria’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
You looked up and saw her, standing by the door.
“Hey,” you mumbled, putting the basket with toys on the floor. “What’s going on?”
“Just checking in,” she replied, smile on her lips. “I stopped by your place but forgot your had your duty today. Wanted to take Joel to infirmary but looks like you already took care of that.”
“Oh, yeah. It was nothing,” you whispered, eyes landing on the floor, the desire to avoid every conversation that included his name rising with each second. “I have a lot to finish today, so…”
“I won’t keep you any longer,” Maria laughed. “Just wanted to say that since Tommy and Joel got back in one piece, we thought we could have the Christmas dinner today. After all, the holidays are still on.”
“I don’t think Joel’s in mood for celebration of any kind,” you admitted.
“I already talked to him and he agreed.”
So maybe he managed to cool down, you thought. Or at least, you were hoping for that.
Maria stayed for a few more minutes, asking you to come earlier tonight to help prepare the dinner. She freed you from your afternoon assignments to have enough time to change and get ready. You stayed at the kindergarten until one in the afternoon, then helped for two hours at the stables before you headed back to your house.
You learned from her that both Tommy and Joel had a day off so part of you hoped you would run into him. But when you came, the house was empty. Joel’s backpack and gun were lying by the chair but he was nowhere to be found—as you searched every room around. You tried to not think much of that but there were still those doubts inside you.
Luckily, you were running out of time—which meant you had to hurry up and pull yourself out of your worried mind. You didn’t have any decent clothes to wear, except for the regular ones. So you just grabbed a clean sweater, pants and tied your hair up before you headed to Maria’s.
When you arrived, Maria was already cutting the vegetables in the kitchen. You let yourself in, throwing the jacket on the hanger in the hall as she called you in. It was the first time you were in their home as they mostly came to visit you and Joel. It was much bigger than what the two of you had but all those details displayed around implied that they’ve been here for quite some time. Each corner had a track of them. There were pictures on the walls, books on the coffee table with an empty cup, flower pots on the windowsill.
But what caught your attention was a board, resting on the top of the fireplace.
You didn’t mean to snoop but when you saw those names, you couldn’t look away. There were two of them, along with four dates. Took only few seconds for you to realise what this was supposed to meant.
Shivers went down your spine. Especially once you heard Maria calling you again.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, rushing into the kitchen.
“It’s alright, just finish these carrots,” she handed you the knife. “I need to start preparing the meat.”
You took the orders without any objections.
You wondered. Were they Tommy’s or Maria’s children? Or did each belong to one of them? You wouldn’t guess the two of them to experience such loss since they’ve both seen so well put together.
But you knew yourself how easy it was to put up a believable surface. You did that after Tess’s death, despite how painful it was to lose someone so close. You didn’t have any other option. Maybe they were once in a similar position.
Eventually, every person finds a way to live with their pain. They either face it or suppress that, deep down.
You only now realised how important must have been this child to Tommy and Maria. Get a second chance in a world like this was almost a miracle.
“Tommy’s memorial caught your attention?”
Almost as if she read your mind.
You startled, nearly accidentally cutting yourself.
“I wasn’t… you mumbled, embarrassed. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Maria looked up, reassuring smile on her lips.
She was kind, like always.
“I’m sorry about your kids.”
So you felt the need to let her know.
Her eyes locked with yours again, “Thank you. Although, just a kid, Kevin.”
“Oh,” you nodded. “So Sarah was Tommy’s daughter?”
“She was his niece,” Maria replied, still preparing the meet.
In that moment, the world around stopped for a second.
Tommy’s niece.
Meaning?
You had to take a deep breath.
“So, she was…” you swallowed, feeling the frog in your throat growing bigger each second.
“Joel’s daughter,” Maria finished your sentence, paying no mind to your current state.
Joel’s daughter.
Joel had a daughter. A daughter just three years younger than you.
You needed a moment to process this.
He used to be someone’s dad.
Then the last piece of the puzzle was found. And the mystery was solved.
And your shattered heart dropped into your stomach.
He used to be a dad.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Suddenly, you’ve never felt worse. For what you said, for being so cruel. All those days, all those moments, all his words—all at once it made sense. It was the last clue you needed to win the prize. Was it worth though, was the question.
“Y/N?” you heard Maria’s voice calling your name.
Three times before you looked up, still a little spaced out.
“He didn’t…” she whispered, putting two and two together. “Oh…”
“That’s alright,” you shook your head. “It’s not your fault.”
You didn’t know how to approach this newly revealed information, how to solve the problem without causing even more of them. Joel was never the most sharing individual, neither of the two of you was. Though you couldn’t blame him. He was keeping this inside of him for more than twenty years. One could one fear how difficult that must have been.
“How did it happen?” you dared to ask.
Maria looked you. She knew this wasn’t her place to talk but still gave in. “I don’t know the details. Just that it was the day of the outbreak.”
You thought there was no chance this could get any worse.
“Day after Joel’s birthday.”
Somehow it did.
And you felt even more guilty for asking these questions in the first place.
You thought of this afternoon, when you were rushing back to your house, hoping you would find Joel there. Now you were on the verge of praying to every none-existent higher power that he could change his mind and not come. You wanted to do everything you could to avoid him, out of the shame that you were feeling.
That of course, did not happened.
At half past six, Tommy arrived from Tipsy Bison with bottle of scotch and smile on his lips. He had a stitch above his eyebrows, meaning both him and Joel were involved in whatever fight that went down at power plant, probably with those raiders Maria kept mentioning. Greeting both of you, he kissed Maria on the cheek, placed on the bottle on the kitchen desk and disappeared upstairs to change his clothes.
Thirty minutes after him, Joel arrived.
You were in the middle of settling the dinner table when you heard the door slam. You paid no mind, placing the four plates on their spots. Only when you turned to get the cutlery, you saw Joel standing by the coffee table—his eyes immediately landing on you.
The fear in your face was difficult to overlook. For a second, your sight shifted from Joel to the memorial board right next to him.
For a second.
Yet he still managed to catch that.
Without a thought, you turned around and headed towards the kitchen to grab the tray with glasses and cutlery. When you came back, you saw him standing on the same spot. Only now, his full attention was directed towards that board before you caught his attention, again.
It didn’t take much for him to realise the nature of your behaviour—beside what happened this morning.
You stood there, staring at the each other. Your heart was pounding louder with each second, hands were sweating, the tray in your hands shaking. Only when Tommy’s voice called out for Joel, you looked away and went to finish your job.
Feeling even more ashamed than before, if it was still possible.
To say the dinner was awkward would have been an understatement. The four of you sat by the table in silence, with mostly Tommy or Maria leading the conversation. Their words and the conversation in general was revolving mainly around Jackson and things related to that as both of them sensed that none of you were in the mood. Maria kept checking on you—she didn’t miss how determined you were to avoid Joel’s eyes.
It was after dinner when you saw him lighten up a little. Tommy grabbed the bottle of scotch and took Joel into his little office space downstairs, right in the entrance hall. Which you and Maria used as an opportunity to wash the dishes.
You placed the dishes right next to the kitchen sink when you heard Tommy’s laugh.
“…it’s time consuming!”
Shortly, it was followed by Joel’s brief laughter. Still, it was nice to know he was easing up.
“It’s that stupid clock joke Tommy heard this morning,” Maria commented as you handed her the dishes, one by one.
There wasn’t any response coming from you. Your mind was too preoccupied for that.
And as much she didn’t want to cross the boundaries, she was worried about you.
“Joel cares about you, you know,” she spoke, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You looked up at her, handing her the plate.
“I’m not really sure about that right now,” you admitted. “Although, I couldn’t really blame him.”
“You worry too much,” Maria chuckled.
“Can you blame me?” you muttered, looking down.
“I had plenty of evidence to be confident in my previous claim.”
“Like what?” you sighed.
“A, he brought you here—“
“I saw him spare a rabbit once. So not leaving me out in the cold is not a strong argument.”
Maria chuckled again.
“He brought here and asked for the two of you to be placed together.”
Wait a minute.
You looked up once more, confused over Maria’s words.
“No,” you shook your head. “Joel said you just didn’t have any other place for me…”
“We have a few houses specifically for kids of your age. Since I knew your situation and wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to be around your peers. I offered that to Joel. But he insisted that you stay under his roof.”
That sudden new information needed a second to process.
You thought that, perhaps, he thought the two of should take your separate ways—that’s why he mentioned that you should have a place of your own. When in reality, he wanted you around. He asked to have you around.
“What’s B?”
Maria took a deep breath and placed the plate into the sink.
“It’s tough to lose a child, in any kind of world, fungal or not. And it is even harder to allow yourself to care this way again, for somebody else. Which is why you might have felt like he was pushing you away at times, maybe even right now. But despite his actions saying otherwise at times, you mean a whole world for him. You are his whole world.”
You wanted to believe every word of that statement. Because that’s what Joel was to you. After everything you’ve encountered, Joel was the closest thing to a family one could have in this world. And you wanted to believe that you carried that value for him as well.
“You just have to cut him some slack. He might be scared,” she continued.
“Scared of what?”
“Scared of having another chance to be a parent. It’s way too easy to screw that job, in every world.”
Maybe all you needed to understand Joel was one conversation with someone who was once in the same position.
Suddenly, each attribute of Joel’s personality, each strange detail about him pulled together a one, bigger picture. Although the losses in your life might not have been as traumatic as those of Joel’s, you were starting to understand him. And deep down, hoped that you didn’t blow up all your chances to fix what you’ve broken.
That evening, you headed home first. After you helped Maria clean everything, you asked her to tell Joel that you were tired and left early. Even though there was a part of you, wanting to run after him and apologise, you couldn’t do it. Once you heard his laugh, you knew you owed him a moment of peace. Your conversation could wait for another day or two.
It was first time since this morning there was even the slightest amusement on his face. Could’ve been the simple stupidity of that joke, the bizarreness that somehow made him chuckle. He stood there, leaning against the grey wall with scotch in his hand, trying so hard to suppress those laughs.
“You can laugh, it’s funny,” Tommy teased him, finishing the rest of his drink. “It’s a great joke.”
“A really lame one,” Joel commented, squeezing the glass in his hands.
“Well, you never really had a good sense of humour so,” Tommy chuckled.
Joel shrugged his shoulders over that statement, partially agreeing before he drank the rest of his liquid courage.
It was getting late, he wanted to head home and get some rest. He handed Tommy the empty glass, patted his shoulder and gave him a fleeting smile—enough to let him know that he was thankful for the distractions. Only then he went into the living room, looking for you.
He found Maria instead.
She knew the answer he came for in the first place.
“She left a few minutes ago,” Maria answered the implied question. “But she left this in here,” she turned around and grabbed pair of green gloves. “Could you give that to her?”
Joel nodded, bitting his lower lip, slowly immersing into his thoughts.
“Well,” he snapped out his head after a second, squeezing the gloves in his hands, “I should probably go too. Thank you for the dinner, though.”
“My pleasure,” she smiled.
He knew where he was going. Yet before he made a single step, the memorial board caught his sight again. He was aware of not always being the most pleasurable human being to others around, though he always justified that by saying that he was only trying to protect himself. But when he visited today, for the first time, and saw the board—there was regret. For, maybe, being too harsh at times.
Everyone was carrying around their own kind of pain. Some were just too good at hiding it.
So before he left, he turned to Maria.
“Listen,” he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “About…”
She knew where he was headed. And wanted to spare him the difficulties.
“I know,” she whispered. “Me too…”
Nothing else needed to be said, they both understood.
With that, Joel grabbed the rest of his stuff and set off.
As he walked through the streets, seeing the lights hanging on the houses and snowflakes falling to the ground, his mind wondered. Towards you, towards this morning. Part of him felt guilty for pushing you away so suddenly. You must have meant it as a joke, he thought. That’s what he’s been trying to tell himself the whole day.
Yet there was a part of him. Part of him that was terrified of you, being serious with that title. Joel came to terms with the way he felt about you, with the amount of care and sense of protection he had for you. But why was the idea of you feeling the same way about him so frightening? Why was it so easy to accept you as daughter but hesitate to become your father? He was in this same position twenty one years ago. And he couldn’t promise to not fail again.
There was guilt. Guilt he was carrying around for more than twenty years. Guilt of failing, for not being the father Sarah deserved to have in that moment. And it felt selfish of him to put another child through that. Maria was right. It was scary to have another chance with something so fragile. Perhaps, he should’ve just walked away, could’ve given up.
But somehow found himself standing in front of your door. With pair of green gloves in his hands and shame in his eyes.
He knocked on the door two times to make sure you were still awake. Only when he heard your voice, he let himself in.
You were standing by your closet, carefully folding your things.
Somehow, in this moment, seeing you so accustomed this place, it made Joel happy.
Then he saw the curiousness in your eyes and panicked. For a second, he panicked, overthinking his actions.
“Maria,” he mumbled, looking for the right words, “Maria… Maria said you left this at their place,” he finished his attempted and stepped closer into the room.
Your eyes landed on the pair of gloves in Joel’s hands.
“Oh…” you raised your eyebrows. “But these… these are not mine. I gave them back to Maria weeks ago because they were too small for me…”
You stopped for a moment and realised she achieved exactly what she wanted with that gesture. And you couldn’t help but chuckle over that.
Joel, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the embarrassment rising within him.
Quickly, you saw that. Saw him clearing his throat and placing the gloves on the edge of your bed.
He stood there, for a second or two and you wondered if, perhaps, there was more to his visit. You looked into his eyes and saw the struggle—saw how desperately he was trying to find the appropriate approach to this situation and took this as an opportunity to set things right.
“Listen,” you whispered, catching his attention. “I just…”
You both struggled with finding the right words.
Placing the clothes you were holding just a second ago onto the closet shelf, you stepped closer to him.
“I’m sorry for what I've said this morning. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t know that—“
The shame he had in his eyes was now glancing in yours. And he saw that, saw every bit of that.
That’s why he stopped you.
“No,” he shook his head. “Y/N, please no.”
He followed your lead and stepped closer, sitting down on the edge of your bed as the frustrated sigh left his mouth.
“It’s not your fault. How could you know…”
It was the first time you saw Joel like this. It was the first you spoke of this.
There was hurt in his voice and you knew he must have been trying to suppress that for quite some time.
You quietly joined him, eyes landing on the floor.
“Maria told you?” he asked, filling up the hollow silence.
“I saw the memorial Tommy made… you probably figure the rest,” you whispered.
Joel nodded.
“Don’t be mad at her, please. I swear, if I knew… I wouldn’t—“
He finally looked into your eyes, stopping your words. “Y/N, it’s alright. I am not mad at her.”
There was a sense of relief that flew through your body.
Although, there was also one question remaining.
“What about me?” you dared to ask.
He heard the tone of your voice and saw the worry in your eyes.
There it was, the confrontation he couldn’t keep running away from. For a moment, the hollow silence returned just as your fears. In the same exact moment that Joel finally decided to face his.
“If you think about me this way, if you feel about me this way… then I don’t… I don’t mind if you want to call me that.”
That certainly was not what you were expecting.
But it turned out to be better.
“I’m trying to say that even though I can’t promise you that I’m worthy of that title… if you want me to have that role in your life…” he whispered.
“I thought you already had that,” you admitted.
The shock in his eyes was evident.
“Listen,” you whispered, turning to him. “I was on my own for most of the time before Tess finally found me and brought me to you. I’ve never had anyone like that. So I don’t have much to compare with. But if dad is supposed to be someone who makes you feel safe, who feels like home, then for me, Joel, you are worthy of that title.”
There it was. It was no longer just an assumption but a long lasting wish. He got the truth, got what he wished for and feared at the same time.
“Depends on if you want it.”
In that moment, he wanted to allow himself to want it. But in order to do that. There was one last step remaining.
Joel needed to forgive himself.
He needed to finally put down that baggage of guilt he’s been wearing around for twenty one years. He needed once and for all, stop looking behind him. And look ahead and take the opportunity the universe gave him.
Perhaps, you were what he needed to achieve that. By making sure you were safe, he would able to forgive himself for failing at that twenty one years ago. Deep down, he knew, she would never want him to wear his sadness around his neck. There would always be a part of her in Joel, nothing was going to change that. But maybe now, he was finally able to make space for you, too. To be your dad.
You heard the chuckles and looked up again. And there he was, looking down at his something to fight for. His whole world.
He smiled quietly and replied, “I do, kiddo.”
And when the word left your mouth, calling him that officially for the very first time, he barely managed to hold it together. Every remaining piece of his baggage disappeared, every last piece of the sadness he was wearing around his neck fell down as he finally put his guilt to rest.
And he kept the promise he gave. To both of his daughters.
#writing#the last of us x reader#joel miller x platonic!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller#tlou oneshot#tlou fanfic#tlou imagine#tlou au sort of?#the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#father figure joel
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Clone^2 Damian
If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.
And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?
Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.
And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.
But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.
After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.
And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.
And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.
This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.
But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.
He wants to go home.
And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.
And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.
And it's not happening.
But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.
And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.
But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.
And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.
There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.
And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.
This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?
And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.
Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.
And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.
"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.
"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.
And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.
That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.
It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#clone^2#like god can you imagine how scared he must've been? how afraid? he just wants his mom - only to realize he doesnt even matter to her#dpxdc au#danny fenton is not the ghost king#this poor kid man. no wonder he latched onto danny the moment he gave up on the league like a leech. he's a six year old kid man and#it doesnt matter how smart he is or how mature he acts. he still is six years old. he still needs that validation and affection from adults#or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league.#cue the song “two” from sleeping at last - some of their songs are very clone^2 honestly.#'sweetheart you look a little tired. when did you last eat? come in and make yourself right at home. stay as long as you need.'#'tell me is something wrong? if something's wrong you can count on me'#'its okay if you can't find the words. let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders'#'like a force to be reckoned with. am i the ocean or a gentle kiss. i will love you with every single thing i have'#'like a tidal wave i'll make a mess. or calm waters if that serves you best'#'i will love you without any strings attached'#like just. just *imagine* being in damian's shoes during all of this. he's *six* you guys. i've worked with six year olds and they're#pretty independent but they're still six. they get excited when they see their parents and they get upset when an adult is angry with them.#they're still developing their motor skills. they're still developing everything else!
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